《Paragon of Destruction》


 Chapter 1 The Academy

    Arran awoke before dawn, his body stiff from sleeping on the cold grass. There had been an inn a few miles back, but three months of travel had drained most of the coin he had inherited from his father. Now, spending several coppers for a warm bed seemed like a luxury he could ill afford.


    Yet despite his sore body, this morning found Arran filled with excitement. Today, after three months, he would finally arrive in Fulai City. Today, he would finally have a chance to join the Academy and become a mage.


    When the first light of dawn appeared Arran broke camp in a hurry, eating a tough hunk of stale bread as he packed his bag. After months of travel the time to eat breakfast properly would not make much of a difference, but with the end of his journey in sight, his patience had long since worn thin.


    Heart filled with excitement, he set off.


    By late morning the cottages and farms along the road grew more frequent, and Arran knew he must be nearing the city. Each new hill he climbed saw him looking forward with anticipation, yet each time he was disappointed to find yet more road meandering through grassy hills.


    Several times he stopped to ask a passing farmer how much farther it was to the city, and each time, they told him that the city was just a stone''s throw away. By now, he wondered just how talented the rock-throwers in this region were.


    Near midday, Arran topped yet another low hill when suddenly, he saw it. Not even a mile away, numerous buildings stretched into the distance, smoke wafting from what must be hundreds if not thousands of chimneys.


    He could not suppress a feeling of shock as he took in the sight.


    Arran knew Fulai City was large, of course ¡ª it was the only place in the region called a "city" ¡ª but the sheer scale of it filled him with awe.


    With this many buildings, there had to be thousands of people living here. His mind boggled at the thought. It was if some giant had picked up all the towns Arran had ever seen and gathered them all together.


    Arran marveled at the sight, wondering what it would be like to live in such a grand place.


    At that moment, a cheerful voice sounded, "First time here, I take it?"


    Arran turned around with a start, finding a heavyset man in a bright blue robe behind him.


    Before he could respond, the man continued, "You''re an Easterner, I take it?"


    He gestured at Arran''s head. "It''s the blond hair that gives it away. Don''t see much of that around here. So what brings you to the city? If it''s work you''re looking for, I suppose I could¡ª"


    "I''m here for the Academy," Arran hurriedly interrupted him.


    "The Academy?" The man frowned. "To become a mage?" His expression suggested that he did not approve of the idea.


    Arran nodded. "Do you know where it is?"


    The man chuckled, although the mention of the Academy had taken some of the cheer from his voice. "It''s the big white building near the center of the city. You couldn''t miss it if you tried."


    With that, he departed, leaving Arran behind.


    Arran spent a few more moments taking in the sight of Fulai City before leaving as well. Grand though the sight of the city might be, his real destination still lay ahead of him.


    Soon after, he entered the city, where he immediately was astounded at the crowds making their way through the narrow cobblestone streets. In just a few minutes he passed more people than he had encountered during the entire previous three months.


    The streets were lined with small stores and food stalls, and Arran was assaulted by a barrage of smells as he jostled his way through the crowds ¡ª foods both new and familiar, all manner of spices, unwashed people, and things he did not dare think too deeply about.


    Several times he found himself accosted by beggars and hawkers whose persistence only wavered when they noticed the sword at his side, and he soon found himself tightly grasping his coin purse, afraid that with a moment''s distraction it might vanish.


    After some time the narrow streets of the city''s outskirts began to grow wider, eventually making way for broad avenues. Arran understood he must be getting close to the city center. Here, the crowds were thinner and better dressed, while the beggars he had encountered earlier were conspicuously absent.


    It did not take long before Arran saw what he assumed was the Academy in the distance, a grand white building that loomed over the rest of the city, topped with two towers that stretched toward the sky as if challenging the gods.


    Drawn by the sight, he quickened his pace. It wasn''t long before he reached a large square, at the far end of which the Academy stood. At last, he had arrived.


    Arran was awestruck by the sight of the Academy. It rose at least eighty feet above the city without so much as a single seam appearing anywhere on its walls, as if the entire building had been hewn from a single, massive block of white marble.


    A grand staircase led up to the entrance, made from the same white marble as the Academy itself. On either side of the staircase stood half a dozen armed guards, wearing pristine white uniforms and carrying swords at their sides. Their serious expressions indicated that they were not just there for decoration.


    When Arran approached the staircase, one of the white-clad guards immediately stepped forward, a tall woman with a sharp face and shoulders almost as broad as Arran''s.


    "What''s your business here?" she asked him in a cold tone.


    "I''m here to join the Academy," Arran answered.


    Her expression softened, though only slightly. "You''ll want the Testing Hall then," she said, pointing at a white brick building to the left of the square.


    Arran nodded in thanks and turned toward the Testing Hall.


    Seeing the Testing Hall, he found himself a bit disappointed. It was an impressive building by any standard ¡ª made of white brick and standing a good forty feet tall, it was certainly more remarkable than anything in Arran''s hometown ¡ª but it could not compare to the Academy itself.


    He walked over to the entrance of the Testing Hall, where a single man stood guard. While his uniform matched those of the guards outside the Academy''s main building, both his stance and his expression were noticeably more relaxed.


    As Arran approached him, the guard asked with a smile, "Here to get tested?" Arran nodded, and the guard continued, "Just go right in."


    Inside, Arran found a spacious hall, filled with rows of wooden benches that could easily have accommodated over a hundred people. Right now, however, just a few dozen people sat scattered across the hall. All but a few of them bore nervous expressions, and Arran guessed that they were there for the same reason he was.


    At the back of the hall stood a massive wooden desk, with a middle-aged woman sitting behind it. After a moment''s hesitation, Arran approached her.


    The woman looked up at him. "Name?" she asked him curtly.


    "Arran," he answered.


    "Family name?" she asked, a hint of impatience in her voice.


    Arran shook his head. "I don''t have one," he said slightly embarrassed. In his hometown, only a few of the wealthier families had surnames. The common folk were simply named for their jobs or their fathers.


    "Easterners." She shook her head in disdain. "What town are you from?"


    "Riverbend," he replied.


    "Arran of Riverbend, then." She carefully wrote down his name. "Very well. Have a seat. Someone will be with you soon."


    After Arran sat down on one of the wooden benches, he looked around at the others in the hall. Most of them were around Arran''s age, around twenty years old, although a few of them looked like they were in their early teens, and several seemed to be in their thirties or even forties.


    He could not help but feel out of place. While most of the others wore fine robes, he was in his traveling clothes, still dirty with the dust of travel. He spent a moment wishing he had found an inn with a good bath before heading to the Academy, but it was too late for that now.


    After a time, a young woman in a plain white robe walked up to him. She was short, with long black hair framing a pretty face. "Are you Arran?" she asked in a friendly voice.


    "I am," he answered.


    "Follow me," she said with a smile. She turned around and walked off into a corridor, with Arran hurrying behind her.


    Several moments later she stopped at one of the many doors in the corridor and gave it a single knock. Immediately, a voice sounded from inside. "Enter!" The young woman stepped through the doorway, motioning for Arran to follow her.


    Inside was a small office, its walls covered in bookcases. At the center of the office stood a wooden desk, atop which sat several piles of paper as well as a small metal box. Behind the desk was a middle-aged man with slightly disheveled hair and a tired expression on his face.


    The young woman bowed respectfully to the man at the desk. "Adept Song, this is Arran of Riverbend. He''s here to be tested." With that, she stepped out of the office, closing the door behind her.


    Arran stood somewhat uncomfortably in the middle of the office as the man silently looked him over, unsure whether he was expected to say something.


    "You certainly came well-prepared," Adept Song finally spoke with a meaningful look toward the sword at Arran''s side. "Although I think you may have misjudged the kind of danger you''ll be facing today."


    Arran felt his face flush. "It''s not¡­ I mean, I just arrived in the city," he blurted out.


    "Have a seat," Adept Song said, smiling at the young man''s embarrassment. As Arran sat down he continued in a more serious tone, "Before we start, there are two things you should know."


    He took a deep breath as Arran waited.


    "The first thing is that you will almost certainly fail." The man spoke in a flat voice, as if he had given this speech a thousand times before ¡ª which, Arran suddenly realized, he probably had. "Out of every hundred people, perhaps one is born with the talent for magic. Unless you used some other means to gain access to magical abilities, you likely lack the talent."


    He gave Arran a questioning look.


    Arran shook his head. Until a moment ago, he had not even known that learning magic required a special talent. If there were other ways to acquire magical abilities, he certainly did not know them.


    The Adept gave Arran a somber glance. "Then you must understand that you will probably fail."


    He took another deep breath and continued, "The second thing is that even if you have some talent for magic, that does not mean you will be able to become a mage. Passing the test merely gets you accepted to the Academy, but nine out of every ten students at the Academy fail to master even the most basic magical abilities."


    Hearing this, Arran felt somewhat despondent. Only now did he understand that he had just a slight chance of even joining the Academy, much less becoming a mage.


    "If you still wish to continue, pay me the application fee, and we will get started." Adept Song looked at Arran expectantly.


    "Application fee?" Arran asked in surprise.


    "To be tested, you need to pay a single gold crown or twenty silver marks," the man explained.


    Arran only barely suppressed a gasp, and for a moment he considered leaving right then. To him, twenty silver marks was a small fortune. Paying that much would leave him almost penniless. Worse, if he failed the test, he would be left stranded in Fulai City, lacking even the coin he needed to return to Riverbend.


    He thought for a moment, then decided against leaving. Even if he left now, most of his coin would be wasted on the journey. Besides, he could not bear the thought of returning to Riverbend after having failed ¡ª if nothing else, the mockery would be relentless.


    Wordlessly, Arran took out his coin purse and counted out twenty silver coins. Only a single silver mark remained, along with a handful of coppers. Like that, the money his father had left him was all but gone. He sighed regretfully.


    Adept Song gathered up the small pile of coins and placed them in the small metal box on his desk. Then, he produced a small silk bag, from which he took a disc made of smooth, milk-white stone, which he handed to Arran.


    "Let''s get started," he said. "The disc I gave you is a magical item that can reveal your talent. Place your hands on either side of it, then focus your attention on the center."


    Arran followed the man''s instructions. Carefully grasping the disc with both hands, he intently stared at it, trying his best to concentrate on the center of the disc.


    Nothing happened, and after a few moments, Arran looked up at the man. "Is there something specific I should do?" he asked, somewhat bewildered.


    "All you need to do is focus your attention," the man replied. "Give it a little time. If you have the talent, you will see a result soon enough."


    Arran once again focused his attention on the disc, concentrating even harder than he had before, trying to will it to do¡­ something. Anything. Yet the disc remained unchanged, and he was beginning to lose hope.


    "It seems you lack¡ª" Adept Song had already begun to speak when suddenly, Arran felt something change. It was as if his consciousness had made a connection to the disc, and he vaguely sensed what seemed like a void within it.


    "Something''s happening!" he exclaimed, his voice trembling with excitement.


    As he focused his concentration, Arran sensed his connection to the disc grow stronger, and he felt a pulling sensation, as if the disc was drawing something from his mind.


    Gradually, a small black dot appeared at the very center of the disc.


    With all the effort he could muster Arran willed the dot to grow, and to his amazement, it seemed to respond, slowly but steadily turning darker and larger.


    While the dot grew, a painful pressure rose in Arran''s head, but he did not let up. This was his chance to become a mage, and he would endure whatever it took to succeed.


    Clenching his teeth, he poured every bit of his will into the disc, and the black dot continued to expand, though at a slower pace than before. By now, it was the size of Arran''s thumb, and the pressure Arran felt was increasing rapidly, making his head throb in agony.


    Finally, the pressure became too much for him to endure.


    With a groan, he forced what little will he had left into the disc, causing hairlines of black to spread out from the black dot. Small cracks appeared along the lines, and abruptly, Arran''s connection to the disc was severed.


    Arran let out a deep breath, his heart thumping in his chest from the exertion. His body was exhausted, as if he had just run several miles at full sprint, but a big smile appeared on his face.


    He had succeeded.


    "I did it, right? It changed¡­ that means I passed the test?" Arran was filled with anticipation as he eagerly looked up at Adept Song.


    It was only then that he saw that the man''s face had turned as pale as the disc had been earlier, his eyes wide and filled with shock.


    Despite his exhaustion, Arran immediately understood that something was off.


    "Did I do something wrong?" he asked in a worried voice. "I didn''t mean to damage the disc," he added apologetically.


    Adept Song hesitated, then replied, "Not at all." With a forced smile, he added, "Your result is a little unusual, that''s all."


    The Adept stood up and picked the cracked disc off the table. "I have to talk to my master. Stay here. I will be back soon." With that he walked out of the door, closing it behind him. Arran could hear the man''s footsteps echoing in the corridor as he hurried off.


    Arran took a slow breath, his mind racing. A moment ago all he had cared about was passing the test, but now, he realized that something was very wrong.


    A sense of grave danger arose within Arran as he sat in the office, frantically trying to decide what to do next.

 Chapter 2 Master Zhao

    Adept Song cursed under his breath as he hurried through the halls of the Academy. There were over a dozen Adepts testing hundreds of applicants each day, and he just had to get the one with a forbidden Realm.


    And not just any forbidden Realm, at that. That blond-haired freak in his office had actually managed to crack the testing disc!


    A shiver ran down his spine as he thought about it. Whatever kind of foul magic the young man possessed, he did not want to know about it. The sooner the little monster was locked away in the dungeon, the better.


    Panting, he reached his master''s office. He took a few moments to catch his breath, then knocked on the door. A moment later, it swung open without a sound.


    Inside, a handsome man with sharp features and short black hair sat behind a desk. At first glance, he seemed to be about thirty years old, but a closer look revealed an ageless quality in his face, as if his body had stopped aging at some point in the distant past.


    "Master Zhao," Adept Song said, bowing politely. Even at a time like this, he took care to be respectful. Master Zhao was not someone a mere Adept would wish to offend.


    "Adept Song," Master Zhao said with a displeased look. "Is there a reason for you to visit me in such a state?" He clearly did not welcome the interruption.


    Adept Song nodded anxiously. "There''s an applicant with a forbidden Realm!"


    Master Zhao raised an eyebrow. "A forbidden Realm? That hardly seems like it''s worth such commotion."


    The Adept shook his head. "It''s not a normal forbidden Realm. He actually cracked the testing disc!" He held up the disc, showing the black mark and the thin cracks that spread out like lightning from its center.


    At this, a look of interest finally emerged on Master Zhao''s face. "Let me take a look," he said, holding out his hand.


    Adept Song handed over the disc, and Master Zhao spent several minutes carefully examining it. As he studied the disc, a curious expression came over his face.


    Some moments later he raised his head, meeting Adept Song''s eyes. "Now this is unusual," he said, his voice betraying a hint of excitement. "Tell me, does anyone else know about this?"


    Adept Song shook his head. "I came over right after it happened. The applicant is still sitting in my office." His left eye twitched in worry as he realized that he should have posted a guard to make sure the boy didn''t leave.


    Master Zhao stood up. "You did well," he said calmly. Then, he raised two fingers, slightly wagging them as he whispered some words.


    A look of shock appeared on Adept Song''s face. His mouth twisted as if he was about to cry out, but before he could utter a single sound a flash of light emanated from his body as it seemed to burn up from within.


    Face frozen in shock, the body of Adept Song turned an ashen color. Then, it began to crumble, like burned-up charcoal. Within moments, all that remained was a small pile of ashes.


    Master Zhao moved his fingers again, making a sweeping motion. A gust of wind blew through the room and Adept Song''s ashes were swept out of a window.


    "A forbidden Realm," Master Zhao said to himself with a pensive expression. "I suppose I shall have to take a look."


    ¡ª¡ª¡ª


    Within Adept Song''s office, Arran was growing more worried by the second. The more he thought about the situation, the more he became convinced that he was in danger.


    The feeling of unease within him increasing with each passing moment, Arran finally decided that he had to leave.


    But then, what would he do? With less than two silver marks to his name, how could he escape?


    He couldn''t stay in Fulai City. Even if he somehow managed to hide, what little coin he had would only buy a week or two at an inn, if that. After that, he would be forced to find work, right under the Academy''s nose.


    Returning to Riverbend was more appealing, but he lacked the coin to afford food for the entire journey. A silver mark and a handful of coppers would keep him fed halfway to Riverbend at best. After that, what would he do? Resort to begging?


    His eyes fell on the small metal box that was still sitting on the table.


    At first, he rejected the idea. Stealing from the Academy? Only a fool would do such a thing. Yet if he was to have a chance at escaping, he needed the money.


    He understood that time was running out. Adept Song could return any moment. If Arran was to act, it had to be now.


    After a quick glance at the door, he stood up and stretched his hand toward the metal box. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest.


    Just as he was about to grab the box, a voice sounded. "Stealing, are we?"


    With a jolt Arran turned around, his head jerking toward the door.


    Behind him, he found a handsome dark-haired man, dressed in a long black robe. Arran was certain he had not heard the door open, yet somehow, the man had appeared inside the office.


    "I wasn''t¡ª"


    "You sensed that you were in danger," the man interrupted him. "And you decided to steal the money, flee the Academy, and use the money to disappear."


    "Who are you?" Arran asked, panic in his voice.


    "You can call me Master Zhao," the man said. "Now, we don''t have much time. If you want to escape with your life you will listen, and listen carefully."


    A chill ran down Arran''s spine at the man''s words.


    "The moment you cracked that little disc, the Academy knew about it. Right now they will be gathering up mages to retrieve you. Once they capture you, they''ll haul you off to a dark dungeon, and you''ll never see the light of day again."


    Arran''s eyes widened in terror. "I have to leave! They could be here any moment!"


    Master Zhao gave him a puzzled look. Then, comprehension dawned on his face. "You think this is the Academy?" He burst into laughter. "This is just a small outpost. The real Academy could hold Fulai City a hundred times over, and have room left to spare."


    Arran sighed in relief. For a moment, he had feared that he was only moments away from being hauled off in chains. "So there''s still time to escape?"


    Master Zhao nodded, a smile on his face. "The real Academy is thousands of miles away. It will take them weeks to get here. By that time, you and I will be long gone."


    Arran was slightly startled at Master Zhao''s words. Apparently, the man planned to travel with him. He was not sure whether he liked the idea, but then, he did not have much of a choice. "When do we leave?" he asked after a moment of hesitation.


    "Before we leave, I have some work to do. A day or four should be enough. You should head to an inn called the Blue Angel, in the southern quarter of the city. I will find you in a few days."


    Master Zhao reached out to the small metal box on the desk and took out two big handfuls of coins, gold and silver glittering in his hands. After spending several moments examining them, he picked out a seemingly unremarkable silver coin and held it up.


    "See this? There''s a nasty little tracking spell on it. If you had stolen that, they would have found you in days."


    He returned the silver coin to the metal box, then scooped up the rest of the coins in his hands and handed them to Arran. "This should get you through the week."


    Arran blinked in astonishment. The man had just handed him a small fortune. Never mind spending a week in an inn, with this, he could pay for an entire year. "This is too much¡­" he muttered uncertainly.


    "Better to have some extra in case I don''t return," Master Zhao said indifferently. "Remember, the Blue Angel. If I''m not there in a week¡­ well, I suppose you could at least try to run."


    After he finished speaking, Master Zhao made a sharp movement with his left hand, and the air surrounding him suddenly grew blurry. When it cleared up, Arran was baffled to find that Master Zhao had taken on the appearance of Adept Song.


    "On your way out, try to look like you just failed the test." Master Zhao, now wearing Adept Song''s face, took a look at Arran''s distraught expression. "Perfect. Now off with you."


    With that, he waved Arran out of the office, cutting off any questions Arran had.


    Outside the office, a tremble ran through Arran''s body as he tried to steady his nerves. The encounter had left him thoroughly shaken.


    "I said off with you!" Master Zhao''s voice sounded through the door.


    Arran hurriedly began to make his way to the exit. Every fiber of his body was telling him to run, yet he knew that he must remain calm. Running off now would certainly draw attention, and so he forced himself to walk at a normal pace, step after terrifying step.


    Head held low, he finally exited the Testing Hall, doing his best to ignore the thought that at any moment the Academy''s guards might burst forth and capture him.


    When he entered the square in front of the Academy''s main building, he glanced up. To his eyes, the building that had seemed so grand earlier now loomed with danger, as if the Academy itself had branded him an enemy.


    With a shudder, he walked away.


    Once he had gotten enough distance between himself and the Academy to soothe his nerves, he spent some moments considering whether he should follow Master Zhao''s instructions.


    If the man was lying, his best bet would be to leave the city right away. Yet if the man was telling the truth, his only chance would be to do exactly what he had been told.


    After giving it some thought, he decided to do what Master Zhao had said. While he did not fully trust the man, just the abilities he had displayed in the Academy meant that he would not have to resort to cheap lies to catch Arran.


    Having decided, Arran set off toward the city''s outskirts.


    Soon, he began to feel somewhat more at ease. The crowds were thicker here and the people dressed more poorly, making it easier for Arran to blend into the masses.


    He had originally entered the city from the east, but now he noticed that the southern part of the city seemed rougher, with many in the crowd wearing swords and axes at their sides. Evening had not fallen yet, but already, the many taverns that lined the streets seemed to be doing good business.


    He spent some time trying to find the Blue Angel, but instead, he soon found himself lost within the maze-like streets. At this rate, he would be lucky to reach it before nightfall.


    Eventually, he saw a woman on the street with blonde hair, wearing a plain but well-fitting brown dress. She reminded him of the women from Riverbend, and he stopped to ask her where the Blue Angel was.


    "Excuse me, miss," he said. "Could I trouble you for directions?"


    She gave him a wary look, but still stopped to reply. "Where are you heading?"


    "I''m looking for an inn called the Blue Angel," he answered.


    Instantly, her face turned sour. She gave him a scandalized look, then walked off without a word.


    Arran was puzzled. All he had done was ask for directions to an inn, yet the woman had reacted as if he had propositioned her. From this, he suspected that the Blue Angel wasn''t the most reputable of places.


    After spending some more time fruitlessly searching on his own, he finally approached a beggar. He tossed the man a copper and asked, "Can you tell me where to find the Blue Angel?"


    "A man of taste, are ye?" The beggar gave him a broad grin that revealed several missing teeth, then gave Arran directions in an accent so thick he could only barely understand what the man said.


    Arran tossed the beggar another coin, then headed toward where he thought the man had told him the Blue Angel was.


    Not long after, he arrived at a stone building with a large sign with a crude painting of a blue woman, with the words "The Blue Angel" scrawled underneath. In front of the building a bald, broad-shouldered man sat on a small stool, trimming his nails with a knife that looked far too big for the task.


    The man glanced up for a second as Arran approached, then went back to trimming his nails.


    As soon as Arran stepped inside, he understood the scandalized look the woman had given him earlier.


    The common room was large, filled with over a dozen wooden tables, with a handful of men sitting scattered across the room. What drew Arran''s attention, however, were the women.


    Within the room there were nearly two dozen women, a few sitting next to the men at the tables, while the others sat in the back, their eyes turning toward Arran as soon as he entered.


    Their clothes were unlike anything he had ever seen before, necklines so deep they revealed more than they hid and skirts so high they might as well not have worn any at all.


    Arran felt his face turn red as he tried his best not to look at anything scandalous, a task he only partly accomplished. He had heard of places like this, but he had never thought he would actually visit one.


    Trying to keep a straight face, he made his way to the bar. Behind the bar stood a plump but pretty woman, wearing a dress with a plunging neckline.


    "How much for a room?" Arran asked her, quickly adding, "Just to stay." It took him some effort not to let his eyes wander below her face.


    "Two silvers for the week," the woman answered with a smirk. "Three if you want clean sheets."


    Arran handed her three silver marks. There were many problems he had right now, but a lack of coin was not among them.


    "Do you have any baths?" he asked.


    "Two coppers for a bath," the woman replied. After a moment''s pause, she added, "Six if you want one of the girls to join you." She cast a meaningful look at the women sitting around the room.


    "Just the bath is fine," Arran said hastily.


    An hour later he was lying on a soft bed in a small room with a window overlooking the street, bathed and fed. The meal had been much better than he would have expected in a place like this, and after the bath, he felt cleaner than he had in months.


    His thoughts turned toward his situation. If Master Zhao could be believed, a group of mages was heading for Fulai City at that very moment, intent on capturing him. Just the thought of it was terrifying.


    Worse, from the man''s words, the Academy was far larger than he could ever have imagined. Even if he somehow managed to escape for the time being, hiding from an organization like that seemed nearly impossible.


    And could he even trust Master Zhao? The man had warned him about the Academy and even given him a small fortune in coin, that much was true. Yet, why would he help Arran?


    No matter how hard he thought about it, Arran could not find a satisfactory answer.


    It was well into the night when he eventually fell asleep, his dreams filled with visions of murderous mages.

 Chapter 3 The Blue Angel

    Arran sat in the common room of the Blue Angel, playing a game of stones with one of the girls, a cute brunette with a freckled face.


    "I win again," she said with a giggle.


    He handed her a copper. "Another game?" he asked, and she nodded eagerly. Few of the girls at the Blue Angel would object to earning an easy copper or two.


    The first day he had spent in his room, afraid that being seen would allow the Academy to find him more easily. Caught between fear and boredom, he had spent the day filled with fear and worry, and before long the small room had felt like a prison cell.


    Eventually, boredom had won out over fear, and he had headed down to the common room of the inn.


    The next few days he had spent playing games of stones and cards with the girls. He lost all but a few of the games, but he welcomed the distraction ¡ª not having to think about the danger he was in was easily worth a few handfuls of coppers.


    It had been three days since his visit to the Academy, and Master Zhao had still not appeared. Another day, and he would leave.


    He still remembered Master Zhao''s thoughts on Arran''s chances of escaping alone, and the thought of setting off by himself was not a pleasant one. If the man was right, it would mean he was all but doomed.


    With a sigh, he forced himself to abandon the thought. Worrying now would do him no good.


    "Want another drink?" he asked the brown-haired girl, and she agreed happily.


    He walked over to the bar. "Another ale and a plum wine, please." The barmaid gave him a warm smile as he put down some coppers, then handed him the drinks.


    With no danger of his coin running out, Arran had been generous these past few days, which had quickly won him the friendship of the girls at the Blue Angel ¡ª friendship that would last exactly as long as his money did, he thought.


    As he moved to turn around and walk back to his table, he bumped into a large man, half the ale in his mug spilling over the man''s shirt.


    Looking up, he instantly sensed trouble.


    The man was a mercenary he had already seen the previous two nights, a mean drunk who had attempted to start several fights with the other patrons. Had the man not been generous with his coin, Arran suspected the bouncer would have thrown him out long ago.


    "Sorry about that," Arran quickly said. "Let me buy you a drink."


    "A drink?" The mercenary''s square face twisted in a cruel grin. "You think I''ll let you off that easy?"


    Before Arran could respond, the mercenary''s fist swung toward him. It was only through sheer luck that he managed to avoid it. If the man hadn''t spent most of the afternoon drinking, there was little doubt in Arran''s mind that he would have been hit squarely in the face.


    The man stepped forward, and with all his strength, Arran threw a punch at him. He was not much of a fighter, but he would not simply stand there and let the man beat him.


    To his surprise, his fist connected with a loud crunch as it smashed into the mercenary''s face. Instantly, blood gushed from the man''s nose, and he stumbled back several paces.


    "You bloodless son of a whore!" the mercenary cried out, left hand reaching for his face. "You broke my damn nose! You''re gonna pay for this!"


    Arran was shocked to see the mercenary draw his blade, a heavy saber filled with the scars of battle. His own hand immediately shot to the sword at his side, only to find it missing.


    Cursing under his breath, Arran remembered that he had left his sword in his room. He stepped back, fear filling him as the mercenary advanced toward him.


    As the mercenary raised his blade, a bitter smile formed on Arran''s lips. With the Academy hunting him, he would die like this, in a bar fight?


    At that moment, a blond man suddenly stepped forward. Arran had not seen him before, and he guessed the man must have entered the inn only moments ago.


    "You dare attack my nephew?!"


    Before the mercenary could react the blond man''s hand shot forward, grabbing the arm in which the mercenary held his saber. Then, he twisted his hand, and with a sickening crack the mercenary''s arm snapped like a twig.


    As the mercenary''s arm fell limply to his side the saber clattered to the ground. He cried out in pain, but the sound was abruptly cut off when the blond man''s fist crashed into his head, sending him sprawling across the floor.


    In an instant, the inn went quiet, all eyes drawn toward the blond man who had just beaten the mercenary with such ease. Only the mercenary''s groans of pain cut through the silence.


    The blond man walked toward the bar and slapped a handful of silver on the counter. "Ready your best room for me!"


    He turned toward Arran, then spoke loudly, "It''s good to see you again, nephew!"


    Arran stared blankly at the blond man in front of him. He had never seen him before in his life. Nor did he have any uncles, for that matter.


    "Who¡ª" he began.


    The man stepped toward Arran. "Give your uncle Derrin a hug!" Before Arran could dodge, the man had grabbed him, pulling him close. "Play along," he hissed into Arran''s ear.


    Letting go of Arran, he called out to the barmaid, "Bring me two pints of good ale." After a moment''s pause, he added, "And two pretty girls, as well!"


    With that, he grabbed Arran''s shoulder and pulled him toward an empty table in the corner of the common room.


    "I take it you''ve failed to get into the Academy?" he said in a loud voice as they sat down.


    Arran was aghast, but he answered anyway, "I did." He thought Master Zhao must have sent the man, so he followed his lead.


    "Can you believe this little brat ran off to join those damn mages?" the blond man said loudly to two men who were sitting at the table next to them. They laughed awkwardly in response, clearly unwilling to get involved.


    "No more of that magic nonsense for you, lad." The man turned his attention to Arran. "After tonight we''ll head back to the caravans. Get you some honest work to do."


    The barmaid arrived, carrying two pints of ale. Behind her followed two girls, uncertain looks on their faces.


    The blond man handed the barmaid a silver coin, then flipped one to each of the girls as well. Immediately their faces brightened.


    "Now then, let''s have a drink. We''re leaving early in the morning." He pulled one of the girls onto his lap, while the other sat down next to Arran.


    What followed were several hours of pure torture for Arran.


    Speaking as though he wanted the entire inn to hear, his ''uncle'' told story after story, half of them embarrassing tales from Arran''s childhood.


    That each story was as fake as it was embarrassing did not offer much comfort to Arran, and he felt his face turn red as the two girls laughed at his misfortune.


    A steady drip of coin kept the ale flowing and the girls giggling, and as night fell, the ale took its toll on Arran. At last, he felt as if he was about to fall over.


    Finally, the blond man announced with a loud voice, "That''s it, lad! Time to get some sleep. We''re leaving at dawn."


    With that, he stood up, handing the girls some more silver before waving them off. They had made more coin that night than they usually earned in a month, and their faces were glowing in delight.


    As the man walked out of the common room and up the stairs Arran stumbled behind him, head abuzz with drink.


    When the man reached the door to his room he took a quick look around, then pulled Arran in with him.


    Once they were inside, the man wordlessly reached forward with his hand and put two fingers against Arran''s forehead. Before Arran could react, a jolt of pain ran through his body, and his vision went blurry.


    When the pain subsided a few moments later, he suddenly found himself completely sober.


    "Sorry about that," the man said, sounding not the least bit sorry. "Best you be sober for what comes next."


    "Who the hell are you?!" Arran finally blurted out.

 Chapter 4 Magic

    Arran stared at the blond man in front of him. He was certain he had never seen the man''s face before, yet there was something strangely familiar about him.


    "Who are you?" he asked again.


    The man smirked, and his image suddenly grew blurry. When it cleared, Master Zhao''s grinning face appeared.


    Arran was astonished. "So it was you¡­" Although he had seen the man change like this once before, at the time he had been too shocked to give it much thought.


    "Why did you draw so much attention?" Arran asked. "After tonight, there is no way we can escape unnoticed."


    "I''ve always loved a good bit of theater," Master Zhao said, a sly smile on his face. "But more importantly, this was the best way to hide you."


    A puzzled expression appeared on Arran''s face. Drawing attention was the best way to hide him?


    "You failed to get into the Academy, then spent half a week at the biggest brothel in the city, before getting hauled off by your uncle." Master Zhao grinned.


    "Nobody would act that way while trying to hide from the Academy," he continued. "When the Academy''s mages arrive, they will have to find out who cracked the testing disc. The first suspects will be people who left or disappeared."


    Arran now understood why Master Zhao had sent him to the Blue Angel, although he wished the man had told him earlier.


    "But won''t Adept Song tell them it was me?" he asked, remembering the man who tested him at the Academy.


    Master Zhao shook his head. "Adept Song is dead." Seeing Arran''s shocked reaction, he added, "It was the only way to hide your identity."


    Hearing this, Arran was overwhelmed. Master Zhao killed Adept Song, and because of him?


    After a few moments of silence, Master Zhao said, "We have much to discuss. But first, tell me, what do you know about magic?"


    "Nothing," Arran answered honestly.


    "Nothing?" Master Zhao knitted his brows. "Then what made you come to the Academy?"


    "My mother," Arran replied. "She left when I was little. My father never told me anything about her until¡­" He swallowed hard. Even now, the memory still felt like a fresh wound in his heart.


    After a moment, Arran continued. "Half a year ago, my father was struck by a bandit''s arrow. The wound became infected, and he fell ill with fever. In his final moments, he told me that my mother had been a mage."


    With a thoughtful expression, Master Zhao spoke. "I think I can tell you why your mother left."


    Arran immediately sat up in attention. The question of why his mother left had plagued him as long as he could remember. He looked at Master Zhao, eagerly awaiting the man''s next words.


    "What you have ¡ª the reason the Academy wants to capture you ¡ª is a forbidden Realm." Master Zhao said the last words slowly, as if they carried great meaning.


    "A forbidden Realm?" Arran had no idea what the man was talking about.


    Master Zhao took a deep breath. "When we use magic, what we really do is manipulate Essence, a type of magical energy. Essence is drawn from Realms. Whether you can use magic depends on the Realms you can access."


    Arran listened intently. What little he had seen of magic already astonished him, and he was anxious to learn more.


    "There are many Realms," Master Zhao said. "For example, there''s Fire."


    He raised his hand, open palm facing upward. Without a sound, a fist-sized ball of yellow-white fire appeared, slowly spinning in the air above his hand.


    Despite being several paces away, Arran could feel the heat that radiated from it. It seemed hot enough to burn through flesh as easily as it would burn through paper.


    Master Zhao lowered his hand, and the ball of fire disappeared. He spoke again, waving his hand. "Wind."


    A sudden gust blew through the room, nearly sending Arran to the floor. It vanished as quickly as it had appeared, leaving Arran''s hair tousled.


    Once more, Master Zhao spoke. "Shadow."


    In an instant, the room went pitch black. It was as if all the light in the world had disappeared, and for a moment, Arran worried that he had gone blind.


    When the light returned a few seconds later, it revealed Arran''s shocked face, gaping in astonishment. He had finally seen a glimmer of the true power of magic, and it was beyond anything he could have imagined.


    "To mages, acquiring Realms is a small matter," Master Zhao said. "It is easily achieved with magical scrolls or artifacts. The difficult part is learning how to draw Essence from a Realm and use it."


    Arran nodded. It made sense that powers like these required practice.


    "Most Realms are bound by the laws of reality," Master Zhao continued. "Fire might burn a man, but it will still leave ashes. Shadow might conceal him, but he will still be there. But some Realms have the power to change reality itself. To the Academy, these are the forbidden Realms."


    "And I have one of those?" Arran asked.


    Master Zhao nodded.


    "So¡­ what can I do?" The prospect of having powers like Master Zhao''s seemed incredible to Arran.


    "Right now? Absolutely nothing," Master Zhao said with a chuckle. "Just like having hands does not make you a carpenter, having a Realm does not make you a mage."


    It made sense, but Arran still felt slightly disappointed. With a sigh, he forced himself to stop thinking about what he would be able to do once he became a mage.


    "You said you knew why my mother left?" Arran asked, remembering what the man had said earlier.


    Master Zhao nodded. "I think she sensed your Realm when you were a child. As the son of a mage, other mages would inevitably wonder whether you had inherited some of her powers. If they looked into it, they would discover your forbidden Realm, and you would become a target for the Academy."


    Comprehension dawned on Arran''s face.


    "When she left you behind, she probably hoped that you would live a normal life, never so much as meeting another mage. To save her son, she sacrificed seeing him grow up."


    A hint of sorrow showed in Master Zhao''s expression as he spoke the words, as if he was reminded of a distant but painful memory.


    Arran, meanwhile, felt a sudden sense of gratitude toward his mother. For the first time, he understood that she had left him for his own protection.


    "But why are you helping me?" Arran asked.


    "My reasons are my own," Master Zhao answered curtly.


    Arran suppressed his curiosity. It was clear that whatever drove the man to help him was something he did not wish to discuss.


    "So what will we do now?" he asked.


    After some hesitation, Master Zhao answered, "I don''t know yet. There are some powers within the Empire that can keep you safe, at least for a time. Whether they are willing to do so¡­ that''s a different matter."


    The answer only left Arran with more questions, but some small part of him was relieved to hear the uncertainty in Master Zhao''s voice. Apparently, the man did not know everything.


    Finally, Arran asked the one question that had been burning in his mind since the start of the conversation:


    "Will you teach me how to use magic?"


    Master Zhao laughed. "We haven''t even escaped the jaws of the Academy, yet already you''re thinking of learning magic?"


    Arran flushed in embarrassment. In his eagerness to learn magic, he had almost forgotten about the danger he was in.


    "But yes, I will teach you." Master Zhao''s expression turned serious. "I can protect you for now, but eventually, the Academy will find you. When they do, you will have to rely on your own strength to survive."


    Arran''s excitement at the prospect of learning magic dimmed instantly. Eventually, the Academy would find him? And he would have to face the Academy''s mages by himself? The thought filled Arran with dread.


    "For now, return to your room, and get some sleep. We leave at dawn." Master Zhao''s tone made it clear that the conversation was over.

 Chapter 5 On The Road

    Arran suppressed a yawn as he walked.


    He had barely slept a wink the previous night, instead lying awake as he thought about the many things Master Zhao had told him. When he fell asleep it was near dawn, and true to his word, Master Zhao had come knocking on his door right at the break of dawn, once more wearing the disguise of Arran''s ''uncle'' Derrin.


    Somewhere, the man had acquired a large cart drawn by two horses, filled with who-knows-what. Not long after sunrise they had left, Master Zhao riding the cart while Arran walked beside it.


    He cast an annoyed glance at Master Zhao. When he had asked if he could ride on the cart instead of having to walk next to it, the man had refused, telling him that physical exercise was crucial to being a mage.


    Apparently, that did not extend to Master Zhao himself. Comfortably sitting in the driver''s seat of the cart, he showed no sign of wanting to trade places with Arran.


    "How much farther before we rest to eat?" Arran asked. It was near midday, and his empty stomach was starting to rumble.


    "Just another mile or two," Master Zhao said. "In the meantime, why not enjoy the countryside? It''s quite beautiful, this time of year." He seemed rather pleased with the situation.


    The surroundings were beautiful, that much was true. The road cut a path through rolling green hills, scattered with trees and the occasional farm or cottage. A landscape painter would probably have been inspired by the sight.


    Arran, however, was no painter. What he was was tired, and hungry. Right now, he would have traded all the beautiful landscapes in the world for an hour''s rest and a good meal.


    Finally, they stopped next to a flat field at the side of a small stream.


    "You water the horses," Master Zhao said. "I''ll prepare us something to eat."


    Arran obliged, unharnessing the horses and leading them to the stream, where they drank thirstily.


    When he returned, he found that Master Zhao had laid out a blanket on the grass, atop which lay several hunks of bread and some dried meat. Without hesitation, Arran hungrily wolfed down.


    After he finished eating he lazily stretched out, even more tired than before now his hunger had finally been sated. He idly wondered whether there would be time for a quick nap.


    Master Zhao looked at him, then spoke. "If you''re done eating, I think it''s about time that we start your training."


    Any hint of weariness forgotten, Arran sat up instantly. "You''ll teach me magic?"


    "Magic?" Master Zhao chuckled, then shook his head. "You''re nowhere near ready for that."


    He walked back to the cart and retrieved a small cloth bundle from which he took two wooden training swords, one of which he handed to Arran.


    "Today, we fight," Master Zhao said with a grin. "If you manage to hit me at least once, I''ll let you ride in the cart for the rest of the day."


    Arran was disappointed that he would have to wait longer to learn magic, but he was eager to cross swords with Master Zhao.


    Having grown up the son of a guardsman, he was naturally confident with a sword. After Master Zhao''s display back in the Blue Angel Arran knew he stood little chance of defeating the man, but he certainly would not make a fool of himself, either.


    He raised the sword in front of him, gripping it with both hands.


    Master Zhao stood calmly, raising his own sword as well. Unlike Arran, he held it in a single hand. "Begin," he said.


    Arran attacked instantly, his sword shooting forward in a series of wild blows.


    Master Zhao barely moved, yet somehow, he narrowly avoided each blow Arran struck.


    Frustrated, Arran stepped up his attacks, ignoring his defense to concentrate solely on attacking the man in front of him.


    Whack!


    Master Zhao''s wooden sword smacked into Arran''s right shoulder, leaving a painful welt.


    "Again," Master Zhao said. "And this time, don''t drop your defense."


    Arran took a more careful approach as he attacked once more, feinting repeatedly while taking care not to let his defense drop.


    Several times he felt like he came close to hitting his opponent, but Master Zhao still parried or dodged each of his strikes.


    Whack!


    Another painful welt appeared, this time on Arran''s left shoulder.


    He was confounded. Each time it seemed like he was about to break through Master''s Zhao''s defenses, yet each time the man just barely evaded or parried Arran''s strikes.


    Once more he attacked, paying close attention to his opponent''s movements as he tried to understand his techniques.


    Whack!


    Again and again, Arran attacked, attempting all kinds of different styles and tactics. Yet no matter how hard he tried, every attempt to strike his target failed, and each round ended with a single stroke of Master Zhao''s sword.


    "Why can''t I hit you?!" Arran was panting, and his body was covered in welts and bruises.


    "Control," Master Zhao said in response. "To control the sword, you must control your body. To control magic, you must control your mind."


    "Pay close attention," he said, then showed Arran several sets of movements and techniques.


    Arran watched intently, amazed at what he saw.


    Master Zhao''s techniques were much like the ones Arran had learned from his father, but somehow they were faster and sharper. It was as if every unnecessary movement had been trimmed away, leaving only the very essence of each sword stroke.


    Suddenly, he understood. The techniques the man showed him were all about control. With each stroke, and with each movement, Master Zhao perfectly controlled both his body and the sword.


    Filled with determination, Arran started to copy the techniques Master Zhao had just shown him. Even without magic, learning just a fraction of the man''s skills with the sword would make him a formidable fighter.


    He spent the next hour practicing furiously, repeating each technique time after time. Several times Master Zhao interrupted him to correct his form, but other than that, Arran swung his sword in silence.


    After an hour he was bathed in sweat, muscles sore from repeating the same movements over and over again until his body felt like it could collapse from fatigue.


    He tried to continue, but his arms trembled with exhaustion when he lifted the sword once more.


    "That''s enough for now," Master Zhao said. "Go wash yourself. After that, we''ll head off."


    Arran nodded. Exhausted as he was, further training would do him little good.


    He washed himself in the stream, cold water rinsing away the sweat of training. When he returned, he was relieved to discover that Master Zhao would let him ride in the cart for the remainder of the day.


    ¡ª¡ª¡ª


    The weeks that followed saw Arran training every day. Sometimes he sparred with Master Zhao and sometimes he practiced alone, but each day he made some progress, however little it might be.


    At first, practice was limited to the afternoons, following their midday meals. After each training session, Arran would spend the rest of the day riding in the cart, nursing his bruises and resting his body.


    After some days Master Zhao decided that they would practice in the evenings as well, and Arran found himself collapsing with exhaustion each night, only to start all over again with each new day.


    Apparently still not satisfied with Arran''s progress, some weeks later Master Zhao further increased the frequency of training, making Arran spend an hour in training every morning before they left.


    With three practice sessions a day Arran found his skill with the sword increasing rapidly, but the grueling schedule left little time for anything else. When he was not training he was resting, and when he was not resting he was training.


    Absorbed in training, Arran barely noticed their travels. They traveled through hills, then fields, then forest, then hills again, but the only things that filled Arran''s mind were the sword and his aching body.


    Sometimes they would stop in towns and villages to stock up on food, and on those days Arran was granted a short reprieve from training. Too tired to explore the towns they visited, Arran instead spent these days to rest and recover.


    Soon, weeks turned into months.


    Under Master Zhao''s tutelage, Arran''s skills with the sword improved with leaps and bounds. And not just that, he found that the constant training strengthened his body as well. While he had been strong even as a child, now his body grew lean and muscular.


    Arran realized with some shock that by now, he could likely already match the best fighters in Riverbend.


    The constant improvement was like a drug to Arran. Eager to further his skills and increase his strength, he found himself looking forward to their practice sessions.


    Occasionally, Arran would remember the Academy. Although the first month he had constantly looked over his shoulder, three months into their journey there had still been no sign whatsoever of any Academy mages.


    Secretly, he was starting to believe that maybe they had escaped successfully.


    Then, one morning, as they topped yet another tree-covered hill, half a dozen men suddenly emerged on the road, armed with swords and axes, and armored in mail.


    When Arran saw them, his heart leaped in fear.


    Had the Academy finally caught up with them?

 Chapter 6 A Harsh Lesson

    Standing on the road before Arran and Master Zhao were six men. They looked like soldiers or mercenaries, carrying swords and axes, and wearing battle-scarred armor.


    Arran tried to control his fear, but only partly succeeded. "Are they from the Academy?" he asked, voice shaking.


    "Just some common bandits," Master Zhao said dismissively. "Deal with them." He did not seem the least bit concerned.


    "Deal with them?" Arran''s eyes went wide. Even if the men weren''t from the Academy, there were six of them, all armored. And Master Zhao expected Arran to deal with them?


    There was no time for Arran to object. Already, the men were in front of them.


    "We''ll take the cart and the horses, and any coin you''re carrying." The man who spoke was tall, with a bald head that bore several deep scars. "Hand them over, and we''ll let you leave with your lives."


    "We can''t do that." Arran had drawn his sword and was standing in front of the six men, alone.


    "Kill them." The bald man said the words calmly and without hesitation, as if he had ordered the other men to butcher a chicken.


    Immediately, one of the bandits rushed at Arran, raising an axe above his head.


    Before the bandit could bring down his axe, Arran''s sword darted forward, tearing through the man''s throat. Blood gushing from his neck, he collapsed, face twisted in shock.


    Arran did not have time to savor his victory. Instantly, the sword of one of the other bandits came crashing down toward him. He barely managed to parry it, but the force of the blow made him stumble backward.


    He feinted toward the bandit''s face and the man flinched, raising his arms. Before he could recover, Arran hacked into his wrist with a fierce cut.


    The bandit''s blade was sent flying, severed hand still grasping it. Arran followed up with a sharp thrust to his opponent''s face, his sword plunging a hand''s length into the man''s right eye.


    A third bandit stumbled back in shock, clearly not having expected the young man to put up such a fight. Before he could move out of range, Arran''s sword cut deep into the side of his neck.


    Arran yanked his sword free, and the bandit''s bleeding body fell to the ground.


    Stepping back, Arran breathed loudly. Without thinking, he had relied on the techniques Master Zhao had drilled into his head during the past three months.


    Only now did the gravity of the situation set in, and Arran''s body trembled as he felt his heart pound in his chest.


    Undeterred, the three remaining bandits stepped forward. Moving deliberately, they spread out around Arran, one on either side of him, with the third ¡ª the tall bald man Arran thought was the leader ¡ª at the center.


    Briefly, Arran had hoped that the deaths of the other three would send these men running in fear. Instead, they seemed to have been filled with a cold rage.


    The bandit on Arran''s right moved suddenly, his sword swinging at Arran in a brutal slash. Arran very nearly botched his parry and came close to being cut down right there.


    At the same moment, the bandit on Arran''s left struck at him with an axe, exploiting the opening the man on his right had created. With his sword occupied by the first man, there was nothing Arran could do to block him.


    Arran thought his final moment had come, but somehow the man missed, instead stumbling as if he had tripped. His momentum carried him head-first into the other bandit as he fell to the ground.


    The man with the sword managed to stay on his feet, but it took him a moment to regain his balance. A moment was all that was needed. Arran struck several wild cuts to his neck, and he went down.


    In the blink of an eye, only the bald leader remained standing, his expression filled with murderous intent.


    The bald man did not hesitate in attacking. Immediately, his sword swung forward in a slash that Arran only narrowly parried. Without a moment''s, pause he struck again, then again, leaving Arran no time to recover as he stumbled backward.


    Arran knew he was losing the fight. Any moment now, the bald bandit''s sword would slip past his defenses and bring him down.


    Recognizing that he could not continue like this, Arran suddenly unleashed a series of wild blows. The man parried them with ease, but before he could counter, Arran suddenly rushed forward, ramming his shoulder into the bald man''s chest.


    The bandit staggered, and Arran saw an opening. Before the man could recover, Arran''s sword found his neck, cutting clean through. The man''s bald head toppled to the ground, and his body collapsed next to it. Blood began to spread out over the road.


    Arran stood motionless, panting. He was still alive.


    Suddenly, a yell sounded behind him. When he turned around, he saw a man lying on the ground with a large hole burned through his chest. It was the bandit with the axe who had stumbled earlier.


    After defeating the leader, Arran had forgotten all about the man.


    "Next time, don''t be so careless." Master Zhao''s voice was calm, sounding no different from when he instructed Arran.


    "Why didn''t you help earlier? I almost died!" Now, with the danger finally gone, Arran found himself flooded with the fear and anger he had suppressed earlier.


    "You think I didn''t?" Master Zhao responded calmly.


    Arran fell silent, remembering the man who had stumbled just as he was about to hit Arran.


    "That was you?" he asked.


    "I intervened several times," Master Zhao replied. "You didn''t think bandits were usually this slow and clumsy, did you?"


    "Then why did you make me fight them?" Arran asked the question, but he already knew the answer.


    "No amount of sparring can replace real combat," Master Zhao answered. "With these men so willingly offering themselves up for your education, how could I reject their generosity?"


    With a sigh, Arran turned to look at the aftermath of the fight.


    He felt little sympathy for the men whose bodies were now lifelessly strewn across the ground. His father had died to a bandit''s arrow less than a year earlier, and to his mind, every dead bandit was an innocent life saved.


    Nevertheless, the sight shook Arran. Just moments ago these men had all been alive. Now, they were dead, and by Arran''s sword.


    It took him some moments to regain his composure.


    "Time to collect your earnings," Master Zhao finally said.


    Arran knitted his brows. "Earnings?"


    Master Zhao pointed at the bodies on the ground. "They should be carrying plenty of ill-gotten wealth," he said. "Not to mention the loot they have at their camp. I imagine it shouldn''t be far from here."


    Arran went through the men''s possessions, trying not to be sickened by the stench of death.


    Eventually, he gathered up their weapons, as well as a nice bit of coin. The armor he left behind. Valuable though it might be, it was covered in blood and gore, and the mere thought of stripping the armor from the corpses made him queasy.


    After that, the search for the bandits'' camp was a short one. They found it just a few hundred paces from the road, barely hidden among a copse of trees.


    As they searched the camp, Arran quickly excited. The bandits had left a small fortune behind in jewelry and other precious goods, and it wasn''t long before his pockets bulged with gold and silver.


    Arran''s excitement dimmed somewhat when he reminded himself where the bandits had gotten their possessions, but that did not stop him from taking them.


    "Now this is interesting," Master Zhao said, holding up a green jade amulet.


    To Arran''s eyes, there was nothing special about the amulet. It looked somewhat valuable, but no more so than the other jewelry they had found.


    "What is it?" he asked.


    "It''s a Memory Amulet," Master Zhao answered. "Mages use them to store spells and techniques. And this one¡­" His eyes went blank for a moment. "This one is filled with enchanting techniques."


    Looking quite pleased, he tossed the amulet to Arran. "Keep it. In the future, it might come in helpful."


    "I can''t use it now?" Arran asked.


    "It requires magic to use," Master Zhao explained.


    He gave Arran a thoughtful look.


    "But perhaps¡­" Master Zhao hesitated. When he finally spoke, it sounded as if he had reached a decision. "Perhaps it''s time that you learn magic."

 Chapter 7 The Black Pill

    Several days had gone by since their encounter with the bandits, and despite his earlier words, Master Zhao had still not begun teaching Arran magic.


    Each time he asked Master Zhao when they would begin training, the answer was the same: "Soon."


    After a week, Arran was beginning to lose hope.


    Then, one morning, as Arran was starting his morning practice with the sword, Master Zhao unexpectedly stopped him.


    "Not today," the man said. "Today, you set your first step on the path to becoming a mage"


    Arran immediately felt an eager grin appear on his face. "When do we start?" he asked, barely able to contain his excitement.


    "Right now," Master Zhao answered. He produced two scrolls from his robe, which he handed them over to Arran. "First, study these."


    Arran sat down, then picked one of the scrolls and unrolled it.


    Immediately, his face went sour. The scroll was filled with writing, but it used peculiar symbols he had never seen before.


    "I don''t know how to read this," he said. He half expected Master Zhao to announce that before Arran could learn magic, he would first have to learn the scrolls'' strange language.


    Arran''s heart sank at the thought. If he had to learn to read a new language, it would be months if not years before he could start to learn magic.


    "It''s magic, not literature," Master Zhao said with a grin. "Whether you understand the symbols does not matter. As long as you focus your attention, you will draw out the magic contained within the scrolls."


    Arran sighed in relief.


    He stretched out, then set to work. Folding out the scroll in front of him, he began to focus on the strange symbols.


    Almost immediately, he could feel a strange tingle in his mind, like an itch in the back of his head. It was as if with each symbol he inspected, some small change occurred within him, though he could not say what that change was.


    It took him some hours to work his way through the first scroll. When he finished studying the final symbol on the scroll, the tingling feeling in his mind disappeared and the scroll crumbled in his hands.


    Arran looked at Master Zhao in alarm. He still remembered what had happened when he was tested at the Academy. Seeing the scroll crumble, he feared that something had gone wrong once more.


    Master Zhao merely gazed at him, a calm look on his face. "Very good," he said. "You''ve finished the first. Take some rest, then move on to the second."


    Arran did what Master Zhao said. After grabbing some food from the cart, he sat down again. As he ate, he tried to sense whether something had changed within him.


    He was disappointed to find nothing out of the ordinary. If reading the scroll had done anything, he was unable to sense it.


    He was a bit disheartened, but he set all thoughts of failure aside as he moved on to the second scroll.


    Once more, he started studying. The symbols in this scroll were different, but whether there was any different meaning in them, Arran could not say.


    Again, he felt a strange sensation in his mind as he meticulously worked his way through the scroll, and again, the scroll crumbled when he reached its end.


    After finishing with the second scroll, Arran once more tried to sense if something had changed within him.


    He closed his eyes, then focused his attention inward, trying his hardest to sense something magical within him.


    Nothing happened.


    "Trying to see if it worked?" Master Zhao asked, laughing.


    "Something should have happened, right?" Arran asked uncertainly.


    "Something did happen," Master Zhao said in response. "You''ve just acquired two new Realms, Fire and Shadow."


    Arran was confounded. "But I don''t feel anything," he said.


    Master Zhao nodded. "That''s quite normal. Usually, it takes students years if not decades of study and meditation before they can sense and access their Realms."


    Arran''s face twisted. Years, or even decades? At that rate, he would be an old man before he became a real mage.


    "But we don''t have that much time," Master Zhao said. "In your case, I will use a shortcut."


    "You have a quicker way?" Arran asked hopefully.


    "Of course." Master Zhao took something from his robe, then held it up. It was a jet-black pill the size of a marble.


    "What''s that?" Arran asked, some hesitation in his voice. While he liked the idea of skipping years of training, there was something vaguely unnatural about the pill''s appearance, as if it did not belong in this world.


    "This is a Realm Opening Pill," Master Zhao answered.


    "A Realm Opening Pill?" Arran knitted his brows. "Didn''t I just open two Realms?"


    "You acquired two Realms," Master Zhao said. "What the scrolls did was create tiny connections between you and those Realms. This pill will tear open those connections, strengthening them and allowing you to draw Essence through them."


    Arran frowned. The word ''tear'' did little to reassure him. "Is it dangerous?" he asked.


    "You''ll feel some slight discomfort as the pill does its work," Master Zhao replied. "Other than that, it''s perfectly safe."


    Reluctantly, Arran put the pill in his mouth, then forced himself to swallow it.


    A few moments passed without Arran noticing anything. Then, slowly, he began to feel a warmth spread through his body.


    "This isn''t so¡ª" As he began to speak, suddenly the heat within his body increased, as if the blood in his veins had been replaced with boiling water.


    Screaming loudly, he turned toward Master Zhao, face warped in pain as he tried to tell the man that something was horribly wrong. Yet the pain overwhelmed him, causing his muscles to cramp and spasm to the point where he found himself unable to form words.


    Trying to beg for help, he extended a shaking arm toward Master Zhao.


    Master Zhao did not respond. Instead, he just looked at Arran quietly, observing him with a look of interest.


    The pain was unlike anything Arran had ever experienced before, and it kept growing more intense with each passing moment. Every time he thought it could not possibly get any worse, he quickly discovered that he was wrong


    It wasn''t long before Arran found himself completely unable to move, his muscles locked up with anguish. All he could do was lie on the ground and endure the torture.


    At first, he feared that he was dying. Soon, as the pain grew stronger and then stronger still, he wished that he would die ¡ª anything to stop the agony.


    How long it lasted, he did not know. It could have been hours, or days, or even weeks ¡ª to Arran, the pain seemed neverending.


    Finally, his mind was unable to endure any longer. The world turned dark, and his consciousness slipped away.


    ¡ª¡ª¡ª


    Arran awoke with a start, seeing the stars above him in the night sky. His body was trembling, and for a few moments, his mind was entirely blank.


    Then, he remembered.


    "You lying bastard!", he shouted in rage, looking around to see where Master Zhao was. When he found the man, he growled with fury.


    "You!" He extended his hand toward the man. "You told me¡ª"


    At that moment he went silent. A small flame had appeared in his palm.


    Anger forgotten instantly, Arran stared dumbly at the fire that rose up from his hand.


    "Is this¡­?"


    "Congratulations," Master Zhao said. "You''re using magic."

 Chapter 8 A Taste of Magic

    Arran stared at his outstretched hand, amazed at what he saw. From his palm surged forth a small stream of fire.


    For a moment, he worried that his hand was burning, but he felt no pain, and his hand remained untouched by the fire. Oddly, it barely even felt warm.


    After some moments, the fire dimmed. Soon, it had disappeared entirely.


    "How did I do that?" he asked. He knew he had produced the fire, but he did not understand how.


    "You used Fire Essence to create fire," Master Zhao said.


    "Why didn''t it burn me?" The fire in Arran''s palm had been real, yet it did not burn him like normal fire would have done.


    "The fire was created from the Fire Essence in your body," Master Zhao replied patiently. "It''s as much a part of you as your hand itself."


    "So I can control it?" Arran asked.


    "Magic wouldn''t be much use otherwise," Master Zhao said curtly.


    "How?" Having tasted a small bit of power, Arran already longed for more.


    "First, close your eyes and concentrate, then try to sense the Realms and Essence inside you," Master Zhao said. "After that, I will show you how to control it."


    Arran did what Master Zhao told him. Sitting still, he closed his eyes, then focused his attention inward.


    At first, he could not sense anything. Yet slowly, he started to feel a peculiar energy flowing inside his body. It was thin, like mist, but it was there. This, he realized, was Essence.


    When he first sensed it, all of it seemed the same, but as he examined it more closely, he found three different types, mixed together in what appeared like a thin fog.


    The first type was distinct and abundant, glowing brightly and moving with vigor. Immediately, Arran knew that this must be Fire Essence.


    The second type was less abundant than the first. It flowed inside him like a fog, barely discernible, as if it was trying to conceal itself. Only with effort could he sense it within himself. This, he guessed, should be Shadow Essence.


    The third type was wholly different from the first two. He could barely sense it, and compared to the other two types there was only a fraction of it present in his body. When he examined it, it shocked him how wild and violent it was, as if it would resist any attempts at controlling it.


    This last type, he realized, must be the Essence from his forbidden Realm.


    As he became familiar with the Essence within his body, Arran was surprised to learn that it seemed to emanate from three distinct spots within his mind.


    Focusing his mind on the spots, he soon realized that these were the sources for the different kinds of Essence he sensed. He knew these would be his Realms.


    "I can sense the Essence, and the Realms!" Arran said excitedly, opening his eyes.


    "Good," Master Zhao said. "Then we can move on. Time for you to get your first real taste of magic."


    Arran nodded eagerly. He had many questions, but right now, all he could think about was actually using magic.


    "We will start with Fire Essence," Master Zhao said. "You already got a taste of that earlier, so it should be the easiest one."


    "What do I do?" Arran asked.


    "Focus on the Fire Essence within your body," Master Zhao said. "Once you sense it, use your will to move it into your hand."


    Arran followed Master Zhao''s instructions, trying to sense the Fire Essence in his body once more. This time, he succeeded faster than he had earlier.


    Sensing the Fire Essence, he tried to move it into his hand.


    Nothing happened at first, but after a while, he could feel the Fire Essence in his hand grow denser. At the same time, it seemed to grow thinner in the rest of his body.


    "It''s there," Arran said. He held out his hand in front of him.


    "Now try to push it outward," Master Zhao said.


    Using all his willpower, Arran tried to urge the Fire Essence from his hand, but despite his efforts, absolutely nothing happened.


    He opened his mouth to speak, but Master Zhao cut him off before he could say a word. "Keep trying."


    For the better part of an hour, Arran tried to force the Fire Essence to emerge from his hand, failing repeatedly.


    At last, he felt something happen. His eyes went wide as he saw a small flame emerge from his palm.


    "I did it!"


    He looked in fascination at the fire. Feeling he had only used a fraction of the Fire Essence that had pooled in his hand, he forced out more, and the fire in his palm grew until it was as large as the head of a torch.


    Soon, he felt the Fire Essence in his body depleting, and the fire shrank quickly, then went out.


    "Before you can continue, you need to draw more Essence from your Fire Realm," Master Zhao said.


    "How do I do that?" Arran asked, eager to continue.


    "That''s a matter for a later time," Master Zhao replied. "For now, just let the Fire Essence in your body replenish naturally. Meanwhile, we will move on to Shadow."


    Arran was unwilling to move on from Fire, but with his Fire Essence depleted, he had little choice.


    Repeating what he had done earlier, he stretched out his arm, then focused on the Shadow Essence inside of him.


    Having already controlled Fire Essence, Shadow proved to be much easier. Again he willed the Essence into his arm, then into his hand.


    It wasn''t long before a faint shadow appeared in the palm of his hand.


    Seeing the result, Arran was not impressed. "That''s it?"


    With his current skill, Fire might not yet be of much use, but he could imagine that eventually, he would be able to throw deadly fireballs at his opponents.


    Compared to that, Shadow seemed downright disappointing. The ability to form a shadow in his hand did not seem like something he would ever need.


    "You think Shadow is useless, do you?" Master Zhao said the words with a grin.


    In an instant, the man disappeared. With just the light of the campfire, Arran found himself completely unable to find him.


    "Still think it''s useless?" Master Zhao''s voice sounded amused.


    Arran hastily shook his head.


    Master Zhao appeared in the same place where he sat earlier. "But there is another reason you need to learn to use Shadow," he said. "A more important one."


    With a serious expression, he continued, "Now that you have opened your Realms, skilled mages can easily sense your Realms and your Essence."


    Arran was startled. "So the first mage I meet will know about¡­ about my forbidden Realm?"


    "The first skilled mage, yes," Master Zhao said. "The only Essence that others cannot sense is Shadow Essence. That is why, by using Shadow Essence, mages can conceal their powers."


    "Then I can hide it?" Arran asked nervously.


    Master Zhao nodded. "Once you become skilled at using Shadow magic, you can conceal your forbidden Realm."


    "Once I become skilled?" Arran wondered how long that would take.


    "For the time being, I will seal off your forbidden Realm," Master Zhao said. He reached out with his hand, putting his fingers against Arran''s temple.


    Arran''s vision briefly went blurry. When it cleared, he found that where the forbidden Realm had been earlier, there now was a tangle of threads that seemed to be made from pure Shadow Essence.


    "The remaining Essence from the forbidden Realm should dissipate within a day or so," Master Zhao said. "After that, not even I could find it ¡ª if I didn''t know about it already."


    "I thought you said others can''t sense one''s Shadow Essence? Why can I sense the seal you made?" For every answer Master Zhao gave him, Arran could have asked a dozen questions.


    "It''s much easier to sense Essence when it''s inside you," Master Zhao said. By now, he looked somewhat weary.


    "How long will it last?" Arran asked, although he could tell that Master Zhao''s patience with his questions was wearing thin.


    "Until I remove it," Master Zhao replied. "Once you learn to control Shadow Essence, you will be able to remove it as well."


    "If you don''t remove it¡­" Arran had a sudden thought. "Won''t I be able to live a normal life, as a mage?"


    "As long as the seal remains there, nobody will know about the forbidden Realm. Now, enough with the questions. Get some sleep, we leave in the morning."


    The tone of Master Zhao''s voice made it clear that the conversation was over.

 Chapter 9 Master Firehear

    Arran stifled a yawn. He had not slept at all the previous night, instead practicing his use of Fire Essence until the break of dawn.


    By now he could form a flame in his hand almost instantly, and each time he did, a big grin appeared on his face.


    To Arran''s surprise, Master Zhao did not chastise him for his overeagerness. Instead, he merely looked on in approval.


    "The more you practice your magic, the stronger you will get," Master Zhao had said, and Arran was only too happy to follow the man''s advice.


    Halfway through the morning, Arran was once more waiting for his Fire Essence to replenish. As he walked beside the cart, he looked at their surroundings.


    It had been several days since he had last seen any sign of other people, and not a single farm or cottage could be seen amid the low hills that surrounded them.


    Arran did not know which part of the Empire they were in ¡ª nor, truth be told, did he know what parts the Empire even had ¡ª but it was clear that this region was more sparsely populated than the ones they had traveled through before.


    "Where are we headed?" he idly asked Master Zhao, not expecting an answer. He had already asked the question many times, and each time, the answer had been the same: "I will tell you when I decide."


    To his surprise, this time Master Zhao answered his question. "We are going to visit an old friend of mine."


    "An old friend?" Arran was taken aback by the idea of Master Zhao having friends, like a normal person. "Is he also a mage?"


    "He is," Master Zhao said. "A powerful one, at that."


    "When do we get there?" Arran asked, excited at the thought of meeting another mage.


    "We should arrive in a month or two," Master Zhao replied.


    "That long?" Arran had looked forward to spending time off the road, but now it looked like he had to wait quite a while longer.


    Master Zhao stopped the cart at the side of the road, then walked onto the adjacent grassland.


    "There are two techniques you should learn first," Master Zhao said. "A month or two should be just long enough for you to grasp them."


    Arran raised an eyebrow. "Two techniques?"


    Master Zhao didn''t answer. Instead, he abruptly stretched out his arm. From his hand emerged a furiously raging ball of fire that soared toward a large tree in the distance. When it struck, the entire tree was set ablaze.


    "Please teach me!" Arran said, eyes wide.


    "I thought you might be interested," Master Zhao said with a grin. "It''s a clumsy and wasteful technique, but it has some uses."


    He proceeded to explain the technique to Arran, demonstrating it several times and leaving several burn scars on the local scenery.


    As Master Zhao explained it, Arran would have to concentrate his Fire Essence, then forcefully expel it all at once, guiding it away from him.


    Arran''s first few attempts were unsuccessful. While he did manage to produce a large flame, the flame did not move at all, instead petering out in his hand after several moments.


    He finally succeeded a good hour later, but was disappointed to find that unlike Master Zhao''s fireballs, his own were much smaller and barely flew a single pace before dissipating in mid-air.


    Yet even that bit of success was enough to bolster his confidence, and he made several more attempts, only stopping when he ran out of Fire Essence.


    Arran now understood what Master Zhao had meant when he said the technique was wasteful. Every successful attempt consumed a large chunk of the Fire Essence in Arran''s body, and just half a dozen successful fireballs had left him drained.


    "Excellent," Master Zhao said. "You are more talented than I expected."


    Arran felt a surge of pride. Master Zhao rarely gave compliments, which made the ones he did give even more precious.


    "Next, I will show you a technique to recover your Essence faster."


    Arran''s interest was instantly sparked. Right now, whenever his Fire Essence ran out it would take him nearly half an hour to recover.


    "To start, you will need to¡­"


    Master Zhao spent the next hour explaining a technique to Arran that had him circulate the Essence in his body while drawing it away from his Realms.


    It sounded simple, but Arran soon found that it required him to control every aspect of his mind and body.


    The technique reminded him of the sword techniques Master Zhao had taught him, and relying on the control he had learned from those he made some slow progress.


    After some hours of work, Arran had cut the time it took to replenish his Fire Essence in half. This was not as fast as he had hoped, but he wasn''t disappointed ¡ª just with this, he could practice creating fireballs twice as fast.


    ¡ª¡ª¡ª


    The weeks that followed saw Arran use most of his time practicing the two techniques Master Zhao had taught him.


    As he walked beside the cart, he would occasionally send small fireballs flying into the distance, then recover his Essence using Master Zhao''s recovery technique.


    He rapidly improved in both skills, and he soon found himself able to send the fireballs flying farther and his Essence recovering quicker.


    It wasn''t long before every mile or so, a series of scorch marks appeared in the vegetation beside the road.


    Once, Arran set fire to the underbrush of a patch of forest, and only a quick intervention by Master Zhao saved the forest from burning down.


    After that, Master Zhao made Arran aim his fireballs into the air.


    Although Arran had thought that magic training would replace his sword training, he found that he still had to practice with the sword twice a day. Only now, Arran had to wield his sword using just his right hand, while at the same time using his left hand to wield magic.


    At first, trying to control both magic and the sword just saw Arran fail at both. It was only after several weeks of practice that he became slightly proficient at combining the two, albeit nowhere near enough to earn any compliments from Master Zhao.


    As they traveled, the landscape changed with each passing day. The hills grew taller and rockier, and the trees sparser. There still was little sign of any human activity, but steadily, dense trees made way for wide grasslands.


    Almost two months after Arran first learned magic, vague outlines appeared in the distance. Initially, he believed these to be taller hills, but as they moved closer they grew in height, and on cloudless days he could see that snow covered their peaks.


    Filled with awe, Arran realized these were mountains.


    Arran had never seen mountains before, and in his imagination, mountains had simply been particularly tall hills. Now that he saw them with his own eyes, he finally understood just how vast they were ¡ª even from dozens of miles away, Arran could see them stretch into the sky, piercing the clouds.


    The thought of seeing the mountains up close filled him with joy.


    One morning, Arran found that Master Zhao had cast off the appearance of Arran''s blond ''uncle'' Derrin. His hair and eyes were black once more, and his face looked as if he was in his fifties, if not older.


    "Once we enter the city, you are to call me ''Master Fireheart''," Master Zhao said.


    "Master Fireheart?" Arran thought the name sounded silly, but he wisely kept his mouth shut.


    "Now, as for you¡­" Master Zhao waved his hand at Arran, and Arran could sense that Essence flowed from Master Zhao''s hand toward himself.


    As Arran stood there, wondering whether something had happened, Master Zhao took out a small mirror which he handed to Arran.


    When he looked in the mirror, he was shocked to find that his blond hair had turned jet-black. And not just that, his eyes and skin had changed, too.


    No longer did he look like a pale, blond Easterner. Instead, he now resembled someone from the West.


    "From now on," Master Zhao said, "your name is Li Wei An. You are the son of a small merchant from Fulai City, and you became my apprentice a year ago."


    "Li Wei An." Arran repeated the name until it felt natural on his lips.

 Chapter 10 Windsong

    Arran looked at the town ahead of them with some excitement. It had been months since they had last visited anything bigger than a village, and he missed the feeling of being around people other than Master Zhao.


    "I almost forgot," Master Zhao said. He tapped two fingers against Arran''s head, and the seal that covered Arran''s forbidden Realm disappeared.


    "Why did you remove it?" Arran asked anxiously. With the seal gone, he immediately worried about being discovered by the Academy.


    "There should be no Academy mages nearby," Master Zhao said. "And we''re about to visit someone who could help you hide."


    The words did little to reassure Arran, but he had no choice but to accept them.


    When they entered the town, Arran was reminded of Riverbend. It held a few thousand people at most, and the houses looked old and cozy, with smoke wafting from stone chimneys.


    They followed the main street for a time, passing by houses and stores, with the townsfolk occasionally casting curious glances at them.


    Finally, they reached a large wall that seemed to cut right across the town. In the middle of the wall was an open gate, with several guards in front. Each carried a long wooden spear with a shining steel tip, and they looked alert but relaxed.


    When Arran and Master Zhao approached, horse-drawn cart behind them, one guard stepped forward.


    "What''s your business at the monastery?" he asked. His tone was not unfriendly, but firm enough to make it clear that they could not enter without good reason.


    "I''ve come for Windsong," Master Zhao said.


    "You''re here for Grandmaster Windsong?" the guard asked, emphasizing the man''s title.


    "Tell him an old friend has come to visit him," Master Zhao said.


    "An old friend?" The guard looked doubtful, but after a moment''s hesitation, he sent one of his companions inside the gate.


    Arran and Master Zhao spent several minutes waiting while the guards kept a wary eye on them. It was clear that they had some misgivings about the old man who had so casually called for their master.


    "Fireheart." The man who stepped forth was tall and gaunt, with light brown skin and a long beard. He wore a jet-black robe that contrasted sharply with his snow-white hair, and Arran could not help but think that this was what a true mage was supposed to look like.


    "Windsong," Master Zhao said with a grin. "It''s been a while, you old bastard."


    "I thought you died centuries ago," Windsong said, laughing. "Since you''re still alive, I take it you gave up that little crusade of yours?"


    Centuries? Arran had given little thought to Master Zhao''s age, but now, he realized that the man must be far older than he had imagined.


    "I''ve been keeping busy," Master Zhao said with a noncommittal shrug. "And what of you? Last time I was here, all you had were three huts and an outhouse. Now you actually have your own town?"


    "I took on a few students," Windsong said. "Then some merchants showed up, built some stores¡­ Just a century later, they''d built an entire town, right in my backyard." With a hearty laugh, he added, "Would you believe the townsfolk call me Lord Windsong these days?"


    Master Zhao and Windsong continued to speak as they walked through the gate, Arran following a short distance behind them, while the guards took care of the cart and the horses.


    Inside the walls, Arran saw dozens of buildings, scattered around the monastery grounds. Most of the buildings were fairly small, but at the center of the grounds was a building the size of a large mansion.


    "I see you''ve taken on an apprentice," Windsong said with a look at Arran as they walked toward the large building. "Finally decided to become a respectable mage?"


    Master Zhao frowned. "He''s the reason I''m here. The Academy¡ª"


    "The Academy?" Windsong interrupted Master Zhao, his expression suddenly serious. "We''ll talk inside."


    They entered the building, and Windsong guided them through several long hallways, eventually leading them to a spacious chamber that held a large table, several chairs, and numerous bookcases. On the few walls without bookcases hung paintings, showing various scenes of battle.


    "Sit down," Windsong said, gesturing at the chairs. "Now, what''s this talk about the Academy?"


    "I found this boy a year ago," Master Zhao said. "He has a forbidden Realm."


    Arran cringed at hearing his secret discussed so openly, but he remained silent.


    "A forbidden Realm?" Windsong''s expression grew troubled. "And the Academy knows of this?"


    Master Zhao hesitated. "They know some of it. They do not know who he is, nor where he is."


    "Come over here, boy," Windsong said to Arran. "Let me take a look."


    Windsong put his hand against Arran''s head, and a look of concentration appeared on his face. After several seconds, he lowered his hand, gesturing for Arran to sit down again.


    "This is rather troublesome," he said to Master Zhao. "What do you intend to do with him?"


    "That''s why I came to you," Master Zhao said. "The boy needs a good teacher, someone who can keep him safe from the Academy."


    "You want me to teach him?" Windsong knitted his brows.


    "There are few other places where he would be safe," Master Zhao said.


    "There''s the major clans, the Imperial Family, the Great Societies¡­ Why bring him here?" Windsong asked with a thoughtful look on his face.


    "Both the Imperial Family and the major clans are riddled with Academy spies," Master Zhao said, shaking his head. "As for the Great Societies¡­ he''d be in nearly as much danger as he would be with the Academy."


    Windsong spent some moments in thought, then nodded. "The two of you can remain here for a time," he said. "But protecting your apprentice will not be as easy as you think. The Academy has grown strong these past few years."


    Master Zhao cast a glance at Arran. "I think it''s better we continue this conversation by ourselves," he said.


    Windsong nodded, then made a strange gesture with his right hand.


    A few moments later a man entered the chamber. He was short, with olive skin and a sharp but friendly face.


    "You called, Grandmaster Windsong?" the man asked, bowing politely to Windsong, then once more to Master Zhao.


    "Adept Kadir," Windsong said, gesturing to Arran. "This young man is Master Fireheart''s apprentice. Prepare a room for him, then have him join the other initiates for practice."


    As Arran followed Adept Kadir out of the chamber, he heard Windsong and Master Zhao continue their discussion. Several times, the word ''Academy'' sounded.


    In the hallway, Adept Kadir took a long look at Arran. "What''s your name, initiate?" he finally asked.


    "Li Wei An," Arran said.


    "Very well, Initiate Li," Adept Kadir said. "First, let''s get you a bath and some clean clothes. I take it you''ve been traveling for a while?"


    "Close to half a year," Arran said with a nod.


    "I''ve never had much love for travel myself," Adept Kadir said. "Nowhere near enough baths on the road."


    With that, he guided Arran away.


    ¡ª¡ª¡ª


    Half an hour later, Arran stood in one of the smaller buildings on the monastery grounds. He was freshly bathed and wearing a clean linen robe that Adept Kadir had given him. It fit surprisingly well.


    "Much better," Adept Kadir said with an approving look. "Now, let''s get you to the training hall and introduce you to the other initiates."


    As Adept Kadir guided Arran across the castle grounds, they passed several large groups of plainly dressed youths who were practicing various forms of combat.


    "These are the newest applicants," Adept Kadir explained. "Those who prove themselves worthy will receive a Realm and become initiates."


    "They don''t need a Realm to join?" Arran asked, remembering how the Academy only accepted those who already had a Realm.


    Adept Kadir shook his head. "Grandmaster Windsong believes that what matters most is effort, not talent."


    Hearing this, Arran felt his respect for Windsong grow.


    Just before they reached a large stone hall that Arran assumed was the training hall, Adept Kadir stopped, then turned to Arran. "When did you start your training?"


    "About a year ago," Arran said, remembering what Master Zhao had told him. The lies were beginning to make him uncomfortable.


    "Ah, so you''ve just started," Adept Kadir said. "Your master has already made quite an impression at the monastery, and the other initiates will be eager to test themselves against you."


    "Will there be trouble?" Arran asked.


    "Trouble? Of course not," Adept Kadir said with a frown. "It''s just that with only a year''s training you won''t be a match for most, so don''t force yourself."


    When they entered the training hall, Arran saw several dozens of young men and women sparring with wooden training swords. The moment they stepped inside the combat came to a halt, and all eyes turned to them.


    "Initiates," Adept Kadir said in a loud voice. "This is Master Fireheart''s apprentice, Initiate Li. For the time being, he will join us in training."


    An excited murmur went through the group. It was clear that the initiates had already heard about Grandmaster Windsong''s old friend.


    "Can I spar a few rounds with him?" a broad-shouldered young man with dark brown hair asked.


    "Initiate Guha, step forward," Adept Kadir said.


    The young man did as he was told, smiling broadly.


    "Initiate Li," Adept Kadir said. "Initiate Guha is one of our better swordsmen. If you wish, you can spar against him, but don''t feel pressured."


    "I''m fine going a round or two," Arran said. After months of sparring against Master Zhao, he was confident in his skills.


    Adept Kadir handed Arran a wooden sword, and Initiate Guha stepped forth to face him, his expression eager.


    Their first few exchanges were restrained, each of them holding back as they tested the other''s skills. After a short while, the fight grew more intense, and Arran soon found that Initiate Guha''s style was completely different from his own.


    Where Arran used the controlled, minimal style that Master Zhao had taught him, Initiate Guha was a constant flurry of movement, almost dancing around Arran as he unleashed strike after strike.


    For a time, they were almost equally matched. While Arran had trouble countering Initiate Guha''s constant movement, using Master Zhao''s techniques he could conserve his energy and strike only when necessary, each of his blows disrupting Initiate Guha''s attacks.


    Finally, Initiate Guha slipped his sword past Arran''s defenses, in an instant striking both his chest and his arm. Before he could recover, Initiate Guha struck another quick blow, sending Arran''s sword flying.


    "That was amazing!" Initiate Guha spoke the words before Arran''s sword had even hit the ground. "Such strange techniques! We must spar again!"


    "I think that''s enough for now," Adept Kadir said. "Initiate Li only just arrived. The two of you will have plenty more opportunities to spar."


    Initiate Guha nodded reluctantly, and Arran breathed a secret sigh of relief. The fight had been exhausting.


    "Adept Kadir." A young woman with pale skin and black hair stepped forward. She looked to be barely five feet tall, but her delicate face was filled with confidence.


    "What is it, Initiate Jiang?"


    "Could Initiate Li perhaps show us some of the magic he has learned from Master Fireheart?"


    "Initiate Li has only been training for a year," Adept Kadir said. "I don''t think it would be¡ª"


    "I''ll do it," Arran interrupted him. After losing the fight against Initiate Guha, he was eager to prove his skill.


    "Are you sure?" Adept Kadir asked.


    Arran nodded. "Can I use one of those targets?" He pointed at a wooden target that was standing against the stone wall, about ten paces away from him.


    "Of course," Adept Kadir said.


    With a grin, Arran turned toward the target. Master Zhao had stopped him from practicing his magic when they neared the town, and by now, Arran''s body was filled to the brim with Essence.


    Focusing his concentration, Arran mustered all the Fire Essence he could. Then, with a surge of effort, he sent a fireball soaring toward the target. It struck with a roar, instantly setting the target ablaze.


    Arran beamed with pride. This was the best fireball he had produced so far. Feeling satisfied, he turned around, only to find the initiates staring at him with wide eyes and shocked faces.


    "You''re an initiate?!"


    "What the hell was that?!"


    Confused, Arran turned toward Adept Kadir. He had hoped the other initiates would be impressed by his display, but this reaction far surpassed his expectations.


    "You said you were an initiate, correct?" Adept Kadir asked with a thoughtful look on his face.


    Arran nodded.


    "What stage have you reached?"


    "Stage?" Arran asked. "There are stages?"


    The hall went silent.

 Chapter 11 Stages of Magic

    The other initiates stared at Arran as if he had told them he had never seen the sun.


    "You don''t know what stages are?!"


    Arran could not see who spoke, but the voice sounded dumbfounded. From the looks on the initiates'' faces, it could have been any of them.


    Adept Kadir turned toward the initiates. "All of you, get back to your training," he said in a firm tone that allowed no argument.


    Reluctantly, the initiates followed Adept Kadir''s command, although several of them shot curious looks at Arran. It was obvious that his words had shocked them.


    "Did I say something wrong?" Arran asked Adept Kadir, feeling uncomfortable.


    The man turned toward Arran. "Not wrong, exactly. Follow me, we should talk."


    Arran followed Adept Kadir to a small room at the side of the training hall. Inside were a desk and some chairs, but little else. The stone walls were bare, and the room looked as if it saw little use.


    "What has your master told you about magic?" Adept Kadir asked, closing the door behind them.


    "Not much," Arran replied honestly. He went on to repeat what little he knew of magic, Realms, and Essence.


    "I see," Adept Kadir said with a serious expression that did not suit his friendly face. "I''m afraid your master has done you a disservice."


    Arran was startled at the harsh words about Master Zhao. Clearly, the man thought Master Zhao had failed in his duty as a teacher.


    "I do not know why your master failed to explain this, but I will do it in his stead."


    Arran sat up, listening attentively. He understood that what Adept Kadir was about to tell him was important.


    "When learning magic, mages start at the Foundation level," Adept Kadir began. "Within the Foundation level, there are nine stages."


    "Nine stages?" Immediately, Arran wondered what his own stage was.


    Adept Kadir nodded, then continued, "The first three stages form the initiate level, the second three form the novice level, and the final three form the adept level."


    "So what do the different stages mean?" Arran asked.


    "The first stage merely requires opening a Realm," Adept Kadir answered. "The second stage requires you to control Essence to the point where you can expel it from your body. As your display in the training hall showed, you have already reached that stage."


    Arran nodded, eager to hear more.


    "The third stage," Adept Kadir continued, "requires you to fully control a single strand of Essence."


    "Fully control a strand of Essence?" Arran asked, slightly confused. "What does that mean?"


    "Fire isn''t my strongest Realm, but I''ll give you a small demonstration," Adept Kadir said.


    He raised his hand, then stuck out his index finger. A moment later, an orb of fire the size of a marble appeared above his finger.


    Once the orb fully materialized he flicked his wrist, and it began circling around his hand. With another flick of his wrist, the orb suddenly flew toward Arran, stopping only inches from his face. Finally, with a snap of Adept Kadir''s fingers, the orb vanished in a blink.


    Arran watched in amazement. While he had seen Master Zhao perform magic, the man had never shown him this kind of delicate control.


    "From the way you''re staring, I take it you haven''t reached this level of control yet," Adept Kadir said, giving Arran an amused look.


    Arran shook his head. Then, he asked, "So what is the fourth stage?"


    "Initiates reach the fourth stage, and become novices, once they learn to use spells," Adept Kadir said.


    "But wasn''t what you showed me a spell?" Arran asked.


    Adept Kadir shook his head. "That was just a technique."


    "There''s a difference?" Until now, Arran had thought the two were the same.


    "Techniques control raw Essence," Adept Kadir replied. "They require constant attention and effort to maintain."


    "And spells?"


    "Spells are different. They weave strands of Essence, and once cast, they can be maintained without effort."


    Thinking of how Master Zhao had changed his appearance, Arran understood. He had wondered how the man could maintain the illusion without any apparent effort, but what Adept Kadir had told him explained it.


    "So I''m a second stage initiate, then?" Arran asked.


    "Correct," Adept Kadir answered, although his expression was troubled.


    "When I threw that fireball, the other initiates looked at me as if I had just turned into a goat," Arran said with a thought. "Why was that?"


    Adept Kadir chuckled for a moment, but when he spoke, his gaze turned serious. "You are an initiate of the second stage. Yet what you did¡­"


    "Didn''t I just use a technique?" Arran asked. "You said that''s normal for initiates, right?"


    "The technique itself was normal," Adept Kadir said. "The amount of Essence you used, however¡­ It was far beyond what a typical novice could use, much less an initiate."


    As Arran considered it, he was sure that it must be due to the black pill Master Zhao had given him. Yet he understood that if the black pill''s effects were so unusual, it was something he could not discuss freely. Not without Master Zhao''s permission, at least.


    "Has your master told you how mages strengthen their power?" Adept Kadir asked.


    "Master Zh¡ª" Lost in thought, Arran almost misspoke. "Master Fireheart told me that a mage''s connections to his Realms grow stronger as he uses them."


    "Indeed," Adept Kadir said. "But usually, it''s a slow process. To reach the point where a mage can draw as much Essence as you did can take years if not decades. Yet in your case¡­" He shook his head. "I''ve never seen anything like it."


    Arran was starting to worry. Adept Kadir clearly sensed something was amiss, and the man seemed smart enough to see through Arran''s clumsy lies.


    "So does that mean I''m as strong as a novice?" Arran asked, attempting to steer Adept Kadir''s attention away from the origins of Arran''s power.


    Adept Kadir laughed, then shook his head. "You have strength, but you lack control. In magic, the latter is far more important than the former."


    "But if I''m strong enough, can''t I just overpower my enemies?" Arran asked.


    "Skilled mages can easily deal with raw strength," Adept Kadir said. "Let me show you." He stood up, walked toward the bare stone wall, then turned around. "Throw some of those fireballs at me."


    Arran blanched. "Are you sure?" Adept Kadir looked confident, but Arran was afraid he would hurt the man.


    "No need to worry. You won''t hit me." Adept Kadir seemed completely at ease.


    Arran didn''t like the idea, but he stood up and faced Adept Kadir. Ignoring his reluctance, he gathered up Fire Essence in his hand, then threw a head-sized fireball straight at Adept Kadir.


    The fireball missed its target by a good three paces, crashing harmlessly into the stone wall.


    "How?" Arran was dumbfounded. At this distance, it should be impossible for him to miss.


    "Again," Adept Kadir said.


    Arran tried again, but the result was the same. Once more, his fireball flew into the wall, well away from Adept Kadir.


    At Adept Kadir''s urging, Arran tried again, then again. After eleven fireballs his Fire Essence ran out, and he stared at Adept Kadir, who was completely unscathed.


    "How did you do that?" Arran asked. He had seen nothing out of the ordinary, but it was as if his fireballs had simply refused to come anywhere near Adept Kadir.


    "I used Wind Essence to deflect your fireballs," Adept Kadir said. "Without you fully controlling your Fire Essence, even a slight sliver of it was enough to send them off course."


    Arran was taken aback. Until a moment ago, he had believed the fireball technique to be a fearsome weapon, but now he understood that other mages could easily defeat it.


    "So I should improve my control," Arran said, recognizing the problem. With his current command over Fire Essence, to other mages, he would be little more than a toddler clumsily throwing rocks.


    "You should," Adept Kadir said. "But with your power, and you using Fire as well¡­ It would be far too dangerous for the other initiates to practice with you."


    "Then what should I do?" Arran asked, hoping the man would have a solution.


    For a moment, Adept Kadir sank in thought.


    "I will ask Grandmaster Windsong to give you a Wind Realm scroll," he finally said with a smile. "That way, you should be able to practice magic without setting the other initiates on fire."


    Hearing this, Arran was overjoyed. Not only would he improve his magical skills, but he would also receive a new Realm.


    So far, their stay with Windsong was turning out even better than he had hoped.

 Chapter 12 The Wind Realm

    Arran narrowly dodged the sword slashing at his head, then countered with a quick thrust to his opponent''s chest. His opponent parried effortlessly, in a single slash knocking Arran''s sword aside and striking Arran''s ribs.


    He staggered backward, rubbing the painful spot where he had just been struck.


    "Demon''s balls!" Arran cursed. "Brother Amar, how do you do that?"


    "Just a bit of luck, Brother Wei An," Initiate Guha said. Grinning, he added, "Luck, and a slow opponent."


    It had been over a week since Adept Kadir had told Arran he would ask Grandmaster Windsong for a Wind Realm scroll, but the man had not broached the subject since then.


    Moreover, since that first day, there had been no sign whatsoever of either Master Zhao or Windsong, and Arran had been left with nothing to do but practice with the initiates.


    At first, Arran''s initial display had brought him a fair amount of attention from the other initiates, but they were disappointed to learn that Adept Kadir would not allow Arran to use Essence while training with them.


    That left sword training, but Arran soon discovered that the other initiates practiced sword techniques that used Wind Essence, and few of them were interested in sparring against an opponent who could not use Essence.


    The only exception had been Initiate Guha, who had been more interested in Arran''s sword techniques than his magic skills.


    Since then, he had spent his days sparring against Initiate Guha.


    Arran had done well in their first few fights, but Initiate Guha had soon picked up on Arran''s techniques, and after that Arran had been lucky to win a single match out of every ten they fought.


    Nevertheless, sparring against Initiate Guha had benefited Arran as well, as he was forced to adapt his techniques to counter his opponent''s peculiar fighting style.


    Arran scowled. "I bet you''re using Wind Essence again."


    Initiate Guha laughed. Of course, he hadn''t used Wind Essence in their fight ¡ª the one time Arran had asked him to use it, it had only taken him a single blow to defeat Arran.


    At that moment, Initiate Jiang approached them.


    Initiate Guha shot her a suspicious glance. "Sister Fei Fei," he said. "You''d better not be here to steal my sparring partner."


    "Brother Li," she said, ignoring initiate Guha. "Adept Kadir has called for you."


    Arran felt his mood rise instantly. Perhaps today, he would finally be given a Wind Realm.


    "And you¡­" Initiate Jiang glared at Initiate Guha. "Perhaps if you spent a little less time playing with your sword, you''d be better at magic."


    She turned back to Arran. "Follow me."


    The look on Initiate Jiang''s face was anything but friendly, and they walked the short distance to Adept Kadir''s office in silence.


    Arran breathed a sigh of relief as he stepped inside and closed the door behind him. It was clear that the young woman disliked him, although he could not begin to guess why.


    ¡ª¡ª¡ª


    "Ah, there you are," Adept Kadir said when he saw Arran enter. "Have a seat."


    Arran sat down, then asked, "Has Grandmaster Windsong finally decided whether he will give me a Realm?"


    Adept Kadir hesitated. "Not exactly," he said. "These past few days he has been indisposed."


    "Indisposed?" Arran thought he could hear a hint of annoyance in the man''s voice.


    Adept Kadir coughed. "From the state of the wine cellar, I would say that Grandmaster Windsong and Master Fireheart are currently occupied with other things."


    Arran''s eyes went wide. Master Zhao and Windsong had spent the entire week drinking? Once more, he was surprised to discover how little he knew about Master Zhao.


    "With Grandmaster Windsong occupied, I have taken it upon myself to give you a Wind Realm scroll." Adept Kadir''s voice sounded friendly, but Arran thought he could hear some apprehension in his words.


    "Are you allowed to do that?" Arran was happy at the chance to gain a Wind Realm, but he did not want to cause trouble for the man. "Can''t we just wait for them to return?"


    "There is no telling how long it will take," Adept Kadir said. "The last time an old friend visited Grandmaster Windsong, they spent several months drinking and talking."


    Seeing Arran''s astonished expression, he added, "You have to understand, our masters are both ancient men. They have centuries of events to discuss ¡ª at least, that''s the excuse Grandmaster Windsong gave me the last time."


    Adept Kadir shrugged. "If our masters leave us without guidance, they cannot blame us for making decisions while they''re gone."


    Arran nodded, although he felt somewhat uneasy.


    "Now follow me," Adept Kadir said.


    They left the training hall, and Arran followed Adept Kadir across the monastery grounds. After some time, they reached a large area at the back of the grounds that was thick with trees. Among the trees were numerous tiny buildings made out of gray stone, each of them the size of a small hut.


    "These are the Realm Opening Cells," Adept Kadir said. "Here, initiates can open their Realms without being disturbed."


    "But why are there so many?" Arran asked. At a glance, there seemed to be hundreds of the small buildings.


    "Many initiates take a long time in opening their first Realm," Adept Kadir answered. "For every initiate you met in the training hall, there are at least half a dozen here, secluded in meditation as they try to open their Realms."


    The man sighed, a somber look appearing on his face. "Of course, many never succeed at all, and will leave after they spend a few years trying and failing."


    Arran frowned. "Years?"


    "In your case, it will be easier," Adept Kadir said. "You have already opened a Realm once, so you can draw upon your previous experience."


    Arran blanched. His current Realms had all been opened with the help of Master Zhao''s Realm Opening Pill, and he had no idea where he would even start in trying to open a Realm.


    Adept Kadir stopped in front of one of the small buildings.


    "This is the cell I have reserved for you," he said. "Inside, you will find the Realm Scroll, along with some books on various techniques to open Realms. Each morning, servants will leave necessities like food and fresh clothes at the entrance, and pick up any dirty clothes and leftover food you put outside."


    "There are books on how to open Realms inside?" Arran felt some relief, although he wasn''t completely reassured.


    Adept Kadir nodded. "They might be of some small use to you, although I would suggest relying on your previous experience."


    Unable to tell Adept Kadir that he had no previous experience, Arran merely forced himself to smile. "I will try my best."


    "Good luck, initiate. I hope to see you in a few months." Adept Kadir said the words with a smile, but Arran could not help but cringe on hearing them.


    Wistfully, he looked at the small building in front of him. He felt as if he had made a terrible mistake, but it was too late to turn back.


    Arran thanked Adept Kadir for his help, then stepped inside, finding a small room with a simple bed, a wooden chair, and a small wooden desk. On the desk were a large scroll and several stacks of books.


    With a sigh, he sat down.

 Chapter 13 Opening a Realm

    Arran looked at the scroll that lay in front of him. It looked much like the ones he had seen before, but this time, he would have to open the Realm it gave without the aid of Master Zhao.


    With a deep sigh, he picked up the scroll and began to study it.


    The characters were completely different from the ones on the scrolls that gave him his Fire and Shadow Realms. The strokes were thinner and sharper, almost as if they had been written by someone using his pen like a sword, slashing the paper with ink.


    As he read the scroll, he felt the familiar tingle of Essence. Now that he was more familiar with Essence, he could sense that the type held within the scroll was lively and turbulent, like a strong autumn breeze.


    He pondered it for a moment, understanding that the scroll must be infused with Wind Essence. Drawing the Wind Essence from the scroll into his body, he thought, somehow created a connection between him and the Wind Realm.


    He gave himself some time to think about it, hoping that any insights he gained now might help him when he tried to open the Wind Realm.


    To his disappointment, the insights he hoped for did not come, and he went back to studying the scroll.


    Gradually, he worked his way through it, absorbing the Essence from each character. Each time he could feel the Wind Essence within himself for some moments, but each time the sensation would quickly disappear.


    When he reached the end of the scroll, it crumbled into ashes. He swept the ashes from the desk onto the floor, then sat back. Now, he knew, would come the most difficult part: opening the Realm. And before he opened the Realm, he would first have to find it.


    He closed his eyes, focusing his attention inward.


    Slowly and methodically, he searched his consciousness for any traces of the Wind Essence he sensed earlier. Hours passed as he scoured every last bit of his mind, but he found nothing. When he finished his initial search with no results, weariness filled him.


    He understood that finding his Wind Realm would not be a matter of a single day, and he decided to get some sleep before he continued. Just moments after he got into the small bed, he was vast asleep, his mind exhausted from the day''s efforts.


    When he awoke, he looked outside the entrance of the small building to see if any food had been left, as Adept Kadir had said. He was pleased to find a straw basket containing several jugs of water, a fresh piece of bread, and some dried fruit.


    He ate in silence, then continued his search.


    This time, he focused his efforts on calming his mind and ignoring all distractions, and although he did not succeed, he could feel that he was on the right path.


    While he could not yet sense the Wind Realm itself, he could sense a small disturbance that had not been there before, as if the Wind Realm was affecting the Essence within his body.


    On the third day, he finally succeeded. Buried deep within his mind, he located the source of the disturbance he felt the day before. It was so small that if he had not been familiar with Essence, he never would have been able to sense it.


    Suddenly, he grasped why most initiates had such trouble opening their first Realm. Just finding it would be like locating a needle in a haystack without even knowing what a needle was.


    No wonder so many of them failed.


    He abandoned the thought, focusing his attention on the Wind Realm. As he probed and prodded it, he found that it was like a tiny void floating within his mind, covered by a thick barrier that seemed to block the Essence behind it.


    If his other Realms were like opened gates, then this Realm was like a gate that was nailed shut. He could vaguely sense the Wind Essence behind it, but no matter what he tried, he had no way to get through the barrier.


    Frustrated, he opened his eyes. He knew that to open his Wind Realm he would have to overcome the barrier, but he had no clue how to do it.


    Unable to decide how to proceed, Arran looked at the three books that were lying on the table.


    He picked up one of the books and gave it a quick skim, but was disappointed to find that it only gave advice on finding unopened Realms for those who had never sensed Essence.


    With a sigh, he put the book away and picked up the next one.


    The second book was marginally more helpful. It described the nature of Realms, and although it was aimed at people who had not yet opened their own Realms, he did gain some small insights while studying it.


    Some hours later, he put the second book down.


    By now, he was starting to feel some worry. If the last book was as useless as the previous two, he would have to find a way to open the Realm by himself. Although he was confident that he would eventually succeed, he was equally confident that it would take a very long time.


    Setting aside his worries, he opened the third book and began to read it. Not long after, a small smile appeared on his face. As he continued to read the small smile gradually turned into a large one, and by the time he finished the book, he had a broad grin on his face.


    Where the first two books had contained only described Realms, the third one contained a simple, step-by-step guide to opening them.


    Now, he knew what to do, and it did not seem overly difficult: all he had to do was attempt to draw Wind Essence from the Realm, and over time, the barrier would be weakened.


    Despite being tired, he immediately set to work, closing his eyes and directing his concentration to the unopened Wind Realm.


    Once more he felt the barrier, but this time, with the book''s guidance, he tried to draw Essence from it. If the book was right, the pressure would gradually wear down the barrier, and eventually, the connection would open.


    At first, little happened. He could only barely sense the Essence behind the barrier, and it did not seem to respond to his efforts to draw it inward.


    For several hours he tried, and eventually, he could feel a slight sliver of movement emanating from the barrier, as if the Wind Essence behind it was pressing against it.


    The book had said this was supposed to happen, and he immediately felt encouraged.


    In the hours that followed, he kept up his efforts. Yet hours turned into days, and the progress he made was minimal. Nonetheless, he kept trying, hoping to see more progress.


    He slept when he grew tired and ate when he was hungry, but other than that, he spent all his time trying to push through the barrier.


    Several days passed, and although he made some progress, at his current pace it would take him months to pierce the barrier. That might be acceptable for someone else, but Arran had already opened several Realms, and he was growing more impatient by the minute.


    Opening his eyes, he abandoned his efforts. There had to be a faster way, he thought.


    When he took Master Zhao''s Realm Opening Pill, it had opened his Realms in a single night. Back then he had known little of magic and had not understood what happened, but now, he hoped that the experience might give him the insights he needed.


    He remembered that after he had taken the pill, it had unleashed a wild energy that had surged through his body, causing him excruciating pain, but also breaking the barriers that blocked his Realms.


    At once, an idea entered his mind.


    The energy the black pill released must have been Essence, and if it was Essence that tore down the barriers before his Realms, could he not do the same thing with his Wind Realm, using the Essence from the Realms he had already opened?


    He immediately set to testing the theory, throwing all the Fire Essence he could muster at it. To his disappointment, the barrier barely even budged. It was like trying to break through a wooden gate by throwing pebbles.


    Having failed with Fire Essence, Arran tried Shadow, though he held little hope of success. His connection to his Fire Realm was stronger than the one to his Shadow Realm, after all.


    As he expected, Shadow did even less than Fire.


    His thoughts turned to his forbidden Realm. He had a far weaker connection to it than he had to his other two Realms, and he lacked the control to even expel its Essence from his body. If Fire had failed, then his forbidden Realm would almost certainly be useless.


    Still, there was no reason not to try.


    Closing his eyes once more, he focused his attention on the Essence from his forbidden Realm. Like before, it resisted his control, and only with great effort was he able to direct a small sliver of it to the barrier blocking his Wind Realm.


    To his astonishment, the Essence pierced through the barrier as if it did not exist, tearing through it like a sword through paper.


    Within moments, most of the barrier was gone, and he could feel Wind Essence flowing into him. Heartened by the unexpected success, he increased his effort, using the Essence from his forbidden Realm to clear away what little remained of the barrier.


    When he finished, he was panting from the exertion, but a smile adorned his face. He had succeeded, and it had taken him less than a week.


    He could already sense the newly opened Wind Realm releasing its Essence, and he knew that soon, he would be able to draw upon it freely.


    Once more he closed his eyes, this time to inspect the Wind Realm.


    He was delighted to find that his connection to the Wind Realm was only slightly weaker than his connection to the Fire and Shadow Realms.


    A thought occurred to him. If he could use the Essence from his forbidden Realm to take down the barrier, then could he not also use it to broaden the connection?


    With a push of effort, he directed some Essence from his forbidden Realm to his Fire Realm, trying to force it to open further. Despite his best efforts, nothing happened. He tried again for his Shadow Realm, then for his Wind Realm, but the results were the same ¡ª absolutely nothing.


    He sighed wistfully. It seemed the Essence from his forbidden Realm was only useful in clearing the barrier, and could not further broaden and strengthen the connection.


    Despite that, he was anything but disappointed. He had just opened a new Realm, and although he had feared it would take him months, he had accomplished it in less than a week.


    He stood up and took a last look at the small cell, then stepped outside, finding that it was already dark.


    A spring in his step, he hurried off to inform Adept Kadir that he had succeeded.

 Chapter 14 A Breath of Wind

    When Arran reached the training hall, he found no one inside. Of course there was no one there, he thought ¡ª he did not know the time, but the sky was dark and the monastery grounds were empty. It would be either very late at night or very early in the morning.


    He briefly considered heading to the cottage where Adept Kadir lived, but then rejected the thought.


    While he was eager to show Adept Kadir his newly opened Wind Realm, he very much doubted the man would appreciate being woken up in the middle of the night.


    After a moment''s thought, he headed to the room where he had stayed before he was sent to the Realm Opening Cell. It was in one of several buildings that housed the monastery''s initiates, and as he entered he took care not to wake the others.


    He found his own room empty, with the bag that held his belongings placed in a corner. The room itself was not much different from the one where he had opened his Wind Realm, but it was more spacious and less austere, with a larger bed and several drawings hanging on the walls.


    Although he wasn''t tired, he decided that he should try to get some sleep. The next day, he thought, would be a demanding one. Adept Kadir would certainly want him to test his new Realm, and after that, he would probably have to spend most of the day training.


    He got in the bed, closing his eyes and pulling the blanket over himself.


    Although he had planned to sleep until morning, after only a short time he found that with the excitement of opening a new Realm still fresh in his mind, sleep would not come easily.


    As he lay in the darkness his thoughts kept turning to his newly opened Realm, and he was impatient to use it and discover what it could do.


    Finally, accepting that he would not be able to sleep that night, he got up and took a seat at the small desk that stood in the room. He took a candle and put it in front of him, then used a sliver of Fire Essence to light it.


    After that, he set to work, trying to draw his Wind Essence into his hand, the same way he did with his Fire Essence before throwing fireballs.


    At first, his progress was slow. Although he had a fair amount of experience in using Essence by now, the Wind Essence was still new and foreign to him, and he struggled to control it.


    Yet as he continued to try, his control over Wind Essence improved steadily, and after less than an hour, he succeeded in guiding it into his hand.


    Eagerly, he began work on his next step, which was to use Wind Essence to extinguish the candle.


    His first few attempts failed, and once, when he thought he had succeeded, he realized after a moment that he had accidentally blown out the candle while huffing in exertion.


    More attempts followed and soon he succeeded, for real this time. Holding his hand half a pace away from the candle, he produced a small gust of wind that blew out the flame.


    He lit the candle once more and repeated the feat. This time, success came a little faster. Again he tried and again he succeeded, faster still.


    Barely half an hour later, he was able to draw out the Wind Essence in just a few breaths'' time. That was still nowhere near as fast as he could draw out his Fire and Shadow Essence, but the speed of his progress astounded him.


    Encouraged by his rapid achievements he wanted to try drawing out a larger amount of Essence, but he knew he could not do so in his room. Not without risking waking the others in the building, at least.


    With a thought, Arran got up, then quietly left the building, heading back to the training hall. The sky was still dark and the grounds still empty, and as he expected, there was no one in the training hall.


    It was dark inside, and he used Fire Essence to produce some light to find the torches that hung from the walls. As he lit them, an idea entered his mind.


    He took a position about three paces away from a lit torch, then focused his attention and gathered all the Wind Essence he could in his hand.


    When he had mustered as much as he could, he launched it at the torch, using the same technique he used for fireballs, using Wind instead of Fire Essence.


    The torch flickered as if a slight breeze had hit it.


    It wasn''t much, but Arran was encouraged by the sight. He remembered how slow his progress had been when he first used Fire Essence, and he could tell that this time, his experience would allow him to advance much faster.


    In the hours that followed, Arran''s control of Wind Essence increased with leaps and bounds. He succeeded in extinguishing the torch at three paces, then at five paces. Eventually, he managed to blow out the torch at ten paces, and he could feel that he was close to his limit.


    Already, he knew that the Wind Realm would prove invaluable the next time he saw combat. Even now, using it would allow him to throw an opponent off balance, if only for a moment.


    The memory of his battle against the bandits was still vivid in his mind, and he understood that in a fight, a moment''s stumble could be the difference between life and death.


    He was about to make a final attempt to extinguish the torch when suddenly, a voice sounded.


    "When did you open your Wind Realm?"


    Arran turned around with a start, finding Adept Kadir behind him. He did not know how long the man had been there, but from the serious expression on his face, Arran could tell that he had seen enough.


    "Last night," he answered.


    "You opened your Wind Realm in less than a week, and after a single night, you can do¡­ that?" Adept Kadir gestured at the torch.


    "I practiced most of the night." Arran knew it wasn''t much of an answer, but there was nothing else he could say. Without telling Adept Kadir about his forbidden Realm, there simply was no good way to explain his rapid progress.


    "Did anyone else see you?" Adept Kadir asked, a hint of worry on his face.


    Arran shook his head. "I was here by myself."


    "Good," Adept Kadir said. "We must see Grandmaster Windsong. Immediately."


    "Immediately? But I thought Grandmaster Windsong and Master Fireheart were, eh, indisposed?" Arran still remembered what Adept Kadir had told him a week earlier.


    "Indisposed or not, this cannot wait." Adept Kadir''s expression was grave. "If this gets out, the Academy¡­" He shook his head, as if he was unwilling to finish the thought.


    Arran silently cursed his own carelessness. Just a few weeks without Master Zhao at his side, and he had already done something that could have drawn the attention of the Academy.


    For now, he was not overly worried ¡ª both Master Zhao and Windsong already knew about his forbidden Realm, and it seemed he could trust Adept Kadir not to inform the Academy.


    Yet he understood that if he was to escape the Academy''s notice in the future, he would have to be far more careful.


    With a sigh, he followed Adept Kadir out of the training hall.

 Chapter 15 Drunken Masters

    "Grandmaster Windsong!" Adept Kadir banged his fist against the hardwood door for the third time, and still, no reaction came.


    He shook his head with an annoyed sigh, then opened the door and stepped inside. Arran quickly followed him.


    The first thing that caught Arran''s eye once they entered were the bottles. There were dozens, most of them empty, scattered all across the room. It was as if half an army had spent the night drinking in the chamber.


    At the far end of the chamber stood two couches, with a small table in between. Grandmaster Windsong and Master Zhao each occupied one of the couches, and on the table, Arran saw a board of stones.


    As they entered, Windsong raised his head. "Adept Kadir? Why are you disturbing us?" He sounded irritated, and it was clear that he did not welcome the interruption.


    "This could not wait," Adept Kadir said. "Master Fireheart''s apprentice is in danger."


    "In danger, you say?" Windsong looked at Master Zhao. "It seems we must delay our game for a while."


    Windsong turned his attention back to Adept Kadir. "Now then," he said. "What''s this about danger?"


    Adept Kadir took a deep breath, then began to speak.


    "After you told me to have Initiate Li train with the other initiates, I discovered that he has a monstrously strong Fire Realm, yet with less control than a third stage initiate. I could not safely let him practice with the others, so I decided to give him a Wind Realm¡ª"


    "Without my permission?" Windsong interrupted him with a surprised expression.


    "You were here, emptying the monastery''s wine cellars. I could not disturb you for such a small matter." Adept Kadir seemed uneasy, but his voice was resolute.


    "You could have waited," Windsong said. "A few months hardly makes a difference."


    "The boy is barely twenty, if that," Adept Kadir said. "To you, a few months might be nothing, but to him, it would be an eternity."


    "Very well," Windsong said with a nod. "You gave him a Wind Realm. Continue."


    "He opened the Wind Realm less than a day ago," Adept Kadir said. "Yet this morning, he was using as much Essence as a sixth stage novice."


    At this, Windsong raised an eyebrow. "A sixth stage novice? Initiate Li, can you explain this?"


    Arran was about to answer when Master Zhao cut in.


    "My apprentice has an unusual talent for opening Realms," Master Zhao said. "I first saw it when he opened his Fire Realm, and I suspect that since then, his talent has improved further."


    Arran frowned at the lie, but he kept his mouth shut, understanding that Master Zhao must have a reason for his words.


    "Could it have something to do with his forbidden Realm?" Windsong asked with a pensive look.


    "He has a forbidden Realm?!" Adept Kadir''s eyes went wide with shock.


    "Adept Kadir, let Fireheart speak," Windsong said curtly.


    Master Zhao shook his head. "I observed him quite closely as he opened his Fire Realm, and his forbidden Realm was not involved." He shrugged. "My apprentice is unusual in more ways than one."


    Arran boggled at the ease with which Master Zhao lied to Windsong, and an uncomfortable thought entered his mind. If Master Zhao could lie this easily to a friend he had known for centuries, then how much of what he had told Arran could be false?


    "It is quite unusual," Windsong agreed. "Although I''ve seen something like it before. A young mage, barely fifty. He could open new Realms in just a few hours. I never got to find out how he did it. One day he opened a Poison Realm¡­ well, some Realms are best opened slowly."


    "The world of magic is filled with oddities," Master Zhao said in agreement. Turning his gaze toward Arran, he added, "Although I do hope my apprentice will be more careful with the Realms he opens."


    "For now, we''ll just have to watch how he develops," Windsong said. "In time, perhaps things will become clearer."


    "But what about the Academy?" Adept Kadir looked distraught. "Just the speed with which he opened his Wind Realm could draw their attention. With a forbidden Realm¡­ If the Academy finds out, we''ll all¡ª"


    "Will you tell anyone?" Windsong interrupted him.


    "Of course not!" Adept Kadir sounded appalled at the very thought.


    "Then there''s little to worry about," Windsong said.


    "But what of the other initiates?" Adept Kadir asked, his voice still filled with worry. "Initiate Li''s progress will certainly draw attention. If just one of them speaks about it to the wrong person, word could get to the Academy."


    Windsong thought for a moment. "Find two trustworthy and talented initiates, then have the three of them train together, away from the others."


    Adept Kadir nodded, although he did not look reassured in the least. "I will arrange it, but¡ª"


    "Enough, Adept." Windsong''s voice was firm, and it was obvious that he would allow no more argument. After a moment of silence, he turned toward Master Zhao. "With these matters settled, shall we return to our game?"


    "Windsong," Master Zhao said. "I''m afraid we will have to continue our game another time. Right now, I must talk to my apprentice."


    Windsong looked disappointed, but he nodded in agreement. "Very well."


    ¡ª¡ª¡ª


    Arran felt a bit of envy when he entered the building that had been reserved for Master Zhao. It was roomy and bright, with intricate decorations on the walls and elegant furniture adorning the rooms.


    "Tell me how you did it," Master Zhao said just moments after they entered, clearly unwilling to waste any time.


    "I directed the Essence from my forbidden Realm to the barrier blocking my Wind Realm, and it destroyed it," Arran said.


    "It destroyed it?" A thoughtful expression came over Master Zhao''s face. "How much Essence did you use?"


    "Only a sliver," Arran replied. "That''s all I can control."


    "Interesting." Master Zhao knitted his brows. "For the time being, tell no one else about this. Not even Windsong or Adept Kadir."


    "My forbidden Realm¡­ do you know what it is?" Arran had asked Master Zhao about his forbidden Realm before, but the man had merely told him he did not know what it was. Perhaps now that he knew it could help open Realms, he would have more to say.


    Master Zhao shook his head. "I have some suspicions, but none strong enough to share. For now, just keep it hidden as best you can."


    Arran nodded, though the answer left him unsatisfied.


    "Master Zhao¡­" Arran hesitated, but then asked the question that had been burning in his mind. "Why did you spend weeks drinking with Windsong?"


    Master Zhao laughed. "Windsong and I are both old men. Older than you would believe. To us, a few weeks or months are hardly worth mentioning. Besides¡­"


    Master Zhao''s expression grew serious. "Windsong has not left this place for a very long time. Other than his students, he rarely meets fellow mages. I suspect the company is half the reason he''s willing to help us."


    "But why all the wine?" In truth, this had been what most puzzled Arran. He could understand Master Zhao wanting to catch up with an old friend, but the dozens of bottles of wine had baffled him.


    "As mages grow stronger, so do their bodies," Master Zhao said with a chuckle. "When you become as old as I am, you will find that there''s little in the way of drink that can shake your senses. If you want your senses shaken, it requires some effort."


    "Just how old are you?" Arran knew the question was an awkward one, but he could not suppress his curiosity.


    "Old enough not to have to put up with an impertinent apprentice''s endless questions. Go find Adept Kadir, and start your training."

 Chapter 16 The Valley

    Arran looked at the monastery in wonder. From where he stood, it looked like a miniature.


    The journey up the mountain had taken them the better part of the morning, and now, they were on the side of the mountain, a thousand feet above the monastery and the town.


    The view filled Arran with awe. It was like standing on top of the world.


    "Not scared of heights, are you?" Initiate Guha grinned. The young man navigated the narrow mountain paths with terrifying neglect, and several times, Arran had been convinced he would plunge down into the depths below.


    "I''ve never been up this high," Arran said. "It''s¡­" He lacked the words to describe what he felt.


    "You''ll get used to it," Initiate Guha said with a grin.


    Initiate Jiang silently glared at them. Ever since Adept Kadir had come to take her and Initiate Guha away from the other initiates her mood had been foul, and it had only gotten worse when the man refused to tell her why he was interrupting her practice.


    "Adept Kadir, how much farther do we have to go?" she asked.


    "We should arrive any moment now," Adept Kadir said. As they ascended the mountains the worry he had shown earlier that morning had gradually disappeared, and by now, he looked every bit as cheerful as he normally was.


    They followed yet another twist in the mountain path, ducking beneath some trees that protruded from the mountainside above the path. The path turned sharply, and when he stepped around the turn, Arran was surprised to see a small valley.


    The valley was grassy and scattered with large trees, and through its middle ran a small stream. Among the grass, flowers bloomed, and surrounding the valley were majestic snowy peaks that stretched toward the sky.


    The only thing that marred the beauty of the valley was a small wooden cabin. Its walls and roof were crooked, and there were gaps in the walls. Overall, it looked like it was on the verge of falling apart.


    "This," Adept Kadir said, gesturing toward the valley, "is where I go to lift my spirits. For you, it''s where you will spend the next months training."


    "We''ll be staying here for months?!" Initiate Jiang immediately asked, ashen-faced.


    "Correct," Adept Kadir said.


    "But why?" Initiate Jiang said, a look of despair on her face.


    "First carry your bags inside," Adept Kadir said. "Then, I will explain why you''re here."


    "We''re staying in there?" Arran asked, pointing toward the cabin.


    "Beautiful, isn''t it?" Adept Kadir said. "I built it myself, using my own two hands. Took me three weeks of good, honest work. Not a bit of magic involved."


    The proud look on his face prevented the initiates from saying anything, and they carried their packs to the cabin.


    Up close, it looked even worse than it had from afar, and Arran found himself worrying that the entire thing could collapse at any moment from sheer misery.


    ¡ª¡ª¡ª


    "Now," Adept Kadir said. "Why you''re here¡­ I think the best explanation would be a small demonstration."


    He stuck a small wooden pole in the ground.


    "Initiate Li, please show them."


    Arran gathered up his Wind Essence, then sent a blast of it at the pole. When the Essence struck, it tore the pole from the ground and sent it flying several paces, as if it had been struck by a large boulder.


    Initiate Jiang audibly gasped, and when Arran turned around, he saw that Initiate Guha''s mouth was hanging open in shock.


    "That''s impossible!" Initiate Jiang said. "He only left to open a Wind Realm a week ago!"


    "Initiate Li opened his Wind Realm yesterday," Adept Kadir said. "As you can see, his progress has been faster than usual."


    "That''s amazing!" Initiate Guha said, grinning excitedly. "Brother Wei An, please teach me your secrets!"


    Initiate Jiang, however, looked terrified. "He did that in a day? The Academy¡­ If they discover this¡­"


    "Initiate Jiang is quite correct," Adept Kadir said with a serious expression. "The Academy must not find out about Initiate Li''s talents. If they do, they will certainly come for him."


    "But why show us?" Initiate Jiang asked. "For that matter, why show anyone at all?"


    "Because Initiate Li must learn to control his Wind Realm, and the best way to do so is through practice." Adept scraped his throat, then continued, "Over the next few months, the three of you will train together. You and Initiate Guha will help Initiate Li learn to control his Wind Essence. When you return to the monastery, he should have learned enough not to draw too much attention."


    "Adept Kadir¡­" Arran spoke with some hesitation. "Won''t teaching me hinder their training?" He had thought they would remain here for a week or two at most. Now that he knew it would be months, he felt guilty about Initiate Jiang and Initiate Guha, who would be stuck here with him.


    In the corner of his eye, he could see Initiate Jiang''s eyes light up. It seemed she had the same thought.


    "Not at all," Adept Kadir replied. "If anything, it will help their training. By instructing others, one can gain a firmer grasp of basic techniques. That''s especially useful for young mages who neglect the basics in their hurry to learn more advanced techniques."


    He glanced at Initiate Jiang, who looked absolutely furious.


    "Of course, that''s not all there is to it," Adept Kadir added with a smirk. "These next few months will also provide you with a perfect opportunity to start learning the Windblade spell."


    Instantly, Initiate Jiang''s expression changed. "You''re letting us learn Windblade?"


    Adept Kadir nodded. "Both you and Initiate Guha have advanced far enough to start learning spells, and Windblade has always been one of my favorites. I think it should suit the both of you quite well. In the cabin, you will find two copies of a complete manual."


    "Thank you, Adept Kadir!" Initiate Guha said, smiling so broadly it looked like his face was about to split in two.


    Adept Kadir turned to Arran. "Before I leave, there''s one last thing¡­"


    "What is it?" Arran asked.


    "Initiate Jiang, Initiate Guha, please help me provide a demonstration of what Initiate Li will be learning the next few months."


    With that, he raised a wooden training sword, and Initiate Guha eagerly did the same. Initiate Jiang followed their example a moment later.


    Initiate Guha was the first to attack Adept Kadir, striking with a series of ferocious blows so fast that Arran could barely see them.


    Instantly, Arran was amazed.


    Now that he had a Wind Realm he was able to sense Wind Essence, and he could see that Initiate Guha used Essence to enhance his swordplay, directing it at his sword in small gusts to make his strikes faster, while at the same time disrupting his opponent''s attacks.


    The exchange lasted only a couple of breaths before Adept Kadir struck Initiate Guha. Yet after just that short display, Arran already understood that what little confidence he had in his magical abilities was hopelessly misplaced.


    The amount of Essence that Initiate Guha used was far smaller than what Arran could draw, but he handled it with incomparably more skill. Next to Initiate Guha''s techniques, his own weren''t even worth mentioning.


    As Arran pondered this, Initiate Jiang attacked Adept Kadir. Where Initiate Guha''s attacks had been fierce and forceful, Initiate Jiang''s were intricate and deliberate, involving movements that seemed to defy the laws of physics.


    Again, Arran was shocked. Just a moment ago he had been stunned by Initiate Guha''s skill, but now, he saw that Initiate Jiang''s skill was at an entirely different level.


    Her swordplay by itself was only slightly better than Arran''s, but with every movement, she used Essence to redirect and control her blade while also deflecting and slowing her opponent''s attacks. As a result, it was as if she was wielding half a dozen swords at the same time, all striking with inhuman skill and speed.


    Despite Initiate Jiang''s astounding skill, she too was defeated in just a few exchanges, although she lasted slightly longer than Initiate Guha had.


    Arran was puzzled. "Adept Kadir, how did you defeat them without using Essence?" During the entire fight, he had not once sensed Adept Kadir using even the slightest bit of Essence.


    "But I did," Adept Kadir said with a laugh. "Without it, I''m afraid I wouldn''t last a single exchange against either of them."


    "Then why couldn''t I sense it?" Arran asked.


    "The more control a mage has, the less Essence will leak when he uses techniques. At my level, there simply isn''t enough wasted Essence for initiates like yourself to be able to sense it."


    Arran nodded in understanding, suddenly wondering what his own techniques would look like to other mages.


    "Now, Initiates, spend these months well. I will come by occasionally to bring food and check your progress, so don''t slack off."


    With that, Adept Kadir departed, leaving the three initiates behind.

 Chapter 17 An Unexpected Arrival

    A leaf floated in mid-air in front of Arran''s face. He used a sliver of Wind Essence, and it slowly floated a pace away from him. Another touch of Essence, and it came drifting back. Again he used some Essence ¡ª a sudden gust of Wind hit the leaf, tearing it apart and sending the shreds flying in the distance.


    "Why do you keep doing that?!" Jiang Fei scowled at him. "Stop using so much Essence. You''re moving a leaf, not trying to blow down a house!"


    Arran sighed. While he tried to restrain himself, he still found it hard to control the Essence he used.


    "You must keep practicing," Jiang Fei said, sounding exasperated. "Your strength is useless if you can''t command it."


    Arran nodded apologetically. He tried his best, but although he had improved a lot these past few months, he was still far from reaching the level he needed to reach.


    Over the past months, as the three initiates spent much of their time practicing together, they had naturally grown closer. To Arran, Initiate Jiang and Initiate Guha had become Jiang Fei and Amar.


    Arran and Amar had quickly become friends, both enjoying their daily sparring matches and the banter that came with sparring.


    Arran and Jiang Fei, meanwhile, weren''t exactly friends, but by now much of her initial coldness toward Arran had disappeared.


    Moreover, he now better understood her character. She was fanatical in her magical studies, pursuing excellence to the point of obsession. Occasionally that lead to clashes when Arran failed to meet her standards, but her guidance proved invaluable in his studies, and he knew he had her to thank for much of his progress.


    Still, there was only so much of her help he could take in a day. However skilled a teacher she might be, her lessons were rarely pleasant.


    "Sister Fei, I think I have wasted too much of your time already," Arran said. "Maybe we should continue tomorrow?"


    "You''re trying to get out of training?" she asked, a look of suspicion appearing on her face.


    That was, of course, exactly what Arran was trying to do.


    He shook his head. "I value your help, Sister Fei," he said, doing his best to look sincere. "But surely you must want to practice Windblade?"


    A complicated expression appeared on Jiang Fei''s face. It was no secret that her slow progress in learning the Windblade spell frustrated her to no end, and she spent every available moment in training.


    Naturally, Arran made good use of this whenever he wanted to get out of the lessons she gave him, which happened more often than he cared to admit.


    "I suppose there''s little use in continuing right now," she said after a moment''s hesitation. "Alright. You can practice by yourself."


    Arran was unable to fully contain his smile. Immediately, Jiang Fei''s scowl returned.


    "Don''t think that you can go slack off with Brother Amar," she said. "If you haven''t made any progress by tomorrow, I''ll make you practice twice as long."


    Arran waited patiently until she had left. When she had disappeared into the cabin, he hurried to Amar, who was practicing his swordplay a bit further down the valley.


    "Brother Wei An!" Amar called out when Arran approached. "Up for a bit of sparring?"


    Arran grinned. That was exactly why he had come.


    While he struggled with the slow and precise control of Essence that Jiang Fei taught him, he reveled in using Wind Essence during his sparring matches against Amar.


    In a fight, there was no spending hours trying to meticulously control a floating leaf. Instead, he could use his Essence with wild abandon, acting and reacting in an instant, weaving his swordsmanship and magic together without thought.


    And if he occasionally blew Amar to the ground when he drew too much Wind Essence, that only helped him win some much-needed victories.


    While his progress with Jiang Fei had been slow, he had advanced rapidly in the use of Essence during fights that Amar taught him.


    At first, Amar had barely need to use any Essence at all when they sparred, instead relying on his sword skills to match Arran, despite Arran using all the Essence he could in their fights.


    As Arran''s skills grew, however, Amar had been forced to use more and more Essence to match him. By now, Arran was confident that he could force Amar to use at least half his Essence in a fight.


    Of course, it went without saying that if Amar did not restrain his use of Essence, he could still easily beat Arran in a single exchange.


    With a grin, Arran lifted his training sword, and Amar did the same.


    "I''ll get you this time," Arran said with a grin.


    "We''ll see about that," Amar replied, then attacked immediately.


    They sparred for several hours, and Arran was pleased to find that his skills were still improving rapidly. Perhaps he could not meticulously control a single floating leaf, but he had little trouble in using Essence to enhance his sword strikes and deflect his opponent''s blows.


    When they finished, both of them were exhausted. After bathing in the stream they headed to the cabin, where they scoured the cupboards for food.


    "What did Adept Kadir bring us yesterday?" Arran asked.


    Amar''s face fell. "Same as always. Rice, beans, and some vegetables."


    "Again?" Arran grimaced. Adept Kadir had many virtues, but good taste in food wasn''t among them.


    "There is something we could do¡­" A mischievous glint appeared in Amar''s eyes.


    "What is it?" Arran asked eagerly.


    "There''s plenty of good food in town," Amar said. "If we leave now, we''ll be there by midday."


    "If Adept Kadir finds out¡­" Arran frowned. "But it would be nice to eat some real meat for a change."


    "My thoughts exactly," Amar said.


    "But how will we convince Sister Fei?" Arran asked.


    "Just let me do the talking," Amar said with a grin. "I know her better than you."


    They found Jiang Fei next to the cabin, sitting in the grass with a book in front of her. There was a look of intense concentration on her face.


    When she heard Arran and Amar, she looked up. Immediately, a scowl appeared on her face.


    "Shouldn''t the two of you be training?" she said.


    "Sister Fei Fei," Amar said. "Are you hungry?"


    "What does that have to do with anything?" She gave him a curious look.


    "Brother Wei An and I thought we might head down the mountain, and find something good to eat in town." Amar smiled broadly as he spoke.


    "Absolutely not!" Jiang Fei replied with a shocked expression. "Have you gone insane?! What if we get seen? What if Adept Kadir comes while we''re gone?"


    "Adept Kadir was here just yesterday," Amar said. "And during the day, the other initiates will all be training at the monastery. We''ll be back here before evening, and nobody but us will know."


    Jiang Fei shook her head. "It''s out of the question," she said. "Only an idiot would take a risk like that, just for some food."


    "We could have dumplings," Amar said.


    "Dumplings?" A hint of hesitation sounded in Jiang Fei''s voice.


    Amar nodded. "And the bakery has those cakes you like. How long has it been since you last had one of those?"


    Jiang Fei''s eyes widened.


    ¡ª¡ª¡ª


    "This is a terrible idea," Jiang Fei said. "Absolutely terrible."


    She had said it over a dozen times, but still, she accompanied Amar and Arran down the mountain path. If anything, she looked even more eager than they were.


    After several hours of carefully navigating the narrow paths down the mountain, they reached the town. It was already past midday, and the long walk had left them even more hungry than they had been when they left.


    "We''ll visit the bakery first," Jiang Fei said resolutely. "After that, we''ll get dumplings."


    Neither Amar nor Arran dared to argue with her, and they made their way into the town, slowly traversing the narrow streets. Even if there was little chance of encountering any of their fellow initiates, they were careful not to draw attention, and they avoided the busier areas.


    Just as they were about to reach the bakery, Arran saw a group of men heading down the street. The six in front were on horseback, and a dozen followed on foot behind them. All of them wore pristine white robes, and all carried swords at their sides.


    Arran immediately felt a wave of dread.


    "Who are they?" he asked, but he feared he already knew the answer.


    Jiang Fei turned toward the group. When she laid eyes on the group, her face turned ashen in an instant. "They''re from the Academy!"

 Chapter 18 Preparing for Battle

    Seeing the Academy mages, Arran froze in fear. He had dreaded this moment for months, and now, just when he thought he was finally safe, it had arrived.


    "We need to warn Grandmaster Windsong!" Jiang Fei said, her voice hushed but filled with urgency.


    "Follow me," Amar said. "I know a faster way to the monastery."


    Without waiting for an answer, he started walking toward one of the side streets, with the other two following closely behind him. Arran desperately wanted to run, but he knew that doing so in sight of the Academy mages would draw their attention. And that, he knew, would bring disaster.


    They turned a corner and, as if by unspoken agreement, all three of them immediately set off at a run. Amar was true to his word, and they reached the gates of the monastery in less than a third of the time it would have taken otherwise.


    When they arrived, covered in sweat and panting from the exertion, the gate at the guard looked at them suspiciously. "Initiates? What are you¡ª"


    "No time," Amar interrupted him. "We need to find Grandmaster Windsong. Now."


    "Grandmaster Windsong?" The guard shook his head. "I don''t know where he is. You''d need to check with¡ª"


    "The training hall!" Jiang Fei said. "Adept Kadir will know!"


    They started running again, ignoring the guard''s protests.


    When they arrived at the training hall some moments later, they took only a moment to spot Adept Kadir, who was instructing a group of initiates. As they approached him he noticed them, and immediately, his face turned sour.


    "What''s the meaning of this? The three of you are supposed to¡ª"


    "The Academy is here!" Arran blurted out.


    Immediately, Adept Kadir''s expression changed. "Follow me!" he said. "We need to inform Grandmaster Windsong!"


    Before he finished the sentence he had already started to run, and the three initiates hurried behind him, followed by the shocked gazes of the other initiates in the training hall.


    Just moments later, they reached the monastery''s main building.


    Bang!


    With a wave of Adept Kadir''s hand, the door of the main building exploded in front of him, and without stopping he ran straight into the hall. At any other time such a display of power would have impressed Arran, but now, all he could feel was panic.


    Bang!


    The door of Windsong''s chamber exploded, and Adept Kadir stormed inside, Arran and the other two initiates only seconds behind him.


    "What¡ª" Windsong began to speak.


    "Academy mages are coming!" Adept Kadir called out.


    Instantly, Master Zhao rose. "We need to prepare for battle!"


    Arran''s mouth nearly fell open in surprise. Battle? They wouldn''t flee?


    "Windsong," Master Zhao continued. "You and I head to the gate right now. With some luck, we''ll be in time to stop them. Adept Kadir can get the initiates to safety."


    Windsong silently rose, a complicated expression on his face. Then, his body tensed as if he was straining in effort, and he waved his hand.


    Suddenly, Arran felt as if chains of air wrapped around him, and he found he could no longer move. He looked at the others and discovered that they too seemed to be frozen in place.


    "Grandmaster Windsong," Adept Kadir called out, eyes wide. "What are you doing?"


    "The mages from the Academy are here at my invitation," Windsong replied, his voice grave. "We will give them the apprentice."


    "You betrayed us?" Master Zhao asked. Arran could see that he was frozen in place as well, but his expression was calm and his voice icy.


    "I had no choice, old friend," Windsong said. "I could have hidden your apprentice for a time, but eventually, the Academy would have found out. When that happened¡­ They would have come not just for him, but also for me, and my students."


    "The Academy killed your master, your wife, your brothers," Master Zhao said. "For years, you fought them by my side. Yet now, you choose to bend the knee?"


    Windsong''s face fell. "I was young at the time. Foolish. Filled with anger, after they¡­" He paused briefly, then continued. "But the truth is that my master''s decision to resist the Academy is what brought that calamity."


    "And you think you''ll do better by throwing your lot in with them?" Master Zhao''s voice was now trembling with anger. "You think if you help them, they''ll spare your sorry life?!"


    "It''s not just me," Windsong said. "My students, the monastery¡­ I could not take the risk."


    "So you decided to betray us? Hand us over to the Academy?" Master Zhao asked.


    "Don''t worry, old friend," Windsong said. "Your apprentice, I cannot save. But you¡­ I will hide you. When the Academy mages are gone, I will release you. After that, it is on you whether you choose to blame me for saving your life."


    Master Zhao gave him a furious glare. "You think I will just abandon my apprentice?!"


    Windsong sighed. "You don''t have a choice," he said. "I will hold you here until they are gone. Perhaps some day, you will forgive me. But even if you hate me, at least you will be alive to do so."


    "You utter fool," Master Zhao said, his voice suddenly flat.


    At once, a deafening crash sounded in the chamber, and Arran was thrown backward, violently crashing into the wall. It took him a few moments to regain his senses. When he did, he found that the chains of air that had bound him were gone.


    He looked up and saw Master Zhao standing in the middle of the chamber, surrounded by shattered furniture but untouched himself. Around him, Arran could sense a terrifying aura.


    "You think you can hold me?!" Master Zhao roared. "You think you can make me sit and watch the Academy take my apprentice?!"


    Master Zhao raised his hand, and a head-sized orb of white-hot fire appeared above it. With a single movement, he hurled the orb toward Windsong.


    Windsong raised his hands, and just before the fireball hit him it changed direction, as if the air in front of him had solidified into a shield. Barely missing Windsong, the orb crashed through the stone wall, tearing away a large chunk of it and sending shards of rock flying in all directions.


    Although Windsong did not get hit by the fireball, he still staggered several paces backward, and his eyes were wide with shock.


    "How are you this¡ª"


    Before he could finish the sentence, another scorching fireball soared toward him. Again he barely deflected it, and again the fireball ripped through the wall next to him. Windsong was thrown backward by the force, and his back smashed into the wall. Panic appeared on his face.


    Master Zhao took a step forward, his eyes cold with fury.


    Wordlessly, he raised his hand once more. This time, what appeared wasn''t a mere fireball, but a raging inferno the size of a man, its violent flames lashing out sharply. With a vicious gesture, Master Zhao launched it at Windsong.


    Windsong tried to deflect the blazing mass of fire, but it was like a straw shed being hit by an avalanche. The burning mass blew away the man, the wall behind him, and anything else before it.


    In its path, nothing was left but a trail of torn stone, mangled wood, and charred debris, cutting a path of devastation that led all the way out of the building.


    For a moment, the chamber was silent, as the apprentices and Adept Kadir watched the devastation with looks of shock on their faces.


    "Is he¡­" Adept Kadir went silent before he finished the question.


    "He''s alive," Master Zhao said. "Grandmasters aren''t so easy to kill. Although it will take him some years to recover."


    "You''re not just a Master, are you?" Adept Kadir asked. His face was pale and his eyes wide, but his voice was strangely calm.


    Master Zhao ignored him. With a look at them, he asked, "How many men did the Academy send?"


    "Six on horseback, and another twelve on foot," Arran said, trying to remember the details. "They were all in white robes, and¡ª"


    "That''s enough," Master Zhao interrupted him. "The six on horseback will be Masters and Grandmasters. The others will be adepts."


    He was silent for a moment, seemingly lost in thought. Having just witnessed his power, Arran and the others did not dare make a sound.


    "I can not protect you while I fight them," Master Zhao finally said. "Make your way out, then hide until all of this is over. The adepts won''t dare get involved in the fight against me, but they will come for you and the other initiates."


    "I can help you," Adept Kadir said, although his expression was fearful.


    "You can''t," Master Zhao replied curtly. "Leave, now!"


    Arran and the others made their way through the large holes that Master Zhao''s attacks had left in the wall, ignoring the devastation around them as they hurried outside.


    They were only a few dozen paces away from the ruined building when a deafening crash sounded. A moment later, a large shockwave slammed into them, sending them tumbling to the ground.


    When Arran got up and looked behind him, he saw that nothing was left of the building but a shattered ruin.


    Another crash sounded, and he knew the moment had come.


    The Academy had arrived.

 Chapter 19 The True Face of Magic

    When Arran saw the smoking wreck of the building he had been in only moments earlier, he was certain that Master Zhao had died.


    Yet in an instant more earsplitting blasts sounded, and although the smoke of the ruined building prevented Arran from seeing much, a sudden wave of fire shot out from amid the ruins, hitting another nearby building and sending scorched wreckage flying in all directions.


    "We have to go!" Adept Kadir called out. "It isn''t safe!"


    As if to illustrate his words, a bolt of lightning shot toward them from the smoke, striking a tree only a few dozen paces away. The tree instantly exploded with a thunderous crack, and torn shreds of wood went flying everywhere.


    Arran and the others immediately started to run, desperate to get away from the destruction behind them.


    They had run several hundreds of paces when a huge object crashed into the ground in front of them. It took Arran some moments to grasp that the object had been a building ¡ª one of the small cottages that filled the monastery grounds.


    Arran came to a halt and looked back. He was astounded at the devastation he saw. Half a dozen buildings had been flattened already, and a thick fog of smoke and dust filled the air.


    The sky above them was filled with roiling black clouds, from which fire and lightning constantly erupted. Beneath his feet, he could feel the earth shake and tremble, and a barrage of deafening explosions and thunderclaps assaulted his ears.


    Abruptly, a streak of fire burst down from the clouds with a booming roar. When it slammed into the ground a few hundred paces from Arran and the others, several buildings and trees were obliterated in a flash.


    The monastery grounds were in chaos. Everywhere Arran looked, he could see lightning striking buildings and trees alike, giant fireballs raining down and consuming all they hit, and masses of rock bursting from the ground.


    Arran felt as if he were an ant trapped in a fight between giants. The destruction he saw around him was beyond anything he could have imagined.


    It was like the world was ending, he thought.


    "I have to save the initiates!" Adept Kadir yelled, and he began to run in the direction of the training hall.


    Adept Kadir''s words brought Arran back to his senses. With a start, he realized that not just he and the others with him were in danger ¡ª the terrifying destruction being rained down upon the monastery grounds would endanger all the hundreds of people who were there.


    Master Zhao had told them to flee and hide, but Arran followed Adept Kadir. He knew that the Academy was there for him, and he could not bring himself to hide while others died in his stead.


    As they ran across the monastery grounds, ear-shattering blasts and explosions continued to sound, and the earth kept shaking and rumbling. In the corners of his eyes, Arran could see buildings being torn apart like leaves in a storm.


    Finally, they neared the training hall.


    Arran''s heart nearly stopped when he saw three white-robed figures walking toward the training hall, where several dozens of awestruck initiates stood, their attention captured by the destruction that was unfolding before their eyes. They were oblivious of the danger that was approaching them.


    One of the white-robed figures raised his hand, and instantly, an invisible force smashed into one of the initiates, sending his broken body flying backward.


    The sudden attack sent the other initiates into chaos, and they immediately scattered in all directions, some trying to flee while others moved to the Academy mages.


    Adept Kadir roared furiously, slashing his hand through the air. At once, the Academy mage who had attacked first was brought to a halt. A moment later, his body was torn into pieces, as if it had been slashed by a dozen invisible blades.


    The two remaining Academy mages turned around with a jolt, but already Adept Kadir had unleashed an attack at one of them. It hit just as the man raised his arm to block it, and although the mage survived the attack, the slash of air cut through his wrist. He stumbled back in shock, blood gushing from his arm.


    Without hesitating, Adept Kadir sent a vicious attack toward the last unscathed mage. The man blocked the attack with a handwave, then retaliated with a bolt of lightning that crashed into the air before Adept Kadir and caused him to stagger back.


    With Adept Kadir locked in combat with the unharmed mage, Arran, Amar, and Jiang Fei attacked the wounded one, who had a stunned expression as he stared at the bloody stump where his hand had been.


    Arran''s attack hit first, a massive burst of Wind Essence that struck the dazed mage squarely in the chest. To his surprise, the man only barely stumbled. A moment later the mage was hit by the sword of one of the initiates who had remained to fight.


    The man turned and the initiate was hit with a blow of invisible force that sent him crashing into the training hall, his body slumping to the ground. Yet as the mage attacked the initiate, he was struck by the attacks of Jiang Fei and Amar, whose swords cut into his body with furious blows.


    Despite the blood that was gushing from his wounds, the mage struck out with his remaining arm. He hit Amar across the chest, and Arran''s friend was sent backward several dozens of paces, finally remaining motionless on the ground.


    By now more initiates had joined the fight, and the mage was struck again and again by their swords, oozing blood from at least a dozen wounds. Yet despite his wounds, he fought on, striking down several other initiates.


    Unable to harm the man with magic, Arran rushed forward to join the other initiates. He raised his sword, then delivered a desperate blow to the man''s neck. To his shock, it was like cutting into a massive tree ¡ª even though he struck with all his might, the blade barely sank an inch into the man''s flesh.


    He kept striking the man, over and over, as did Jiang Fei and the other initiates. Yet although the Academy mage had stopped attacking, he still remained standing, as if their blows barely harmed him.


    After what seemed like an eternity, the mage finally went down, his body soaked with the blood of dozens of wounds.


    Arran turned toward Adept Kadir, and he was relieved to see the man limping toward them. Although he looked severely wounded, behind him lay the lifeless body of his opponent.


    He was about to call out to Adept Kadir when he froze in shock. Behind the man had appeared three more white-robed Academy mages, who were rapidly approaching. One raised his hand, and Arran realized the mage was about to attack Adept Kadir.


    "Behind you!" he shouted, but he knew he was too late.


    Just then, the thunderous noise that had roared through the monastery grounds came to an abrupt halt.


    The three Academy mages stopped in their tracks, and it looked as if they were about to turn around. Yet before they could, a massive wave of fire surged toward them. When the fire disappeared an instant later, only three smoldering corpses were left.


    A moment later, a lone figure appeared from the thick cloud of smoke and dust that filled the center of the monastery grounds.


    Arran sighed in relief when he saw it was Master Zhao.


    "Those were the last ones," Master Zhao said.


    As Master Zhao approached them, Arran saw that the man was completely unscathed ¡ª not even his clothes bore any signs of the battle he had just fought.

 Chapter 20 Aftermath

    "Brother Amar!"


    Arran knelt by his friend''s motionless body. Now that the danger was gone, he immediately worried about Amar, who had been struck by an Academy mage''s attack.


    To his relief, as he knelt he could hear Amar groan. He was in pain, but at least he had survived. Others, Arran knew, had not been as lucky.


    Amar opened his eyes. "Did I get him?" he immediately asked, though speaking the words took him some effort.


    "You did," Arran said. No point in telling him right now that it had taken half a dozen initiates to bring down the Academy adept.


    "Bastard broke my arm," Amar said. Cradling his limp right arm, he slowly sat up, wincing as he moved his injured body. "So did we win?" He looked toward the rest of the monastery grounds, and a look of astonishment appeared in his eyes.


    Arran nodded. "Master Fireheart defeated them."


    Following Amar''s eyes, Arran looked out over the monastery grounds. The sight nearly made him sick.


    Barely a building still stood standing. Wherever he looked, the grounds were filled with wreckage and debris. His heart sank when he saw that many bodies lay among the ruins.


    At that moment, Adept Kadir approached them. Despite his own injuries, the man had immediately started checking up on the injured initiates after Master Zhao had defeated the last of the Academy mages.


    "Is he alright?" he asked Arran, voice thick with worry.


    "He''s well enough to speak for himself," Amar said, a forced grin appearing on his face. He was clearly still in great pain.


    "It''s all because of me¡­" Arran said. "All of this¡­ it''s my fault."


    "No," Adept Kadir said. There was a slight tremble in his voice. "This is Windsong''s doing. He''s the one who invited them. He''s the one who caused this." Arran noticed he did not use his master''s title.


    "But they came here for me," Arran said.


    Adept Kadir did not have a reply. It was true, Arran knew. Had he not come to the monastery, none of this would have happened. The Academy had come for him, and him alone.


    "They would have." The voice was Master Zhao''s, who had appeared unseen. "You think they would send an army''s worth of mages just for a single initiate?"


    Adept Kadir cut in. "You''re saying they planned this?"


    "They planned a slaughter," Master Zhao said. "They just failed to anticipate whose it would be."


    "But why?" Arran asked. It made no sense. Windsong had offered to help the Academy. Why would they attack him and the monastery?


    "The Academy does not abide rivals," Master Zhao said. "In the past, Windsong''s monastery was small enough to be ignored. But this¡­" He gestured toward the monastery grounds. "This could never last."


    "Then why didn''t they act earlier?" Adept Kadir asked. He did not sound convinced.


    "Until now, Windsong wasn''t worthy of their attention," Master Zhao said. "Yet as the monastery grew, so did the danger. Without Windsong''s invitation, it could have been a few more decades before they came, but they would have come eventually."


    "Where is Windsong now?" Arran asked, remembering that Master Zhao had said he had not killed the man.


    "Long gone, I assume," Master Zhao replied. "I do not imagine he has much interest in dealing with either us or the Academy."


    "Then what of the rest of us?" Adept Kadir asked.


    "You must flee," Master Zhao said. "Gather up your wounded, warn the townsfolk to leave, then head deep into the mountains. Once the students are ready to strike out on their own, send them away."


    "Abandon the monastery? Just like that?" Sorrow filled Adept Kadir''s voice.


    "You have no choice," Master Zhao answered. "Once the Academy discovers what happened here, they will send more mages. Anyone left here when they arrive will die."


    "But how can we escape them?" Adept Kadir asked. "Even if we leave the monastery and head into the mountains, they can easily track us."


    Master Zhao reached into his robe and retrieved a small object, which he handed to Adept Kadir. Arran could not see what it was, but Adept Kadir''s eyes lit up when he received it.


    "This should help you hide," Master Zhao said. "It won''t be enough if they put serious effort into searching for you, but for the time being, their focus will be on finding me." A glint in his eye, he added, "I will make sure to draw their attention."


    Adept Kadir was silent for a moment. "When will you leave?" he finally asked.


    "Now," Master Zhao answered. He turned to Arran. "Say your goodbyes."


    Arran turned to the others. He had not expected to leave them so soon, but he understood that Master Zhao would allow no delay. If what his master said was true, then the Academy would soon send even more fearsome mages after them, and there wasn''t a moment to waste in fleeing.


    It took him some moments to say his parting words to Adept Kadir, Amar, and Jiang Fei. Arran had thought they would be bitter toward him because of what happened, but all he found in their words was sorrow and regret.


    Finally, Adept Kadir handed Arran a small book, telling him to study it when he had time. Arran accepted it gratefully, already suspecting what it would be.


    As they left, Arran could see that Adept Kadir had already begun to look after the initiates, ordering them to take care of the wounded, while checking on the most severely injured ones himself.


    The sight caused him to feel some pain in his heart. He still remembered how content Adept Kadir had been when they first arrived, and how the man had told him about his dislike for travel.


    Now, Arran knew, Adept Kadir would be forced to flee, and it might be a very long time before he found another place like his beloved monastery.


    Arran and Master Zhao reached the gate not long after. Up close, Arran could see that little was left of both the gate and the surrounding wall, and he hoped the guards had fled before the Academy mages arrived.


    Suddenly, a voice sounded. "Archmage Fireheart!"


    They turned around, and Arran was surprised to see Jiang Fei running toward them, carrying a large bag that looked to have been packed in a hurry.


    "Archmage Fireheart!" she called again.


    Then, she got down on her knees and pressed her head against the ground. Arran boggled at the unexpected sight.


    "Please take me as your apprentice!" she said as she rose to her knees.


    Arran''s eyes went wide with shock. Jiang Fei becoming Master Zhao''s apprentice? The very idea seemed ludicrous. And why was she calling Master Zhao "Archmage"?


    "You think I''m an Archmage?" Master Zhao sounded amused.


    "I know you are!" Jiang Fei said. "No Grandmaster could be that strong!"


    Master Zhao examined her with a thoughtful expression. "You would leave the others behind to join us?" he finally asked.


    "The monastery is gone," she said. "Whether I leave now or later, I will have to find a new path."


    "But why join us?" Master Zhao asked. "You must understand that our journey will be a dangerous one."


    "Your power," Jiang Fei said bluntly. "You are the strongest mage I have ever seen. If I learn from you¡­" She fell silent, and a slight blush appeared on her cheeks.


    Master Zhao chuckled. "Very well," he said. "I will allow you to travel with us. Although I must warn you¡­ you might not find what you expect."


    "I''m willing to accept your teachings," she said. "Whatever they might be."


    "If you are to join us, there is one small thing I must do first," Master Zhao said. "Stand up."


    Jiang Fei stood up, then looked at Master Zhao somewhat anxiously. With a wave of the man''s hand, the air around her suddenly grew blurry ¡ª a sight that was familiar to Arran by now.


    When the air grew clear again, in Jiang Fei''s place stood a short, bald, middle-aged man.


    For a moment, Arran gaped in astonishment. Then, despite the day''s events, he found himself struggling to contain his laughter.


    "What is it?" the man asked in Jiang Fei''s voice.


    "I will tell you later," Arran said.

 Chapter 21 Disguises

    From the center of a vast, sprawling city rose a single colossal tower. Like the buildings that surrounded it, the tower was as white as untouched snow, and it stood so tall that it looked as if it were on the verge of touching the clouds.


    On the top floor of the tower was a large circular chamber, thirty feet high and a hundred wide. It was empty but for a single man. The man was tall and gaunt, with long hair as white as that of the marble from which the tower was wrought.


    He stood silently, looking out over the city from one of the chamber''s windows.


    A knock sounded on the door.


    "Enter," the man said.


    The door opened, and another man entered the chamber. This man was short, with sharp features and jet-black hair.


    "Lord Magistrate," the short man said. "I bring troublesome news."


    "Oh?" the white-haired man said.


    "The party we sent to the Windsong monastery," the other man continued. "All of them have died."


    "The Windsong monastery¡­" The white-haired man knitted his brows in thought. "That''s the one with the upstart Grandmaster, correct? The one who sent word of an initiate with a forbidden Realm?"


    "Yes, Lord Magistrate," the short man said. "We think it may have been a trap, laid by the agents of Chaos."


    "Then find the culprits," the Magistrate said. "And eliminate them."


    The short man nodded, then asked, "What of the initiate, Lord Magistrate?"


    "If there is, in fact, such an initiate¡­" The white-haired man shrugged."Capture him if you happen to find him. Do not waste any resources in tracking him."


    "But Lord Magistrate," the other man said, a hint of shock in his voice. "He has a forbidden Realm. Surely we cannot¡ª"


    "Do you know how many youths with forbidden Realms escape our hands every year?" The Magistrate''s voice was forceful, and the short man went silent.


    The Magistrate waved his hand toward the wall, and a map appeared on it. On the map could be seen a single region, shaped like a rough square, bordered by seas to the south and east, mountains to the west, and a desert to the north.


    "This is our Empire," the white-haired man said. "It spans ten thousand miles from the northern desert to the southern seas, and another ten thousand from the eastern seas to the western mountains."


    The short man nodded, although a confused expression had appeared on his face.


    The Magistrate continued to speak. "Just this past year, there were two in the capital, one near the Three Peaks, one in Fulai City, one on the Redstone Peninsula¡­"


    As the white-haired man went on, small dots of white light appeared on the map with each location he named. After several minutes, the entire map was filled with numerous bright dots.


    "So," the white-haired man finally said, "you think we should pour our resources into snuffing out each and every one of these embers?"


    The short man looked uncertain, but he still nodded. "If left unchecked, any of them could rise up and become a threat to the Empire."


    "A threat to the Empire?" The white-haired man smiled. "You would worry about ants in the cupboard, while we have wolves baying at the door?"


    "Wolves?" The short man''s expression grew uncomfortable. "The Empire is more stable than it has been in centuries. The forces of Chaos have yet to gain a foothold here."


    The Magistrate shook his head. "You have been so busy looking at your own backyard that you failed to notice what was happening beyond the fence."


    He waved his hand, and instantly the map expanded outward, growing larger and larger until it covered the entire wall of the circular chamber, all the way up to the ceiling. The entire map was vast, filled with endless lands, mountains, seas, and deserts, with the Empire taking up only a tiny sliver of it.


    With another wave of his hand, most of the map darkened to a dark charcoal gray. Only the Empire and a few other regions remained as bright spots within the sea of charcoal.


    The short man looked on in shock, his face turning pale. "Is this¡­" He did not finish the words.


    "This world has already fallen to Chaos," the white-haired man said, his expression grave. "Fewer than a dozen regions still hold, including the Empire."


    "Then what do we do?" The short man''s voice trembled with anxiety.


    "Our task has not changed," the white-haired man said. "We fight the forces of Chaos."


    "But how can we win?" the short man asked.


    "We cannot," the white-haired man said plainly. "All we can do is delay the end."


    ¡ª¡ª¡ª


    "Is it gone?" Jiang Fei asked, voice filled with anxiety.


    Master Zhao handed her a small mirror, which she accepted with trembling hands. She spent several moments inspecting herself carefully, then finally breathed a sigh of relief as she saw that she had returned to her old appearance.


    "That was horrible," she said, visibly shuddering at the memory.


    It had been nearly two weeks since they had left the monastery, and Jiang Fei had complained daily about the appearance Master Zhao had given her. Several times, she had begged him to at least make her look like a woman or, failing that, a handsome young man.


    Master Zhao had not budged, and when Jiang Fei understood that the man would not be persuaded, she had instead spent much of her time complaining to Arran.


    The coldness she had shown when they first met was now all but gone, but Arran wasn''t sure if he liked the change. The new Jiang Fei was awfully talkative, he thought.


    "Your turn," Master Zhao said, turning toward Arran.


    Master Zhao made some strange gestures, and Arran could see the air grow blurry around himself. He thought he could sense a hint of Essence as the man performed his magic, though he could not tell what kind of Essence it was.


    When the air grew clear again a moment later, Arran found Jiang Fei staring at him, looking puzzled.


    "Master Fireheart," ¡ª she had stopped calling Master Zhao ''Archmage'' at his urging ¡ª "that disguise is no good at all."


    "Why is that?" Master Zhao asked. Arran could see a trace of amusement on his face.


    "You made Brother Wei An look like an Easterner," Jiang Fei said. "Blond hair, blue eyes¡­ it looks ridiculous! An Easterner in this part of the Empire? Nobody would believe that." She shook her head in disapproval. "And he doesn''t even look handsome¡­"


    Arran''s face fell as realization set in. "Call me Arran," he said gruffly. "Not Wei An."


    "Arran?" She said the name several times, sounding out the syllables. Finally, she shook her head again. "That doesn''t even sound like a name. Why not find something better? Maybe something like¡ª"


    "Because," Arran interrupted her, trying his best to stay calm, "my name is Arran."


    Jiang Fei''s eyes instantly went wide with understanding. "You¡ª You''re an Easterner?! That''s what you really look like?! But¡ª But¡­"


    Arran sighed deeply, deciding that he much preferred the earlier, colder Jiang Fei.


    "Enough of that," Master Zhao said. He pulled a scroll from his robe, then handed it to Jiang Fei. "Study this. I expect you to be done in an hour."


    Arran instantly forgotten, her eyes turned bright. "Is that a Realm Scroll?" she asked eagerly.


    Master Zhao nodded. "The scroll will give you a Shadow Realm. Tonight, you will open it."


    "Tonight?" she asked. "I''m supposed to open a Realm in a single night?"


    "I will help you open it," Master Zhao said, cutting off any further questions she had with a wave of his hand.


    Remembering the black pill Master Zhao had used to help him open his first Realms, Arran immediately realized what Master Zhao was planning to do.


    Recalling the experience, he could not help but shudder. He did not envy Jiang Fei.

 Chapter 22 Memories of Murder

    "Is that a Realm Opening Pill?" Jiang Fei said, looking in wonder at the small black pill Master Zhao held in his hands.


    Arran frowned. Again, he found that she knew far more about the world of magic than he did.


    "It is," Master Zhao replied.


    "So that''s how you did it!" Jiang Fei looked at Arran as if she had finally figured him out. "That''s how you opened your Wind Realm so quickly!"


    Arran didn''t correct her. Although he had not used a Realm Opening Pill for his Wind Realm, Jiang Fei did not know about his forbidden Realm.


    Looking somewhat smug, Jiang Fei turned her attention back to the pill. "Is it as painful as they say?" she asked, a hint of apprehension appearing in her voice.


    "It''s bad," Arran said honestly. "I passed out from the pain when I took it."


    Jiang Fei nodded thoughtfully. Then, she reached out to Master Zhao, who handed her the pill.


    "I guess I''ll find out," she said. Without hesitating, she took the pill in her mouth and swallowed it.


    For a moment they sat in silence, waiting. Then, Jiang Fei''s face began to twist in discomfort.


    "It''s like there''s fire flowing in my veins," she said. There was a slight tremble in her voice now.


    Soon after, she began to groan, and her face twisted and contorted as her body tensed up in anguish. As the groans grew louder and her face more twisted, it was clear that she was in a great deal of pain.


    "Make it¡­ Stop¡­" The voice barely even sounded like Jiang Fei''s anymore, and her eyes were wide but senseless, as if she could no longer see the world around her.


    "Will she be alright?" Arran asked. He had his disagreements with Jiang Fei, but seeing her in such a state still left him worried.


    "Almost certainly," Master Zhao said. He seemed unconcerned, although the words did little to ease Arran''s worries. From what the man said, there was a definite risk.


    "But enough of that." Master Zhao made a gesture with his hand, and Jiang Fei''s cries instantly vanished.


    When Arran looked at her, she still appeared as if she was screaming, but no sounds emerged from her lips.


    "I''ve put up a barrier," Master Zhao explained. "We can no longer hear her, and she can no longer hear us ¡ª though I suspect that right now, she wouldn''t understand even if she did hear."


    "Now then," Master Zhao continued. "There are things we must discuss. There are questions you need answered, and I have some questions of my own."


    Arran was startled. Master Zhao had questions for him?


    "To start," Master Zhao said, "we must discuss your past."


    "My past?" A feeling of foreboding filled Arran.


    "You told me that after your father''s death, you decided to come to the Academy to become a mage," Master Zhao said. "But what of the men who killed him?"


    Arran hesitated. "The guards¡­" he began.


    "Don''t lie," Master Zhao said. "You''re a bad liar, and I''m a good listener. If you lie, I will know."


    Arran sighed in resignation. Then, he began to speak.


    "Riverbend is poor. Poor enough that even some of the wealthier families struggle to provide their sons with land. Because of that, young men often take work as caravan guards or mercenaries, to save up enough coin to buy a farm of their own and get married. Many of them never return.


    "Others choose an easier path, robbing traveling merchants and caravans. They don''t usually kill their victims, but it makes the region a dangerous one for travelers. The guards know about it, of course, but the bandits are locals and their victims strangers, so they often turn a blind eye.


    "The bandit who killed my father was in such a group. My father was a guardsman, and during a patrol, they stumbled upon a group of bandits robbing a caravan. The bandits fled, but not before one of them loosed an arrow that struck my father."


    Arran fell silent, once more remembering what had happened.


    "Continue," Master Zhao said.


    After a moment, Arran did as the man said.


    "The shot probably wasn''t intended to kill, as it took him in the leg. Yet the wound failed to heal, and it got infected. It took a few weeks, but¡­"


    Arran swallowed hard before continuing.


    "After he died, I wanted revenge. So I tracked down the bandits. I found them holed up in an abandoned farm some three days'' travel from Riverbend. There were about two dozen, mostly local boys. But when I told the guards, they refused to act."


    "Then what did you do?" Master Zhao asked, leaning forward as he listened intently.


    "I killed them." The admission came easier than Arran had thought. This was the first time he told anyone, but he did not feel the panic or guilt he had expected.


    "You fought two dozen bandits? By yourself?" Master Zhao frowned, appearing doubtful.


    Arran shook his head. "It wasn''t like that. I didn''t fight them. I killed them."


    "How did you do it?" Master Zhao asked.


    "I traveled to the farm, then waited until nightfall," Arran said. "They''d been drinking that night, and they only posted a single guard. My arrow took him in the throat. A lucky shot, but he died before he could scream."


    "After that, I barricaded the door from the outside. While they were asleep, I set the farm ablaze. The few who managed to escape the fire, I shot with my bow. The others¡­" Arran paused, remembering the screams he had heard that night. "The others burned alive."


    With that, Arran went silent. For some time, neither of them spoke.


    "Do you regret it?" Master Zhao finally asked.


    Arran shook his head. "They were responsible for my father''s death, all of them." After a moment, he added, "You must think I''m a monster."


    "A monster? For avenging your father?" Master Zhao let out a cheerless laugh. "Had you done nothing, I''d have thought you a coward. Now¡­ now, I think you might have a chance."


    "A chance?" Arran was puzzled.


    Master Zhao sighed. "Truth be told, until now, I had some doubts about you. Other than your forbidden Realm, you''re not exceptionally talented. Don''t misunderstand me ¡ª you have some talent for magic and swordsmanship, but it''s nothing out of the ordinary."


    Master Zhao''s blunt words stung, but Arran knew they were true. In the few months he had spent training with Jiang Fei and Amar, he had discovered the limits of his talent.


    Amar''s skill with the sword could only be called phenomenal, and despite Arran''s best efforts, he could not compare. Jiang Fei, meanwhile, seemed to have an almost unnatural mastery over magic, controlling it like a master painter controls his brushes. Compared to her, Arran was like a child slinging paint at a canvas.


    "Yet despite your limitations, you killed two dozen bandits before ever even having touched magic." To Arran''s surprise, Master Zhao nodded in approval. "With that, you might yet have a chance to face the Academy and escape with your life."


    "So now what?" Arran asked. Painful memories still fresh in his mind, he had little interest in Master Zhao''s compliments.


    "Now, there are things you need to know," Master Zhao said. "Things that will decide your future. Some of them, I had wanted to let rest until later. But instead, we will have to discuss them now."


    "Why now?" Arran asked. Although he would not pass up the chance to have some of his questions answered, he wondered why Master Zhao was suddenly so willing to talk. Until today, the man had shown little interest in learning about Arran''s past, and even less in answering his questions.


    "Because tomorrow," Master Zhao said, "I will leave."

 Chapter 23 A Difficult Choice

    "You''re leaving tomorrow?!"


    Master Zhao nodded. "With the attention the battle at Windsong''s monastery has drawn, it won''t be long before the Academy sends new mages, stronger than the previous ones."


    "But can''t we hide?" Arran asked. "After we fled Fulai City, we didn''t see any signs of the Academy for half a year. Why can''t we do the same again?"


    "Because I killed over a dozen Academy mages," Master Zhao said plainly. "Before, they were just looking for an initiate with a forbidden Realm. Now, they''re looking for someone who attacked the Academy."


    Arran frowned. "So there''s no way for us to hide?"


    "By myself, I can hide quite easily," Master Zhao said. "And even if they find me, I will have little difficulty escaping. But with you along, it will be far more difficult."


    "If they find us, can''t you just fight them?" Arran asked. The battle at the monastery was still fresh in his mind, and from what he had seen there, Master Zhao had little reason to fear the Academy.


    "Probably," Master Zhao said. "But if I defeat the ones who are searching for us now, more will take their place, even stronger than the last. Any victory would merely draw even more attention."


    "What happens to me after you leave? Without your help, I don''t stand a chance of escaping them." The thought was enough to make Arran feel desperate. If Master Zhao couldn''t guide them to safety, what chance did Arran have by himself?


    "You have two choices," Master Zhao said.


    Arran listened intently, understanding that what Master Zhao was about to tell him might well determine whether he would live or die.


    "The first is to hide away by yourself," Master Zhao continued. "The Academy will be looking for me, and you should be able to escape their notice at least for a while. Using that time, you could travel to a remote location in the mountains, where the Academy will have little chance of finding you."


    "And then what do I do?"


    Master Zhao shrugged. "Spend a century or two training, and you will probably be able to become a Master, or even a Grandmaster. By then, you should have some hope of staying alive without my help."


    After a moment''s thought, Arran shook his head. Even spending years alone in the mountains by himself was a dreadful prospect. Spending centuries training by himself? Even if he survived, he would probably lose his mind.


    "What''s the other choice?" he asked, hoping that it would be something more appealing.


    "The other option is to join the Shadowflame Society," Master Zhao said.


    "The Shadowflame Society?" Arran had heard the name before, but he did not know what it was.


    "There are four Great Societies in the Empire," Master Zhao said. "Each of them is tasked with protecting one of the Empire''s borders. The Shadowflame Society is one of these Great Societies."


    "Won''t the Academy be able to find me there?" Arran asked.


    "Even if they found you, there would be little they could do," Master Zhao replied. "The Great Societies are powerful enough that even the Academy would not dare offend them lightly. Certainly, they would not start a conflict with the Shadowflame Society over a single initiate, forbidden Realm or not."


    "What''s the catch?" Arran asked with a frown. If this Shadowflame Society was as powerful as Master Zhao said, surely the man would have suggested it earlier ¡ª unless there were some major downsides.


    "The catch, as you put it, is that it will be dangerous."


    "Dangerous?" Arran asked. "But I thought you said I would be safe from the Academy?"


    "The danger would not come from the Academy," Master Zhao explained. "To join the Shadowflame Society, you will have to serve across the border for a year, hunting monsters, bandits, and rogue mages. Most of those who join do not survive their first year of service."


    Hearing this, Arran swallowed hard.


    "After that, you will be allowed to start training," Master Zhao continued. "But training at the Societies is difficult and dangerous, even at the initiate level. And during your training, the Shadowflame Society will regularly send you across the border, to face even greater dangers."


    Arran gave it some thought. From what Master Zhao told him, it sounded like joining the Shadowflame Society would be far more dangerous than simply going into hiding.


    "Which option will make me stronger?" Arran finally asked.


    Master Zhao smiled approvingly. "Joining the Shadowflame Society, of course. You will face many dangers, but if you survive, you will have enough training and experience to protect yourself."


    The decision wasn''t an easy one, and Arran spent some time considering his options.


    Going into hiding would be the safer choice, but he would have to spend years living like a hermit and training by himself. And although his magical abilities would grow stronger, he would lack the combat experience he needed to survive if he found himself in a fight he could not avoid.


    Joining the Shadowflame Society, on the other hand, sounded like it would be near-suicide. He would have to fight bandits and monsters, and cross the border into the lands beyond the Empire. Yet he would gain the experience he needed to survive. And more importantly, he would not be alone.


    With that last thought, Arran made up his mind. "I''ll travel to the Shadowflame Society," he said.


    "Good," Master Zhao replied. "It''s a dangerous path, but I believe that it''s your best chance at surviving."


    "But what of her?" Arran looked at Jiang Fei, who seemed to have slipped into unconsciousness, although her body still occasionally spasmed.


    "I will give her the choice to either accompany you or leave," Master Zhao said. "But I will discuss that with her when she awakes. Right now, we have some preparations to make."


    "What preparations?" Arran asked with a nervous look at Master Zhao. He could already sense that something unpleasant was about to happen.


    "First, I need to seal off your Realms."


    "Seal off my Realms?!" Arran paled at the words. Without his Realms, he would be unable to draw Essence. And without Essence, he would be defenseless.


    "The Academy is still looking for an Initiate with a forbidden Realm," Master Zhao said. "And someone at the monastery will likely have told them about the strength of your Fire and Wind Realms. Maybe you won''t encounter them, but if you do, you need these seals to remain hidden."


    Arran nodded reluctantly. He could not fault the man''s logic, but by now, he dreaded the thought of being without magic.


    "I will leave your Shadow Realm unsealed," Master Zhao added. "Using Shadow, you can unravel the seals on your Fire and Wind Realms. Once you are able to do so, you should be able to recreate them yourself, allowing you to hide your magic at will."


    "How long will it take?" Arran asked. The prospect of learning to hide his magic when needed brightened his mood, if only slightly.


    "A month or two should be sufficient."


    "And what about my forbidden Realm?"


    "For that, I will use a stronger seal. Unraveling it might take you some years, but once you do, you will understand Shadow seals well enough to hide it from all but the strongest mages."


    "Alright." Arran reluctantly agreed, understanding that he had little choice in the matter.


    He leaned forward, and Master Zhao put the fingers of his right hand against Arran''s temple. Almost immediately, Arran could feel his connection with his Realms weaken. Only moments later, the connection was gone entirely.


    "Now use up the Essence that remains inside you," Master Zhao said.


    Arran did as the man asked, launching several blasts of Fire and Wind until he felt the last of the Essence leave his body. He shuddered at the feeling of emptiness that followed.


    "Now what?" he asked.


    "Now," Master Zhao said, "we wait for the girl to wake up."

 Chapter 24 Master Zhao’s Treasures

    Master Zhao was quiet, and Arran spent his time thinking about the journey that lay ahead of him.


    Just moments ago, he had believed that would learn magic with Master Zhao by his side to protect him from the Academy and any other dangers he might encounter.


    Now, he understood that the journey ahead would be far lonelier and more dangerous than he had previously imagined.


    He cast another glance at Jiang Fei. Her earlier spasms and convulsions had subsided, and now she looked peaceful, as if she was merely sleeping.


    Arran wondered whether she would join him on the journey to the Shadowflame Society. Master Zhao said he would invite her, but Arran doubted she would agree. She had joined them to become an apprentice to Master Zhao, after all. Now that the man was leaving, there was little reason for her to remain with Arran.


    As Arran gave the subject some thought, he wasn''t entirely certain whether he would prefer her to leave or to remain with him.


    While it would be nice to have some company along the way, Jiang Fei wasn''t the easiest person to be around. And, he thought, with Master Zhao gone, most of her attention would be on him. He frowned as he imagined Jiang Fei scolding him whenever he slacked in his training.


    On the other hand, traveling by himself would be lonely and dangerous. A lone traveler was an easy target for bandits, after all, and on top of that, Arran knew little of the region in which they now traveled.


    Aside from that, Arran realized with some discomfort that he would probably miss her company. Even if the two weren''t exactly friends, it was nice to have someone to talk to.


    Arran was sunk in thought as he looked up at the night sky, gazing at the bright stars amid a sea of black, the only sound the crackling of the campfire.


    Suddenly, a loud gasp interrupted Arran''s thoughts. Immediately, his attention turned to Jiang Fei, and he saw that her eyes had opened.


    Her face was pale and there were dark circles around her eyes, as if she had not slept in a week. Yet despite her weary face, her expression was one of delight.


    "There''s so much Essence!" she said, eyes wide in wonder. She turned to Master Zhao. "Master Fireheart, can I¡­?"


    "Go ahead," Master Zhao answered.


    Without waiting, Jiang Fei got to her feet. A look of concentration appeared on her face, and a moment later, she thrust her right hand forward.


    A loud crash sounded, and a few dozen paces away from them, Arran saw a large tree being uprooted, ripped from the ground the way a farmer might yank weeds from a field.


    "I''m so strong!" Her expression was one of sheer joy. Again she thrust her hand forward, and again a tree was uprooted.


    After several trees had fallen to Jiang Fei''s magic and the area around them started to look like a violent storm had passed, Master Zhao finally stopped her.


    "That will be enough, Miss Jiang," he said. "There are some matters we must discuss now."


    Reluctantly, Jiang Fei sat down, her expression making it clear that she was by no means done exploring her newfound powers.


    "I think this conversation is best held in private," Master Zhao said. He gestured with his hand, and instantly, Arran could no longer hear either him or Jiang Fei.


    Arran scowled.


    Master Zhao started to talk, and although Arran could not hear what the man said, he saw a look of surprise appear on Jiang Fei''s face. Surprise turned into what looked like shock, then anger, and he saw her wildly gesticulate with her hands while her mouth moved as if she was shouting at Master Zhao.


    The conversation lasted a long time, but all Arran could do was idly watch his two companions. As time went by, the look on Jiang Fei''s face turned from anger to resignation, and she nodded several times as Master Zhao spoke


    Finally, Arran understood the conversation had ended when Master Zhao raised his hand and gave it a short wave.


    "Miss Jiang has decided to join you," Master Zhao said, his words once more audible to Arran.


    "You''d better keep your promise," Jiang Fei said to Master Zhao, a sullen look appearing on her face.


    "I rarely break my promises," Master Zhao replied. "Now that you''ve decided, next, I will need to seal your Wind Realm."


    "Seal my Realm?!" An angry expression instantly returned to Jiang Fei''s face. "Have you gone mad? It''s one thing for me to journey to the Shadowflame Society, but now you want to seal my Realm?"


    Master Zhao calmly told her what he had told to Arran earlier, explaining that the seal was necessary to remain hidden from the Academy while they traveled, but that she would be able to remove it herself in time.


    At first, Jiang Fei seemed unconvinced, but when Master Zhao said that undoing the seal would allow her to learn it herself, her face brightened somewhat. Finally, she relented.


    "Alright," she said, sighing in resignation. "But if I''m unable to remove the seal¡­"


    "How fast you remove the seal will be entirely up to your talent," Master Zhao said.


    At those words, Jiang Fei''s expression hardened with determination, and Arran could tell she was planning to undo it as quickly as she could.


    Sealing her Realms only took Master Zhao a few moments, and soon, her face fell as she sensed the effects of the seal.


    "This is terrible," she said with a miserable look. "I can''t feel any Wind Essence at all. It''s like I''ve lost my hands."


    Arran was surprised to see her normal confidence all but gone. Without the use of magic, Jiang Fei suddenly looked lost, even vulnerable.


    He did not have time to ponder the matter any further, because at that moment, Master Zhao spoke again, this time addressing both of them.


    "I will leave at first light," he said. "But before I go, I have some parting gifts that may ease your journey, if only a little."


    With that, Master Zhao took out two small bags, which he handed to Arran and Jiang Fei.


    "A bag?" Arran asked. A bag hardly seemed like something that would be helpful in his travels, especially one this small.


    At the same time, Jiang Fei exclaimed, "It''s a void bag!"


    "Correct, Miss Jiang," Master Zhao said.


    Turning to Arran, he explained, "These are what''s known as void bags. Each of them has a small, empty Realm of its own, which you can use to store goods. Go ahead and bind it."


    "How do I do that?" Arran asked.


    "Just infuse them with a bit of Essence. These bags are unbound, so taking control of them will be easy."


    Arran did as the man said, sending forth a small strand of Shadow Essence ¡ª the only type he could use, now that his other Realms were sealed. Immediately, he felt a connection grow between himself and the bag.


    Surprise filled Arran when he felt himself become aware of what was inside the bag. Although it was small on the outside, inside he could sense a space roughly the size of a large room.


    Moreover, the space inside the bag wasn''t empty. Half of it was filled with food, clothes, equipment, jugs ¡ª filled with water, he guessed ¡ª and other goods. At a glance, the supplies would be enough to last several months, at the least.


    With a thought, he asked, "Can it hold people?"


    "Not if you want them to stay alive," Master Zhao said with a chuckle. "People and animals cannot survive inside the bag''s Void Realm, although plants can."


    "Then how do I take things out of it?" Arran asked. If the bag killed everything that entered it, he wasn''t about to stick his arm inside ¡ª not to mention that most of the bag''s contents weren''t in arm''s reach.


    "You control the Realm inside the bag," Master Zhao said. "With a bit of effort, you can control the contents. Give it a try."


    Arran once more focused on the bag, and to his astonishment, he found he could easily move its contents using just his thoughts. With a little push, he was able to make a piece of dried meat come flying from the bag.


    He grabbed the meat and took a bite, finding that the taste was completely normal.


    "Inside the bags there are travel supplies," Master Zhao said, "as well as a small bit of gold. It isn''t much, but it should allow you to travel in comfort."


    Curious, Arran once more focused on the bag''s contents.


    After a moment, he found a large chest. He used his mind to open the chest, and his jaw almost dropped when he saw what was inside. What Master Zhao called "a small bit of gold" was a fortune, enough to buy not just a farm, but an entire village.


    "That''s too much!" he said, shocked.


    Master Zhao shrugged dismissively. "To mages, gold isn''t particularly valuable. But during your travels, you may find you need it."


    Arran nodded, speechless. Briefly, his thoughts turned to Riverbend. The fortune Master Zhao had casually handed him was enough to buy half the town, if not more.


    "Finally, I have prepared some scrolls and spells for you," Master Zhao said. "Inside the bag, you will find a number of Realm Scrolls, as well as some scrolls and books containing various spells. Should you open any new Realms, I''ve also supplied each of you with about a dozen Realm Opening Pills, although I urge you to master your current Realms before opening new ones."


    This time, it was Jiang Fei who was shocked. "A dozen Realm Opening Pills?!" She almost shouted the words, and her eyes were wide in astonishment.


    Arran gave her a puzzled look. The gold had not even surprised her, yet a dozen pills did?


    Seeing Arran''s stare, she said, "Don''t you understand? Each Realm Opening Pill is a treasure, easily worth a dozen times as much as all the gold in the chest, if someone was foolish enough to sell one for gold!"


    Hearing those words, Arran''s mind went blank. The gold-filled chest had shocked him, but this¡­ this was beyond his comprehension.


    "You can use these gifts however you wish," Master Zhao said. "But I suggest you do not mention these possessions to others. Doing so would bring unwanted attention."


    Both Arran and Jiang Fei nodded, grave expressions on their faces as they understood the danger. If a handful of gold was enough to get knifed between the ribs by a robber, the kind of wealth they had now could draw entire armies.


    With a thought, Arran took his two most prized possessions ¡ª the book Adept Kadir had given him and the green amulet he had looted from the bandits ¡ª and stored them inside the bag. Then, he carefully hid the bag inside his robe.


    "With that behind us, it is time for me to leave," Master Zhao said, standing up. Arran could see he would waste no time in departing.


    "Before you leave¡­" Arran said. "Will we see you again?"


    For a moment, Master Zhao was quiet.


    "With luck, we will meet again," he finally said.

 Chapter 25 The Journey Ahead

    "Can it do anything useful at all?"


    Jiang Fei looked at Arran with a look of frustration. She had spent much of the morning testing out her new Shadow Realm, but so far, the only thing she had accomplished was sending out a large blast of Shadow that merely disappeared the moment it touched the tree she had targeted.


    "Nothing I''ve been able to accomplish," Arran answered honestly. "But Master Fireheart could use it to make himself disappear."


    He still called Master Zhao ''Fireheart'' when speaking to Jiang Fei, although by now he was starting to doubt whether either identity was actually real.


    "Disappear?" Jiang Fei knitted her brows. "So it''s not completely useless, then¡­"


    They practiced as they walked, occasionally sending blasts of Shadow at the roadside, or trying to manipulate it into moving. Whatever they tried, however, none of it was useful in the least, and Arran found it growing increasingly hard to stay focused on his practice.


    Before Master Zhao had left, he had paid little attention to their surroundings, instead practicing Fire and Wind while occasionally trying to wrangle knowledge from his master.


    Now, for the first time since they had left the monastery, Arran found himself looking at the landscape around them.


    In the distance, he could still make out the vague outlines of the mountains, which by now looked like shadows on the horizon.


    The terrain that surrounded them had changed, he saw. Where the hills at the foot of the mountains had mostly been filled with grass, with barely a tree to be seen, the road now meandered along copses and thickets.


    While the more varied landscape did little to ease their journey, at least it provided Arran with some small distractions from the boredom of travel.


    "Do you know where it is?" Arran asked not long after midday. "The Shadowflame Society, I mean."


    "On the western border," Jiang Fei said. "Don''t you know that?"


    Arran shook his head. "But where is that?" Turning slightly red, he added, "I know it''s to the west, of course ¡ª but how far is it?"


    The truth was that he knew little of the Empire''s geography. Growing up in Riverbend, all he had known was the region around it, which was mostly filled with woods and hills and farmlands, with some small villages scattered in between.


    Traveling merchants had told stories of cities further out, like Fulai City, but even those places had been far from any borders the Empire had.


    Traveling with Master Zhao had not given him any great insights, either. They had avoided most cities and towns, and all Arran had learned about the Empire was that it was frustratingly large ¡ª far larger than he had ever imagined.


    "You don''t know where the border is?" Jiang Fei looked more puzzled than anything, as if Arran had just told her he had never drunk water before in his life.


    "I grew up in a small town," Arran said with a shrug.


    Somewhat to his surprise, Jiang Fei did not mock him. Instead, she abruptly stopped walking, sat down, then produced a large scroll.


    As she unrolled the scroll, Arran could see that it was a map.


    "Sit down and come have a look," she said. "This is a map of the Empire. Have you ever seen one?"


    Arran shook his head as he sat down next to her. He had seen maps of the regions around Riverbend and Fulai City, but he had never seen a map of the entire Empire.


    "Where is Riverbend?" he asked.


    "I''m not sure," she answered. "I''ve never heard of it, and the map only shows major cities."


    "What about Fulai City?" If Riverbend wasn''t on the map, Arran thought, surely Fulai City would be.


    "I''ve heard of it, although it''s still too small to be on the map. But it should be about¡­" Her finger hovered above the map for a moment, then touched a spot about halfway between the center of the map and the eastern border. "Here."


    "And where are we now?" Arran asked, trying to figure out the path he had traveled with Master Zhao.


    Jiang Fei found their current location in an instant, pointing toward a spot southwest of the map''s central region, just north of some triangles that Arran took to be mountains.


    "This is where we are now," she said.


    Arran''s eyes went wide with surprise as he saw that in the months he had spent traveling with Master Zhao, they had only covered less than a third of the way to the western border.


    "Just how long will it take us to reach the Shadowflame Society?" As he asked the question, he realized the answer would be an unwelcome one.


    "It should take us about a year," she said. "Assuming we don''t meet any major delays along the way."


    "A year?!" Arran was astonished. It was even worse than he had expected.


    "The Empire is large," Jiang Fei said in a calm voice. "And travel takes time."


    "So we''re stuck with each other for the next year?" Arran regretted the words as soon as he spoke them.


    Jiang Fei scowled. "It''s not like I''m happy to be here with you," she said with a huff.


    "I''m sorry," Arran said. "I didn''t mean it like that. It''s just¡­ I hadn''t expected we''d have to travel so far. I thought we''d reach the Shadowflame Society in a few months, at most."


    "I''m not happy about it either," she replied with a sigh.


    "Then why did you join me?" Arran asked. "You could have left when Master Fireheart did. "


    "Master Fireheart gave me a promise," she said.


    "What was it?" Arran asked, wondering what Master Zhao could possibly have promised that would convince her to not only join the Shadowflame Society, but spend a year''s travel to get there.


    "That''s my business." The look on Jiang Fei''s face told Arran that the conversation was over.


    They set off again not long after.


    Jiang Fei was mostly quiet as they walked, and Arran silently cursed himself for what he said. If he was going to spend the next year traveling with her, the last thing he wanted to do was offend her right at the start.


    On the way, they occasionally encountered other travelers, mostly merchants and local farmers. Arran was puzzled at the strange looks the others on the road gave them. At first, he thought it was because he looked like an Easterner, with the blond hair that was rare in this part of the Empire.


    When he finally figured out the real reason, he had to bite down a curse.


    Immediately, he examined the contents of the void bag, only to be disappointed at the clothes Master Zhao had packed ¡ª there was a great variety of robes, ranging from fine to very fine, but little else.


    "Are there any towns or cities nearby?" he asked Jiang Fei.


    "There''s a town less than a week''s travel from here," she answered. "It isn''t much, though, just a few thousand people. Why?"


    "We''ll need to go there," Arran said. "And quickly."


    "Why?" Jiang Fei asked. "We have enough supplies to last for months, and the town is out of the way ¡ª it''ll cost us several days, at the least."


    "Have you noticed the looks we''ve been getting?" Arran asked.


    Jiang Fei gave him a nonplussed look. "What?"


    "We''re both in robes," Arran said. "Dressed like a pair of scholars, or nobles. When we were with Master Fireheart, people would have thought he was a traveling scholar with some apprentices in tow. But now¡­"


    "You think nobles would be dressed like¡­ this?" Jiang Fei asked, but her expression turned thoughtful. "You think we''ll draw the Academy''s attention?"


    "The Academy?" Arran shook his head. "It''s bandits we need to worry about. Dressed like this, we''ll look like a pair of easy targets, ripe for the picking."


    "Why would we worry about bandits? If we meet any, we can just¡­" She stopped speaking as understanding set in.


    "That''s right," Arran said with a nod. "Without magic, we''re all but defenseless."


    "But we have swords," Jiang Fei said, still not convinced. "Even if we are attacked, can''t we defend ourselves from a few bandits?"


    Arran shook his head. "If they''re smart, they''ll just put a few arrows in us, then take our belongings from our corpses. And even if they aren''t¡­ if there are more than a few, we''ll be in trouble."


    Jiang Fei paled a little at those words, but she still hesitated before speaking. "We can make it in three days if we hurry," she finally said.


    Arran nodded. "We''ll do that, then."


    When they continued, their pace was a little faster than before, and traces of unease could be seen on their faces.

 Chapter 26 Redwater

    Although Jiang Fei had said Redwater wasn''t much of a town, Arran still found himself impressed by the sight. It was several times as large as Riverbend, with numerous houses and stores, all featuring slanted black tile roofs.


    At first, he was confused by the town''s name, but when he saw the reddish color of the river that ran through the town, he understood.


    "It''s iron," Jiang Fei explained. "There''s iron in the hills between here and the mountains, and it turns the river red. Doesn''t hurt the taste, though."


    Arran nodded, although he quietly resolved he would stick to drinking ale while he was in town. Not that that was much of a punishment, of course.


    As they searched for an inn, Jiang Fei made them stop several times to try the dumplings and steamed buns that were being sold by vendors on the side of the road.


    "Try this one," she said, thrusting a steamed bun into his hands. "There''s roasted pork inside."


    Arran obliged reluctantly, but he soon discovered that Jiang Fei''s eye for food was outstanding. Still, after the fifth food stall they visited, he was beginning to wonder how a girl so tiny could eat so much.


    Finally, they found an inn. Small and quiet, it didn''t look like it received many visitors, which was perfect for Arran and Jiang Fei.


    "Will the two of you be sharing a room?" the innkeeper asked, eying them suspiciously.


    She was a thin-lipped elderly woman with black hair in a tight bun, and from her expression, it was clear that she strongly disapproved of the two of them sharing a room.


    Hurriedly, Jiang Fei shook her head. "Oh, no! We''ll take separate rooms!" A slight blush appeared on her face.


    The innkeeper nodded, her mind apparently put at rest. "That''s alright then. This is a proper inn, mind you ¡ª no fooling around in here."


    After they paid the innkeeper, the woman showed them to their rooms, which were small but clean, without so much as a speck of dust to be found. From the look of the innkeeper, Arran guessed that any maid who missed even a single spot while cleaning would bitterly regret it.


    "Now what do we do?" Jiang Fei asked after they dropped off their bags in their rooms.


    "First, we''ll need to see an armorer," Arran said.


    There were several armorers in Redwater, but Arran rejected the first two they visited after a quick look at their wares. The armor they sold was flashy and intricate, but it looked like it was meant for show rather than use.


    Arran wasn''t exactly an expert on armor, but as a guard''s son he knew the kind of armor they needed, and this wasn''t it.


    When they visited the third armorer, Arran immediately knew that this one was much better than the previous two. The armor here didn''t look quite as nice as what they had seen elsewhere, but it was sturdy and functional.


    After inspecting several pieces, Arran found a long brown coat. The outside was unremarkable, but mail was sewn into the fabric on the inside, and overlapping steel plates protected the chest area. A smile appeared on his face.


    "How much for this one?" he asked.


    "You have a good eye," the shopkeeper said. "That one''s three gold crowns. Not the cheapest, but it''ll stop an arrow dead, without you having so much as a scratch to show for it."


    "Do you have any others like it?" Arran asked, gesturing to Jiang Fei.


    The shopkeeper gave her a look. "Eh, I think I have some children''s sizes around."


    Ignoring the furious look Jiang Fei gave him, he went into the back of the store, then returned with three smaller coats.


    "It''s so heavy!" Jiang Fei complained as soon as she tried one of the coats.


    "It''s better than getting a sword through the chest," Arran said with a shrug.


    Despite her grumbling, she eventually decided on a red coat ¡ª the finest of the three, even if it was a bit too garish for Arran''s liking.


    After some haggling, they left the shop with two coats, as well as two pairs of steel-backed leather gloves. Arran''s attempts to persuade Jiang Fei that they also needed helmets and spaulders failed, with her arguing that dressing like soldiers would only draw unwanted attention.


    On the way back to the inn, they also made stops at several weapon shops, and Arran picked up a simple but well-made spear, a fine yew bow, and a few dozen arrows.


    All the while, Jiang Fei looked on in exasperation.


    "You''re just buying toys now," she said with a sigh.


    There was a hint of truth to her words, of course. As the son of a guard, Arran had spent much of his youth looking enviously at the guards'' weapons and armor. Now that he had coin to spend, he would not pass up the chance to fulfill some childhood dreams.


    Nevertheless, he thought, even if they didn''t strictly need the weapons, having some extra couldn''t hurt.


    They took the newly bought armor and weapons to the inn, where the innkeeper gave them a suspicious look when she was the spear and bow Arran was carrying.


    "Not planning to cause any trouble, are you?" she asked.


    "Just preparing for the rest of our journey," Arran answered.


    The woman gave him another mistrustful look, but didn''t say anything else.


    "There are some other things we should get," Jiang Fei said after they had dropped off their earlier purchases.


    "Don''t we have everything we need?" Arran asked, puzzled. They had food, armor, weapons ¡ª he couldn''t think of anything else they would need on the road.


    Jiang Fei shook her head ardently. "We also need to buy clothes," she said. "Something proper, for when we visit cities."


    Arran could see a gleam in her eye that suggested necessity wasn''t her only motivation, but after they had spent much of the afternoon shopping for armor and weapons, he wasn''t in a position to argue with her.


    It didn''t take long before he discovered that this time, it was his turn to be dragged through the town against his will.


    Jiang Fei had them visit shop after shop, buying at least half a dozen dresses, as well as several outfits for Arran that looked neither practical nor comfortable.


    Several times he objected, and each time, she told him that if they had to visit nobles along the way, Arran would need to wear these outfits to fit in.


    When Arran noted that he didn''t know any nobles, much less had plans to visit them, she just cut him off with a scowl.


    When Jiang Fei finally announced that they would return to the inn, Arran could only sigh in relief. By now he was holding several bags of brightly colored clothes that cost far more than all his armor and weapons combined.


    Even if they didn''t have to worry about gold, he was shocked at her extravagant spending. The gold they had spent on clothes could easily have bought a farm in Riverbend.


    They made their way back to the inn, Arran''s hands filled with bags full of clothing as he followed Jiang Fei.


    If nothing else, at least it seemed the shopping had improved her mood, and she chatted cheerfully on their way back.


    As they approached the inn, a loud voice suddenly sounded, "That''s them! They''re the ones I told you about!"


    In front of them was the shopkeeper who had sold Arran his new bow. Behind the man, Arran could see three white-robed figures.

 Chapter 27 Dinner with Enemies

    "They''re the ones!" the shopkeeper said. "Came in and spent half a dozen gold crowns, without even haggling. At that age!"


    One of the white-robed figures stepped forward, a tall woman in her middle years, with black hair and coarse features.


    "I''ll take a look at them," she said with an ominous glance at Arran and Jiang Fei.


    As the woman approached them, Arran instinctively put his hand on his sword, although he understood the gesture to be futile. The woman noticed, and her lips twisted in a mocking smirk.


    "You don''t believe that will help, do you?"


    Arran was about to speak, but at that moment, Jiang Fei cut in.


    "So now Father has sent the Academy after me?" Her tone was harsh, almost as if she was trying to provoke the Academy mages.


    The white-robed woman frowned in confusion. "Your father? We''re not¡ª"


    "I will not marry a man three times my age!" Jiang Fei exclaimed angrily. "We might not be the most important branch of the Jiang clan, but I will not be sold like a piece of meat!"


    The woman looked bewildered. "Marry¡­? Jiang clan¡­?"


    "I think we may have a small misunderstanding on our hands." A handsome white-robed man stepped forward. His hair was long and black, and there was a strange agelessness to his smiling face.


    Something about him reminded Arran of Master Zhao, although this man seemed to lack Master Zhao''s brusque demeanor.


    The man turned to the black-haired woman, then said, "Junior Chen, please allow me."


    The woman immediately stepped back, nodding to the man in a gesture that seemed to lie somewhere between respect and fear.


    "My name is Stormleaf," the man said. "We''re looking for a group of rogue mages who were involved in the murder of several members of our Academy."


    Jiang Fei gave him a shocked look. "Murder?! And you think we are responsible?"


    Stormleaf shook his head with a friendly smile. "As I said, I think there''s a misunderstanding. This gentleman informed us of a pair of suspicious youths."


    He gestured toward the shopkeeper, who was starting to look uncomfortable.


    "Naturally, we had to investigate," the man continued. "But I think we may have received some bad information. Still¡­"


    Suddenly, he stepped forward, putting his hand against Arran''s head. In an instant, Arran felt panic surge within his body as he understood the man would be looking for a Realm.


    Now, he thought, he would finally find out if Master Zhao had been telling the truth about Shadow Essence being invisible to other mages. If it wasn''t, or if Master Zhao''s seals somehow failed¡­


    After a few moments, the man removed his hand from Arran''s head and moved to Jiang Fei. Arran was relieved, but he still felt some anxiety as he watched the man examine Jiang Fei.


    Finally, Stormleaf stepped back.


    "As I thought, not a trace of magic. Although¡­" He hesitated before continuing. "You''re a daughter of the Jiang clan, but you haven''t opened any Realms?"


    Jiang Fei''s face fell. "I never had the talent," she said with a sorrowful expression. "That is why my father wanted to marry me off¡­ The clan has little use for someone without magic."


    Stormleaf nodded in understanding.


    "To make up for the intrusion, please allow me to invite you for dinner. Both you and your¡­ companion?" He looked questioningly at Arran.


    "Servant," Jiang Fei said. "He might not be strong, or particularly smart, but he is loyal." She gave Arran a smug glance.


    "Loyal servants are hard to find," Stormleaf said in agreement. "Of course, your servant will be welcome to join us."


    "Very well," Jiang Fei replied. "Just give us some moments to change into more appropriate attire. We are still wearing our travel clothes." She gestured at her robe with a look of distaste.


    "Of course," the man said. "We will wait here until you are ready."


    With a grateful smile at Stormleaf, Jiang Fei entered the inn, Arran following behind her.


    When they approached their rooms, Arran spoke, "What the¡ª"


    Jiang Fei frantically raised her finger to her lips, then made a gesture that Arran understood to mean that the Academy mages outside could still hear them.


    "Of the clothes I have prepared for you, put on the black outfit," she said loudly. "And do make sure to be on your best behavior tonight."


    Arran glared at her, but he understood that right now, all he could do was play the role she had given him.


    "Of course, mistress Jiang," he answered, trying his best to sound like what he thought a servant would sound like.


    A short while later they stepped out of the inn, dressed in some of the clothes they had bought earlier that day.


    Jiang Fei wore an exquisite crimson dress, and Arran a black silk outfit that Jiang Fei had picked out for him. He was annoyed to find that it was as uncomfortable as it was expensive.


    "Master Stormleaf," Jiang Fei said with a respectful nod. "Where shall you take us tonight?"


    "Allow me to surprise you," the man replied with a smooth smile that made Arran shudder in revulsion. There was something about the man that made him intensely uncomfortable.


    With that they left, Stormleaf and Jiang Fei leading the way while Arran and the two Academy mages followed behind them.


    They eventually arrived at a small restaurant that had more servants than customers, where Stormleaf shared a table with Jiang Fei. Arran, meanwhile, was sat at a table with the other two Academy mages, both of whom treated him as if he did not exist.


    The meal lasted several hours, but although the food was amazing, Arran could only make himself eat a few bites. Several times, he felt a strong urge to flee, which he only barely managed to suppress.


    Jiang Fei, on the other hand, seemed to be in her element, talking and laughing with Stormleaf as if she had known the man for years. Arran could not hear their conversation, but by the look of them, they seemed to be getting along quite well.


    Finally, the meal ended, and Stormleaf accompanied Jiang Fei on their way back to the inn, with Arran once more following behind them.


    "Miss Jiang," Stormleaf asked while they walked, "could you tell me where you are headed?"


    "I am going to visit my uncle in Silvermere," she replied. "Even if Father will not listen to me, I am sure Uncle will intervene once he learns of this matter."


    "Then why don''t you travel with us?" Stormleaf said. "I don''t intend to stay in this region, and Silvermere is only a few weeks'' travel away."


    "I am grateful for the offer," Jiang Fei said with a surprised look, "but I could not possibly trouble you like that."


    "Miss Jiang," Stormleaf said, his expression suddenly serious, "a young lady like yourself should not travel alone, with just a servant to protect you. The roads are filled with bandits these days. That you even made it this far is a small miracle."


    He shook his head, then added, "I could not possibly let you face such dangers without proper protection."


    "In that case, I shall be happy to accept your kind offer," Jiang Fei replied. This time, there was a hint of panic in her smile, although Stormleaf did not seem to notice.


    "It''s settled then," the man said. "We shall be here to pick you up at dawn."


    Arran felt like he was about to throw up.

 Chapter 28 Unlikely Companions

    "What the hell were you thinking?!" Arran raged at Jiang Fei.


    They were back at the inn, and it had been over half an hour since Stormleaf had left. They had patiently waited until they were certain they weren''t being listened to, but now, Arran could finally vent.


    "I was thinking a little lie was better than letting us get killed," Jiang Fei said flatly.


    "A little lie?!" Arran was dumbfounded. "You agreed that we would travel with him! What are we going to do? How can we stay hidden if they''re right there with us?!"


    "It was the only choice," Jiang Fei said. "Even without finding Realms, we were too suspicious. And the Academy¡­" She sighed. "They would rather kill a few innocents than risk letting an enemy escape."


    Arran wanted to protest, but he thought she was probably right. Still, it took him some moments to calm down. When he finally regained his composure, he thought about what Jiang Fei had said that night.


    "What you said about the Jiang clan¡­" Arran asked with a frown. "Was it true?"


    Jiang Fei hesitated before finally speaking. "Some of it. I really am a member of the Jiang clan, if that''s what you''re asking."


    "Then why were you at the monastery?" Arran asked. "Doesn''t your clan train its own members?"


    "I wasn''t talented enough," she said. "Not for the clan, at least. They still would have trained me, but eventually, I would have been expected to marry someone from an allied clan."


    "You weren''t talented enough?" Arran was baffled. "But your skill at magic is phenomenal!"


    A slight smile appeared on her face, but she shook her head. "Clans like ours expect more than just a small bit of skill. The most talented youths are the future leaders and elders of the clan. The rest of us¡­ we are expected to marry into other clans, to secure allies and strengthen the clan''s position within the Empire."


    "But how did you end up at the monastery?" Arran asked.


    "I wasn''t satisfied with a future as a wife to strengthen the ties with some other clan," she said. "So I ran away, hoping that by the time I returned, I would be strong enough to become one of the core members of the clan. I knew Windsong was taking students, so that''s where I went."


    Arran gave it a thought. "Is that why you always work so hard?" he asked, recalling how obsessive Jiang Fei had been about her training.


    She nodded. "I can''t afford to waste time. Not if I''m going to choose my own path."


    Arran finally understood. For Jiang Fei, magic wasn''t just a powerful tool; it was the only way she would be allowed to choose her own destiny.


    They talked more that night, with Jiang Fei explaining a little about the major clans to Arran. Until now, he had known nothing about them beyond the fact that they existed, and he was surprised to learn that the major clans were one of the main powers within the Empire.


    The more he learned, the more he understood just how little he knew about the Empire.


    Well into the night, they finally went to bed, although it took Arran several hours just to fall asleep.


    The next morning, they were awakened by the innkeeper, who informed them that the Academy mages were waiting for them outside the inn. The woman spoke of them in hushed tones, and Arran could tell that she was terrified of the Academy.


    As well she should be, he thought.


    They packed in a hurry, and Arran realized with some annoyance that because they would be traveling with the Academy mages, he could not store the things they had bought the previous day in their void bags.


    By the time they left the inn, he was packed like a mule, wearing the armored coat and carrying not just his weapons but also the clothes Jiang Fei had bought the day before.


    Outside the inn they found Stormleaf waiting with the other two Academy mages, over half a dozen horses at their side. Upon seeing Arran laden with weapons and bags, he laughed loudly.


    "Your poor servant seems to be over-encumbered, Miss Jiang," he said.


    "He insisted he would need the weapons and armor for the journey," Jiang Fei said. "It''s only reasonable that he should carry them."


    "Indeed," Stormleaf said. "But I think we will travel faster if we release your servant from at least some of his burdens."


    Arran was relieved to see that they had several packhorses, and some moments later he found himself relieved of the bags he was carrying.


    "Do the two of you know how to ride?" Stormleaf asked, gesturing toward two of the horses.


    "Of course," Jiang Fei said immediately.


    "A little," Arran replied with some hesitation. He had ridden occasionally as he grew up in Riverbend, although the last time he sat on a horse was some years ago. Still, the thought of not having to walk was an appealing one.


    ¡ª¡ª¡ª


    Arran soon discovered that travel on horseback wasn''t nearly as comfortable as he had hoped. The first day wasn''t too bad, although it did leave his thighs and backside sore. The second day was worse, as he had to ride despite already being sore. By the third day, he found himself wishing he could go back to walking again.


    It took a week before Arran started to become more comfortable riding, although he still much preferred walking on his own two feet.


    Meanwhile, he found that travel with the Academy mages was even more boring than it was terrifying.


    At first, he had spent every waking moment worrying that he could be found out at any moment, but he discovered that none of them had any interest in him whatsoever.


    Each day, Stormleaf and Jiang Fei would ride in front, with Arran and the two Academy mages following behind them. The only time the two would talk to him was when they ordered him to water the horses or do other tasks. Mostly, they barely even acknowledged his existence.


    While he was too afraid to use Shadow Essence during the first few days, boredom and frustration eventually won out over fear, and he started to examine the Shadow seals on his Fire and Wind Realms as they traveled.


    Master Zhao had told him that other mages would be unable to sense his Shadow Essence, and although he was reluctant to stake his life on the man''s words, his only other option was to do nothing.


    Knowing the dangers that awaited him at the Shadowflame Society, he could not bring himself to waste time like that. He would need to be prepared, and the only way to do that was to practice now, so that at the very least, he would be able to open his Realms before he arrived.


    Initially, he only examined the seals, focusing his mind on them while trying to discern what they actually were. It took him some days, but eventually, he started to see more clearly how they were made.


    The seals were like intricate knots, formed from thin strands of Shadow Essence that wrapped around each other in what seemed like a tight weave, completely covering his connection to the Realms.


    Once he understood a little more about the seals, he started to poke and prod them with Shadow Essence, trying to see if and how they would react.


    He discovered that there was little difference between his own Shadow Essence and the Shadow Essence from which the seals were made, and he could tell that if he just figured out how, he would be able to manipulate it.


    His progress was slow, but the journey was dull and he had little else to do but practice while they rode.


    As the weeks passed, he steadily grew more proficient at manipulating the Shadow Essence that made up the seals. He was still far from being able to remove the seals, but he could sense that given enough time, he would eventually succeed.


    Not that he was in any hurry, of course ¡ª before they parted with the Academy mages, he wouldn''t dare risk trying to undo the seals.


    Around three weeks into their journey, Arran was spending yet another evening sitting quietly while he worked on his control over the Shadow seals, ignored by the others at the campfire.


    "Miss Jiang," he heard Stormleaf say. "In the weeks we have spent traveling together, I have given some thought to your situation. I believe I may have a solution."


    "Oh?" Jiang Fei reacted calmly, although Arran thought he heard a hint of worry in her voice.


    "I have a proposition for you," Stormleaf said.

 Chapter 29 Stormleafs Gif

    "A proposition?" Jiang Fei asked.


    "I assume you have at least one Realm, even if you haven''t opened it yet," Stormleaf said. "I can offer you a way to open whatever Realms you have."


    Jiang Fei looked at him in shock. "You can do that?"


    Stormleaf smiled at her, then reached inside his robe. When his hand appeared again, he was holding a small black pill.


    Immediately, the eyes of the other two Academy mages went wide with shock.


    "Elder Stormleaf¡ª" the middle-aged woman began to speak, but Stormleaf silenced her with a gesture.


    "Is that¡­ a Realm Opening Pill?" Jiang Fei asked.


    The question seemed to take Stormleaf by surprise. "You know more about magic than I had expected, Miss Jiang," he said. "Although I suppose that''s to be expected from a daughter of the Jiang Clan."


    "I have heard of them, although I have never seen one." Jiang Fei''s voice trembled a little as she spoke, and Arran knew that inside, she must be panicking.


    "Do you know what Realm Opening Pills are?" Stormleaf asked.


    "They''re alchemical pills that open Realms, right?" Jiang Fei said.


    "Not alchemical," Stormleaf said, sounding pleased at the opportunity to correct her. "Realm Opening Pills are entirely different from most pills. In truth, they can barely even be considered pills."


    "How so?" Jiang Fei asked.


    "When mages start out, their Essence is thin, like a vapor within their body," Stormleaf explained. "To reach the Master level, a mage has to condense his Essence until it resembles a liquid. Then, to reach the Grandmaster level, a mage has to further condense his Essence, forming a solid core."


    Jiang Fei nodded calmly, and it was clear that she already this. Arran, on the other hand, listened intently. Until now, he had known little of what separated normal mages from Master and Grandmasters.


    "A Realm Opening Pill," Stormleaf continued, "is the condensed Essence core of a Grandmaster. The only way to get one is to defeat a Grandmaster and take it from his body." With a smile, he added, "You can understand why they''re valuable."


    Hearing his words, Jiang Fei looked astounded, and Arran could not keep his eyes from going wide with shock. He realized that if Realm Opening Pills were taken from the bodies of Grandmasters, then the pills that Master Zhao had given him represented a dozen dead Grandmasters.


    Stormleaf grinned, seemingly satisfied at Jiang Fei''s shocked expression. "I took this one a week before I encountered you. It belonged to a Grandmaster who helped the murderers we are looking for."


    Arran paled at Stormleaf''s words. For a moment, he feared the man had caught Master Zhao, but he quickly discarded the thought. Master Zhao would not be caught so easily. Windsong, on the other hand¡­


    "But how does that open a Realm?" Jiang Fei asked.


    Her voice was shaking, and Arran could tell that she was having trouble maintaining her composure. Clearly, she also realized who the likely source for this pill was.


    "When you take the pill, the Essence contained within the core will be released within your body," Stormleaf answered. "As it surges through your body, it will break down the barriers that are closing off your Realms."


    Jiang Fei did not answer, and Arran could see her looking at the pill in Stormleaf''s hand, dread clear on her face.


    "Of course, the Academy considers it forbidden magic," Stormleaf continued. "But in your case, an exception can be made."


    "I cannot possibly accept this," Jiang Fei said. "It''s too valuable."


    "Nonsense," Stormleaf replied. "I insist."


    "But it''s too much¡­" Jiang Fei looked miserable, and Arran understood that she was only barely able to remain calm. Even that, he thought, was an impressive feat.


    Stormleaf''s face hardened at the rejection. "I offer you an escape from your problems, and you refuse it?"


    "It''s not that I don''t want it," Jiang Fei said. "But¡­ How could I ever repay a debt like that?"


    Her face showed clear traces of panic now. Arran knew that she was desperately trying to find a way to get out of the situation, but he saw no way out.


    "All I ask is that you remember the kindness I''m showing you," Stormleaf said. There was a cheerless smile on his face. "Now please, accept this gift."


    Jiang Fei took the black pill with a trembling hand. Even now, Arran could see that she was frantically looking for an escape from the situation.


    "Do I just swallow it?" she asked.


    Stormleaf nodded. "You will feel some pain while the pill does its work, but in a few hours, you will have opened your Realm."


    Jiang Fei''s eyes were filled with fear, but she took the pill in her mouth.


    "Swallow it," Stormleaf said. By now, all kindness had disappeared from his voice.


    Jiang Fei closed her eyes, then did as the man said.


    For some time, they sat in silence, waiting for the effects of the pill to set in. Arran saw that Stormleaf looked calm, almost bored.


    Meanwhile, Jiang Fei seemed terrified, and Arran knew that it wasn''t fear of the pain ahead that frightened her.


    In the next few hours, their lives would be decided. If the seal Master Zhao had placed on Jiang Fei''s Wind Realm held, Stormleaf would undoubtedly realize something was wrong. If that happened, both Jiang Fei and Arran would have little hope of escaping.


    Finally, Jiang Fei started to groan. The sound was soft at first, but it quickly grew louder, and her body started spasming with the effects of the Realm Opening Pill.


    It didn''t take long before Arran saw her eyes turn senseless. He understood that by now, her mind had been overwhelmed by the pain.


    The moment Jiang Fei lost consciousness, one of the Academy mages spoke.


    "Elder Stormleaf!" The voice belonged to the middle-aged woman. "How could you give the girl a Realm Opening Pill?!"


    "Are you questioning my judgment, Junior Chen?" Stormleaf asked in a cold voice.


    "Of course not," the woman said hurriedly, and a hint of fear could be seen in her face. "But why would you give the girl such a treasure?"


    "The Academy has long sought to increase its influence in the Jiang Clan," Stormleaf said. "This will finally give us an opportunity to do so."


    "Are we to rely on the gratitude of some spoiled child?" the woman asked. Her voice was subdued, but it was obvious that she didn''t think much of the plan.


    Stormleaf grinned. "You think I would rely on gratitude?" he said. "The girl just took a forbidden Realm Opening Pill. By the time she awakes, we will be well within our rights to detain her."


    "How does that help our cause?" The woman knitted her brows in confusion.


    "We will dispose of the servant, take the girl back to the Academy, and offer her the choice to either receive our help or be punished for her crimes."


    Abruptly, Arran realized why they spoke so freely in front of him. To them he was little more than an insect, posing no threat at all. Even if he ran, he doubted he would make it more than ten paces. And now, they were planning to kill him.


    "What if she refuses?" the woman asked.


    "She won''t," Stormleaf said. "With our help, she can rise to power within the Jiang Clan ¡ª she can have everything she wants, or she can die. The choice is a simple one."


    Understanding dawned on the woman''s face, and she nodded thoughtfully.


    "Now, we should¡ª" Suddenly, Stormleaf stopped talking, and his head turned sharply toward Arran.


    Arran felt an avalanche of pain surging through him as raw Essence flooded his body. He had just taken all but two of the Realm Opening Pills that Master Zhao had given him.

 Chapter 30 Power Overwhelming

    Inside Arran raged a torrent of raw Essence, rushing through his veins like a violent storm. It was more than he could contain, more than he had thought possible.


    He had taken the ten Realm Opening Pills the moment he understood that Stormleaf planned to kill him, and now, the Essence within them erupted in his body.


    Taking the pills was a crazy decision, but not one he had taken without thought. Each Realm Opening Pill contained the raw Essence of a defeated Grandmaster, and if he was able to wield that power, perhaps he would have a chance of escaping the situation alive.


    It was a wild gamble, but it was the only thing he could think of that might give him a small chance of survival.


    "Who are you?" Stormleaf asked. "Were you the one who killed our brothers?"


    While there was some fear in the faces of his two companions, Stormleaf himself did not seem the least bit concerned. If anything, his expression was one of curiosity, as if he had just encountered a new puzzle that he was eager to solve.


    "You¡­ will¡­" Arran struggled to utter the words, his body twisting in pain as Essence burned within him. With a final effort, he shouted, "Leave!"


    "I don''t think I will," Stormleaf replied calmly. "Again, who are you?"


    As he spoke the words he thrust out his hand, and an invisible force slammed into Arran, sending his body flying backward.


    Arran crashed into the ground with a loud thud. Between the pain of the Essence flooding his body and the force of the blow, Arran felt that he was on the verge of passing out.


    Nevertheless, he forced himself to stand up, ignoring the pain even as it caused his vision to grow blurry. While the Essence raged inside of him, he tried to force it into his hands, the way he would do with Master Zhao''s fireball technique.


    If he could just unleash the power that was now seething within him, perhaps he would have a chance of defeating Stormleaf and escaping with his life.


    Yet there was simply too much Essence for him to command, and he was only able to control a tiny shred of it. Even that, however, was many times more than anything he had wielded previously.


    Stormleaf approached Arran slowly, an amused look on his face.


    "You''re not the one who killed our brothers, are you?" Stormleaf shook his head. "In fact, I doubt this Essence even belongs to you. Which raises the question¡­ how did you get it?"


    Arran was barely back on his feet when another invisible blow smashed into him. Once more he went flying, his body swept up like a leaf being torn from a branch in a violent storm.


    Again he crashed into the ground, and he could vaguely sense that he was injured. Yet the pain of the blow was nothing compared to the agony caused by the Essence in his body, and he felt as if he was about to be torn apart from the inside.


    "Did you take a Realm Opening Pill?" Stormleaf''s expression turned thoughtful for a moment, but then he shook his head. "There''s too much Essence for just one pill. You weren''t foolish enough to take two, were you?"


    Arran stood quietly, ignoring Stormleaf''s words. It took all his effort to just stay conscious, but still, the Essence in his body was increasing rapidly, and so was the pain that by now was threatening to overwhelm his mind.


    "Even more than that? Three, perhaps?" Stormleaf laughed. "You thought you could use that stolen Essence to fight me?"


    Without even attempting to reply, Arran desperately tried to direct the raw Essence toward his hands and away from the rest of his body. Yet there was too much of it, and the amount was still growing.


    "I saw an initiate take two Realm Opening Pills once," Master Zhao said, a cruel smile on his lips. "He suffered quite a bit before he exploded. Took down several buildings, too."


    Ignoring Stormleaf''s words, Arran thrust both of hands forward, and used all his willpower to force the Essence that had pooled in his hands outward.


    For a moment, nothing happened. But then, a torrent of Essence came rushing forth like a tidal wave breaking through a dam, uncontrolled and unstoppable.


    The surge of Essence caught the Academy mages unprepared, slamming into them like a charging bull crashing into a mantis.


    Stormleaf staggered back several paces, but his two companions weren''t as lucky. Both of them exploded in a shower of blood and gore, completely unable to resist the wave of Essence that came rushing at them.


    "How many pills did you take?!" Stormleaf''s previous calm disappeared in an instant, and there was panic in his voice.


    Arran did not respond ¡ª he could not have spoken if he wanted to. The Essence within him had built up to a raging inferno, and he felt as if every inch of his body was being burned with the fire of a thousand suns. Only through sheer willpower was he able to stay conscious.


    The attack had released only a tiny sliver of the Essence that was still building up inside him, and he knew that if he was to have any chance of survival, he had to release more.


    "You can''t¡ª"


    Stormleaf''s words were cut off as another wave of Essence slammed into him, far stronger than the previous one, sweeping him off his feet and sending him to the ground.


    "Stop!" Stormleaf shouted, but it was no use.


    Arran was no longer concerned with the mage. The only thought left in his mind was that he must release the Essence consuming him from the inside and send it away from himself and Jiang Fei.


    Again, raw Essence burst forth, and again, there was many times more than there had been only moments earlier.


    That Stormleaf was in the way did not matter. Even if the mage still lived, he was like an ant standing in the way of an incoming tide, unable to resist it in the slightest.


    By now, the Essence no longer came in blasts, and what little control Arran had over it earlier had now completely disappeared.


    A seemingly unending deluge of Essence burst forth from his hands ¡ª Fire, Wind, Earth, Water and numerous other types mixed together in an avalanche of destruction, obliterating anything that stood before it.


    Arran felt as if his body was disintegrating. The power within him was still building up faster than he could release it, and he could feel that if he stopped the flow for even a second, he would be consumed entirely.


    He forced himself to walk forward as the torrent of Essence continued. Although he was only barely conscious, some part of him still knew that he had to get away from Jiang Fei.


    He did not know how many paces he lasted. All he felt was endless pain that left no part of his body untouched, and an overwhelming power that surged forth from his hands, destroying all that it touched.


    Finally, Arran sensed the last shred of his consciousness start to slip away, and he fell to his knees. Still, with all the willpower he could muster, he kept unleashing the Essence from within his body.


    At last, he was able to endure no more.


    The world went black.

 Chapter 31 Lord Jiang

    Arran opened his eyes slowly and stared at the white wooden ceiling above him. He wondered where he was and, more importantly, how he had come there.


    When he tried to sit up and look around, he felt sharp stabs of pain in several parts of his body, and he realized he still had some injuries.


    "Easy, young man," a woman''s voice sounded from the back of the room. "You''ve only just returned from death''s doorstep. It''ll be a while before you''re up again."


    Hearing the voice, Arran ignoring the pain and forced himself to sit up. When he finally succeeded, he saw a small gray-haired woman sitting on a wooden chair in the back of the room.


    "Not much for listening to advice, are you?" She sighed. "Very well then. I would have suggested you rest some more, but now that you''re awake, there are some people who should know about it."


    The woman stood up and walked out the door, leaving Arran behind.


    As he waited he studied the room, and he found that it was spacious and attractive, with carved wooden fringes bordering the ceiling, and intricate ink drawings decorating the walls.


    Not long after, the door opened once more, and a large man with a black beard stepped inside the room. Arran felt a surge of relief when he saw that closely following behind the man was Jiang Fei.


    The man was about Arran''s height, but he was almost as wide as he was tall, with massive bulging shoulders and arms, and a barrel-sized belly. Covering his bulk was a black silk robe with golden embroidery and red trimmings, and together with his long black hair and wild beard, it made him look like a figure out of legend.


    "It seems like the young man who caused Little Fei so much worry is finally awake." The man laughed, then added, "These past two weeks, my little niece barely left your side."


    "Uncle!" Jiang Fei flushed brightly.


    As he looked at her, Arran saw that her hands were covered in bandages, and he wondered what had happened.


    "But now, there are matters we must discuss," the man said. "Young man, there are some things I need to know, and it''s best if I hear them now."


    "Lord Jiang?" Arran wasn''t sure how to address the man.


    "That is my title ¡ª one of them, at least ¡ª but call me Uncle Bear," the large man said. "From the looks of it, we might be family soon enough." He glanced at Jiang Fei, then gave Arran a wink.


    "Uncle!" Jiang Fei said again, a mortified look on her face.


    "Well then ¡ª Arran, right?" the man said.


    Arran nodded, somewhat dazed at the man''s behavior.


    "Can you tell me what happened after Little Fei took the Realm Opening Pill?" Lord Jiang looked at him intently.


    Arran gave Jiang Fei a questioning look, and she nodded. He understood that she had already told the man about what had happened.


    "After she took the pill," Arran began, "the Academy mages started to talk among themselves. Their leader, Stormleaf, said that he planned to detain Jiang Fei for using a Realm Opening Pill, and that he wanted to use her to gain influence within the Jiang Clan."


    Jiang Fei''s eyes went wide, but Lord Jiang simply nodded.


    "As I expected," the large man said. "The Academy has long been trying to infiltrate the Jiang Clan."


    "I would never betray the clan!" Jiang Fei looked incensed at the suggestion.


    "Then they would have taken you to the Academy and executed you for using forbidden magic," Lord Jiang said. "Perhaps not as useful as controlling you, but it would still have given them an excuse to harass our clan even more than they do now."


    Jiang Fei paled as she heard this. "I''m sorry¡­ I had no idea they would use it against us."


    "It''s not your fault," Lord Jiang said flatly. "Had you refused the pill, they likely would have killed you right there. You and your companion."


    The large man turned back to Arran, then said, "But the story doesn''t end there, does it? You used some magical item to defeat them, I take it ¡ª perhaps something this Master Fireheart of yours gave you?"


    Arran''s heart skipped a beat when he understood that Jiang Fei had told the man about Master Zhao. But with Lord Jiang already aware of most of his secrets, he knew there was no point in trying to hide any details.


    "When I understood what they were going to do," he said, "I knew I had to act. But I couldn''t defeat them by myself, so I¡­" He paused before continuing. "I took the Realm Opening Pills that Master Fireheart gave me."


    Lord Jiang merely nodded, as if he had already suspected this. "More than one, I assume?" he asked.


    "Ten," Arran said.


    For a moment, the man''s eyes went wide with shock. Then, to Arran''s surprise, he burst into laughter.


    "You took ten Realm Opening Pills? Ten?!" His massive body rumbled as he laughed. "You swallowed half a kingdom''s worth of treasure, used it to kill an Archmage, and lived to tell the tale? Well done! Well done indeed!"


    "Archmage?" Arran paled. "Is he¡­?"


    "Dead?" Lord Jiang was still shaking with laughter. "Very much so. Dead, shredded, and mostly incinerated. All you left for us to find were his skull and his void bag." With a grin, he added, "The bag and its contents are yours, but I hope you don''t mind if I keep the skull."


    "What happened after?" Arran asked, ignoring the last words.


    The only thing he remembered was the world going black as he lost consciousness, but he knew that at that point, there was still more Essence within his body than he could possibly have survived.


    "I could see your display from here," Lord Jiang said. "As could any mage within a week''s travel. Naturally, I went out to investigate with some of my men."


    Arran nodded slowly, remembering the ocean of Essence that had raged within his body. He hadn''t known just how big of a spectacle he had caused, but he knew it would not have been inconspicuous.


    "When we arrived, we found several dozens of square miles of devastated lands," Lord Jiang continued. "In the middle of it all was Little Fei, kneeling over a naked young man."


    "Naked?" At this, Arran blanched.


    "After I woke up," Jiang Fei said with a small blush, "everything around the campsite was destroyed. I found you a mile or two from the camp, and the Essence must have burned away your clothes. Even when I tried to cover you with a robe, the Essence that was still flowing from your body burned it away in seconds."


    Arran looked at Jiang Fei''s bandaged hands. "Did I cause that?"


    She hesitated, then nodded slightly. "I tried to help you, but there was too much Essence¡­"


    "You probably would have died if we had not found you," Lord Jiang cut in. "As it was, I managed to seal off some of the Essence within you." His face turned serious. "I have to warn you, it''s only a temporary solution."


    "Temporary? So I''m still in danger?" The words did not take Arran by surprise. Remembering the vast torrent of Essence that had filled him, it was to be expected that there would be some after-effects.


    Lord Jiang turned to Jiang Fei, then said, "Little Fei, could you give us a moment alone? There are some things I need to discuss with your companion."


    She nodded, although she seemed reluctant to leave the room. With a last worried look at Arran, she finally stepped outside.

 Chapter 32 The Price of Power

    After Jiang Fei left the room, both Arran and Lord Jiang remained silent for a while, studying each other. Arran found that even though he had only just met the man, he already liked him.


    Unlike most of the mages he had met so far, Lord Jiang seemed open and straightforward, with little taste for secrets and deception.


    "Are you the leader of the Jiang Clan?" Arran finally asked.


    Lord Jiang laughed. "I haven''t held that title in a thousand years. These days, my only job is to prevent those Academy dogs from getting any ideas." He sighed in disgust. "They really have been getting too bold for their own good these past few centuries."


    "Are we safe from them here?" Arran asked. He understood that after the deaths of three powerful Academy mages, people would certainly come looking for those responsible.


    "For now, you have nothing to fear from the Academy," Lord Jiang said. "They likely believe I killed their men, and with them this close to my estate, I would have been well within my rights to do so." He shook his head. "What you should be worried about is the aftermath of your spectacle."


    "What is the aftermath?" Arran asked, slightly worried.


    "Take a moment and see for yourself," Lord Jiang replied.


    Arran did as the man said, closing his eyes and focusing his attention on the Essence inside of him. To his surprise, he found that his body was flooded with Shadow Essence, more than he thought possible.


    In the sea of Shadow Essence, he had some trouble locating his other Realms. When he finally did so, he discovered that although the Shadow seal covering his forbidden Realm was still intact, new seals covered his Fire and Wind Realms. Unlike the previous ones, these seals were made from a type of Essence that was unfamiliar to Arran.


    "You sealed my Realms?" Arran asked.


    "I had to," Lord Jiang said. "The Realm Opening Pills you took forced your Realms open so far that your body now draws more Essence than it can handle."


    "That''s possible?" Until now, Arran had believed that his own Essence posed no threat to him.


    "Clearly," Lord Jiang replied. "This is the first time I''ve seen it, but then, this is the first time I''ve seen someone who dared take ten Realm Opening Pills."


    Arran nodded thoughtfully. It made sense that the Realm Opening Pills would have lasting effects.


    "Normally," the large man continued, "by the time a mage opens his Realms as far as yours, his body will have had decades to strengthen, or even centuries. You, on the other hand, still have the body of a mortal. Had it not been for that forbidden Realm of yours, I doubt you would still be alive."


    Arran nearly choked. "You know about the forbidden Realm?!"


    "It wasn''t hard to figure out," Lord Jiang said. "The seal covering it is well-made ¡ª Shadow, I think? ¡ª but when I examined you, its signs were hard to miss."


    "You can sense Shadow Essence?" Arran was astonished. Until now, he had believed Master Zhao, who had told him mages were unable to sense others'' Shadow Essence.


    "Of course not," Lord Jiang answered. "But I can sense the disturbance it causes in the Essence around it." Seeing Arran''s face fill with worry, he added, "No need to be concerned. Very few mages would be able to discover it, and of those, I doubt any would be interested in a mere initiate."


    Arran nodded, although he still felt some concern, finally understanding that not even Shadow Essence could hide his forbidden Realm completely.


    "But how did my forbidden Realm keep me alive?" he asked, putting aside his worries for the moment.


    "I cannot be completely certain," Lord Jiang said, "but if I had to venture a guess, I would say that the forbidden Realm somehow accustomed your body to the destructive force of Essence."


    Arran knitted his brows in thought, but he remained silent.


    "Not that that would have saved you, of course," Lord Jiang added. "When I found you, you were only hours away from death. Even now, without the seals, you would be lucky to last a week."


    "Then what do I do?" Arran asked. From the unconcerned look on Lord Jiang''s face, he could tell that the man had a solution to the problem.


    "There is only one thing you can do," Lord Jiang said. "You need to grow stronger, and quickly."


    "So I just need to continue my magical training?"


    Lord Jiang shook his head. "If you focus on magic, it will take your body years to become strong enough just to handle the Essence you can draw right now. And if one of the seals should fail during that time, you would certainly die."


    Arran frowned in confusion. "But if training magic doesn''t help, then what do I do?"


    "What needs to strengthen is your body," Lord Jiang said. "As luck would have it, I can help you with that." A broad grin appeared on his face, and he seemed eager at the prospect.


    "Strengthen my body?" Arran asked, wondering how that would help him resist Essence.


    "Most mages focus only on Essence, ignoring their bodies," Lord Jiang said. "But true power requires strength in all regards ¡ª magical, mental, and physical."


    His face turned serious at these words, and he continued, "What I will be teaching you is Body Refinement ¡ª a way to increase your body''s strength and endurance beyond anything normal magic can achieve. Mastering it has many benefits, but one thing it will do is help you control your Essence."


    At this, Arran''s eyes widened with interest. "When can I start?" he asked.


    "When you''ve recovered, in a week or two," Lord Jiang said, grinning at Arran''s impatience. "Until then, you can study this."


    He took a scroll from his robe and put it on the dresser next to the bed.


    "This scroll contains a body strengthening technique," he continued. "Studying the technique will help you recover from your injuries faster, and once you''re fully recovered, we can begin your real training."


    Arran nodded. "I''ll start immediately," he said, eager to begin.


    Lord Jiang smiled, then stood up. "I''ll leave you at it, then. There are some things we''ll need to discuss later, but those can wait. For now, focus on recovering quickly."


    As soon as Lord Jiang left, Arran unrolled the scroll and began to read.


    Almost immediately, he saw that unlike the Realm Scrolls he had read earlier, this was just normal writing ¡ª without strange symbols, and without Essence infused in the characters. Instead, the scroll gave a detailed description of a technique to use and increase his body''s own energy.


    Soon, Arran found himself engrossed in the scroll. The technique was unlike anything he had encountered before, and the more he read, the more excited he grew at the idea of learning it.

 Chapter 33 The Estate

    "It tastes like dead rat," Arran said, face twisted in disgust at the bitter taste of the potion.


    The gray-haired woman scowled. Arran had learned that her name was Doctor Zhang and that she was Lord Jiang''s personal healer. Lord Jiang had put her in charge of treating Arran, but to Arran''s dismay, her treatments mostly consisted of vile-tasting potions.


    "You''re a man. Act like one," she said bluntly.


    Arran sighed. The woman was right, of course ¡ª however foul-tasting her potions might be, he had to admit that they worked extremely well. Between her potions and the technique Lord Jiang had given him, it had taken him just a week to recover from most of his injuries. Without them, he thought, it would have taken months ¡ª if he would have recovered at all.


    He took a deep breath, then swallowed the potion. The taste made him gag, but he managed to keep it down.


    "Good," Doctor Zhang said. "Now, you can eat."


    At this, Arran''s eyes brightened. While the potions the woman gave him were absolutely vile, every meal he had eaten since waking up had been an absolute feast.


    He ate in silence, trying to ignore Doctor Zhang''s watchful gaze. Although the food was amazing, the woman seemed to worry that he did not eat enough, and she took it upon herself to make sure that he did.


    Not that Arran had any trouble eating ¡ª just this meal had roast chicken, duck, dumplings, braised pork belly, and a variety of vegetables, each of them better than anything he''d ever tasted before he arrived here.


    By the time he finished eating, he was so full he felt like he could barely move.


    Doctor Zhang nodded in approval. "At least your appetite has made a full recovery."


    "I was thinking¡­ perhaps it''s time for me to get up and go outside," Arran said hesitantly. "Don''t you think some exercise and fresh air would be good for me?"


    Doctor Zhang looked somewhat doubtful as she gave his words some thought, but to Arran''s surprise, she eventually nodded.


    "You''re not completely recovered yet," she said, "but I think some light exercise might do you good. Very well. Finish your practice first, and I will send the girl in an hour or two."


    "The girl?" Arran felt a tinge of discomfort as he realized Jiang Fei would join him. She had visited him every day since he had woken up, but although at first, he had been glad for the company, he soon discovered that she fussed over him even more than Doctor Zhang did.


    Her normal cold and aloof personality seemed to have disappeared entirely. Now, she acted like an over-concerned mother looking after a sick child, constantly worrying whether Arran was eating and resting enough. And no matter how hard Arran tried to convince her that he was ¡ª in truth, most of his time was spent either resting or eating ¡ª the look of worry did not leave her face.


    "You thought I''d let you go out by yourself?" Doctor Zhang said, raising her eyebrow in disbelief.


    "Alright, I''ll go with Jiang Fei," Arran said. He had long since learned that once Doctor Zhang made up her mind, there was no convincing her otherwise. And at least he would finally be able to leave the room, even if it was with Jiang Fei at his side.


    "Now get to work," the woman said. With a last stern look, she exited the room, leaving Arran behind.


    After a few minutes of idle thought, he set to work, practicing the technique Lord Jiang had given him.


    The technique, he had discovered, was remarkably simple. All it required him to do was to close his eyes and circulate Essence ¡ª Shadow, since that was all he had available ¡ª around his body in a specific pattern, making sure he reached every part of his body.


    The pattern was a complex one and it had taken him two days to get it right, but after that, practice had been almost as easy as breathing.


    At first, he thought that something that simple could not possibly have much of an effect, but he soon found that after each practice session, he felt his injuries improve and his body growing stronger, if only slightly.


    Time passed by unnoticed as Arran practiced, and he was startled when he heard a knock on his door. A moment later, Jiang Fei entered.


    "Doctor Zhang told me you''re allowed to go out today," she said. From the look on her face, it was clear she did not agree with the woman''s judgment.


    "She said some exercise would be good for me," Arran replied.


    Jiang Fei looked doubtful, but she did not argue. "Just tell me if you get tired," she said with a concerned frown.


    Soon after, Arran stepped outside for the first time since he had woken up.


    Immediately, he was startled at his surroundings. The room he stayed in, he now saw, was part of a small cottage that stood within a vast garden that stretched as far as he could see.


    "What is this place?" he asked.


    "It''s Uncle Bear''s estate," Jiang Fei said with a look of veneration in her eyes. "He''s lived here since the early days of the Jiang Clan. It''s one of the holy places of the clan."


    With that they set off, Arran following closely behind Jiang Fei as they walked through the seemingly endless garden, following small paths past ponds, carved rocks, herb patches, and orchards.


    Occasionally, Jiang Fei would point out rare plants and trees, and Arran found himself impressed at both the extent of her knowledge and the vastness of the estate.


    Along the path, they encountered a few cottages and pavilions, but they met no other people, despite walking around for several hours.


    "Just how large is the estate?" Arran finally asked.


    "Are you getting tired?" Jiang Fei asked in response, and Arran could see concern flashing across her eyes.


    "Not at all," Arran lied. In truth, he was starting to get a little tired, even if he enjoyed the feeling of finally being on his own two feet again. But if he told Jiang Fei, he knew that she would take him back to his room immediately. "I''m just wondering where the people are."


    Jiang Fei gave him a questioning look. Then, suddenly, her eyes went wide. "Of course, you don''t know!"


    "Don''t know what?" Arran asked, wondering whether he was missing something.


    "This," Jiang Fei said, waving her hand around, "is Uncle Bear''s personal estate. Very few people are allowed to enter it." She turned her head to Arran, a serious look in her eyes. "You have to understand, even within the Jiang Clan, fewer than two dozen people are allowed inside the estate."


    "How many people are there in the clan?" Arran asked.


    Jiang Fei knitted her brows in thought. "I don''t know exactly," she said. "Throughout the Empire, perhaps five million."


    Arran gaped in shock. "Five million?!"


    "As I said, I don''t know exactly how many there are," she said. "But I do know that every single one of them would be shocked if they knew you were here."


    "Then what about you?" Arran asked. "When you told Stormleaf that you would ask your uncle for help¡ª"


    "I lied," Jiang Fei interrupted him. "Clan members are allowed to petition Uncle Bear when they disagree with the clan elders'' decisions, but actually meeting him¡­ That''s an honor very few within the clan can claim. When I spoke to Stormleaf, I tried to make myself seem more important than I am, to dissuade him from harming us."


    She smiled wryly. "I did not expect that he would see my lies as an opportunity to gain influence for the Academy."


    Arran nodded, finally starting to understand why Stormleaf had put so much effort in winning over Jiang Fei. With Jiang Fei''s words, the man had probably thought she was some sort of princess of the Jiang Clan.


    "But to tell you the truth," Jiang Fei continued, "just being here makes everything I''ve done worth it. Having met Uncle Bear in person¡­" She shook her head, smiling brightly. "Just that is enough to make my voice carry weight within the clan for as long as I live. And I have you to thank for it."


    Arran remained silent, feeling uncomfortable at Jiang Fei''s grateful expression. If anything, he thought, he should be the one showing gratitude. While Jiang Fei''s hands were no longer covered in bandages, he could see some small scars on them, and he knew that he was the one responsible.


    When she saw that Arran remained quiet, Jiang Fei asked, "Are you alright?"


    "I''m just a bit tired," he said, trying to smile.


    Immediately, her expression became concerned once more. "I''ve made you walk for far too long! We should go back right now!"


    By the time they returned to the cottage, Arran truly was starting to feel tired.

 Chapter 34 Training with Lord Jiang

    Thud!


    Arran groaned as he opened his eyes. Through the window, he could see that the first light of dawn was only just starting to appear. Only half-awake, he dully wondered what had just interrupted his sleep.


    Thud! Thud!


    This time, he realized that the sound came from the door. Someone was knocking.


    "Who is it?!" he called out.


    "Time to get up!"


    Hearing that the voice was Lord Jiang''s, Arran hurriedly got out of bed. It had been over two weeks since he had last seen any sign of his host, but after all the man had done for him, the last thing he wanted was to offend him.


    When he opened the door, he saw Lord Jiang standing outside, dressed in simple brown clothes. Once more he marveled at the sheer size of the man ¡ª he resembled a living mountain.


    "Today, we begin your training," Lord Jiang said, smiling brightly. "You''ve had time enough to recover, and then some. Now, it''s time for some good hard work."


    Arran nodded. It was true ¡ª he had already fully recovered, and the past few days, he had spent much of his time roaming the estate with Jiang Fei, enjoying the food, and spending long mornings sleeping in. Now, it seemed, the peace and quiet were finally at an end.


    In a hurry, he changed into some simple clothes, then stepped out of the door. Already, he was feeling eager at the chance to learn new skills.


    "Follow me," Lord Jiang said the moment Arran stepped outside. Immediately, he set off at a run.


    Arran hurried behind him, but he quickly discovered that he was barely able to keep up with the man. Despite his size, Lord Jiang was faster and more agile than Arran could have imagined, and even running at a full sprint he had trouble just matching the man''s pace.


    After just a few minutes of running as fast as he could, Arran found himself completely winded. Panting loudly, he doubled over, trying to catch his breath.


    "Use the circulation technique to recover." Lord Jiang had stopped behind him, but unlike Arran, he showed no signs of tiredness whatsoever. From what Arran could tell, not even the man''s breath had sped up in the slightest.


    Arran did as Lord Jiang said and used the circulation technique he had practiced over the past several weeks. Tired as he was, it took him some effort to find the concentration he needed, but after several tries he succeeded. Within moments, he felt his weariness subside.


    "Good," Lord Jiang said with a nod. "Again, follow me."


    Once more Lord Jiang set off at a run, and once more Arran followed behind him.


    They spent several hours training this way, with Arran following Lord Jiang at a full sprint until he could run no more, then using the circulation technique to recover in a fraction of the time it would have taken otherwise.


    Every time, Arran found it a little easier to use the circulation technique, and soon, he was able to start it almost immediately after he stopped running.


    "It seems like you''re getting the hang of it," Lord Jiang said. "But now, try using the technique while you run."


    Arran nearly gaped in astonishment. Suddenly, he understood that the circulation technique could do far more than just help him recover.


    Seeing Arran''s shocked expression, Lord Jiang grinned in approval. "I see you''ve finally caught on. Go on then, give it a try."


    Eager to see what would happen, Arran began to run again, although this time, his pace was a little slower than before as he tried to focus on using the circulation technique at the same time.


    After just a few moments he realized that while the idea seemed simple enough, putting it into practice would be far harder. The circulation technique wasn''t too hard if he was standing still and could focus his intention, but when he was running, his body was moving constantly, and it became far harder to circulate his Essence.


    Just a few minutes later he came to a halt, completely exhausted. To his surprise, he found that using the technique while running was far more strenuous than running alone. It was like trying to create a delicate painting while at the same time performing a wild dance.


    "Not so easy, is it?" Lord Jiang said with a chuckle.


    "I don''t understand why it''s so hard," Arran said. He could run and he could circulate his Essence, yet doing both at the same time proved almost impossible.


    "The technique requires you to be fully aware of your body," Lord Jiang said, "yet when you exert yourself, your body is constantly changing." With a thoughtful nod, he added, "There is only one way to learn it."


    "What is it?" Arran asked eagerly.


    "Keep practicing!" Lord Jiang let out a rumbling laugh.


    Arran''s face fell, but he took the man''s words to heart. With a sigh, he got back to running, all the while constantly trying to perform the circulation technique.


    The hours that followed were exhausting, both mentally and physically. Occasionally Arran had to take short breaks to recover from the exertion, but other than that, he didn''t waste a single moment, practicing continuously.


    It was past midday when Lord Jiang finally stopped him.


    "That''s enough for today," the man said. "Right now, what you need is a good meal and plenty of rest. We will continue your training tomorrow."


    Having made little progress in the last few hours, Arran could not help but feel disappointed. Even though he was exhausted, some part of him wanted to continue practicing, at least until he could see some results.


    Then, a thought entered his mind, and he turned to Lord Jiang.


    "Lord Jiang," he began.


    "Uncle Bear," Lord Jiang corrected him.


    "Uncle Bear," Arran said, although he still felt uncomfortable at addressing the man so casually, "could Jiang Fei join us in training tomorrow?"


    "Learning my secrets isn''t enough?" Lord Jiang asked, looking amused. "Now you want to share them as well?"


    Arran felt some embarrassment at making such a request from someone who had already helped him a great deal, but he did not let up. He owed Jiang Fei at least this much, he figured.


    "Jiang Fei is part of the Jiang Clan," Arran said. "If you can teach me, surely it would be okay to teach her as well?"


    Lord Jiang chuckled. "It isn''t quite as simple as you think. You''re an outsider, and what I teach you won''t affect the clan much. If I teach her, on the other hand¡­"


    The man gave Arran an examining look. Finally, he nodded, and a broad smile once more appeared on his face.


    "Very well," he said. "I suppose if I teach you, she''ll find out anyway. There are no secrets between lovers, after all." At that, he gave Arran a meaningful wink.


    Arran coughed loudly, very much hoping that Lord Jiang would never repeat those words in front of Jiang Fei.


    "And besides," Lord Jiang continued, grinning slyly, "the clan could do with some shaking up. Those gray old foxes have grown far too comfortable." He nodded again, a decisive look in his eyes. "Alright, go get the girl."


    Although he did not entirely understand what Lord Jiang was talking about, Arran vaguely sensed that the man''s decision to teach Jiang Fei had implications beyond her simply learning a few techniques.


    Still, he did not worry about it too much ¡ª if Jiang Fei had been happy just meeting Lord Jiang, she certainly would be ecstatic at the chance to be taught by him.


    With a grateful nod to Lord Jiang, he set off toward the cottage where she was staying.

 Chapter 35 Continued Training

    Arran found Jiang Fei in the flower patch next to her cottage, sitting on a small spot of grass and studying a thick book.


    She turned her head as she heard him approach, and when she saw him, a frown instantly appeared on her face.


    "Shouldn''t you be resting?" she asked. Raising an eyebrow, she added, "And why are your clothes wet?"


    Arran flushed with embarrassment. His training with Lord Jiang had left him soaked with sweat, and in his rush to tell Jiang Fei the news, he had not thought to change his clothes.


    "I''ve been training with Lord Jiang," he said, deciding to divert her attention right away.


    "You''ve been training? But you haven''t fully recovered yet! You should be¡ª" Suddenly, her face went pale. "You''ve been training with Uncle Bear?!"


    Arran nodded. "He''s teaching me a Body Refinement technique."


    Jiang Fei looked like she had just seen a ghost. "How?!" she blurted out. "How did you get him to teach you?!"


    Seeing Jiang Fei''s stunned expression, Arran found it hard to keep from laughing. She looked as if he just pulled a dragon from his sleeve and told it to dance a jig.


    "That''s not all," Arran said, grinning eagerly as he anticipated her reaction to what he would say next. "He also agreed to teach you."


    The excited reaction he had hoped for didn''t come. Instead, her face went blank, and she stared at him with cold eyes.


    "That isn''t funny." Her expression was dead serious now.


    Arran was nonplussed. "But it''s true!" he said, surprised by Jiang Fei''s reaction.


    "You can''t say things like that," she said with a cold voice. "I know you don''t understand the Jiang Clan, but this is something you can''t joke about."


    "I''m telling you the truth!" Arran insisted. He had expected to surprise her, but he had not thought she would refuse to believe him.


    "Stop it!" An angry look appeared on her face. "Don''t make fun of me!"


    She stood up and turned toward the cottage. It looked as if she was about to go inside.


    Arran decided he''d had enough. She wouldn''t believe that Lord Jiang would train her? Fine. Then she would just have to see for herself.


    "What are you doing?! Put me down!" Jiang Fei cried out in shock as Arran picked her up, slinging her over his shoulder like a bag of rice.


    For all her magical skill, she was still a foot shorter than him, and barely half his width. With her Wind Realm sealed, picking her up was as easy as lifting a child.


    "If you won''t believe me, I''ll just have to show you," he said.


    He left at a jog, a yelling Jiang Fei slung over his shoulder. Carrying her was surprisingly easy no matter how much she struggled ¡ª apart from the occasional elbow to the face, at least.


    When Arran finally put Jiang Fei down, he was slightly winded from running while carrying her. Immediately, she slapped his face.


    "What the hell are you thinking?!" she yelled, face red with anger.


    "I told you to bring her here," a voice sounded from behind Jiang Fei. "But I did not expect it would be quite as dangerous a mission as this."


    Instantly, Jiang Fei''s eyes went wide as cups, and she spun around. Behind her was Lord Jiang, sitting on the grass. The look on his face suggested he could only barely contain his laughter.


    "Uncle Bear!" Jiang Fei said, immediately bowing deeply. "He said¡­ I didn''t¡­"


    "I told you it was the truth," Arran said, rubbing the cheek that Jiang Fei had just slapped. He half expected to find a red handprint on his face the next time he looked in a mirror.


    "But¡­ Uncle Bear¡­" Jiang Fei was so shaken that she failed to even form a complete sentence.


    "Arran convinced me that I should train you," Lord Jiang said to Jiang Fei. "I doubt he fully understands the meaning of what he asked, but the offer stands if you wish to take it."


    "I do!" Jiang Fei blurted out. "Of course I do!"


    Lord Jiang chuckled. "Then study this," he said, handing her a scroll. "Once you learn the technique it contains, you can join us in training."


    "Thank you, Uncle Bear!" Jiang Fei said the words with a smile so wide it looked like her head could pop in two at any moment.


    "Thank your friend for convincing me," Lord Jiang said, winking at Arran. "Now, off with you both. I have things to do. And you¡ª" He turned to Arran. "We will resume our training tomorrow morning, at the break of dawn."


    Jiang Fei thanked Lord Jiang several more times before they finally departed, Arran still rubbing his sore cheek.


    The moment they were out of Lord Jiang''s sight, Jiang Fei thrust her hand toward Arran, and he was hit by an invisible force that sent him tumbling to the ground.


    "That''s for embarrassing me in front of Uncle Bear!" Jiang Fei scowled at Arran. "Why didn''t you tell me you were telling the truth?!"


    "You¡­ you''ve unsealed your Wind Realm?!" Arran asked, getting back on his feet. He wisely neglected to mention that he had, in fact, told her. And several times, at that.


    "I broke the seal yesterday," Jiang Fei said with a glare.


    A chill ran down Arran''s spine. He understood that with Jiang Fei''s Wind Realm open, picking her up and carrying her to Lord Jiang could have ended very badly for him. Had she wanted to, she could have snapped him like a twig.


    "Then why didn''t you¡ª" Arran began.


    "I didn''t want to hurt you," Jiang Fei interrupted him.


    Suddenly she stepped toward Arran and got up on her toes. Before he could respond, she kissed the cheek that she had slapped only a few moments earlier.


    "And that," she said, blushing slightly, "is for what you did for me. You might not know how big a gift it was, but it''s more than anyone has ever done for me."


    For a moment, Arran was speechless at her fickleness. One moment she assaulted him with a blast of Wind Essence, and the next, she suddenly kissed him.


    "But now, I have to go study," Jiang Fei said, her right hand tightly gripping the scroll Lord Jiang had given her. "I''ll see you tomorrow."


    Before Arran could find the words to respond she was gone, leaving him behind in a state of utter bewilderment.


    He sighed loudly. The girl was clearly insane, he thought.

 Chapter 36 Body Refinemen

    Arran looked at Jiang Fei. Her eyes were closed, and she sat on the grass with a look of utter concentration on her face.


    It had been nearly a week since Lord Jiang had given her the scroll containing the circulation technique, but so far, she had not yet succeeded in mastering it.


    At first, Arran had been somewhat relieved that she had trouble learning the technique. He had feared that with her skill in magic, she would surpass him in a matter of days. He knew it was petty, but still, it felt nice to be better at something than her for a change.


    Now, however, he was beginning to feel bad for her. She worked day and night, but somehow, the technique still eluded her. Apparently, magical talent alone was not enough to learn Body Refinement.


    Arran, on the other hand, had made great strides in mastering the circulation technique. Using it while running had been difficult at first, but with the instruction of Lord Jiang, it had taken him less than a week to be able to do it at least somewhat reliably.


    The effects still astonished him. As long as he used the technique, he did not tire, no matter how much he exerted himself. If he wanted to, he would be able to run at full speed for hours ¡ª just as long as he kept using the circulation technique.


    The downside was that if his focus slipped for even a moment, the technique''s effects would collapse, and the built-up exhaustion would hit him all at once. Worse, when that happened the fatigue made it almost impossible to regain his focus without stopping to catch his breath.


    "Pay attention!" Lord Jiang''s voice shook Arran from his thoughts.


    "I''m sorry," Arran said. "I was just thinking about¡­" He didn''t finish the sentence, instead glancing at Jiang Fei.


    "Don''t worry about her," Lord Jiang said. "It may not seem like it, but she''s advancing faster than usual. Even if it''s not as fast as you, it''s not bad at all."


    Arran nodded, feeling both relief for Jiang Fei as well as some pride for his own rapid progress.


    "Now pay attention," Lord Jiang said. "I''m going to teach you about a new use for the technique, but before I do, I must warn you about the dangers."


    "Dangers?" Until now, the things Lord Jiang had taught him seemed completely harmless. The only risk was letting the technique collapse while he was running, in which case he would spend some minutes out of breath. And even then, using the technique he could recover rapidly.


    "What I will teach you next is how to increase your strength," Lord Jiang said. "It''s a variation of the same technique you''ve been using already, except this time, you will direct your energy to specific parts of your body."


    "But why is it dangerous?" Arran asked. He wasn''t exactly worried, but he still wanted to know what risks he faced.


    "You know what happens when you lose your focus while running," Lord Jiang said.


    Arran nodded.


    "Now, consider what would happen if you were lifting a thousand-pound boulder above your head, and your strength suddenly failed."


    It didn''t take Arran much imagination to envision what the results of such an accident would be. And when he thought about how often he lost focus while using the technique when running, relying on the circulation technique for anything that involved risk seemed wildly dangerous at best.


    "Then how do I train it?" Arran asked.


    "For a start, you won''t be lifting any thousand-pound boulders," Lord Jiang said. "Nor anything else, for that matter ¡ª not until you are completely confident at staying focused, no matter what happens."


    "Understood," Arran said. After what Lord Jiang just told him, he would have to be a complete idiot to ignore the man''s words.


    "Now then, let me explain what to do¡­" Lord Jiang began.


    The next few hours, Arran listened attentively as Lord Jiang explained how to use the technique to increase one''s strength.


    The basic idea was very simple. All he had to do was manipulate the circulation technique to redirect his Essence into those parts of his body which he wanted to strengthen. Yet the details were as complex as the idea itself was simple, and several times, Arran found himself lost in Lord Jiang''s explanations.


    Finally, though, he thought he understood enough to give it a try.


    "How do I practice it safely?" he asked, recalling Lord Jiang''s earlier warnings.


    "Jump," Lord Jiang said. "Stand in place, squat down, then send the Essence into your legs right as you move to jump. Like this."


    In an instant, Lord Jiang pushed his massive body off the ground, flying up in the air a good fifteen feet. When he landed it was with a loud thud, and his feet left two deep prints in the soft ground.


    Arran stared in amazement. With the man''s bulky physique, it would be a small miracle for him to jump even a single foot off the ground. This, however, was nothing short of astonishing ¡ª even if Lord Jiang had not been the size of a small mountain.


    "When I land¡­ how do I avoid injuring myself?" Arran asked with a thought.


    "If you''re able to jump this high, you''ll need to strengthen your legs with Essence," Lord Jiang said. Then, with a loud laugh, he added, "But you won''t have to worry about that for a few weeks yet."


    The hours that followed saw Arran jumping up and down like a frog, over and over again. It didn''t take long before he understood that this would be even harder than learning to use the circulation technique while running, and he knew that for now, all he had to worry about was looking like a fool.


    It was nearing sunset when suddenly, Jiang Fei''s voice sounded across the field.


    "I''ve done it!" she cried out. "I can use the circulation technique!"


    Immediately, Arran ran over to congratulate her, thankful for the opportunity to take a much-needed break.


    "It''s so simple," she said, looking confused. "It took me a week to learn, but now¡­ it''s as simple as raising my hand."


    "It is," Arran said with a nod, "but only once you know how."


    Jiang Fei had immediately understood what Arran had also learned over the past weeks, which was that the Body Refinement techniques were difficult to learn, but much easier to use than controlling Essence the normal way.


    "Well done, Little Fei!" Lord Jiang said as he joined them, a broad smile on his face.


    "How can I start using it?" Jiang Fei asked at once. She was clearly impatient to begin training.


    "You can''t," Lord Jiang replied. "Not right now, at least."


    "But Uncle Bear¡ª" Jiang Fei began, frustration evident on her face.


    "But nothing," Lord Jiang interrupted her. "You will begin your training in the morning. First, we feast!"


    "Feast?" Jiang Fei looked as confused as Arran felt.


    "Techniques only form half the path of Body Refinement," Lord Jiang said.


    "What''s the other half?" As he asked the question, Arran already suspected what the answer would be.


    "The other half is to eat, and eat well!" Lord Jiang beamed brightly. "Now follow me. There''s a feast waiting for the three of us!"

 Chapter 37 Feast of Treasures

    Arran and Jiang Fei followed behind Lord Jiang, and eventually, they reached a large wooden building that Arran had not seen before.


    Inside there was a large hall, and in the hall they found several long tables, all filled with various kinds of food. At a glance, Arran could see several racks of grilled ribs, roasted birds, large slabs of what looked like beef or venison, and all kinds of fruits and vegetables.


    Arran was puzzled when he realized that although the food looked like it had been prepared just a short while ago, there were no servants anywhere in sight.


    "Did you have this prepared for today?" he asked.


    "Of course," Lord Jiang said. "We have something to celebrate, after all."


    "But how did you know I would succeed today?" Jiang Fei asked.


    She looked as puzzled as Arran, as they both understood that preparations for the feast must have begun hours before she actually achieved her goal.


    "Experience," Lord Jiang answered. "Once you''ve seen something a few times, you know what to expect." He gestured toward the tables. "Go take a look at tonight''s meal."


    Arran and Jiang Fei did as he said. While Arran was surprised at the amount of food for just the three of them, Jiang Fei looked absolutely stunned.


    "Is that¡­ a golden dragon root?!" she said with a gasp. "And crimson witchberries!"


    Excited, she started to examine the other food on the tables, occasionally exclaiming in shock or wonder when she found something particularly noteworthy.


    Arran wasn''t familiar with any of the plants and fruits she mentioned, but from the tone of her voice, he thought they must be extremely rare.


    "Each of these foods," Lord Jiang said with a hint of pride in his voice, "is a medicinal treasure. The meat is from powerful demonic beasts, and the fruits, herbs, and vegetables are from rare plants that I either grew myself or found in the wild."


    "Why did you have all of this prepared for us?" Even for a celebration, it seemed excessive to Arran.


    "I already told you that eating well is an important part of Body Refinement," Lord Jiang said. "After eating this, the both of you will be able to set your first true steps on the path toward becoming Body Refiners."


    "How will eating this help us?" Arran asked. Although Lord Jiang had said eating was an important part of Body Refinement, he still did not understand how eating could possibly help in performing the techniques he had trained over the past weeks.


    "Sit down, both of you," Lord Jiang said. "I will explain while we eat."


    Both Arran and Jiang Fei did as he said. After they sat down, Lord Jiang set down several large plates in front of each of them, then started stacking food on them. By the time he finally stopped, Arran had more than a week''s worth of food sitting in front of him, and he couldn''t help but feel overwhelmed.


    "While you eat, use the circulation technique," Lord Jiang said. "And now, I shall explain."


    He took a deep breath, and then began to speak.


    "Many years ago, when I was just a Master mage, word got out that a small village was being terrorized by a monster from a nearby mountain range. Back then I was eager to prove my strength, and I set out with a group of other mages to defeat the monster. When we arrived we found that the monster that had been attacking the village was a demonic bear, the size of a small house. There were nearly a dozen of us, and we were confident in our strength, so we attacked."


    Lord Jiang shook his head with a regretful sigh.


    "It was a slaughter. Of those who came, only I escaped with my life, and just barely at that. The bear was all but immune to any magic we threw at it, shrugging it off as if it were rain. "


    He looked at Arran and Jiang Fei.


    "I assume that the two of you know that as magic users become more powerful, the constant contact with Essence strengthens their bodies as well?"


    Arran nodded. He could still remember the fight at Windsong''s monastery, where it had taken him and several other initiates dozens of sword blows to take down a single heavily injured adept.


    "The bear we fought was as resistant to harm as a Grandmaster, or even an Archmage," Lord Jiang continued. "But it had no Realms, so how could it be that strong? It took me some months to figure out the answer."


    He grinned and looked at Arran and Jiang Fei, who were eagerly awaiting his explanation. "Eventually, I figured out that the answer was Natural Essence," he finally said.


    "Natural Essence?" Arran had never heard the phrase. "What''s that?"


    "Natural Essence," Lord Jiang said, "is Essence that comes from our own world, and not from Realms. It can be found in everything, but in such small amounts that most mages ignore it as useless."


    "Then how could it strengthen the bear so much?" Arran asked.


    "The bear came from a mountain range with very few people," Lord Jiang said, "A place where the plants and trees had hundreds if not thousands of years to slowly absorb Essence. Eventually, those plants and trees were eaten by animals, and they took the Essence that had been absorbed over countless years. Then, finally, the bear ate them, and took all that power for itself."


    Arran nodded. The explanation made sense. "So you did the same thing?" he asked.


    "In part," Lord Jiang said. "But I created techniques to better use the Natural Essence. Without these techniques, most of the Essence is wasted even if you ingest it, but with them, almost all of it is absorbed into your body. These are the techniques I have been teaching you."


    Arran knitted his brows. "But we''ve been using normal Essence," he said.


    "Until now, you have," Lord Jiang replied. "But starting today, you will be using the techniques the way they were meant to be used: with Natural Essence. You will find that Natural Essence has a far more profound effect."


    "In fact," he continued, and a smile appeared on his face, "take a look and see what has happened so far."


    While Lord Jiang had talked to them, they had both been eating and using the circulation technique, both of them distracted by the conversation.


    Now, as he paid closer attention, Arran was surprised to find that he could sense a warm glow inside his body. Although he could not make out the Natural Essence specifically, he realized that he would have been spreading it through his body using the circulation technique.


    It felt as if his body was being invigorated by a familiar energy, and he almost thought he could feel his muscles and bones grow stronger.


    "Is this permanent?" Jiang Fei asked.


    Lord Jiang nodded. "Natural Essence is the power that sustains life on this world. When you ingest and refine it, it becomes part of your body''s own energy, strengthening your body and increasing your life force."


    He turned to Arran, then added, "This is why the technique is especially useful to you. Magical Essence can strengthen the body, but it does so by constantly straining it. And when there''s too much for your body to handle, it can harm or even kill you. Natural Essence, on the other hand, will transform and strengthen your body directly ¡ª which will also make it easier to resist your own Magical Essence."


    Arran nodded in understanding. Now, he realized that with Lord Jiang''s help, he could strengthen his body to the point where he could survive his Fire and Wind Realms if they were unsealed.


    "But enough talk for now," Lord Jiang said. "There''s plenty more to eat!"


    He wasn''t lying, Arran saw. Even after what they had eaten already, there was enough left to feed a small army. Now that he knew how valuable the food was to him, he resolved to eat as much as he could.


    Face firm with determination, he grabbed a haunch of meat and bit down.


    "What happened to the bear?" Jiang Fei asked some time later, and Arran stopped eating for a moment, equally curious about the answer to her question.


    "I tracked it down," Lord Jiang said. "Then I killed it, and ate it." He let out a roaring laugh and took a large bite from the leg of meat he was holding.

 Chapter 38 Faster, Higher, Stronger

    After Lord Jiang''s feast, Arran noticed an immediate change in his abilities. Even without using the circulation technique, he could feel that he was stronger and faster than he used to be. The difference wasn''t a small one, either ¡ª it was as if he had achieved the results of years of training in a single night.


    When he did use the technique, he found that it was easier to maintain and control than before. Using it still wasn''t exactly simple, but as the weeks passed he progressed rapidly, learning to use the technique to increase his strength when needed.


    Although there were no more feasts like the first one, Lord Jiang served them rare medicinal foods every day, and Arran could feel that they were helping his body grow stronger. Sometimes, Doctor Zhang would bring Arran and Jiang Fei potions as well, and even if their taste was always vile, they seemed to further increase Arran''s strength.


    A few weeks after the feast, Arran was able to run a mile in the time it took Jiang Fei to count to eighty, and jump a distance of thirty feet without too much effort.


    Better still, he knew this was only the beginning. Every day, he could feel himself getting stronger, and every day, his control over the Natural Essence in his body improved.


    Jiang Fei progressed as well, albeit at a slower pace than Arran. She did not seem to have as much talent for Body Refinement as she had for Essence manipulation, and although she didn''t skimp on her training, most of her free time was spent practicing her abilities with magical Essence.


    They sparred daily, sometimes using swords, sometimes staves, and sometimes just their bare hands. With the body refining techniques, Arran held the advantage when it came to strength and speed, but Jiang Fei made up for it with the use of Wind Essence.


    Even now, Arran knew that if Jiang Fei were to really use her mastery of Wind Essence against him, she could defeat him with ease. Yet with every passing day, the gap between them was growing smaller.


    As the weeks passed and Arran spent his time in training, Lord Jiang also finally returned Arran''s belongings to him, along with Stormleaf''s void bag.


    He was dismayed to find that his father''s sword had not survived the fight against Stormleaf. Half the blade was gone, from the looks of it having been melted by the Essence he had unleashed that night. While the sword itself was nothing special, he still felt some grief at losing the only keepsake he had of his father.


    Almost as disappointing were Stormleaf''s possessions. Lord Jiang said the man had been an Archmage, yet the treasures in his void bag were noticeably less valuable than what Master Zhao had given to Arran before he departed.


    Most valuable were a number of spell scrolls, all of them describing Wind spells. After some thought, Arran gave the scrolls to Jiang Fei. While he also had a Wind Realm, for the moment he was unable to use it, and Jiang Fei was far more interested in Wind magic than he was.


    She was ecstatic to receive the scrolls, and Arran knew he had made the right decision.


    Within Stormleaf''s bag, he also found a large number of alchemical ingredients. These were completely useless to him, as he had no knowledge of alchemy ¡ª nor any interest in learning it, for that matter. He gave the ingredients to Doctor Zhang, who seemed quite pleased with the gifts.


    The following day, she handed him a potion in thanks. It tasted even worse than the usual ones, but after drinking it Arran felt a warm glow in his body that lasted for the better part of a week. When it passed, Arran could feel that the potion had helped further strengthen his body.


    Beyond that, Stormleaf''s void bag just held some clothes, weapons, and gold, all of which Arran unceremoniously stuffed into his own bag.


    On the whole, his time at Lord Jiang''s estate was peaceful, if perhaps a little dull. Each day he would awake before dawn, then train until sunset. He would only pause when he needed to eat, and he would only stop when he needed to sleep.


    Beyond Arran''s steady progress in training, few things of note happened. Every once in a while Lord Jiang would show him new techniques and occasionally he would make a small breakthrough, but other than that, every day was exactly like the last.


    Slowly, weeks turned into months, and Arran was starting to get used to both the routine of training and the feeling of safety he had at Lord Jiang''s estate.


    After his arrival at the Academy many months ago, he had constantly felt like he was hunted, with potential danger lurking behind every corner. Now, for the first time, he was at ease, not having to worry about anything but his training.


    "Do you want to visit Silvermere?" Jiang Fei asked Arran one afternoon.


    "Silvermere?" Arran knew that the city lay just a short distance from Lord Jiang''s estate, but so far, he had not set foot outside the walls of the estate. "Why?"


    "I''m bored," Jiang Fei said, looking slightly embarrassed. "We''ve spent half a year here, and ever since we started training, we haven''t taken a single day off."


    Had it already been half a year? After a moment''s thought, Arran realized that she was right. Absorbed in training as he was, time had slipped by without him noticing.


    "I suppose we could go," Arran said. In truth, he was also starting to feel a bit bored with his daily routine, and he wouldn''t mind a day off. "But do you think Lord Jiang will allow us to go?"


    "I''ve already asked Uncle Bear," Jiang Fei said, beaming. "He said we could go whenever we wanted."


    Arran nodded. "Alright then," he said. "When do we go?"


    "Tomorrow," Jiang Fei replied instantly. "If we leave at dawn, we can spend most of the day in the city. I''ve never been to Silvermere before, but I''ve heard it has some of the best restaurants in the Empire. Oh! And there are famous tailors as well! We could¡­"


    While Jiang Fei talked excitedly about all the things she wanted to do in the city, Arran''s thoughts wandered to his own interests.


    "Are there any good weaponsmiths in the city?" he asked. "And armorers?"


    Jiang Fei scowled. "We''re not going to spend the day looking at toys for you to play with." After a moment, she sighed, then continued, "But yes, Silvermere should have some of the finest weaponsmiths and armorers in the Empire. It''s one of the Jiang Clan''s most important cities, after all."


    Arran nodded, feeling some excitement at the thought of finally replacing the things he had lost during the fight against Stormleaf. Even if he didn''t need weapons or armor while staying with Lord Jiang, it would be good to be prepared for whatever might happen in the future.


    This time, he decided, he would buy some truly fine armor, and the best sword he could find. He definitely needed a good bow, too, and maybe a spear would be useful to have as well¡­


    By the time he went to bed that night, the list of things he wanted to buy contained enough weapons and armor to equip a small army.

 Chapter 39 The Starmetal Sword

    "Is that what you''re wearing?" Jiang Fei looked at Arran with a raised eyebrow.


    "What''s wrong with it?" Arran asked.


    He was wearing a simple brown linen robe, and although it was nothing like the crimson silk dress Jiang Fei was wearing, he didn''t think there was anything wrong with it. It was comfortable and clean, and it was something that would attract no unwanted attention.


    "Nothing," Jiang Fei said with a frown, "if you''re planning to spend the day on a farm."


    Arran sighed, then went back inside. Some moments later he emerged from the cottage once more, this time wearing a black silk robe with red embroidery. It was one of the finer robes Master Zhao had left him in the void bag, and wearing it made Arran feel like a monkey in a wedding dress.


    "Much better," Jiang Fei said, smiling brightly. "Dressed like this, you could almost trick me into thinking you''re handsome."


    Arran scowled, but he kept his mouth shut. Some moments later, they set off together.


    Lord Jiang''s estate was large enough that even the walk to the gate took several miles. As usual, there was barely a sign of any other people in the estate.


    When they finally reached the gate, they found it protected by a dozen guards. They had passed by the gate before, and although he did not recognize any of the guards there today, the guards clearly knew who they were.


    "Young master, young mistress," one of the men said, bowing respectfully, "will you be taking a trip outside the estate today?"


    Jiang Fei nodded. "We''ll spend the day in Silvermere. We should return by nightfall."


    The guards opened the gate, and moments later, Arran and Jiang Fei set foot outside the estate for the first time in months.


    A few hundred paces from the gate they found a crowd of people gathered around a shrine. When they approached, the people stared at them with looks of reverence, bowing deeply.


    Arran nodded back, although the sight confused him. "What are they doing?" he asked Jiang Fei in a hushed voice.


    "They''re here to pay their respects to Uncle Bear," she whispered back. "Since we came from the estate, they must think we''re important."


    Arran smiled politely as they passed the crowd, but inside, he could not help but feel uncomfortable. Ever since he had left Fulai City he had tried to keep a low profile, yet now, hundreds of people were staring at him and Jiang Fei.


    The road leading away from the estate was lined with trees, and beyond the trees, Arran saw several large gated mansions. While the mansions looked massive and well-built, they lacked any eye-catching ornaments, almost as if their builders had deliberately tried not to draw too much attention.


    "These mansions belong to some of the larger branches of the Jiang Clan," Jiang Fei explained. "It''s where their envoys to Uncle Bear stay." With a slight smile, she added, "They wouldn''t dare build anything too ostentatious for fear of offending Uncle Bear."


    They continued along the road as it meandered through the hills, slowly moving downward. After a while they reached a bend in the road, and once they passed it, Arran could see a large valley ahead of them.


    Arran immediately knew that this was Silvermere, and he was astonished at the size of the city. At the center of the valley lay a vast lake, its surface shining silver in the bright light of the sun. From the edge of the lake fanned out thousands upon thousands of buildings, completely filling the valley.


    Compared to this, he thought, Fulai City could barely be considered a village.


    "It''s big, isn''t it?" Jiang Fei said. Her voice was subdued, and Arran could tell that she was as awestruck by the sight as he was.


    They spent the next few hours exploring the city together, walking through the cobbled streets and occasionally stopping to drink tea at some of the city''s many tea shops, or to buy dumplings and sweets at the food stalls that stood on the sides of most of the city''s streets.


    Occasionally they drew stares from the people passing them, and several times strangers bowed to them. Arran eventually realized that word of them being Lord Jiang''s guests had already spread to the city, but although the attention made him uncomfortable, he did his best to ignore it.


    After several hours of walking through the city center, Arran began to notice that Jiang Fei''s eyes were repeatedly drawn to the many clothing stores in the city''s center.


    "If you want, you can go shopping for a bit," he said.


    "What about you?" Jiang Fei asked. She gave Arran a wary look, then sighed deeply. "You just want to go get more toys, don''t you?"


    "I do have some things to buy," Arran replied. He had already spotted a number of weaponsmiths and armorers along the way, and although he enjoyed spending time with Jiang Fei, he was eager to spend some of his gold.


    Jiang Fei sighed again, then glanced at the clothing store next to them. "I suppose we could¡­"


    They agreed to meet in the city square two hours later, and just like that, Arran was free to finally buy the weapons and armor he wanted.


    Eagerly, he set off to buy some of the many things he wanted.


    His first purchase was a large ironwood bow with a heavy draw. It was easily the finest bow Arran had ever held, and he paid a small fortune for it despite the shopkeeper giving him a large discount ¡ª apparently, word of Arran being a guest of Lord Jiang had spread among the shopkeepers, too.


    Next, he visited several armorers, eventually finding an excellent leather coat with mail armor and steel plates sewn into it. It was heavy enough that most people would have struggled just to walk while wearing it, but after Arran''s training with Lord Jiang, it barely even hindered him.


    Finally, he went looking for a good sword, to replace the one his father had left him. After entering several weaponsmiths'' stores, he was disappointed to find that although their weapons were good enough, all the swords they sold were just too light for him.


    He kept searching, and after some time, he noticed a small weaponsmith''s shop. The shop itself didn''t seem particularly noteworthy, but the few pieces he could see in the shop window immediately drew his attention.


    When he stepped inside, he felt some excitement upon seeing the weapons that were on display. With just a glance, he could tell that the weapons here were far better than anything he had found so far.


    The shopkeeper welcomed him calmly, without the fawning and flattering the previous ones had shown him when they recognized him as Lord Jiang''s guest.


    Arran spent some time perusing the weapons on display, but although the craftsmanship was exceptional, he did not find anything that suited him. Again, he found that everything was just too light for his Essence-strengthened arms.


    "How much for this one?" he asked, holding up a particularly well-made sword that was long and flexible. He didn''t want it for himself, but it seemed like it would be perfect for Jiang Fei.


    "Aye, that''s a good one," the shopkeeper said. "For a friend of Lord Jiang, I''ll let it go for two hundred gold crowns."


    Arran swallowed at the outrageous price, but after a thought, he nodded. The sword was far better than any he had seen in Silvermere so far, and he had plenty of gold to spare.


    "I''ll take it," he said, not bothering to haggle.


    As he stepped up to the counter to pay the shopkeeper, he noticed a sword on the wall behind the counter. It was large and broad, and although it didn''t have any of the ornate decorations that most of the weapons in the shop had, there was something about it that caught his eye.


    "What about that one?" he asked, pointing at the sword on the wall.


    "Ah, you''ve noticed?" the shopkeeper said with a grin. "That''s a starmetal sword. I didn''t forge that one myself ¡ª I bought it some years ago."


    "Starmetal?" Arran wasn''t familiar with the term.


    "Supposedly, it was forged from the remains of a fallen star," the shopkeeper explained. "Rumor has it that it has some magical properties." With a sigh, he added, "It''s useless as a weapon, though."


    "Why''s that?" Arran asked.


    "It''s far too heavy to wield," the shopkeeper replied. "Most people can barely even lift it, much less wield it."


    In an instant, Arran''s eyes lit up. "Mind if I give it a swing or two?"


    The shopkeeper gave him a puzzled look, then shrugged. "Go ahead," he said. He walked over to the wall and took the sword. From the looks of it, just lifting it took him a great deal of effort.


    He handed the sword to Arran. Immediately, Arran felt that it was far heavier than any of the other swords in the shop, but the months of training with Lord Jiang had strengthened his arms enough that swinging it felt completely comfortable.


    After just a few practice swings, he knew he had to have it.


    "Heh," the shopkeeper said, surprise clear on his face. "You''re stronger than you look."


    "How much is it?" Arran asked.


    "You want to buy it?" The shopkeeper looked as if the question had taken him by surprise. "To be honest, I''ve only ever had it as a piece of decoration with a nice background story. Never thought someone would actually try to buy it."


    Lowering his voice, he added, "Truth told, I''m not sure it''s actually starmetal ¡ª I bought it off a traveling merchant for a few silvers."


    "I want to buy it," Arran said. "Name your price."


    The shopkeeper gave it a moment''s thought, then shook his head. "I won''t sell it to you." He grinned on seeing Arran''s dejected face, then continued, "You can have it for free, though."


    "For free? I couldn''t accept that," Arran said.


    "Don''t worry about it," the shopkeeper replied. "You''re the first person I''ve seen who could actually use it. And besides, once people hear I''ve sold weapons to one of Lord Jiang''s guests, I''ll get a decent bit of new business." He grinned slyly at the last bit.


    "Alright," Arran said. While he didn''t want to take advantage of the shopkeeper, he had to have the sword. "Can I at least pay you to have a scabbard made for it?"


    "That you can," the man said, smiling. "I can have a good bear leather scabbard made in a day or two."


    Arran paid the shopkeeper for his purchases and arranged to have the scabbard delivered to Lord Jiang''s estate when it was finished. For now, he would simply carry the starmetal sword in his void bag.


    After thanking the shopkeeper, he hurriedly made his way back to the city square. He had lost track of time while he was looking at weapons, and now, he realized that Jiang Fei was probably already waiting for him.


    Imagining her reaction at having been kept waiting, he increased his pace to a jog.


    When he arrived at the city square, it only took him a moment to spot Jiang Fei. He was surprised to see that there was a group of young men with her, but when he approached, he could see that she looked uncomfortable. Moreover, one of the men was holding her arm, and it looked like she was struggling to get free.


    In an instant, anger flooded Arran, and he rushed over, roughly pushing the men around Jiang Fei aside. His eyes focused on the one who had grabbed her arm, and he charged at him.


    "Don''t!" Jiang Fei cried out, but she was too late. Arran''s fist had already connected with the young man''s face, and he fell to the ground in a heap, blood gushing from his nose and mouth.


    Arran glanced at him, and with some satisfaction he saw that the bloodied young man had a broken nose and several missing teeth.


    He looked furiously at the others in the group, ready to give the rest of them a beating as well. "Fuck off right now!" he growled. "Or I will give you a beating much worse than this!"


    Several of the men stepped back several paces, startled by Arran''s sudden arrival, but one of them stepped forward. He was slightly taller than Arran, wearing a bright red robe, with broad shoulders and an arrogant smile on his face.


    "A stranger dares to assault a member of the Jiang Clan, here in Silvermere?" The red-robed young man drew his sword in a casual motion. "You will not get the chance to make such a mistake again."


    Sword in hand, he approached Arran, and Arran reached for his void bag, about to pull out the starmetal sword. From the looks of it, there was going to be bloodshed.


    Suddenly, a voice sounded, "Stop! Please!"


    When Arran looked over, he saw a group of city guards rushing their way. At the head of the group was a tall man in a mail coat with a terrified expression on his face.


    "Young master Redstone!" the man said. "Please, these are Lord Jiang''s guests!"


    "I know who they are, Captain Wu," the red-robed young man said calmly. "But even with Uncle Bear''s protection, this stranger cannot be allowed to assault my brother." He pointed his sword toward Arran. "He will pay for this."


    "They were harassing Jiang Fei," Arran said, still furious. "Your brother is lucky I didn''t snap his neck."


    "You think you can just interfere in the affairs of the Jiang Clan?" The young man''s voice dripped with contempt. "And escape with your life?"


    "Young master Redstone!" Captain Wu said again, a desperate look on his face. "Please! I cannot let you fight him!"


    The young man scowled. "Very well," he said after a moment''s hesitation. "Arrest him. We can dispense justice tomorrow. If the old man wishes to speak for him, he can show up himself."


    Jiang Fei gasped, and Arran understood she was shocked by the contemptuous manner in which the man spoke of Lord Jiang.


    Captain Wu turned toward Arran. "Please come with me, young master," he said, a pleading look on his face. In a low voice, he added, "I will send word to Lord Jiang immediately."


    Arran nodded. Although he had half a mind to teach the arrogant young man a lesson, he didn''t want to trouble Captain Wu. Already, the man seemed to be on the verge of having a breakdown.


    Captain Wu sighed in relief upon seeing Arran nod, and quickly led Arran and Jiang Fei away.

 Chapter 40 The Magistrate

    "Who were those guys?" Arran looked at Jiang Fei with some concern. With the protection of Lord Jiang, he wasn''t too worried about himself, but he hoped he hadn''t caused any problems for Jiang Fei.


    "They''re from the Redstone branch of the Jiang Clan," she replied. "From what I heard, the branch leader has been trying to get an audience with Uncle Bear for the past month. They thought they could use me to force Uncle Bear to see them." She shook her head in disgust.


    "Are you okay?" Arran asked.


    "I am," she said. "But this is going to cause some trouble for you. The Redstone branch is among the more powerful factions within the clan, and they will want compensation for what you did."


    "The little bastard had it coming," Arran said with a shrug. He was confident that Lord Jiang would protect him if necessary, but even if that weren''t the case, he would not let some random thug manhandle Jiang Fei.


    "Young master, young mistress," Captain Wu said uncomfortably. "I''m supposed to arrest you, but¡­" He hesitated for a moment. "I can escort you back to Lord Jiang''s estate if you wish."


    "No," Jiang Fei said firmly. "That would cause problems for you. Uncle Bear can protect us, but you can''t afford to make enemies of the Redstone branch."


    "Thank you, young mistress." Relief was clear on the man''s face as he nodded in gratitude. "I have already sent word to Lord Jiang. Once he learns of this, I''m certain the matter will be resolved quickly."


    From his expression, it was obvious that he could not wait to have someone else take charge of the situation.


    "Where are we going?" Arran asked. They had been walking for a while already, with Arran, Jiang Fei, and Captain Wu in front, and half a dozen guards following some paces behind them.


    "I''m taking you to the Magistrate''s mansion," Captain Wu said. "Normally, I would have to put you in jail for the night, but¡­" He gave Arran and Jiang Fei a frightened look.


    They arrived at the Magistrate''s mansion a short while later. Captain Wu said some words to the guards at the gate, whose faces immediately paled. Hurriedly, the guards let them through the gate.


    Inside, they found a large, quiet courtyard, surrounded by a sober but tasteful wooden building. The courtyard itself was mostly empty, except for a large pond and several carefully trimmed hedges and shrubs. On the whole, Arran thought, the place more resembled a temple than it did a mansion.


    Moments later, a feeble-looking old man in an ornate yellow robe stepped into the courtyard. He was short, barely reaching Arran''s shoulders, and his expression was filled with worry. Arran understood that this must be the Magistrate.


    "Captain Wu," the old man said, "could you tell me what happened?"


    As Captain Wu explained the earlier events, the old man anxiously knitted his brows. "Oh dear," he said several times, casting furtive glances at Arran and Jiang Fei.


    "I''m terribly sorry about all of this," he said after Captain Wu had finished his explanation, while looking at look at Arran and Jiang Fei.


    He turned toward Captain Wu, and said, "You and your men can leave. I don''t think there''s much risk of these two young people trying to escape." With an awkward laugh, he added, "Although that would save us all quite a bit of trouble."


    Captain Wu and his men left in a hurry, obviously glad that they were no longer involved in the problem.


    The old man turned to Arran and Jiang Fei with a troubled look. "I am Magistrate Huang," he said, "and I really am terribly sorry about what happened." This was the second time the man had apologized in as many minutes, and Arran wondered just why the old man was so afraid.


    Magistrate Huang looked around anxiously as if to make sure nobody was watching them, then said in a low voice, "It''s these Redstone thugs¡­ ever since they arrived, they have been causing all kinds of trouble."


    "What kind of trouble?" Jiang Fei asked, her expression thoughtful.


    "I will tell you over dinner," Magistrate Huang said. Again he looked around anxiously, as if he was afraid that someone might be listening in.


    They followed the old man inside, and he led them to a large but empty dining hall. As they sat down, several servants appeared, pouring them wine and setting down some food.


    They ate in silence, with Magistrate Huang only eating a few bites, spending most of the meal looking anxiously at Arran and Jiang Fei.


    Finally, he spoke. "You wanted to know about the trouble the city has seen of late?"


    Both Arran and Jiang Fei nodded.


    "It all began when the Redstone delegation arrived a month ago," the old man said. "They came to see Lord Jiang, but like most others, they were turned away at the gate. I didn''t think much of it at the time ¡ª Lord Jiang rarely sees visitors ¡ª but afterward, they started to cause trouble."


    "Cause trouble? How?" Jiang Fei asked, a deep frown on her face.


    Magistrate Huang let out a deep sigh. "At first, it was limited to a few fights. Then, they started to intimidate members of some of the lesser branches of the Jiang Clan, even challenging people to duels." He shook his head. "It''s almost as if they''re looking for trouble."


    "Why haven''t you done anything?" Arran asked.


    "Me?" The old man looked baffled. "You think I would interfere?"


    "You are the city''s Magistrate, are you not?"


    Understanding dawned in Magistrate Huang''s eyes, and he let out a bitter laugh. "I might be the Magistrate, but this city belongs to the Jiang Clan. I handle small crimes ¡ª cutpurses and the like ¡ª but I would not dare get involved in the affairs of the Jiang Clan."


    "But couldn''t you¡ª" Arran began.


    "Arran," Jiang Fei interrupted him, "Magistrate Huang and his men aren''t mages."


    Arran felt his cheeks flush in embarrassment. After having spent so long surrounded by mages, he had almost forgotten that not everyone had magical powers. Now that he knew that they lacked magic, he understood why the Magistrate and his men could not stand up to mages.


    No wonder they had been so frightened by the situation ¡ª they were stuck in the middle of a conflict where either side could kill them without even the slightest effort.


    "I''m sorry," he said. "I thought that¡­" He hesitated for a moment, then sighed. "I didn''t think."


    "It''s quite alright," Magistrate Huang said. "Until now, the presence of Lord Jiang was enough to dissuade others from causing trouble. I don''t know why the Redstone men are acting like this."


    "They''re trying to get Uncle Bear to meet them," Jiang Fei said. "They probably believe that by causing trouble, they can force him to make an appearance."


    Magistrate Huang looked at Arran. "For your sake," he said, "I hope he does make an appearance. If not¡­" He frowned, then sighed. "The young man whose brother you attacked will probably demand a duel."


    "A duel?" Arran smirked. There were some things he feared, but a duel against that arrogant young man was not among them.


    "Don''t take him lightly," Magistrate Huang said in a severe voice. "He might be arrogant, but I''ve seen him fight. His skill with the sword is frightening. None of those he faced stood even the slightest chance."


    Arran nodded in understanding, although he could not bring himself to feel too worried. After the months he had spent training with Lord Jiang, he was confident that he could best most opponents.


    Confidence notwithstanding, after they finished the meal Arran moved to the courtyard, where he began practicing with the starmetal sword. Even if he wasn''t truly worried about the possibility of a duel ¡ª and he was almost certain that Lord Jiang would not let it get that far ¡ª it couldn''t hurt to be prepared.


    With every swing, he found himself liking the sword more. It was solid and hefty, but not so much as to be clumsy. Best of all, with his current level of strength, it allowed him to deliver blows that should devastate even the strongest opponents.


    "What is that thing?" Jiang Fei asked. She had been watching him practice, mostly remaining silent except for the occasional comment on his technique.


    "It''s my new sword," Arran said, grinning broadly. "Take a look."


    He handed her the sword, and instantly her eyes went wide. "It''s so heavy!" she said. She gave it an awkward swing, and the sword nearly slipped from her hands. "What do you need this for?"


    "Remember the adept we fought at the monastery?" Arran''s expression turned serious as he asked the question.


    "Of course," Jiang Fei said. "How could I forget?" Sorrow sounded in her voice, and Arran knew she remembered how the adept had killed several of her fellow initiates before dying himself.


    "It took us dozens of blows to kill him," Arran said. "But with this¡­ I doubt he would have been able to withstand even a single well-placed strike."


    Jiang Fei nodded, understanding. As she handed the sword back to Arran, she asked, "But isn''t it too slow? It''s just so heavy¡­"


    Arran grinned, then struck out again with the sword, this time using his full strength to strike as fast as he could.


    "I see," Jiang Fei said thoughtfully. "You really have more talent for Uncle Bear''s techniques than I do."


    "I got something for you as well," Arran said in an attempt to change the subject. He took the sword he had bought for Jiang Fei from his bag and handed it to her.


    "Of course, it has to be a sword," she said with a sigh. Still, when she tried a few practice strokes, her eyes lit up and a smile appeared on her face. "As far as swords go, this one really is very nice," she added some moments later.


    They practiced for several hours more, sparring and training with their new swords until they were both too tired to continue.


    It was close to midnight when they finally retired to the rooms that Magistrate Huang had prepared for them.

 Chapter 41 Duel

    Arran woke up early the next morning, well before the first light of dawn. The previous night he had not felt too worried, but now, the confrontation was coming awfully close.


    After some thought, he put on the armored coat he had bought the previous day. He did not think Lord Jiang would let it come to violence, but then, it was better to be needlessly prepared than to need it and not be prepared.


    He ate breakfast with Jiang Fei and Magistrate Huang, and much like the previous day, they were the only ones in the large dining hall. By now, Arran was beginning to think that the people in Magistrate Huang''s household were trying to avoid them.


    The more he thought about it, the more it made sense. Even Magistrate Huang himself was visibly uncomfortable being around Arran and Jiang Fei, clearly still afraid of their powers. That the rest of the household would be even more timid did not seem far-fetched at all.


    They left after the meal, Arran silently chuckling as he imagined the relief Magistrate Huang''s servants and family members would feel on being rid of them.


    The walk to the City Hall took them the better part of an hour, with the streets still empty this early in the morning. A few people shot furtive glances in their direction, but quickly looked away as soon as Arran noticed them.


    The building was massive and square, lacking any trace of decoration or elegance. To Arran''s eyes it looked like a prison or even a fortress, and he had a hard time imagining Magistrate Huang governing the city from a place like that.


    Inside they found large open hallways with few people inside them, and those few people who were there quickly scurried away when they saw the group approach. The one exception was a gaunt elderly man, who came running up to them just moments after they entered.


    "Lord Magistrate," the gaunt man said with a respectful bow, "the Redstone leader is here. He''s waiting for you in the court hall."


    "Any sign of Lord Jiang?" Magistrate Huang''s forehead creased in worry.


    The gaunt man shook his head, but right at that moment, a voice sounded. When he heard it belonged to Lord Jiang, Arran let out a silent sigh of relief.


    "Magistrate Huang," Lord Jiang said. All heads turned toward him, and he gave both Arran and Jiang Fei small nods. "Would you please escort us to the court hall?"


    "Of course, Lord Jiang." Magistrate Huang bowed so deeply it looked as if he was about to fall over.


    "Uncle Bear!" Jiang Fei said, looking relieved. "Yesterday, we¡ª"


    "I already know what happened," Lord Jiang interrupted her. "Now, it is time for us to deal with the situation."


    They followed Magistrate Huang down the hallways, eventually stepping into a vast hall that Arran understood should be the court hall. Inside, he saw two men ¡ª the arrogant young man from the previous day, and an older man. The second man was unusually tall, with a sharp face and close-cropped black hair.


    "Elder Redstone," Lord Jiang said in a flat voice.


    "Lord Bear," the tall man said, bowing slightly. "I was starting to think you would stay holed up in your estate forever."


    "That was my plan," Lord Jiang said. "But it seems there was an altercation between your men and my guests."


    "Your guest assaulted one of my nephews, and his brother asked me to demand compensation," Elder Redstone said, gesturing toward the young man at his side. "But since you came in person, we have more important matters to discuss."


    "Oh?" Lord Jiang replied. "And what might those matters be?"


    "Some months ago, you killed an Academy mage," Elder Redstone said. "This caused a great deal of trouble for the clan. Although we reached an understanding with the Academy, the Council of Elders has sent me to retrieve you, so that the clan''s Elders can decide on a proper punishment for your actions."


    "If the Council wishes to see me, then naturally, I will come," Lord Jiang said.


    A pleased look appeared on Elder Redstone''s face. "If that is the case, then I think we can forget about the matter of your guest."


    At this, the young man at his side scowled, and it looked like he was about to speak up. Yet before he could, Lord Jiang spoke.


    "Certainly not," Lord Jiang said. "A guest in my city assaulted one of the future leaders of the Jiang Clan. Such a crime cannot go unpunished."


    The answer seemed to take Elder Redstone by surprise, but after a moment''s thought, he nodded. "You are right, of course. What do you have in mind?"


    "Your nephew has quite the reputation as a swordsman," Lord Jiang said, nodding toward the young man next to Elder Redstone. "Perhaps the matter could be settled through a duel?"


    Elder Redstone nodded again. "A proper solution," he said. "Very well."


    Lord Jiang turned to Arran. "Draw your sword," he said, "and face your victim''s brother." Head turned away from Elder Redstone, he gave Arran a wink.


    Arran was puzzled by what had just happened, but understanding that Lord Jiang had a plan, he did as the man said.


    Across the room, the arrogant-looking young man drew his sword as well, stepping forward with a thin smile on his lips.


    "Begin," Lord Jiang said, and the fight started.


    Arran''s opponent attacked immediately with a series of perfectly executed strikes, and at once, Arran understood that the young man was a better swordsman than he was.


    Relying on his strength and speed to defend, he managed to ward off the attack, but he was surprised to discover that his opponent was also unusually strong and fast.


    At once, he knew that his opponent must practice some type of Body Refinement, although it was obvious to Arran that the young man''s techniques were inferior to his own.


    They exchanged blows several times, with Arran using his superior strength and speed to avoid any real danger. Even if his opponent was more skilled, the physical difference was simply too great for him to overcome.


    Still, Arran did not show his true strength, afraid that the young man would have some unexpected card up his sleeve. Instead, he feigned weakness, allowing his opponent to grow overconfident as he believed he was gaining the upper hand.


    "Stop playing and kill him," Lord Jiang''s voice sounded.


    A grin appeared on the face of Arran''s opponent, and Arran realized the young man thought the words were meant for him. Indeed, a moment later his foe darted forward, striking several times and forcing Arran to defend.


    At that moment, Arran stopped holding back.


    He struck once at full force, and although his opponent narrowly managed to parry Arran''s blow, the sheer force of it caused him to stagger backward. A look of shock appeared on his face.


    Again Arran struck with all his strength, and his opponent''s sword was sent to the side, his arms unable to withstand the power of Arran''s strike. The shock on his face turned to panic when he realized what was happening, but it was too late.


    Exploiting the opening he had created with his previous strike, Arran struck a heavy overhand blow, this time using Lord Jiang''s technique to send a sudden burst of power into his arms and shoulders as he brought down the starmetal sword.


    His opponent managed to raise his sword just before the blow landed, but against Arran''s strength, it was no use ¡ª he might as well have tried to stop a charging bull with a straw. His parry did not slow Arran''s sword in the slightest as it swept towards his neck, and the blow cut deep into his body.


    In an instant, the fight was over.


    As Arran pulled his sword free, his opponent''s lifeless body fell to the ground, cleaved from neck to waist. Blood and guts spilled to the floor, and Arran had to suppress a surge of nausea.


    "You!" Elder Redstone screamed. Arran thought the man''s rage was directed at him, but when he looked, he saw that Elder Redstone had turned toward Lord Jiang. "You taught him the clan''s secrets!"


    Arran was startled when he saw that Elder Redstone completely ignored the death of his nephew. Instead, what angered the man was seeing Arran use Lord Jiang''s techniques.


    "I did teach him," Lord Jiang said. "What of it? I created the techniques, and I will share them as I please."


    "Those techniques are reserved for the clan''s heirs! When I bring you before the Council, they will have your head for this!" Elder Redstone''s face was crimson with rage.


    "You''re not bringing me to the Council," Lord Jiang said.


    "You¡ª" A sudden hint of worry appeared on Elder Redstone''s face. "You said you would¡ª"


    "I said I would visit the Council," Lord Jiang said, moving toward Elder Redstone. "I did not say you would be there."


    "You¡­ you can''t¡­" Elder Redstone''s face drained of color, the earlier crimson now rapidly turning into a pale white. "The clan wouldn''t let you¡­"


    "You came to my home, insulted my guests, and threatened me," Lord Jiang said, his voice icy. "And you expect to walk away from here?"


    "I''m an Elder of the Jiang Clan," Elder Redstone said, his voice now shaking with fear. "You wouldn''t¡ª"


    Elder Redstone''s words were cut off when Lord Jiang slapped him in the face. The sound of the slap was painfully loud, hurting Arran''s ears as it shook the windows of the hall. A moment later, Elder Redstone''s tall body slumped to the ground, his neck twisted in an unnatural angle.


    Shocked, Arran realized that Lord Jiang had killed the man with a single slap to the face.


    "Too long have I stood by as the clan grew weak and foolish," Lord Jiang said. "No more. The time has come for change."

 Chapter 42 Revelations

    "You killed them¡­" Magistrate Huang looked at the two bodies with an expression of sheer terror.


    "It would seem that way." Lord Jiang brushed some of Elder Redstone''s blood off his hand. Turning to Magistrate Huang, he said, "I want you to spread word that any members of the Redstone branch left in the city by sundown will be hanged."


    Magistrate Huang gaped in shock. "What if they cause trouble?" he said in a small voice.


    "If any of them cause trouble for your men," Lord Jiang said, "they will face a fate far worse than hanging."


    "Yes, Lord Jiang," the old man said, his voice thick with anxiety. After a deep bow to Lord Jiang he left quickly, seeming anxious to be away from the violent scene in the hall.


    "We should leave as well," Lord Jiang said. "There are matters to discuss, but we had best do so at the estate, far away from prying ears."


    When they left the City Hall, Arran saw that a large crowd had gathered outside. They must have found out that Lord Jiang had left the estate, he thought. From what he knew, catching even a glimpse of Lord Jiang was a rare occasion for most of the townsfolk.


    Upon seeing Lord Jiang emerge from the building, most of the people in the crowd fell to their knees, pressing their heads to the ground in veneration. Lord Jiang nodded in acknowledgment, but Arran could see that he was uncomfortable.


    They made their way back to the estate, bystanders bowing and kneeling wherever Lord Jiang passed.


    Previously Arran had known that Lord Jiang held a sacred position in the Jiang Clan, but he had not truly understood what it meant. Now that he saw the treatment the man received, he could not help but feel sympathy for him ¡ª it was clear that Lord Jiang did not enjoy the attention in the least. No wonder that he chose to spend most of his time locked away, hiding from the masses.


    It did not take them long to reach the estate, and as soon as they entered, Lord Jiang breathed a sigh of relief.


    "I don''t think I''ll ever get used to that," he said, shaking his head. "Come, let''s have a meal. We will talk while we eat." He gestured for Arran and Jiang Fei to follow him.


    "That sword of yours," Lord Jiang said to Arran as they walked toward the dining hall. "Where did you get it?"


    "I found it at a small store in the city," Arran replied honestly.


    "You got a starmetal sword from a store?! Here in Silvermere?!" Lord Jiang stared at Arran in disbelief. Then, he burst into laughter. "Young man, you may have used up several lifetimes worth of luck, just with that."


    A short while later they were sitting in the dining hall, a dozen plates filled with freshly cooked meat, fruits, and vegetables in front of them. It seemed the morning''s violence had not diminished Lord Jiang''s appetite in the slightest.


    "Now, there are matters for us to discuss," Lord Jiang announced. "Two weeks from today, I will travel to the Council of Elders."


    "You''re leaving us behind?!" The words took Arran by surprise. Although he knew that Lord Jiang would be visiting the Council of Elders, he had not expected that the man would leave so soon.


    Lord Jiang shook his head, then gave Arran a somber look. "Little Fei will be traveling with me," he said. "As for you¡­ you must leave for the Shadowflame Society."


    "What?!" Arran was stunned at what he heard. "Why?!"


    "When I arrive at the Council, I intend to seize control and remove those Elders who have allowed the clan to sink to its current state," Lord Jiang said. "Once they are gone, it will fall on me to prepare a new generation to lead the clan."


    Lord Jiang looked toward Jiang Fei, and a smile appeared on his lips. "Little Fei will be part of that new generation of leaders."


    While Lord Jiang''s words astonished Arran, what truly baffled him was that Jiang Fei did not seem shocked in the least.


    "You don''t seem surprised," he said, frowning in thought. Did she already know about this?


    "I''m not," she replied. "Not much, anyway. In the clan, the Body Refinement techniques are only taught to future leaders. When Uncle Bear decided to teach me, I had some idea of what he intended."


    "But you taught me those techniques as well," Arran said with a look at Lord Jiang. "If only the future leaders of the clan can learn them, then why did you teach them to me?"


    "After your battle with the Academy mages, it was the only way I could help you survive your own power," Lord Jiang said. "And I had promised a friend to lend you my help on your way to the Shadowflame Society, if you needed it."


    "That friend¡­ was it Master Fireheart?" Jiang Fei asked.


    "He goes by many names," Lord Jiang said, "but yes, he is the one who made the request. About a week before your big battle, he visited and said his apprentice would pass through the region, asking me to provide help if needed." With a laugh, he added, "Although I doubt he knew just how much help would be needed."


    "So it was true, then¡­" Jiang Fei looked as if she had just learned the answer to a question that had long bothered her.


    "What was true?" Arran asked. He was starting to feel annoyed at being the only one who didn''t know what was going on.


    "Master Fireheart promised to introduce me to Uncle Bear if I protected you at the Shadowflame Society," she replied. "That was why I joined you. At least, at first." An uncomfortable look crossed her face at the last part.


    "It looks like I''ll have to do without your protection," Arran said bitterly. While he could not blame Jiang Fei for joining Lord Jiang in his travels, it still felt as if he was being abandoned.


    "You don''t need her protection anymore," Lord Jiang cut in. "I will unseal your Realms tomorrow. After that, you should be able to hold your own against most adepts, and even defeat some outright."


    Hearing this, Arran instantly felt less gloomy. "I''ll be able to defeat adepts?" He could not help but feel a touch of excitement at the thought.


    "Your body is on par with that of a Master, and although you still lack control, you should have more Essence than even the strongest adepts," Lord Jiang said. With a broad grin, he added, "Among the other initiates at the Shadowflame Society, you''ll be an absolute monster."


    Just as Arran felt his spirits lift, he glanced at Jiang Fei, and immediately his mood fell once more. With a start, he realized that he was going to miss her.


    "No need to be dejected," Lord Jiang said, looking at Arran. "The two of you will meet again soon enough. Your training at the Shadowflame Society should take a few decades at most."


    Arran''s face fell, and he let out a deep sigh.

 Chapter 43 Breaking the Seals

    "It''s going to hurt." Lord Jiang gave Arran a serious look. "When I remove the seals, Essence will flood your body. It will not be as bad as taking a Realm Opening Pill, but it will be painful."


    It was early morning, and Lord Jiang had taken Arran to a distant area of the estate, several miles away from any buildings. Here, the estate''s lands more resembled a wilderness than a garden.


    Today, Lord Jiang would finally remove the seals he had placed on Arran''s Realms half a year earlier. Although the prospect made Arran nervous, part of him was impatient to see how strong he would be once the seals were removed.


    "Are there any dangers?" he asked.


    "Some," Lord Jiang replied. "By now, your body should be able to handle it, but it will not be easy. There will be pain, and it will last for a while."


    "Just how long will it last?" Arran asked, feeling some suspicion at what Lord Jiang would consider a while.


    "A number of days," Lord Jiang said.


    "That long?" Arran grimaced at the thought of spending days in pain.


    Lord Jiang chuckled. "Only the first few days will be bad," he said. "After that, the pain will slowly fade."


    Arran nodded.


    "The first moments will be the worst," Lord Jiang said. "Once it starts, use the circulation technique to support your body as it adjusts to the Essence flowing from your Realms. After a while, it should become more bearable."


    Arran nodded again, mentally bracing himself for what was about to come. He felt some nervousness, but he suppressed his worries. Right now, all he could do was face the matter before him.


    "Are you ready?" Lord Jiang asked.


    "Do it," Arran said, unwilling to wait any longer.


    Lord Jiang reached out with his hand and placed it on Arran''s head. He briefly closed his eyes, and then, suddenly, a sharp pain exploded in Arran''s body as a vast tide of Essence surged into him.


    Gritting his teeth, Arran endured the pain, trying not to scream. He was only partly successful.


    Unlike the times he had taken Realm Opening Pills, this time, the rush of Essence was immediate, raging inside his body at full strength in an instant. The pain was overwhelming, and no part of his body was spared. It was as if a hundred thousand needles were being stuck into him at the same time.


    As he felt more and more Essence surge into his body, the pain intensified even further, and he was having trouble just staying conscious.


    "Use the circulation technique!" Arran could only barely make out Lord Jiang''s voice over the storm that raged inside of him, and his pain-riddled mind took some moments to process the words.


    He felt a hint of panic as he realized that he had nearly slipped into consciousness. If that happened, he would be unable to prevent the pressure from building up further, in which case he thought he might not wake up.


    With a push of effort, he forced himself to perform the circulation technique. At first, he struggled, but slowly he felt the pressure within him reduce, and although the pain did not lessen, focusing his attention on maintaining the circulation technique allowed him to better withstand it.


    Eyes closed and unmoving, he gradually managed to concentrate entirely on performing the circulation technique over and over again, closing his mind to any distractions. Endlessly, he circulated the torrent of Essence within him through his body, careful not to let his attention slip for even a moment.


    Between the pain that wracked his body and the need to focus all his attention on the technique, he soon lost track of time. There was only the endless deluge of Essence that tortured his body, and the constant need to focus every single bit of his mind and all his willpower on maintaining the circulation technique.


    Arran spent the days that followed sitting in the same spot, continuously using the circulation technique to support his body as it slowly adjusted to the power that now flowed inside it. Whenever he stopped using the technique for more than a moment he could quickly feel a pressure rising within him, and he knew that the only thing he could do to stay safe was to maintain the technique.


    He had long since lost any sense of time when the tempest within him finally began to subside. The change was almost unnoticeable at first, but gradually, the pain grew less intense, and the pressure within him no longer made him feel as if he could burst apart at any moment.


    As the pain lessened, Arran was now able to focus some of his attention on inspecting the changes within him, and he eagerly did so. Eyes closed, he carefully examined his Realms, anxious to see what had changed since his battle against Stormleaf.


    He quickly found that his Fire and Wind Realms had grown incomparably stronger than they were in the past. Where they previously were small founts of Essence, now, Essence poured forth from them like water rushing down a waterfall.


    Under the constant pressure of that endless stream of Essence, the Essence within him seemed to have changed as well. Before, it had been a thin fog of power that filled his body. Now, it was a mist so thick it was almost liquid.


    More time passed, and steadily, Arran''s body seemed to adjust further as he constantly maintained the circulation technique. It was as if his body was absorbing part of the power that flowed through him, using it to strengthen itself against the very Essence from which it drew that power.


    When the pain had disappeared almost completely, Arran let go of the circulation technique. For a moment he felt the pressure within him rise once more, and he was about to start using the circulation technique again when suddenly, the rise slowed, then came to a halt. At last, it seemed to have stabilized.


    Arran spent some moments anxiously waiting to see if something unexpected would happen, ready to take action if needed. But nothing happened, and although the pressure of the Essence within him still felt uncomfortable, he knew that he was no longer in danger.


    He finally relaxed, letting out a deep sigh of relief. The sigh turned into a yawn, and moments later, he was asleep.

 Chapter 44 Newfound Power

    When Arran awoke, he immediately felt a flood of Essence within his body. It took him a moment to recall what happened, and when he did, he was relieved that he had survived the ordeal unscathed.


    He was lying on the grass, surrounded by trees, but he found himself covered with a blanket. When he sat up, he saw that Lord Jiang was sitting on the grass next to him.


    "Finally awake, are you?" Lord Jiang said with a chuckle. "It took you long enough."


    Arran groaned in discomfort. His body still felt tired, and he was tense from the pressure of the Essence inside of him. Although there was no real pain anymore, the constant pressure made just sitting tiresome, as if he was constantly holding up a large weight.


    "How long will this last?" he asked, feeling slightly miserable.


    "You will gradually start to feel better," Lord Jiang said, "and the worst of it should be over in a few hours. For now, eat something. It will help you recover."


    Arran saw that there were half a dozen plates filled with various kinds of food on the ground next to Lord Jiang, most of it meat. Tired as he was, even eating seemed like too much effort for him to handle. Yet just as he was about to say that he wasn''t hungry, he felt his stomach rumble.


    "You haven''t eaten in three days," Lord Jiang said, with a look at Arran. "Eat. You need it."


    Arran started to eat, reluctantly at first. After just a few bites he felt the familiar warm glow of Natural Essence, and the weariness in his body seemed to melt away like snow before a fire. As his fatigue disappeared his hunger grew, and before long, he had already finished half the food Lord Jiang had put out.


    He could sense that the glow of Natural Essence was unusually strong, and with a start, he realized that this food was even more potent than the feast they had eaten when they first arrived at Lord Jiang''s estate.


    "Is this¡­?" he began.


    "I thought that after the past days, you could do with some extra support," Lord Jiang said with a smile. "These are some of the finest pieces from my personal stock."


    Arran understood the value of what he was being given, and he accepted the gift gratefully. He knew that right now, it was extremely beneficial to him.


    "Thank you," he said, bowing his head.


    "Just enjoy it," Lord Jiang said. Laughing, he added, "It will be quite a while before you taste something like this again."


    Arran dug in again, though he ate more slowly this time, savoring both the taste of the food and the sensation of Natural Essence flowing into him and replenishing his body.


    Finally, he finished the last of the food. He stared in wonder at the empty plates, amazed at the amount he had just eaten. By sheer volume, it was enough to feed a small family for a week.


    Lord Jiang nodded in approval. "Good," he said. "With that, you should have an easier time recovering."


    "I can feel the effects," Arran said. "Now that I''ve eaten, maybe it''s time for me to test out my power?"


    He was eager to find out just how much Essence he could draw with his newly unsealed Realms. From what he could tell, it should be far more than before.


    Lord Jiang laughed. "Don''t be impatient. Before you start using magic, you need to give your body time to recover. Spend some hours using the circulation technique, and after that, you can go toss around your magic."


    Arran nodded. "How long do I need?" he asked. Although he knew Lord Jiang was right, he was still impatient to test his powers.


    "Two or three hours should be enough," Lord Jiang said. "I have some business to take care of right now. You focus on strengthening your body, and when I return, we will see what you can do."


    As Lord Jiang left, Arran sat down and started practicing the circulation technique.


    After just a few moments, he knew Lord Jiang had been right ¡ª as he used the technique he could feel his body shedding the last of the fatigue he had felt earlier, regaining the strength he had expended. His body eagerly absorbed the Natural Essence that had been contained in Lord Jiang''s precious foods, and soon, he felt better than he had even before the seals on his Realms were broken.


    By the time Lord Jiang returned, Arran felt completely renewed, as if he had just enjoyed several months of rest.


    Lord Jiang gave him a glance. "From the look of you, I''d almost think I''ve been too generous with the food," he said with a laugh. Then, he added, "But you must be impatient to test your power. Want to give it a try?"


    Eagerly, Arran got up. "Can I?"


    "Go ahead," Lord Jiang said. "Just be careful not to overextend yourself."


    "I will," Arran replied. Then, he raised his hand and started directing Fire Essence toward it.


    "Turn around," Lord Jiang said. With a laugh, he added, "As strong as you are now, I don''t want you throwing your power toward the buildings."


    Arran did as the man said. Then, once more, he started gathering Essence within his hand.


    At first, he had some difficulty. It had been many months since he last practiced with Fire, and it took him a little while to regain his old level of control.


    After a few failed tries, he finally succeeded, and he was shocked at the amount of Essence he held. While it wasn''t as much as what he had controlled right after he took the ten Realm Opening Pills, it was still many times more than he had held before that night.


    He looked toward Lord Jiang. "Can I¡­?" he asked, feeling a bit hesitant.


    "Go ahead," Lord Jiang replied. "As long as you throw it in that direction."


    Arran grinned eagerly. Then, with a surge of effort, he thrust out his hand, expelling the massed Essence all at once. The utter power of it almost overwhelmed him, but his will held strong, and a raging mass of fire rushed forth.


    It was the size of a small house, but although the sheer size of it shocked Arran, what truly amazed him was the effect.


    The mass of fire soared through the air, flying at least a hundred paces and completely obliterating the trees and shrubs in its way. In its wake, all that remained was a vast scorch mark, as wide as a road.


    Arran stared in disbelief, and he felt a wide grin appear on his face.


    "Don''t be too satisfied," Lord Jiang said. "While you''re handling a tremendous amount of magic, right now, it lacks the focus needed to have true power. Mages of the adept level and beyond could easily withstand it."


    Arran was disappointed, but he knew Lord Jiang was right about his lack of focus. Even before the battle against Stormleaf, he had trouble controlling and focusing his Essence. Now that he had far more of it, his control had only weakened further.


    "No need to look gloomy," Lord Jiang said. "You have all the power you could want ¡ª enough to match even the strongest adepts. Now, all you need to do is practice."


    Arran looked again at the scorched earth before him. With a frown, he asked, "Is there somewhere else I can practice? I don''t want to ruin the estate."


    "Don''t worry," Lord Jiang said. "As long as you stay here, it doesn''t matter. I will be leaving soon, and by the time I return, everything here will have long since regrown."


    Arran felt a brief moment of sadness when he remembered that he would not be here for much longer, and that he would have to travel to the Shadowflame Society by himself.


    With a shake of his head, he forced himself to suppress the feeling. Right now, he needed to practice, and there was a lot of work he had to do before he left.

 Chapter 45 Lord Jiangs Gifts

    As the days passed, Arran became increasingly proficient at handling the vast amount of Essence he now had at his disposal.


    Each day, he would spend hours training in the abandoned part of the estate, drawing Essence from his Realms and sending great balls of fire and gusts of wind into the distance, scorching and uprooting trees.


    The training paid off, with Arran''s control over the Essence strengthening and his attacks growing smaller but denser. The fireballs he produced were only half their previous size, but they burned far more intensely, radiating a searing heat as they soared through the air.


    Although Arran could not be certain, he thought that by now, he could probably harm even adepts using nothing but magic. Adding in the physical strength he had gained through Lord Jiang''s Body Refinement techniques, and he thought he should have a decent chance at surviving a fight against an adept.


    His relentless training turned this part of the estate into a ruined wasteland, filled with the charred remnants of trees, but Lord Jiang did not seem to mind the destruction of his property. Whenever he visited, he merely observed Arran as he practiced, occasionally commenting on his progress.


    Several times, Arran tried to speak to Jiang Fei, but each time he found her busy. After the first week he started to wonder whether he had angered her in some way, but with her unwilling to talk to him, there was no way for him to find out what was wrong.


    Toward the end of his final two weeks at the estate, Lord Jiang approached him as he was practicing in the ruined part of the estate.


    "From the damage you''ve done to my gardens," Lord Jiang said. "I can tell that you''re getting stronger."


    Arran''s face flushed. "I''m sorry, I¡ª"


    "Don''t apologize," Lord Jiang said. "I''m the one who told you to practice here. But enough of that. There''s something else we need to talk about before we part ways."


    "What is it?" Arran asked.


    "Follow me," Lord Jiang said.


    Arran did as the man said, following him through the estate. The walk took them several miles, and finally, they reached a small wooden building. It looked well-built but otherwise unremarkable, and Arran wondered why Lord Jiang had brought him here.


    "This is my home," Lord Jiang explained. "Follow me inside."


    When they entered the building, Arran could see that it was sober to the point of austerity. The main room had no decorations apart from a few pieces of simple wooden furniture, and the walls were bare. To Arran''s eyes, it looked like the kind of home where a peasant might live ¡ª the kind of home in which Arran himself had grown up.


    Seeing the surprise on Arran''s face, Lord Jiang laughed.


    "I''ve never been one for grand displays," he said. "It''s comfortable and easy to clean, and that''s enough for me."


    Arran nodded, although he wondered whether Lord Jiang actually cleaned his own quarters. While it fit the man''s personality, the thought of Lord Jiang using his massive physique to sweep the floors seemed ridiculous to him.


    "I have some things for you," Lord Jiang said. "Gifts to help you on your travels."


    "There''s no need for gifts," Arran said quickly. "After all you''ve done for me, I couldn''t accept anything else."


    "I just want to make sure you don''t waste my hard work by dying," Lord Jiang said with a grin. "No more objections. You will accept my gifts." He took a void bag from a large chest at the side of the room as he spoke.


    "Alright," Arran said, although he still felt uncomfortable accepting even more from Lord Jiang after the man had already given him so much help.


    "First, I have a weapon for you," Lord Jiang said. "I think you will find it to your liking."


    He produced a bow from the void bag and handed it to Arran. It was made from a pale white material that Arran did not recognize, and it was remarkably heavy.


    When he examined it, Arran found that it had an astonishingly heavy draw, far beyond the bow he had bought for himself several weeks ago. He realized that with the strength it would require to draw, this bow could only be used by those who practiced Body Refinement.


    "What is it made from?" he asked.


    "Dragonbone." Seeing Arran''s shocked expression, he laughed, then continued, "It isn''t made from the actual bones of a dragon. Dragonbone is a rare type of wood, named for its toughness. With this, you can skewer an adept at a thousand paces ¡ª provided he doesn''t deflect the arrow, of course."


    "Thank you!" Arran said, understanding just how formidable a weapon like this would be. Being able to kill an adept at a thousand paces was something that might save his life many times over.


    Lord Jiang gave him a grin, then handed him the void bag. "Inside, you will find my other gifts."


    Arran accepted the void bag and found it unbound. As he bound it with a trickle of Essence, he examined the contents, and immediately he was shocked. Inside, there were at least a thousand heavy arrows, but more importantly, there was a vast stockpile of food.


    "Is this¡­?"


    "All of the food inside is infused with Natural Essence," Lord Jiang said. "It''s not as rare and powerful as what you''ve been eating this past week, but there should be enough to help you continue your progress in Body Refinement for at least a year."


    Arran was speechless. While the bow was a magnificent treasure, this was far more valuable.


    Before he could find the words to express his gratitude, Lord Jiang cut him off with a wave. "Don''t mention it. Just don''t let my help go to waste."


    "I won''t," Arran said, silently vowing that he would honor Lord Jiang''s help by


    "There is one I have to ask of you," Lord Jiang said. "The things I have taught you are all considered valuable secrets of the Jiang Clan."


    "I promise I''ll keep them secret," Arran said hurriedly. After Lord Jiang''s help, he would not dare to betray his trust.


    Lord Jiang shook his head. "What I''m asking is that you do pass them on," he said.


    With a smile that carried a hint of sorrow, he continued, "For countless generations, the leaders of the clan have relied on these secrets to maintain their power, and it has turned them weak and spineless. Worse, in hiding these techniques, they have prevented others from improving them. It is time for a change. I will share my techniques with those I find worthy, even if they aren''t part of the clan. I want you to do the same."


    Arran nodded silently, aware of the great responsibility Lord Jiang had just given him.


    "Now go see Little Fei," Lord Jiang said. "There is something she wants to discuss with you."

 Chapter 46 Saying Goodbye

    When Arran arrived at Jiang Fei''s cottage, he found the door closed, but some noises came from inside. He knocked on the door, then waited.


    "One moment!" Jiang Fei''s muffled voice sounded through the door.


    When she finally opened the door, Arran was startled at her appearance. Her hair was disheveled and there were dark rings around her eyes, as if she hadn''t slept in days.


    "Sorry for making you wait," she said with a faint smile. "Come in."


    As he entered, Arran saw that the main room of the cottage was in a state of chaos. The floor was littered with scrolls and piles of books, and he wondered just what Jiang Fei had been doing these past two weeks.


    "Are you okay?" he asked. By now, he was beginning to feel worried about her.


    "I''m fine," she said, although she didn''t look it. "I''ve just been slightly busy."


    "Was that why you couldn''t see me earlier?" Arran asked, thinking of how little he had seen of her in the previous two weeks.


    She nodded wearily. "There were some things I had to finish before we leave."


    "What could be so important?" Arran asked.


    "I''ll show you," Jiang Fei replied. "Now, where did I put¡­"


    Without waiting for a reply, she started rummaging through the scrolls and books on the floor. Although Arran wondered how anyone could possibly find anything amid the chaos, she emerged after just a few moments, holding two scrolls in her hands.


    "These are for you," she said, handing the scrolls to Arran.


    "What are these?" Arran asked. As he looked at the scrolls he could see that there was fresh handwriting on them, and he realized it belonged to Jiang Fei.


    "The first contains my notes on Adept Kadir''s Windblade spell," Jiang Fei said. "I know he gave you the spell when we left the monastery, but I also know you haven''t spent any time studying it yet. With these notes, you should have an easier time learning it."


    Arran blanched as he realized he had all but forgotten about Adept Kadir''s gift. The past half year he had spent on Body Refinement, and he hadn''t given a single thought to learning the spell the man had given him.


    "The second," Jiang Fei continued, "explains how to use Master Fireheart''s Shadow seals. Your Shadow seals were broken before you had a chance to learn them, so I have spent the past two weeks writing down everything I know about them for you. It should be enough for you to learn how to make your own seals."


    "Thank you," Arran said, although he knew mere thanks were nowhere near enough for what Jiang Fei had done for him. He now understood why she had vanished for two weeks, and why she looked so exhausted ¡ª writing these scrolls was months worth of work, and she had done it in just two weeks.


    "You don''t need to thank me," she replied. "Just promise me that you''ll study both of them every day."


    "I will try," Arran said.


    Jiang Fei firmly shook her head. "Every. Day."


    "Alright," Arran said. "You have my word." After Jiang Fei''s efforts, that was the least he could do.


    Jiang Fei smiled, a satisfied look on her face. "There''s another thing I have for you," she said.


    "You''ve already given me too much," Arran replied. "I can''t accept more."


    She ignored his words and walked over to one of the wooden closets on the side of the room, where she took out a black bundle of cloth which she gave to Arran.


    "It''s a robe," she said. "Try it on. You can change in the bedroom."


    Arran did as she said, careful not to step on any of the scrolls that were littering the floor as he walked to the bedroom.


    The robe was simple and black, made from a silk-like fabric that was thick but supple, and lacking any unnecessary adornments. As soon as Arran put it on he could tell it was well-made, and it fit his body as if it had been made for him.


    When he stepped out of the bedroom, a smile appeared on Jiang Fei''s face.


    "Good," she said. "Much better than those awful coats you like so much."


    "I wear those for a reason," Arran objected. Although he liked the armored coats, his main reason for wearing them was the protection they offered.


    "They make you look like a thug," Jiang Fei said flatly. "But you won''t need them anymore. The robe is enchanted, and it should be strong enough to stop an arrow or a sword."


    "Enchanted?" Arran frowned as he spoke.


    He knew little about enchantment, although he was reminded of the Memory Amulet he had taken from a group of bandits many months ago. Master Zhao had told him there were enchanting techniques inside, but to this day, Arran had been unable to sense the contents.


    Putting aside his thoughts about the amulet, he asked, "How did you get your hands on an enchanted robe?"


    Jiang Fei blushed. "I begged Uncle Bear for something I could give to you," she said. "It took some pleading, but he finally gave me this robe. It''s one he wore himself when he was younger."


    Arran marveled at the thought of Lord Jiang being thin enough to fit in the robe, and he wondered just how many centuries ago that had been.


    Suddenly, Jiang Fei stepped forward, and before Arran could react she hugged him. For several moments they stood silently, bodies pressed together. Finally, Jiang Fei broke the embrace, and when she stepped back, Arran could see there were tears in her eyes.


    "I will miss you," she said. Her voice trembled as she spoke.


    "I will miss you too," he replied, realizing that it was true.


    He did not know exactly when it had happened, but during the time they had spent together, they had grown increasingly close. Now, Arran found himself wishing they did not have to part ways.


    They spent the hours that followed together, talking to each other while walking through the estate''s gardens. As they walked, Arran felt the urge to take Jiang Fei''s hand, but each time he was about to do so, he felt a sudden wave of anxiousness.


    He had fought to the death against bandits, a Jiang Clan swordsman, and even Academy mages. Yet now, he found himself anxious at the thought of holding Jiang Fei''s hand.


    He shook his head at the absurdity of his sudden nervousness, and ignoring his hesitation, he reached out, taking Jiang Fei''s hand in his own.


    To his relief, she accepted his hand quietly, moving closer to him as they kept walking. They talked about trivial things, both of them unwilling to discuss their imminent separation.


    Finally, the light of the day began to fade.


    "Will we see each other again?" Arran asked.


    "We will," Jiang Fei said. "I''ll make sure of it. Just¡­ promise me you won''t die."


    Arran frowned. "I''ll definitely try to¡ª"


    "That''s not good enough," she interrupted him. "Promise me."


    "I promise," Arran said.


    Even without the promise, he would, of course, do whatever he could to stay alive, no matter how many dead Academy mages and bandits it took. If that still wasn''t enough¡­ well, it wasn''t like Jiang Fei could get angry at him if he was unable to keep the promise.


    "You should go pack your things now," Jiang Fei said. "After that, we''ll go see Uncle Bear."


    Arran frowned. "Pack my things? I thought I still had a few days left."


    Jiang Fei shook her head. "You have to leave tonight, before we do. The fewer people who know where you are, the better. After the fight with the Redstone branch, there will be people looking for revenge. Uncle Bear can protect me, but you¡­ you will be by yourself."


    Less than an hour later, Arran was walking with Jiang Fei and Lord Jiang along the outer wall of the estate. They had already said their goodbyes, and now, Arran was about to leave ¡ª to travel to the Shadowflame Society, by himself.


    "It should be right around here," Lord Jiang said. "Ah! There it is!"


    He pointed toward a seemingly unremarkable part of the wall. Only when Arran looked very closely could he make out a small door that had been painted to blend in with the rest of the wall.


    "This leads to a small path outside the estate," Lord Jiang said as he opened the door. "If you follow it for an hour or two, you should be able to bypass the city unnoticed."


    Arran nodded. The idea of leaving still filled him with worry, but there was nothing he could do about that now. At this point, all he could do was move ahead.


    "One last thing," Lord Jiang said. "That starmetal sword of yours¡­ Take good care of it. As you use it, it will grow more powerful."


    "Thank you," Arran said with a nod. "For everything."


    "Don''t mention it," Lord Jiang replied. "I¡­ ah, I will leave the two of you alone now. Good travels, and stay safe."


    With a last wave, Lord Jiang walked off, disappearing into the shadows moments later.


    When Arran looked at Jiang Fei, he could see that her eyes were wet with tears. He tried to think of something to say, but no words would come. They stood there for a while, neither of them saying anything.


    Finally, he leaned forward, putting his arm around her and pulling her close as he kissed her. The kiss lasted for some moments, and when they parted, Arran could feel his heart racing in his chest.


    "We''ll meet again," he said.


    As he set stepped outside, he briefly felt some sorrow, both for leaving Jiang Fei and for the end of his time at the estate.


    He knew that the road ahead was a dangerous one, and that it would be a long time before he would be safe again.

 Chapter 47 Leaving Silvermere

    The first days after he left Lord Jiang''s estate, Arran traveled at night, hiding out during the days and taking care not to be seen when he was out in the open.


    When he was a week''s travel from Silvermere, he began to travel by day. By then, he thought there was little risk of being recognized, and even if someone did recognize him, by the time word reached Silvermere he would be long gone.


    The lands to the west of Silvermere were rough, filled with rocky hills and dense forests, but the roads were well-maintained, and he made good distance with every day of travel. Still wary of being seen, he spent the first weeks avoiding any towns and villages along the way. Instead, he camped out in the wilderness each night.


    He did not mind the lack of comfort. Lord Jiang''s void bag contained enough food to last him well over a year, and although the nights were cold, he found that he could easily warm his body by circulating Fire Essence through it.


    His only gripe was the rain, which battered down on him incessantly. It was bad enough when he traveled during the day, but at night, finding dry shelter proved almost impossible. He had a large piece of oilcloth that he used for cover, but even with that, more often than not he would be soaked by sunrise.


    After a month, he decided he had enough.


    Although he could warm himself and dry his clothes with Fire Essence, the cold and damp nights made him miserable. Putting aside his worries about being seen, he stopped avoiding the villages and towns along the road, instead spending his nights in inns whenever he found them.


    His mood further improved when he bought a large oilskin tent in one of the towns he passed. Although it was made to be carried in a cart, he found that it easily fit into his void bag. Setting it up took the better part of an hour, but it made his nights far more comfortable than they had been, and he cursed himself for not having thought of it earlier.


    Each day, he made sure to study Jiang Fei''s notes on the Windblade spell and the Shadow seals. While he had less interest in spellcasting than he did in Body Refinement, after the work Jiang Fei had done to provide the notes he could not bring himself to ignore them.


    Despite his lack of enthusiasm the work paid off, and as the weeks passed he started to see some progress. He was still a long way off from mastering either skill, but he could tell he was steadily approaching the point where he would be able to execute them, albeit clumsily.


    What little time he had left after travel and studies, he spent practicing his control of Essence and improving his Body Refinement techniques. Here, too, his progress was steady if unremarkable, and he could feel that he was still growing stronger.


    For several months, his travels were uneventful.


    He had taken to wearing his armored coat ¡ª despite what Jiang Fei said, he thought a fine robe wasn''t suitable for travel ¡ª and he found that being dressed like a soldier or mercenary was a good way to ward off bandits and other unwanted attention.


    With that, few people bothered him, and whenever he entered a village or town he found himself mostly ignored by the locals. Traveling mercenaries were common enough to not stand out, yet dangerous enough to be avoided by most normal folk.


    It was on a rare sunny day that he walked into one of the many unremarkable towns that were scattered along the road, and immediately, he could tell something was off. The townsfolk''s eyes lit up in recognition as they saw him, and several of them scurried off when he passed.


    Although Arran promptly knew there was danger ahead, there was little he could do to change it now. Even if he tried to run, whoever was after him would surely find him. So, ignoring the urge to run off, he continued through the city, albeit more cautiously.


    When he reached the town square, he found it completely empty except for a dozen guards, their weapons already drawn. It was obvious that they had been expecting him.


    At the head of the group was a short man with a sharp face, who looked to be their captain. The group approached him warily, finally forming a half-circle around him.


    "Halt!" the captain said. "You are wanted for murder!"


    Arran frowned. "Whose murder would that be?" he asked.


    While he wasn''t too worried about these town guards, he looked around cautiously, to see if any real danger was lurking at the sides of the town square. The guards themselves posed little threat to him, but someone might be using them as a distraction. Yet he found nothing, and he turned his attention back to the captain.


    "A group of Jiang Clan members say you murdered an heir to the Redstone branch," the sharp-faced man replied.


    Instantly, Arran understood the situation, and he felt some relief upon realizing that it wasn''t the Academy that was after him. From what little he knew of the Redstone branch of the Jiang Clan, their strongest fighters in the region should be adepts at best.


    "And they asked you to arrest me?" Arran asked, raising an eyebrow. He could not imagine that even the Redstone branch would be foolish enough to try to use common town guards to hold a mage.


    "They asked us to send word if we saw you," the captain said. "Now that you''re here, we will hold you until they return."


    "Hold me? You?" With a frown, Arran used Fire Essence to create a head-sized fireball that hovered above his outstretched left hand.


    In an instant, the captain''s face paled as he seemed to realize his mistake, and several of his men stepped back in fear. Yet to his credit, the captain himself did not seem to be cowed completely.


    "You might be able to kill us," he said with a grim look, "but even if you do, you will be punished for your crimes."


    "I have no interest in killing you, nor in harming any of the townsfolk," Arran said. "The men who asked you to help are rebels of the Jiang Clan, and enemies of Lord Jiang of Silvermere."


    The captain''s face twisted in shock upon hearing Lord Jiang''s name. "How do we know we can trust you?" he asked, voice now filled with hesitation.


    "For a start," Arran began, "I haven''t killed you yet, despite you drawing your weapons against me without provocation." He let the fireball above his hand disappear. "More than that, right now, I am saving your town from a disaster."


    "A disaster?" the captain''s voice trembled slightly as he spoke.


    "Just what do you think will happen to the town if mages battle here?" Arran asked. "Do you think even a single building would be left standing?"


    It was an exaggeration, but not a large one. With Arran''s current strength, the town truly would see serious damage if he was forced to use all his power.


    Hearing those words, the sharp-faced man finally lost his nerve. Threats to himself were one thing, but he was plainly unwilling to put the town at risk. He sheathed his sword, then motioned for his men to do the same.


    "I''ve already send word to them," he said, a miserable expression on his face. "They should return within an hour or two."


    "Then I suggest you lead me to them," Arran said. "I will face them outside the town."


    "You''re actually going to fight them?!" the captain asked, gaping at Arran in disbelief.


    "I don''t think you and the other townsfolk will fare well once those men learn you let me escape," Arran said.


    Of course, this wasn''t the whole truth. While Arran thought the townsfolk would indeed be in danger if he simply left, he also knew that if he didn''t face the Redstone men now, they would come looking for him. And even if he wasn''t certain of his chances facing them head-on, risking a knife to the back when he was asleep would certainly be more dangerous.


    "Come with me," the captain said. "If you''re going to fight them¡­" He shook his head, plainly unhappy with the situation. "I know a good place for an ambush."


    Arran did not object. He understood that after deciding to go against the Redstone men, the captain was now bound to him ¡ª if Arran was defeated, the Redstone men would undoubtedly seek revenge for the betrayal.


    "How many of them are there?" Arran asked as they walked out of town.


    "About two dozen," the captain said. "Are you sure you can handle them?"


    Arran shrugged. "We''ll have to find out, I suppose." Worrying now would do him little good in the battle ahead, so instead, he forced himself to calm his nerves.


    The answer did not satisfy the captain, and worry once more filled his face.


    "What''s your name?" Arran asked in an attempt to distract the man from the situation.


    "Yang He," the man responded. "I''m the captain of the town guard."


    "Well then, Captain Yang," Arran said, "You can call me Arran. You know, my father was a town guard when I grew up."


    They spoke as they walked, both of them eager to take their minds off the coming fight. From what Captain Yang told him, Arran learned that the town was little different from Riverbend, and he was glad of his decision to fight outside the town.


    Finally, they arrived at a steep hill on the side of the road.


    At once, Arran recognized it as a perfect spot for an ambush. It had enough trees to provide ample cover, and although it overlooked the road, the slope was steep enough that it would make it hard to assault.


    "This is the place," Captain Yang said, gesturing toward the hill.


    "Good," Arran said with a nod. Turning to Captain Yang, he added, "You had best leave now."


    To his surprise, Captain Yang shook his head. "I''m staying," the man said resolutely.


    "It will be dangerous," Arran replied. "And you won''t be of much help even if you stay."


    "I know," the man replied. "But my fate is already in your hands, so I might as well help." Suddenly, a grin appeared on his face. "Besides, I''ve always wanted to see mages battle."

 Chapter 48 Ambush

    Arran crouched atop the hill, carefully watching the road. The Redstone men could arrive any moment now, and when they did, he would attack as soon as they came within range.


    He took out the dragonbone bow and nocked an arrow.


    "You''re using a bow?" Captain Yang asked. Some doubt sounded in his voice. "I thought you''re a mage?"


    Arran chuckled even as he kept a close watch on the road below. Having bet his life on the belief that Arran was a powerful mage, Captain Yang was clearly worried at seeing him use so plain a weapon.


    "Did you expect me to just start throwing around great balls of fire?" he asked.


    Captain Yang did not respond for several seconds. I did, actually," he finally said.


    "It''s not a normal bow," Arran said with a grin. "Just wait and see."


    During the past few months of travel he had often practiced with the dragonbone bow, and he knew just how devastating a weapon it was. Even after months of practice, he was unable to fully draw the bow, yet already, the arrows would easily tear through thick trees.


    In truth, the bow was a large part of why he felt confident going up against the Redstone men. With his Body Refinement techniques, he would be able to loose at least a dozen arrows before they reached him, each powerful enough to kill even an adept with ease.


    As they waited for the Redstone men to appear, it took Arran some effort to stay calm. While he acted confidently for the sake of Captain Yang, this was the first real battle where he could not rely on Master Zhao or Lord Jiang to protect him.


    The only time he had faced such odds by himself was when he killed the bandits who had murdered his father, but then, he had not truly fought them, instead burning them as they slept. This time, there would be a real battle, and even if he was confident in his strength, he could not help but feel anxious.


    Finally, he saw a group of men emerge from the trees. They were still a good mile away and mostly hidden by the trees along the road, but as they approached, he felt a sense of foreboding.


    When he finally got a good look at them, all color drained from Arran''s face.


    "Run!" he said at once.


    "What? I thought¡ª" Captain Yang sounded non-plussed.


    "Run, now!" Arran hissed the words, his voice filled with urgency, and this time, Captain Yang did as he was told.


    Arran felt a wave of panic as he looked at the Redstone men. There were about two dozen of them, with the four in front on horseback. Of those four, there was one in white robes that marked him as an Academy mage.


    Arran cursed under his breath.


    For a moment, he considered fleeing. If he ran now, he would be miles away by the time they reached the town, and miles more when they returned. The townsfolk might suffer for his cowardice, but then, perhaps the Redstone men would show them mercy.


    He rejected the idea almost instantly. Even if he fled now, he knew that they would come after him. And with them this close, there was no way for him to evade them ¡ª eventually, they would catch up, and the fight would be on their terms, not his.


    His best choice, he thought, was to fight.


    He understood that the odds weren''t in his favor. If the Academy mage was a Grandmaster, he had no chance of winning. If he was merely a Master, then perhaps, there was a small chance of survival.


    With a shake of his head, he set his fears aside. Worrying would not help him now.


    Instead, he thought about how to defeat them. With an Academy mage there, hopefully a Master, his plan of attacking from a distance and making them attack while he whittled down their numbers would no longer work.


    At a distance, a Master would kill him with ease, sending magical attacks at Arran that he had no way to defend against. Yet he remembered that Lord Jiang had told him he had the physical strength of a Master himself, and there, he thought, lay his only chance.


    He would have to wait until they were close, then hit them with overwhelming force ¡ª taking them down before they had a chance to respond, and confronting the Academy mage with physical strength instead of Essence.


    Arrow nocked to his bow, he forced himself to wait as they approached. Five hundred paces, four hundred, three hundred¡­ The tension almost overwhelmed him, but he forced himself to remain calm.


    Now, they were two hundred paces away, but still, he waited.


    Finally, when they were just a hundred paces away, Arran used the Body Refinement technique to pull back the bowstring, then loosed a heavy arrow that soared through the air like a bolt of lightning. Immediately, he shot another, and then another. Before the first arrow struck, another two were already in the air.


    The first arrow struck the Academy mage squarely in the chest, and the man was torn from the saddle, his body flung to the ground. Less than a heartbeat later the second arrow soared through the air where the white-robed man had been a moment earlier, instead ripping through the head of one of the Redstone men. The third arrow went wide, tearing another of the horsemen from his saddle, then piercing the man who walked behind him.


    In an instant, at least three of the group were dead, and the Academy mage should be injured. Yet the fourth arrow suddenly stopped and shattered in mid-air, and Arran knew the mage still lived.


    Without hesitating, he threw the bow in his void bag and sprinted forward at full speed, at the same time gathering Fire Essence in both hands and flinging two massive fireballs toward his enemies.


    He wasn''t a moment too soon in moving, because as he ran, he suddenly heard a deafening roar, and a moment later he felt a searing heat behind him.


    He did not look back, instead using all the Fire Essence he could muster to throw another raging fireball into the group that was now only a few dozen paces ahead of him.


    The fireball covered his approach and he rushed toward the group, drawing his sword. The fireball exploded in their midst, and Arran was now close enough that he could feel the heat singe his face, but he did not slow down even as the sudden flash almost blinded him.


    The sudden blaze died down a moment later, but the air was still filled with smoke and ashes, as well as the stench of burned flesh. A silhouette appeared in the smoke in front of Arran, and he hacked at it with his sword. A sharp cry sounded as the sword connected, tearing through armor and flesh as if it was paper.


    Despite the chaos, Arran did not dare stand still for even a moment, and he rushed forward at another shape that appeared in the smoke. Another Redstone man died in an instant, but as the man died a sudden gust of wind came out of nowhere, clearing the smoke and ashes from the air.


    At once, both Arran and his opponents were exposed. At a glance, Arran saw that only a handful of the Redstone men were left standing, but his eye was immediately drawn to the Academy mage. Although the man''s white robe was drenched in blood, he was still standing, and a fireball was forming in his hand.


    Without stopping, Arran flung a blast of Air at the man ¡ª not a moment too soon, because at the same time, the mage threw a white-hot fireball at him. The fireball collided with Arran''s blast of Air, and although it wasn''t stopped, the impact sent it off course, causing it to hit one of the Redstone men instead. A moment later, the man''s charred body fell to the ground.


    Seeing this, Arran immediately rushed toward two of the remaining Redstone men, exchanging some quick blows with them while desperately hoping that the Academy mage would not go so far as to attack his own allies. Yet a moment later the mage threw another, larger fireball toward the three of them.


    The only thing that saved Arran was a quick use of the Body Refinement technique as he jumped to the side with inhuman strength, but even then, he only barely escaped. As the two men behind him died, he could feel that his left shoulder was badly burned.


    As he got to his feet, a young man appeared in front of him. At a glance, he could see the man''s nose was misshapen and he was missing his teeth, but he did not have time to give it any thought. He knew that the mage would already be preparing his next attack.


    "You! I will¡ª" the man began, raising his sword.


    Arran did not let him finish the words. Before the man could react, Arran rushed toward him, grabbing him with his left hand and flinging him toward the Academy mage. His body exploded in the air, hit by whatever spell the mage had just aimed at Arran.


    Arran turned toward the mage, sword drawn. Yet before he could attack, another fireball came rushing toward him, and he knew he was too late to dodge it.


    In a desperate effort, he struck the fireball with his sword. The sword was torn from his hands by the force of it, but a moment later he realized he was still alive.


    Without stopping to think, he rushed the mage, covering ten paces in the blink of an eye. Before the mage could launch another attack Arran was upon him, pulling the man to the ground and raining a hail of blows down on his face.


    The attack seemed to have taken the mage by surprise, and he did not react until Arran had already struck a dozen blows to his head. The man tried to raise his arms in defense even as he was lying on his back, but against Arran''s furious barrage of punches, it was no use.


    The dazed mage made some panicked sounds, as if he was trying to speak through the blood in his mouth, but Arran paid it no heed. He knew that if he gave the man even a second to recover, it would cost him his life.


    He kept punching with all his might, the mage''s blood splattering his face and getting in his eyes, but he did not cease even as the man stopped moving, blindly raining blows down on his head until he could feel the man''s skull shatter beneath his fists.


    Finally, he got to his feet, wiping the blood from his eyes. Now, he saw the scene of utter chaos and devastation around him, maimed, mangled and burned bodies strewn across the ground.


    He took a deep breath. For some moments, all he could feel was relief at still being alive.

 Chapter 49 Wounds of Battle

    Arran stood amid the carnage, panting in exhaustion. All told, the battle had taken less than two minutes, yet he had expended every bit of energy in his body.


    Now that the fight was over he became aware that he was injured, and after inspecting his body he was startled to find that there were more than a dozen injuries all over his body ¡ª burns, cuts, and bruises, none of which he remembered sustaining.


    Although Arran was hurt, his armored coat had taken most of the damage, and with a quick glance he could see that it was ruined beyond repair. Still, better the coat than him, he thought.


    It took him some time to catch his breath and slow his racing heartbeat. As the excitement of battle wore off, a deep sense of weariness set in, but he did not allow it to take hold of him just yet.


    He felt fear, too. During the fight, there had been no time to be scared, but now, he understood just how close he had come to dying. Although he wanted to believe that he had survived through his own skill, he knew that he owed much to luck.


    Once more, he was reminded of the need to get stronger. Even if he had been lucky this time, there were limits to luck, and he''d be a fool if he believed his luck would last forever.


    He shook his head, dismissing the thoughts. Right now he had other things to take care of, and after that, he would need rest.


    After a short search, he found his sword, which had been torn from his hands when he used it to block a fireball. He was relieved to find it unharmed, although it was covered in the blood of those he had slain. He carefully wiped it clean before sheathing it.


    Next, he searched through the belongings of his enemies, taking their weapons and the void bags of those who had them. He did not look at the bags'' contents as he took them, deciding that there would be time do so later.


    After taking the valuables off the Redstone men''s bodies, only the Academy mage was left. He approached the man''s corpse with some hesitation, some part of him still fearing that his defeated enemy would somehow suddenly rise again.


    Yet when he looked at the mage''s body, he understood that the man was well and truly defeated. Where his head had been there was now only a bloody pulp of blood and bone and brains, and Arran was shocked at the damage he had done in his desperate assault on the man.


    He shuddered as he remembered the fight. By all rights, the mage should have defeated him, and easily at that.


    Yet in that crucial moment, when Arran had attacked bare-handed without the slightest hesitation, the mage had wavered, and it had cost him his life.


    There was a valuable lesson there, Arran knew. In battle, even the briefest moment of doubt could prove fatal against a decisive opponent.


    Resisting the urge to gag at the sight and smell of the mage''s corpse, Arran searched the body, finding a slender sword and a void bag. He took both, then stood up.


    Just as he got to his feet, a voice sounded behind him.


    "Are you all right?"


    Arran spun around, sword drawn in an instant. He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw that it was Captain Yang.


    "You''re injured," the man said, worry clear on his face. As he approached, his eyes went wide with shock. "Your face!"


    With a frown, Arran touched his hand to his face. Instantly, he winced in pain as he felt that the left half of his face was badly burned. He could not recall being injured like that during the fight, but then, all his attention had been focused on defeating his enemies.


    "I''ll take you to a healer," Captain Yang said. With a look at the bodies strewn across the charred battleground, he added, "I''ll have my men bury the bodies."


    Arran was about to say he didn''t need a healer when he suddenly felt his legs go weak beneath his body. He only barely managed to remain standing, but it seemed his injuries were far more severe than he had realized.


    "Come," Captain Yang said, "I''ll help you."


    They slowly made their way back to the town, Captain Yang supporting Arran as they walked.


    "That was horrible," Captain Yang said after a time. "Even during my time at the Shadowflame Society, I never saw anything like it."


    Instantly, Arran all but forgot about the pain. "You were a member of the Shadowflame Society?"


    "No," the man replied. "I never made it past the selection."


    Just then, a call sounded. "Captain!"


    As they approached the town, the guards Arran had seen earlier came rushing toward them.


    Their first concern was with Captain Yang, and only when they saw that he was unharmed did their attention move to Arran.


    "Help me get him to my house," Captain Yang said. "And one of you go fetch the healer."


    ¡ª¡ª¡ª


    Although Arran''s injuries were serious, with the help of Lord Jiang''s circulation technique he recovered rapidly. Within a week, his wounds were all but healed, and even the burns on his face and shoulder were almost completely gone.


    "It really is something," Captain Yang said, shaking his head in wonder. Arran had stayed at the man''s house while he recovered, and several times a day, he would come to check on Arran''s recovery.


    "What is?" Arran asked.


    "You," Captain Yang answered with a laugh. "With your wounds, I half expected you to be dead within the week. But now, just look at you ¡ª it''s as if that battle didn''t even happen."


    "It''s a technique I learned some time ago," Arran said. "But some days ago, you said you tried to join the Shadowflame Society. Any more you could tell me about that?"


    "There''s not much to tell," Captain Yang replied. "Two ago, I went to one of the border cities, hoping to join the Shadowflame Society. I spent a good two years there, hoping to get selected." He sighed. "It never happened, so in the end, I came back here."


    "Selected?" Arran asked. "How does that work, exactly?"


    "It''s simple," Captain Yang said. "The border cities are full of people hoping to join the Shadowflame Society. Every once in a while, one of the members will appear and recruit a few dozen of them. But why are you so interested?"


    "I''m actually hoping to join the Shadowflame Society myself," Arran said.


    "You?" Captain Yang gave Arran a puzzled look. "But you''re already a mage. Why would you want to join them?"


    "I have my reasons," Arran replied. Although he liked the man, he still did not want to share his secrets. "But that selection you mentioned¡­ how does it work? How do they decide whom to recruit?"


    "It depends on who''s doing the recruiting," Captain Yang said. "Some take only the best fighters, while others prefer healers and herbalists and the like. I once saw a scribe get recruited ¡ª scrawny little girl, wouldn''t last a second in a fight." He scowled. "But she got in, and I didn''t."


    Arran nodded, a frown on his face. Before, he had assumed that joining the Shadowflame Society would be a simple matter of asking, but now, it seemed it might not be that easy.


    "Think I have a chance of getting in?" he asked.


    "You?" Captain Yang laughed. "Strong as you are, I imagine you could walk right in if you wanted. Though I still don''t see why a mage would want to join."


    Arran felt some relief at this. While it remained to be seen whether the man was right, his confidence helped soothe Arran''s worries.


    "I could take you with me," Arran said with a thought. "If you still want to join, I have ways to help you grow stronger."


    "A decade ago, I''d have taken you up on that," Captain Yang replied with a chuckle. "But my adventuring days are well behind me."


    Arran nodded, although he couldn''t help but feel slightly disappointed. As far as company went, he could do worse than Captain Yang.


    "There is another favor I have to ask of you, though," Captain Yang continued.


    "What is it?" Having spent the week as a guest at the man''s house, Arran figured the least he could do was hear out the request.


    "There''s a group of bandits about two weeks'' travel west of here," Captain Yang said. "They''ve been attacking merchants and traders for the past few months. There''s a few dozen of them, too many for my men to handle."


    "You want me to take care of them?" Arran asked.


    Captain Yang nodded. "If you could, I''d be in your debt. There''s no mages among them, as far as I''ve heard, so you should have an easy time of it. And it''s along the road to the Shadowflame Society, so it shouldn''t take up too much time."


    Arran gave it some thought. "I''ll take a look," he finally said. "I can''t promise anything, but if there aren''t any mages with them, I''ll make sure they won''t bother any travelers again."


    Captain Yang smiled broadly. "That''s all I was hoping to hear," he said. "But first, you should make sure you''re fully recovered. Another week or two wouldn''t hurt."


    "I''ll be ready to leave in a few days," Arran replied.


    Even if he enjoyed the soft bed and warm meals, he was anxious to be on his way again, all the more so after his most recent battle. The more he experienced the more he understood that he needed strength to survive, and there was little strength to be gained from resting in comfort.


    Another two days, he decided, and he would depart.

 Chapter 50 The Bandit Fortress

    Arran''s stay at Captain Yang''s house had lasted longer than he had intended. While his wounds had healed quickly at first, recovering fully wasn''t quite as fast as he had expected.


    In the end, he remained with Captain Yang for a little over two weeks, enjoying both the man''s hospitality and the calm and quiet of the small town where he lived.


    By then his wounds had healed fully, and he knew it was time to go ¡ª even if he wouldn''t have minded staying another few weeks.


    He left after saying his goodbyes to Captain Yang, leaving behind some gold despite the man''s protests. After two weeks at his house and the help Captain Yang had given him in facing the Redstone men, Arran figured he owed him at least that much.


    The start of his journey was quick, without any unforeseen delays or unwanted encounters. Nor, for that matter, was there any rain, and the clear skies soon lifted Arran''s spirits.


    Finally, he reached the area that was supposed to hold the bandit stronghold, but finding it turned out to be harder than he expected. For two days he searched in vain, scouting the hills and forests around the road without result.


    He found the stronghold through sheer luck when he spotted a patrol of armed men whom he followed back to the stronghold. The stronghold, it turned out, was actually a sizable castle, with several dozens of guards posted on the walls.


    At once, he understood that Captain Yang had been mistaken about the bandits'' strength. Or, he thought, the man had lied to him, afraid that Arran would back down if he knew what he was facing.


    Hidden in a copse of trees atop a hill that overlooked the castle, he gave the matter some thought. Eventually, he decided that Captain Yang must have been unaware of the bandits'' true strength. Lying would have been pointless ¡ª there was no way Arran could have failed to notice their strength before attacking.


    The sight of the castle caused him some concern. Not because of the guards ¡ª if they weren''t mages, their numbers were useless ¡ª but because he feared that with a stronghold like that, there could be mages as well.


    For a full day and night, he observed the castle, watching the patrols as they entered and left. Although he saw plenty of bandits, none of them appeared to be mages, and he was considering attacking.


    "I would advise against it," a voice sounded behind Arran.


    Startled, he spun around, his hand immediately reaching for his sword.


    "I would advise against that, too."


    The man who spoke was old and short, five feet at most, with a head full of tousled white hair and a wrinkled face. He was wearing a white robe, and at once, Arran feared the worst.


    Although the man did not look imposing, Arran could sense an aura of terrifying power emanating from him.


    "Who are you?" Arran asked, voice trembling. "Are you with the Academy?"


    "Who I am is my business," the man said calmly. "But you can call me Senecio. As for the Academy, I suppose you could say I am with them."


    The moment the words left the man''s mouth, Arran reached for his sword. Friendly though the man might seem, if he was with the Academy, Arran''s life was in danger. Yet as he tried to draw his sword, he found himself unable to move.


    "I told you not to do that," Senecio said. "Now stop fretting. I am here for matters far more important than some child with a forbidden Realm."


    At this, Arran''s eyes went wide with shock. "You know?!" he asked.


    "I know about your forbidden Realm, and the mages you killed. None of that is any concern of mine."


    Although Arran felt some slight relief at the man''s words, he was far from comfortable. "Why are you here?" he asked.


    "To take care of something that does need my attention," Senecio replied. "Now, are you going to follow me, or do you insist on asking more pointless questions?"


    "Follow you?" Arran was dumbfounded. Just a moment ago he had thought the man would kill him, but instead, he was being treated like a student.


    "Do you make a habit of that? Repeating people''s words back to them with a sheepish look on your face?" The old man frowned. "Yes, follow me. You are here to take care of those bandits, are you not?"


    "I am," Arran said.


    "Then follow." Without any further words, Senecio began walking toward the castle, looking more like a feeble old man on his way to a teahouse than a powerful mage about to do battle.


    Arran hesitated, but only for a moment. Curiosity won out over caution, and against his better judgment, he followed the old man.


    As they approached the castle calls of alarm sounded, and just moments later a group of several dozen armed bandits came rushing toward them.


    The bandits did not cause Arran much worry, but his hand still shot toward his sword. If needed, he would be ready to fight.


    Senecio did not react even as the bandits approached him, instead simply continuing onward as if they weren''t there. Somewhat anxious, Arran followed behind him, ready to spring into action.


    Arran soon discovered that his help wasn''t needed. As the bandits neared the old man, they suddenly froze in place. A second later, there was a brief flash of light, and then the men''s bodies were gone, replaced by a red mist that dissipated almost immediately.


    Senecio kept walking as if nothing had happened.


    Despite his experiences over the past year, the sight of it filled Arran with shock. He understood that the old man was at least as strong as Master Zhao, if not stronger.


    When they approached the castle walls, Arran could see several archers atop them, loosing arrows at Senecio and Arran. Like the bandits who had attacked them earlier, the arrows froze in mid-air, then turned into a thin mist. The archers met the same fate only moments later.


    Through all of this, Senecio had not once paid any of the attackers even the slightest bit of attention, acting as if they did not exist.


    The old man approached the castle wall, and still, he did not pause or hesitate. He kept walking at the same slow pace, and as he neared the wall it began to crumble rapidly, leaving only a thin layer of dust before him.


    The old man walked onward, passing through the newly opened gap in the wall. Several times more they were attacked, but none of the attackers lasted more than a second or two.


    Finally, they entered the castle, passing over the dust of what had been a thick wooden door only moments earlier.


    Inside was a large, dimly lit hall, and at the far end of it, Arran could see a tall man.


    As they approached the man, Arran saw that there was something off about his appearance. He was taller than anyone Arran had ever seen, with shoulders so wide as to seem inhuman. Atop his head, Arran saw what he at first took to be a helmet, yet as they drew nearer, he realized that the man''s head had a pair of large horns, like those of a bull.


    Arran''s eyes widened when he recognized that the man was no man at all. Instead, it was a demonic-looking creature, with black-red skin and crimson eyes, standing at least eight feet tall, if not more.


    "Old man," the creature spoke. Its voice was unnaturally deep, and there was something alien about the way it formed sounds, as if it wasn''t used to speaking the human tongue. "So you''re still here."


    "That I am," the old man replied.


    "With or without you, this world will fall," the creature spoke. It bared its dagger-like teeth in a hideous imitation of a grin.


    "Perhaps," Senecio said. "But you won''t be here to see it."


    The creature let out an angry growl. In an instant, it rushed forward in attack, stretching out its clawed hands toward Senecio.


    Around the creature, strands of darkness swirled like hundreds of tentacles, turning everything they touched into a fine black dust. The sight of it filled Arran with horror.


    Senecio stretched out his right arm just as the creature was about to reach him, and in an instant, it was frozen in place.


    "You didn''t think that would work, did you?" the old man said in a mocking tone.


    The creature roared, looking as if it struggled against the invisible bonds that held it. Around the creature, the strands of darkness seemed to tremble, and a deep red color appeared in some of them. Soon, it appeared as if the creature was about to break free.


    Senecio''s face hardened, and he stretched out his left arm as well. His expression became strained, and for a time, neither the old man nor the creature moved.


    While Arran understood that a battle was occurring between the two, to his eyes, nothing was happening. The two just stood there, motionless, Senecio with a tense look on his face and the creature baring its pointed teeth in a furious snarl.


    Suddenly, the creature paled, its eyes opening wide as its black-red skin turned light gray. A moment later, its body disintegrated in a flash of light, leaving nothing behind but a cloud of ashes.


    "That," Senecio said, sighing deeply, "was harder than it should have been."


    "What was that thing?!" Now that the battle was over ¡ª if it could even be called a battle ¡ª a thousand questions instantly filled Arran''s mind, but foremost among was the identity of the strange creature.


    "That was a Herald of Chaos," the old man replied. "And a strong one, at that. The strongest I have encountered in this world, in fact."


    "A Herald of what?" Arran asked. "And you keep saying ''this world''¡­ does that mean there are others?"


    Senecio looked at Arran. "I think it''s about time for you to learn what the Academy is," he said.

 Chapter 51 Senecio

    They stood in the large hall of the castle where Senecio had just defeated the monstrous creature. While Arran still felt some fear as he looked at the man, he understood that if Senecio wanted to harm him, there was little he could do about it.


    So far, however, the old man had shown little sign of hostility.


    "Come," Senecio said, "while we talk, we can seek out the Herald''s treasures. I imagine there should be some things worth taking."


    Arran followed the man, unsure of what to expect. While his previous encounters with the Academy had ranged from unpleasant to deadly, Senecio seemed entirely different.


    "Now," the old man said, "you must be wondering why I haven''t killed you."


    Arran nodded. When he had first seen Senecio''s white robe, he had thought his final moments had arrived. That the man


    "The Academy hunts those with forbidden Realms," Senecio said, "but that is not its true purpose. Rather, the Academy is one small part of the forces on the side of Order in the war against Chaos."


    At this, Arran frowned. He had no idea what the man was talking about.


    "There''s a war?" he asked, hoping Senecio would explain more.


    "Of course," Senecio replied. "There always has been, since long before this world even existed. Throughout the universe, Order and Chaos constantly oppose each other, fighting for supremacy."


    "But¡­ what are they?" Arran asked. It was clear that Senecio did not just use the words in their normal meaning, but what he did mean, Arran did not know.


    "They''re two of the Realms that control reality," the old man said. Seeing Arran''s confused face, he laughed heartily. "But that is no concern of yours. All you need to know is that in this world, Order and Chaos fight for control, and the Academy stands on the side of Order, as do I."


    "Then why do they want to kill me?" Arran asked. "I don''t know anything about Chaos, or Order. All I want is to be left alone."


    "They want to kill you," Senecio said, "because they believe that powers like yours could be used to aid Chaos."


    "You don''t agree?" Arran asked with some hesitation.


    "Ah! Found it!" A broad smile appeared on Senecio''s face as he pointed toward a small wooden door on the side of the hall.


    As he pointed, the door crumbled, turning to ashes before their eyes. Behind it, Arran could see a large room, filled with what looked to be numerous treasures. At a glance, Arran could see weapons and armor, as well as the glint of gold and silver.


    "Oh, you asked a question?" Senecio said. "I do, of course, agree with the Academy. Powers like yours are terribly dangerous and could easily upset the balance of power in this world."


    "Then why haven''t you¡­" Arran did not finish the sentence, fearful of giving the man ideas.


    "Killed you? Because this world is already on the verge of being lost to Chaos."


    The old man turned to Arran, staring at him intently. "Chances are that you will die long before you ever gain the slightest shred of power. And if you do become powerful, you might side with Chaos, and hasten the fall of this world."


    Arran frowned. He knew nothing about either Chaos or Order, and he could not imagine himself siding with either. From what little he had seen, all he wanted was to stay as far away from them as he could.


    "But if you become powerful enough to fully use your forbidden Realm," the man continued, "and if you decide to stand against Chaos¡­ who knows what could happen. You might just change the path of this world."


    "Me? Change the path of the world?" The idea seemed ridiculous to Arran. So far, he had only barely even managed to survive, and even that with great difficulty.


    "You, or any of the other people with forbidden Realms," Senecio said. "Forbidden Realms aren''t quite as rare as you might think, despite the Academy''s best efforts."


    "Then why don''t you tell the Academy to stop killing people with forbidden Realms?"


    "I stay out of the Academy''s affairs, and they stay out of mine." The old man shrugged. "I cannot change their actions, no matter how foolish."


    "But aren''t you on the same side?" Arran could not help but feel frustrated. Here was someone who might be able to safeguard him from the Academy, but the man was unwilling to do so.


    "Enough," the man replied. "Just be glad I won''t kill you."


    Arran''s face fell, but he did not protest. Although Senecio had treated him kindly, he knew there was no friendship between them, and the old man had no reason to be swayed by Arran''s situation.


    Senecio, meanwhile, wandered around the room, perusing the treasures as if he was browsing through goods at a store. When items caught his eye, he took them, putting them into his void bag.


    "Take this," he said, holding up a black armored coat he had just picked up from the ground. "You really shouldn''t be doing battle in robes."


    Arran scowled. He was wearing the robe Jiang Fei had given him, since his last armored coat had not survived the battle against the Redstone men. Yet when he took the coat from Senecio, his eyes immediately lit up.


    With just a glance, he could see that this coat was even better than his previous one, well-formed and filled with enough plates and mail to stop all but the heaviest attacks. Moreover, something about the coat made him suspect that it was enchanted, although he could not say what made him think so.


    Finally, Senecio finished his inspection of the room, his void bag containing at least a dozen new treasures.


    "You can take the rest," he said. "Although I should warn you, there are some mages left in the castle. Once I leave, they will come looking for you."


    "You''re leaving me behind?!" Arran asked in shock. "And there are other mages here?!"


    "You should be able to handle them," the old man said. "Think of it as repayment for the Academy mages you killed ¡ª an opportunity to balance out your past actions."


    "But I wanted to ask about¡ª" Arran began. There were a thousand questions he still had to ask, if not more.


    "You will have to find the answers for yourself," Senecio interrupted him. "I have given you a small bit of knowledge. What you do with it is up to you."


    Arran wanted to protest, but he knew the old man would not budge.


    "One last thing," Senecio said. "Who sent you here?"


    At once, Arran felt panic, knowing what the man was planning to do. "I wasn''t sent," he said. "A local guard captain asked me to look into a group of bandits, but he didn''t know about any of this."


    "That remains to be seen," Senecio replied. "The forces of Chaos are often duplicitous."


    As he considered the matter, doubt rose in Arran''s mind. Now that he thought about it, Captain Yang had been suspiciously quick in deciding to help him.


    Moreover, twice the man had given him woefully incomplete information, first sending him up against an Academy mage, and then sending him to a castle that turned out to be ruled by the strange creature Senecio had killed.


    Still, Arran was unwilling to believe Captain Yang had deceived him.


    "I give you my word that if this captain of yours isn''t an agent of Chaos, I won''t harm him," Senecio said. "Now tell me where he is."


    Arran hesitated for some moments but then decided to trust Senecio''s word.With a heavy heart, he told Senecio about Captain Yang, fervently hoping that he hadn''t just doomed the man who had treated him so well.


    "With that, I take my leave," Senecio said after Arran finished. "Do try to stay alive."


    A sudden ripple went through the air around Senecio, and when it disappeared, the old man disappeared with it, as if the air had swallowed his body.


    For some moments afterward, Arran stood in silence, trying and failing to make sense of all that just happened.

 Chapter 52 Looting Treasures

    Arran''s first instinct was to flee the castle immediately. Although he did not know how many enemies there were, he knew that once they realized Senecio was gone, they would return. When that happened, Arran would be forced to face them.


    While Senecio had said he should be able to handle them, he had little interest in finding out if the old man was right.


    Yet as he looked at the treasures that filled the room, he could not bring himself to leave them behind.


    There were weapons and armor, paintings, jewelry, scrolls, herbs, metals, and numerous other things. Even if Senecio had probably taken the most valuable items, what was left was still a fortune the likes of which Arran had never seen before.


    After a moment''s hesitation, he began to grab random items from the room, stuffing them into the empty void bag that had once belonged to Stormleaf. He did not bother to inspect the items as he gathered them, instead simply taking as much as he could, all while keeping a close eye on the doorway.


    It did not take him long to fill Stormleaf''s void bag, and as he put it away, he saw that even now the room was only half empty. Thinking of all the treasure he would gain today, he could not help but grin in excitement.


    He eagerly took out his own void bag, then began to fill that as well. If the castle''s inhabitants could take a little longer before finding him, he thought, he would have enough treasure to last him a lifetime.


    Arran had already taken most of the goods in the room when finally, a man appeared in the doorway. As soon as he saw Arran, a look of fear appeared in his eyes.


    "He''s here!" the man called out at once.


    At the same time, Arran fired a blast of Air at him. It slammed into the man with a loud crash, sending his body flying back into the hall. Arran cursed under his breath when he realized he had been a moment too late.


    He cast a last glance at the treasures that remained in the room, sighing wistfully at having to leave them behind. Then, he drew his sword and headed toward the doorway.


    As soon as he moved into the large hall, a handful of armed men hurried toward him. Without hesitating he threw a large fireball at them, then rushed after it, sword ready to finish off the survivors. Yet the fireball left none of them standing, and he understood that they had not been mages.


    Quickly, he headed toward the exit, but before he could leave another man emerged. This time, it was a mage ¡ª as the man approached he formed a head-sized fireball in his hand, which he launched toward Arran.


    Arran responded with a powerful blast of Air that wiped out the fireball in mid-air. Before the mage could launch another attack Arran leaped forward, thrusting his sword through the man''s chest.


    The fight was over in seconds, and Arran was startled at how weak the mage had been. He did not pause to consider it, instead hurrying to the exit.


    He finally emerged from the castle, stepping into the courtyard. As soon as he did so, he groaned in frustration. At least two dozen men were waiting for him, weapons drawn, with more approaching in the distance.


    For a moment, they all stood there in silence, as if none of them had expected to suddenly stand face to face with the enemy. Then, one of the men thrust his hand toward Arran, and Arran could sense that he was using Wind Essence ¡ª although it seemed unusually weak.


    Before whatever technique the mage had used could reach him, Arran countered with a strong blast of Wind. The two attacks collided, and the other man was sent sprawling to the ground almost instantly, his attack overwhelmed by Arran''s.


    At the same time, several of the other men charged toward Arran, swords drawn and ready to strike. Arran raised his sword, prepared to strike once they came within range. From their movements, he could already tell that they were too weak to pose a threat to him.


    Just as they were about to meet, a voice suddenly called out, "Stop, you idiots! You can''t take him!"


    At those words, the men rushing toward Arran promptly stopped in their tracks. After a moment, they stepped back, warily eying Arran.


    Another man stepped forward from the group, and Arran was puzzled when he saw that this one seemed familiar. With a start, he realized that it was one of Captain Yang''s guards.


    On seeing Arran, the guard looked just as surprised as Arran was.


    "You!" he said, looking at Arran in shock. Then, with a loud voice, he called, "Step back! He''s not the one who killed the Herald!"


    "You¡­" Arran looked at the man in confusion.


    "Why are you here?" the man asked.


    "Because Captain Yang sent me, remember?" Anger welled up in Arran as he understood that Captain Yang had indeed deceived him.


    The man frowned. "He sent you here to have you join us," he said. "But you appeared with a mage who killed the Herald. Who was he, and why were you with him?"


    Although Arran was puzzled at the man''s tepid reaction to the Herald''s death, his anger rose now that he knew he had been tricked into coming to the castle.


    "Have me recruited? Captain Yang sent me here to take care of a group of bandits! I was about to attack the castle when some old man appeared and killed your Herald!" By now, Arran''s voice had risen to the point of shouting, and inside, he raged at the deception. "Good thing he did, too, or I would have had to face that monster myself!"


    "You would not have been harmed," the man said calmly. "Our men had orders to welcome you peacefully."


    "And now what?" Arran asked, face grim. He imagined that after the Herald''s death, the men would want revenge. With his current mood, he would be more than happy to give them a fight.


    "Now, I suggest you leave," the man said. "I will escort you."


    "You¡­ will escort me?" This response had not been what Arran had expected, and he found himself at a loss for words.


    "The Herald''s death isn''t your doing," the man replied. "And even if it was, I doubt any of us could do much about it."


    Arran did not respond, wary of trickery.


    "All of you, leave!" the man called out. "Before the Academy arrives!"


    The other men looked at him, then at Arran. They seemed unsure of what to do, but after some moments a few hesitantly walked off, with the others following moments later. Within minutes, the courtyard was empty except for Arran and the man he had believed to be a guard.


    "Follow me," the man said to Arran. "There are quite a few of our men in the surrounding area, and although they pose little danger to you, I would prefer them not to be slaughtered."


    "Why should I trust you?" Arran asked.


    "There is nothing I could do to harm you even if I wanted to," the man replied. "But if you come with me, perhaps I can offer you some explanations."


    He gave Arran a long look. "There''s a war going on, and you don''t want to find yourself on the wrong side."


    Arran nodded. Although he did not trust the guard, he had enough confidence in his own strength not to fear him. That, and he was curious to see what the man had to say for himself.


    "Very well," he said. "But if you betray me, it will be your life."

 Chapter 53 Words of Chaos

    Arran followed the man away from the castle. For a time they walked in silence, with Arran following a short distance behind the man he had thought was one of Captain Yang''s guards.


    Several times, they encountered patrols, but after a wave of the man''s hand, the patrols hurried past, almost seeming afraid. With some concern, Arran realized it wasn''t him they feared.


    "Who are you?" Arran finally asked.


    Now that he got a better look at the man, he was certain that he was not just a guard. There was a certain confidence in his manner, bordering on arrogance, that reminded Arran of Lord Jiang and Master Zhao.


    The observation filled him with unease. He had joined the man on the belief that he could easily defeat him if needed, but now, he was beginning to suspect that he had gravely underestimated the man''s power.


    "Call me Panurge," the man said.


    The name sounded odd to Arran, as if it was a title rather than a real name. He was becoming more certain by the second that the man was altogether different from what he pretended to be.


    "Do you work for Captain Yang, or does he work for you?" Arran peered at Panurge as he asked the question. He was already confident of what the real answer was, but he wanted to see the man''s reaction.


    "I''d call it a partnership of equals," Panurge said calmly. "Our side ¡ª Chaos, as you call it ¡ª we aren''t big on hierarchy."


    "So you really are on the side of Chaos?" Arran asked.


    He remembered what Senecio had told him earlier, and his heart sank as he realized that he had stumbled into a conflict that stretched far beyond what he could see.


    "In a way," Panurge replied. "Although it''s not so much a side as it is a belief."


    "A belief?" Arran frowned as he considered the answer. "Then what do you believe in?"


    "Freedom," the man replied without hesitation. "The Academy believes that this world needs control, and that they are the ones to provide it. My associates and I disagree."


    "Then you''re not after power?" Arran asked doubtfully. Even if Panurge''s words sounded appealing, he did not trust the man in the slightest.


    "My own power is enough," Panurge said. "I do not need to lead others, or be led by them."


    "What about the Herald?" Arran asked. "Wasn''t he your leader?"


    Panurge laughed, as if Arran had just told a hilarious joke. "The Herald was tasked with protecting our stronghold from the Academy, but he was no more a leader than I am." Scowling, he added, "Although I suppose he wasn''t much of a protector, either."


    "The man who killed him¡­ he talked about a war," Arran said. "He said that this world was on the verge of being lost to Chaos."


    "Lost to the Academy," Panurge said. "For those like you, it would be a blessing."


    "Those like me?" Arran asked. "What do you mean?"


    "People with Realms the Academy calls forbidden, and other magic of the more interesting kind. The ones who are hunted by the Academy for their powers."


    "You know about that?!" Even if he knew Panurge was more than he pretended to be, Arran had not expected him to know this much. By now, he was beginning to think half the world knew about his forbidden Realm.


    "Of course," Panurge answered simply.


    "What do you want from me?" Arran asked bluntly. Sick of being the only one who didn''t know what was going on, he could no longer bring himself to feign politeness.


    "Want? From you?" Panurge shook his head with a laugh. "You have nothing to give me. There is something I could offer you, however."


    "What is it?" Arran asked, instantly wary of anything Panurge had to offer.


    "You could join us," the man said. "I could take you beyond the Empire''s borders, where you would be protected from the Academy. In time, you might become truly powerful."


    "Why?" Arran asked. "I''m an initiate, barely even worth calling a mage. Why would you be interested in me?"


    "Because despite your youth, you have already done some interesting things." Panurge laughed. "Weak though you are, you''re already causing a stir in the Empire. If you manage to master that Realm of yours, this world will surely see some excitement."


    "What if I refuse?" Arran was of no mind to join Panurge, no matter what the man said. Between the lies and the idea of making an enemy out of Senecio, there was nothing in the man''s offer that appealed to him.


    "Then I will let you leave." Panurge shrugged. "If you avoid being caught by the Academy, your journey will still be worth watching. But you would be wise to think well before rejecting my help."


    "If you want to help me, why the lies and the trickery?" Arran could not help but ask the question.


    Panurge''s behavior baffled him ¡ª if the man had offered to protect him from the Academy two weeks earlier, he might have accepted the offer. But instead, he had offered nothing but lies and deceit.


    "Because that''s his nature," a voice suddenly spoke.


    Arran turned toward the voice, and he was startled to see Senecio''s short figure standing just a few paces away. The old man seemed to have materialized out of nowhere, but although his appearance caught Arran off guard, Panurge merely smiled.


    "Senecio," Panurge said. "I wondered when you would show yourself."


    "I killed your pet," Senecio said.


    "So I noticed," Panurge replied. "It''s why I came, although I arrived just a moment too late to stop you." With a look at Arran, he added, "But I did find something else that caught my interest."


    "Step away from him, boy," the old man said. "He''s more dangerous than you realize."


    Although Arran doubted the latter part ¡ª he already thought Panurge had the power to kill him at a whim¡ª did as Senecio said and stepped away from Panurge. If a fight broke out between the two, he did not want to be anywhere near it.


    "He has more reason to fear you than he does me," Panurge said. "At least I won''t kill him for the crime of existing."


    For several moments they stood in silence, the two men about ten paces apart, calmly watching each other as Arran slowly backed away. From what he could tell, they might attack each other at any moment.

 Chapter 54 The Old Man and the Trickster

    The standoff lasted for a while, yet the battle that Arran expected never came. Instead, Panurge suddenly burst into laughter.


    "Still afraid to face me, old man?" he asked, a wide grin on his face.


    Senecio did not respond, instead merely giving Panurge a contemptuous glare.


    Although Arran was relieved that a battle had been avoided, he was still distressed at being dragged into a conflict he wanted no part of, and did not understand in the slightest.


    "Who are you guys?!" he blurted out.


    "We," Panurge began, "are what you might call Gods. I am this world''s God of Chaos, while my phlegmatic counterpart is the God of Order."


    "Gods? You?" Arran gave him a doubtful look. He understood well that Panurge was powerful after the confrontation between him and Senecio, but to Arran''s eyes, the man seemed far from divine.


    "I could turn you into a rat, if that would help convince you," Panurge said, raising an eyebrow. "Or perhaps it would help if I looked the part?"


    At once, Panurge''s body started to change. He had previously been a normal-looking man, but now, before Arran''s eyes, he started to grow taller. First an inch, then a foot, then two ¡ª in moments, he stood over eight feet tall.


    And that wasn''t the only thing that had changed. His shoulders and arms now bulged with muscle, and his pale face had grown inhumanly handsome, as if it was sculpted from flawless marble.


    "Perhaps this better fits your idea of what a God should look like?"


    Arran was startled to hear that his voice had changed, too. It had grown deeper and louder, and there was an authority to it that caused him to shudder in awe.


    "Leave the boy alone," Senecio said.


    "After all the work I did to bring him here?" Panurge grinned wickedly. "I think not."


    "You arranged for him to be here?" Senecio frowned, for the first time seeming genuinely surprised.


    "Of course," Panurge replied. "I''ve had my eye on him for quite a while already." He let out an exaggerated sigh. "It really took some work, helping those Redstone fools find him."


    "Then why did you do it?" Arran asked. He had already suspected that he had not run into the Redstone men by accident, but the idea that someone as powerful as Panurge would go through all that effort for him seemed absurd.


    "I already told you," Panurge said. "You interest me. You''re still terribly weak, and perhaps not all that talented, but trouble seems to follow you like wolves follow sheep."


    Arran looked at Senecio, feeling some worry. Although he had no intention of joining Panurge, he feared that even the suggestion of him doing so might stir Senecio into action.


    "Don''t worry about the old man," Panurge said. "With my protection, he cannot touch you."


    "Why not?" Arran had no intention of joining Panurge, but he was still anxious to learn more about the two warring sides. Even if he made it out of here, he very much suspected he would not be rid of them.


    "There is a treaty," Panurge said, "between Chaos and Order. We Gods cannot interfere directly with the affairs of each other''s forces on their own worlds ¡ª not unless the other party does so first."


    "Is that true?" Arran gave Senecio a questioning look. Although Panurge was the more talkative of the two, Senecio seemed more trustworthy.


    Senecio nodded in response. "For once, he speaks the truth. If either side breaks the treaty, the other side will respond in kind. And when that happens, this world is all but doomed." With a sigh, he added, "My task here is to observe Panurge, to ensure he does not violate the treaty."


    "And my task is to observe the old man," Panurge said, scowling. "Century after century of boredom, keeping my eyes on the world''s least interesting God. It almost makes one wish for mortality."


    "Then what about the Herald?" The two men both claimed they could not interfere in each other''s affairs, yet the memory of Senecio killing the creature was still fresh in Arran''s mind.


    "The Herald was not of this world," Senecio said. "In truth, just his presence here violated the treaty, but¡­"


    "But the old man has grown weak," Panurge interrupted him. "He does not dare battle me, for fear of what would happen to this world. So occasionally, I prod him a little. Isn''t that right, old man?"


    Arran looked at Senecio, but the man did not react. His face was like a mask, betraying no emotion whatsoever.


    Panurge turned toward Arran and gave him a long look.


    "Now that you know the situation, perhaps you will reconsider my offer? I can protect you from the old man, and help you gain enough power to face the Academy." He smiled eagerly. "All I want in return is to see the outcome."


    "No," Arran said without hesitation.


    "You would deny me?" Panurge seemed puzzled rather than angry. "Despite all I have to offer you?"


    "I don''t trust you," Arran replied honestly.


    "What does that have to do with anything?" Panurge looked genuinely confused. "I''m offering you power and protection, not marriage. What you do with my gifts after you accept them is up to you."


    "No," Arran said again. "I refuse." He was certain that if he accepted, there would be a catch. With what little he had seen of Panurge so far, he was certain the catch would be a disastrous one.


    Now, a hint of annoyance appeared on Panurge''s face. "You would dare refuse me?" He stepped forward, and Arran instantly felt a sense of grave danger.


    "Panurge!" Senecio called out, voice thick with anger.


    "He''s not one of yours, old man," Panurge said. "You cannot interfere. Not unless you''re ready to have that battle, at least. But maybe you''ve finally grown as bored as I am?"


    Frustration was clear on Senecio''s face, but he did not respond, and Arran realized the old man would not help him.


    "You said you would let me leave if I refused!" Arran hoped against hope that Panurge would honor his word. He had little confidence in the man''s promises, but right now, he had nothing else.


    "So I did," Panurge said, furrowing his brow in thought. Then, with a grin, he said, "I suppose I lied."


    He snapped his fingers, and before Arran could respond, the world went black before his eyes as his consciousness slipped away.

 Chapter 55 Panurge’s Punishmen

    Arran awoke with an aching head and an unsteady body. It took him some moments to recall what had happened, but when he remembered, his eyes immediately went searching for Panurge.


    "Good. You''re awake."


    Arran turned his head toward the voice, and he couldn''t suppress a scowl when he saw Panurge. The man was back to his human form, and there was an amused smirk on his face.


    As Arran looked around, he saw that the floor he was sitting on was made from smooth gray rock, but other than that he saw nothing but darkness, without even walls to be seen.


    "Where the hell did you take me?!" Frustrated as he was, he made no effort to be polite.


    "Tsk, tsk. Your manners really are lacking." Panurge gave Arran a gleeful look, seeming quite pleased with the situation. "I spare your life, and this is the treatment I have to endure?"


    "Spare my life? I didn''t do anything!"


    Arran raged, but the grin on Panurge''s face only grew wider.


    "You refused my generosity," the man said. "That''s a crime that certainly merits punishment."


    "Where are we?" Arran asked again, realizing that there was no point in arguing with Panurge. And as much as he would like to, punching him in the face didn''t seem like a good idea, either.


    Suddenly, the dim light brightened, and Arran could see that he was in the middle of a large, circular room. It was about forty paces across, and the walls were carved from the same smooth gray rock as the floor and the ceiling.


    The room was completely empty, its only distinguishing features a heavy door on one side, and on the opposite side a small hole in the ceiling from which a small stream of water dropped into a hole in the ground.


    At once, Arran understood that it was a cell, but it didn''t look like any cell he had seen before. Although he could not be certain, he suspected that this place was built specifically to hold mages. He felt some despair at the last thought, because it meant that escaping would be no easy task.


    "You will need this," Panurge said, tossing a void bag on the ground next to Arran. "Inside you will find a Force Realm Scroll, several spell scrolls, and enough food for the next two decades or so. You should be able to make it out by then, even with your meager talent."


    "A Force Realm Scroll?" Arran knitted his brows in thought, but he could not recall ever having heard of Force Realms.


    Without a word, Panurge waved a finger, and Arran was alarmed to find himself being pulled up into the air. Another wave of Panurge''s finger, and suddenly, an unseen force slammed into Arran like a battering ram, sending him crashing into the wall.


    As he got to his feet, Arran roared in anger. "You bastard! Why the hell did you¡ª"


    "That," Panurge interrupted him, "is Force Essence. Master it, and you will be able to blow that door right out of the wall. Don''t, and¡­ well, I suppose you will starve, eventually."


    "Why are you giving me this?" Arran asked, his voice still shaking from the sudden attack.


    "It''s a gift," Panurge said. "By the time you''re strong enough to break through the door, you should be able to protect yourself from most of the Academy''s lackeys. You might be foolish enough to refuse my help, but I will not just let the Academy kill you."


    "But why¡ª" Arran began.


    Before he could finish the sentence, the cell was suddenly plunged in darkness. For a moment Arran was disoriented, but then, he used Fire Essence to create a fiery orb that illuminated the cell.


    As he expected, Panurge had disappeared without a trace, leaving Arran behind, alone and locked in the cell.


    For some time he sat on the ground, trying to calm his nerves as he gathered his thoughts.


    While the situation was bad, at least he was still alive. Moreover, it seemed Panurge intended for him to escape, which meant there had to be a way out of the cell.


    He warily eyed the void bag the man had left, but decided against searching it. Accepting a gift from Panurge was something he expected would carry a price larger than anything he was willing to pay.


    After some moments he walked over to the cell door and inspected it. As he expected, it was thick and solid, and he was unable to move it even a hair using only his Essence-enhanced physical strength.


    Still, he furiously bashed into the door with his fists, stopping only when he was panting from exertion and his knuckles were covered in blood.


    Undeterred, he took a dozen steps back, then gathered up as much Essence as he could muster. Without hesitation, he flung a brightly blazing fireball at the door, immediately following it with a blast of Wind. He continued this until the Essence in his body had run dry completely.


    Again he approached the door to inspect it, but he was disheartened when he found that his attacks had not left even the slightest mark on either the door or the wall that held it.


    He sighed when he realized that both the door and the walls must be strengthened through some sort of enchantment.


    In the hours that followed he tried every attack he could think of ¡ª hacking at the door with his starmetal sword, shooting it with the dragonbone bow, blasting it with Essence, and sometimes just violently hammering it with his fists.


    Again and again he attacked, only pausing when both his body and mind could go no longer, then attacking with renewed fury as soon as he had rested.


    Hours turned to days as he continued to assault the door, yet no matter what he tried, he was unable to do even the slightest bit of damage. It was as if he was trying to chop down a tree using only a feather.


    After more than a week, he finally gave up. Nothing he tried had any effect whatsoever, and he suspected that even if he spent the next decade attacking the door with his current power, there would be no results.


    At this, he understood that he would have to try something different if he ever wanted to see the sun again.


    He gave Panurge''s void bag another glance, but then rejected the idea. He would only resort to using that if he became desperate. Being in Panurge''s debt would certainly carry a painful cost at some point in the future.


    Instead, he took out Adept Kadir''s manual for the Windblade spell, along with the notes Jiang Fei had given him. If raw Essence didn''t work, perhaps a proper spell would do the trick.


    He sat down on the stone floor, a determined look appearing on his face as he resolved to finally study the spell properly.

 Chapter 56 Windblade

    "Son of a bitch!"


    Arran cursed loudly as the Essence in his hand dissipated once more. Each time, success was just a hair away, yet somehow, every time it evaded him at the last moment.


    It was impossible to track the passing days within the cell, but already, Arran had spent months trying to master the Windblade spell. And still, he had not succeeded.


    At first, he had made good progress. Learning how to control the strands of Essence had taken him several weeks, but through effort and persistence, he had succeeded. Weaving them together into a single Windblade was more difficult, but eventually, he had achieved that, too.


    The only thing left was to send the Windblade flying, and that was where Arran failed. Every time he tried to control the Windblade, it dissipated before it could move even an inch, falling apart like a house of cards.


    Arran couldn''t understand why it didn''t work.


    According to both Adept Kadir''s manual and Jiang Fei''s notes, the hardest part of the spell was forming the Windblade. After that, it should be easy to control ¡ª Jiang Fei only gave it a single sentence in her notes.


    Yet every time Arran tried it, he failed miserably. It was as if the Wind Essence itself resisted his control.


    Sometimes he would stop practicing the Windblade spell to work on his Body Refinement or practice the Shadow seals, and there, his progress was better. In less than a month, managed to form a complete Shadow seal for the first time.


    He would have been ecstatic if it had happened at any other time, but now, it almost seemed like a cruel joke. He was finally able to seal and hide his Realms, but he was stuck in a dungeon cell with no one to hide them from.


    As the final part of the Windblade spell still eluded him, he sat down, intent on figuring out what it was that caused him to fail.


    Thinking about the issue, he tried to understand what it was that made the final part of the spell so easy for others, but so difficult for him.


    After some time, a thought struck him.


    While Jiang Fei was more skilled than Arran, in terms of raw strength she was far weaker than he was. Naturally, when she learned the spell, she had been practicing with strands of Essence far thinner than his.


    Arran wasn''t a complete fool, of course ¡ª while trying to learn the Windblade spell, he had limited the amount of Essence he used to a small fraction of his true power. But was it enough? The only way to find out was to try.


    Once more, he formed a Windblade from Wind Essence. This time, he used only the smallest amount of Essence he could, going so far as to draw Essence away from his hands as he worked the spell.


    It was like trying to manipulate thin strands of spider silk, and unused as he was to working with such minute amounts of Essence, the spell collapsed several times as he tried to form it.


    Yet he persevered, and when he finally formed a full Windblade a few hours later, he let out a gasp of surprise.


    It worked.


    In the air hung a tiny razor of Wind Essence, invisible to the naked eye, fully under Arran''s control.


    Heart pounding in excitement, he sent the miniature Windblade soaring ahead, making it turn and twist as it cut through the air.


    When he finally let go of the Windblade, it immediately dissipated, and he grinned in delight. Finally, he had done it. He had cast his first spell.


    He glanced at the door, but then he shook his head. Trying now would be pointless. First, he would need to increase the size and strength of the Windblade.


    With that, he set to work.


    In the weeks that followed, he gradually strengthened the Windblade, with each attempt increasing the amount of Essence he used in forming it.


    His progress was slow but steady. Each time he channeled more Essence into the Windblade, he would fail several times, struggling to control its power. But each time, with some effort and practice, he would eventually succeed.


    After a month, he could form a Windblade the size of a greatsword, and he decided it was finally time to put his new power to the test.


    Eager with anticipation, he stood about ten paces from the door. While he could already create a Windblade in the blink of an eye, this time he took it slowly, taking his time to gather Essence, then shaping it into the strongest Windblade he could control.


    When it formed, the Windblade was so strong that it was no longer fully invisible. Instead, it shimmered with power, like the heated air above a fire.


    He took a deep breath, readying himself for the attack. Then, gritting his teeth in effort, he sent the Windblade soaring toward the door, a high-pitched whistle sounding as it cut through the air before it.


    Clang!


    A loud noise sounded as the Windblade hit the door, striking with enough force to cleave through granite. Immediately, Arran rushed over to see what the effect had been.


    His heart sank upon seeing the door. While he had managed to leave a mark this time, it was only a hair-sized scratch, barely even visible.


    He sat down on the floor with a sigh. The Windblade had been his last hope, and he had purposely avoided using it against the wall until he felt confident in its strength, afraid that trying sooner would only leave him discouraged. Yet it was no use. Even now, he was still unable to do any true damage to the door.


    Perhaps, if he kept training the Windblade, he would eventually be able to use it to break out. He was still unable to control it when he used all his Wind Essence, and he knew he could strengthen it further with more time and practice.


    But that would take years if not decades, and even then the outcome was far from certain. Worse, the food Lord Jiang had given him would not last anywhere near that long, and he would likely starve well before being able to break out.


    At last, he understood that he only had one choice left.


    With a sigh, he took out Panurge''s void bag. He had long avoided this moment, but now, he knew that he was out of options.


    He hesitated for only a moment before binding it. Despite his previous wariness, he could no longer bring himself to care about the consequences. Months of imprisonment had worn down his worries, and now, all he wanted was to escape.


    He examined the bag after binding it, instantly amazed at the sheer size of the interior. Where the void bag Master Zhao had given him was the size of a large room, this one was something else entirely ¡ª vast enough to fit several farms, and then some.


    Equally surprising were the contents. At least half the space inside the bag was taken up by endless stacks of food, meat, fruits, and vegetables, and what looked to be several thousands of wine bottles.


    Panurge had said there was enough food to last a decade, but this¡­ this looked like it could feed a village for a century.


    After Arran recovered from his shock over the mountain of food, he examined the rest of the void bag and found that other than the food, it was nearly empty, containing only a small chest and a large cabinet.


    He looked inside the cabinet first, and saw that it was filled with pills and potions. Most of these he did not recognize, but his eyes widened when he saw that there were four Realm Opening Pills. These, he grabbed instantly, adding them to the two he had left after the battle against Stormleaf.


    Finally, he opened the chest, where he found three scrolls. One of them, he knew, would be the Force Realm Scroll, while the other two should be spell scrolls. He took the scrolls, then put them in his own void bag, unwilling to start studying just yet.


    He sighed again. It was done ¡ª he had accepted a gift from Panurge, and there would be no turning back.


    Despite his misgivings, it felt like a load had been lifted from his shoulders. There would be consequences, but he could not bring himself to worry about those right now.


    For the moment, all he could feel was relief at knowing he had a path to escape from the dungeon cell.


    After he made the decision, he took two bottles of wine and a big stack of food from Panurge''s void bag. Today, he would feast, and tomorrow, he would start working towards his escape.

 Chapter 57 A Way to Escape

    Arran awoke with an aching head and a sore body, still feeling the tingle of Natural Essence within him. He sighed, knowing that he should have expected a gift from Panurge to have unforeseen consequences.


    The food was normal enough. Although it contained a small amount of Natural Essence, it was less potent than the food Lord Jiang had given him, and he could eat it without issue.


    The wine, on the other hand, was something else entirely. Both ridiculously potent and loaded with Natural Essence, just a few sips had left him feeling intoxicated and trembling with energy, and he had soon been completely hammered.


    Of course, that was not just because of the first few sips ¡ª the two bottles he had drunk afterward had not helped, either.


    For an hour or two, Arran used Lord Jiang''s circulation technique, until finally the soreness disappeared and he finished absorbing the last of the Natural Essence.


    After that, he sat down on the hard floor and got out the three scrolls. The first one he looked at was the Realm Scroll. Already knowing what it would do, he put it aside for the moment. Instead, he looked at the two spell scrolls.


    As he examined them, his attention was caught in an instant. One described a spell named Battering Force, and the other a spell named Force Shield. A quick glance at the contents confirmed that the spells would do what the names suggested, and he knew that both would be incredibly useful if he mastered them.


    He put the two spell scrolls away and picked up the Force Realm Scroll again, more eagerly now that he knew some of its uses. After a deep breath, he began to study it carefully.


    Less than an hour later, he finished working his way through the scroll, and it turned to ashes in his hands. This did not surprise him ¡ª by now, he was familiar with how Realm Scrolls worked.


    Having finished the Realm Scroll, he now had a Force Realm. But of course, he hadn''t opened it yet. Doing so would still be weeks of work, if not more, unless he took a Realm Opening Pill.


    At that thought, his eyes lit up, and he realized that he finally knew how to escape.


    He hurriedly took out the Realm Opening Pills he had in his void bags. With the two he had left from Master Zhao and the four from Panurge''s bag, there were six in total.


    That should be enough, but with a thought, he searched the treasures he had taken from the Herald''s stronghold. He had looked through those when he first arrived in the cell, searching for something that might help him escape the cell. When he found nothing useful, he had left the treasures untouched, all but forgetting about them.


    Now, he searched furiously, overturning the void bags with the treasures, and carefully sifting through all the items inside.


    Two hours later, he had another three Realm Opening Pills, for a total of nine. That, he thought, should be more than enough.


    He was about to take the pills when he was struck by a sudden thought. After he burst through the door, what would he find outside?


    With Panurge''s tricks, he was certain that he would not be able to simply away ¡ª there had to be something more behind the door, whether it be tricks, traps, or enemies. Yet if he took the Realm Opening Pills and used their power to break down the door, he might be left unconscious for days.


    He put the pills away with a sigh, then sat down to think. He needed a plan.


    For a time he sat in silence, brow furrowed as he considered his options. Just bursting through the door with the power of the Realm Opening Pills was tempting, but even with his strengthened body, he could not be certain that he would be in fighting condition afterward.


    A better option was using several pills to break open his Force Realm, then learn the spells Panurge gave him. But would it be enough? Using Windblade, he was only barely able to scratch the door, and his Wind Realm had been forced open by a dozen Realm Opening Pills.


    After a moment of doubt, he rejected both choices.


    The first was far too dangerous, while the second might not work at all. And if it didn''t, raising his power far enough to bring down the door might take years.


    He thought it over, then reached a decision.


    He would strengthen his body until he was confident that he could withstand multiple Realm Opening Pills without losing consciousness, and then, he would blast down the door. And during the time it took to strengthen his body, he would also study both the Force Spells and the Windblade spell.


    Decision made, he set to work.


    The first thing he did was to take a single Realm Opening Pill, both to open his Force Realm and to test how well he could withstand it.


    It didn''t take long before he could feel the familiar pain of raw Essence flooding his body, but he closed his eyes and gritted his teeth, intent on enduring it. It was bad, but not as bad as he expected ¡ª clearly, his training in Body Refinement had paid off.


    The pain finally subsided some hours later, and as it did, a grin appeared on Arran''s face. He had succeeded in staying awake despite the pain, with his body still well enough to fight. Achieving the same feat with multiple pills would be more difficult, but now, he knew it was possible.


    Force Realm opened, he examined the Force Essence that now flowed in his body, and he was surprised at its power. He could sense that it was different from the other types of Essence he had. Somehow, it seemed stronger, as if its power was more focused.


    He tried using it, sending out a blast the way he did with Fire and Wind Essence, and the effect surpassed his expectations. If using Wind Essence was like blowing out a candle, then using Force Essence was like hitting it with a hammer.


    At once, he understood just how powerful Force Essence would be once he mastered it. Yet despite his excitement, he put the thought aside. His first goal was to strengthen his body.


    As he sat on the floor, he took out two bottles of Panurge''s wine, putting one on the ground next to him and taking the other in his hand. He took a large swig, and instantly, he could feel the effects ¡ª intoxication and Natural Essence both flooding his body.


    This time, he was prepared, and he began to use Lord Jiang''s circulation technique, drawing the Natural Essence into his body while simultaneously using its power to fight off the intoxication.


    By the time he drained the second bottle, nearly two hours had passed, and he was exhausted. Still, he felt some excitement as he knew it had worked ¡ª he could already feel the Natural Essence from the wine strengthening his body.


    Satisfied, he went to sleep, knowing that his true training would begin the next day.


    In the months that followed, he quickly fell into a routine of alternating Body Refinement with magic practice, only pausing when he needed to sleep.


    Panurge''s wine made his progress in Body Refinement even faster than it had been before, and using his experience mastering the Windblade spell, he managed to gain a basic grasp of both Force spells in under two months.


    The power of the spells was as astonishing as the Force Essence itself.


    Using Battering Force, he was able to focus Essence to a degree that was impossible even with Windblade, giving it far more power for the same amount of Essence. Had his Wind Realm not been so monstrously strong, he might have decided to neglect his practice with Wind Essence altogether.


    Where Battering Force was a devastating attack, Force Shield was at least as impressive a defense. As the name suggested, it allowed him to form a shield of Force Essence, and from what little testing he could do by himself, he was confident that it would easily stop weapons and at least some magic.


    More months passed, and eventually, Arran''s progress began to slow.


    While he knew he could advance further, both in magic and in Body Refinement, he also knew that from now, each step would take longer than the last. Still, he persisted, even if he could feel that his time in the cell was coming to an end.


    One day he awoke, and he knew that the time had come.


    He still wasn''t confident in his ability to face whatever lay beyond the door, but there was no use in worrying about the unknown. He had spent close to a year preparing and training, locked in the cell. If that wasn''t enough, then he would die. So be it.


    Setting aside his remaining doubts, he walked up to the door. Then, he took the Realm Opening Pills in his hand ¡ª five of them, each containing the condensed Essence of a Grandmaster.


    He swallowed the pills at once, then gritted his teeth, waiting for the pain to come.

 Chapter 58 Prison Break

    The raw Essence of the Realm Opening Pills flooded Arran''s body like a river of fire, pain filling every fiber of his being. Yet although his face twisted in agony, there was a near-maniacal grin, too.


    Finally, he would be free again.


    He stood in front of the door, waiting for the raw Essence to build up inside his body. Finally, when he thought there was enough, he unleashed it at the door.


    The burst of power hit the door with a thunderous crash, but to his surprise, it held up against the attack, although there was now a large crack in the door.


    Essence coursing through his veins like fire, Arran had no patience to spare. Again he attacked, then again. He battered the door with raw Essence, attacking it relentlessly, his mind only focused on escaping.


    Finally, after a dozen attacks, the cracked door held no longer. Yet another blast of raw Essence hit it, and this time, the Essence ripped straight through it, shattering the door in its hinges.


    Arran took a moment to savor the achievement, even as his body was racked with pain. At last, he was free.


    He stepped through the hole in the ruined door, cautious despite his eagerness to escape, and found himself surrounded by darkness. With a thought, he created an orb of Fire to illuminate his surroundings. Now, he could see that he was in a vast hallway, dozens of doors like the one he had just broken through on either side.


    On one end of the hallway was a large wooden door, reinforced with steel bars. On the other, there was only darkness.


    After a moment''s thought, he headed toward the wooden door at the end of the hallway, as it seemed the most likely exit.


    He found the door unlocked, and when he opened it he saw a narrow spiral staircase behind it, hewn from stone and uncomfortably steep. Impatient to leave, he was about to head up, but then, he shook his head.


    Behind each of the doors in the hallway behind him, there would be another cell like the one that had held him. If there were people inside, perhaps they could tell him where he was, or even help him escape.


    He turned back at once, heading to the nearest door in the hallway. Up close, he saw that it was barred with two thick iron beams, both fastened in place with large locks.


    Arran easily destroyed the locks with two blasts of raw Essence, then removed the bars. It was clear that the doors were made to keep people in, not out.


    Cautious despite the pain urging him on, he stepped into the cell, using an orb of Fire to light his way.


    At once, he could see that the cell was identical to his own ¡ª large and circular, with the floor, walls, and ceiling all made from the same smooth stone. The only difference was that in this cell, the walls bore deep scars from what must have been hundreds of powerful magic attacks.


    When Arran turned his attention to the interior of the cell, he saw that a body lay at its center. Emaciated and unmoving, it was the body of a man, clad in a simple gray robe. Arran approached the body with some caution, until he was sure that the man was as dead as he seemed. From the look of it, the man must have starved to death.


    Arran hurriedly left the cell, then moved to the next one. Again, he found an emaciated body, this one belonging to a woman. She, too, seemed to have been left to starve.


    A feeling of nausea cut through the pain caused by the Essence inside Arran''s body. Not because of the corpses ¡ª by now, he had seen enough death to have become numb to it ¡ª but because he realized how horrible their deaths must have been, locked in a dark cell without food, slowly waiting to die.


    To Arran''s mind, this was far crueler than mere murder. He understood having to kill, but he could not understand locking someone up only to leave them to die this miserably.


    He shook his head in revulsion, he moved on to the next door. Perhaps someone was still alive in one of these cells, and if so, Arran would not let them die ¡ª not like this, at least.


    Once more he found a cell that was identical to the other ones, and once more he found a man''s emaciated body inside. He was about to leave when suddenly, a whisper sounded.


    "Food¡­ Give¡­"


    Arran hurried over to the man, and only when he approached him did he see that there was some slight movement in the haggard body before him.


    He took out some food and set it down in front of the man. With a sudden burst of energy, the man reached out to grab it, and he began tearing into it with the fury of a starving animal.


    "Where are we?" Arran asked, but no answer came. Presented with food, the famished man seemed to have forgotten that Arran was even there.


    He put down some more food next to the man ¡ª fruit, meat, and some bread ¡ª then left to open the other doors.


    Behind the fourth door, he found another corpse, and he quickly moved on. He now understood that most of the prisoners in the cells would not be alive, and he found himself wondering just what kind of prison this was.


    When he reached the fifth cell, however, he was only barely able to dodge a blast of Wind Essence that came soaring at him the moment he opened the door.


    He was about to retaliate, but then, he recognized the man in front of him.


    "Windsong?!"


    Arran had thought the man dead, but here he was. Though he was even gaunter than Arran remembered him, with sunken eyes and deathly pale skin, he was still very much alive.


    Recognizing Arran, Windsong dropped his hands, surprise clear on his face. "They caught you, too?" he began. "But there are no guards with you¡­ why are you here?"


    "It''s a long story," Arran said. "Where are we?"


    "You don''t know?" Windsong frowned. "We''re in an Academy prison. But¡ª"


    "There''s no time to explain," Arran interrupted him. "I''m escaping as soon as I can. Are you well enough to fight?"


    Windsong nodded, although he seemed overwhelmed by the sudden events. "I can, but¡­" He hesitated, then asked, "Do you have any food?"


    Arran handed Windsong some food, as well as a sword and an armored coat from the Herald''s treasures. Although he had not forgotten about Windsong''s betrayal, this wasn''t the time for revenge. Plus, from the look of the man, he had already suffered for his actions.


    "Eat quickly and prepare yourself," Arran said. "When I return, we will leave."


    Before Windsong could respond, Arran had already left the cell. He immediately shot a nervous look toward the wooden door, but was relieved to see that the hallway was still empty.


    He knew that if anyone had sensed his use of Essence, guards could arrive at any moment. Yet he needed all the help he could get, and besides, he would not leave others to slowly starve in the cells.


    For a moment, he gritted his teeth, suppressing a scream. The pain of the Realm Opening Pills was still growing stronger, and he found it increasingly difficult to stay focused.


    Fighting through the pain, he moved to the next door, forcing himself to stay conscious. Even if he felt like he had been doused in oil and set alight, he could not allow the agony to gain hold of him.


    Quickly, he concentrated on breaking the locks on the door in front of him, trying to distract himself from the pain.


    He spent the next half hour opening the dozens of doors in the hallway, and although he found emaciated corpses in most of them, over a dozen prisoners in the cells were still alive.


    Of the prisoners who survived, most were like the first man - driven to near-madness by hunger and isolation, barely even able to speak.


    These, he left behind. They were of no use to them, and he could not take them with him. Instead, he left them food and weapons. If they were to escape, they would have to do it by themselves.


    There were only six who were coherent, but even they were in worse shape than Windsong. Without bothering to ask them questions, Arran gave them food, then told them to gather in Windsong''s cell.


    Finally, after Arran finished opening the last of the cells, he took a few moments to calm his mind. Although the pain had stopped worsening, it raged like a storm within him, threatening to drown out his thoughts.


    As he stepped out of the empty cell a short while later, he looked at the darkness at the far end of the hallway.


    For a second he hesitated, but then, he headed toward it. If there were any enemies there, they would have already come for him. And if there were more prisoners, freeing them might increase his chances of escaping.

 Chapter 59 The Prisoners

    At the end of the hallway, Arran found a great hall, circular and about a hundred paces across, with a domed ceiling that hung at least sixty feet from the ground.


    The hall was completely empty, as bare as the cells had been, but on its side, Arran could see five large doors.


    The doors superficially resembled those that barred the cells in the hallway, but these were twenty feet high and half as wide, each barred with a dozen steel beams that were held in place by large steel locks.


    At once, Arran understood that behind these doors also lay prison cells, but that they were made to hold prisoners far more powerful than those he had seen in the regular cells.


    He headed to one of the doors, intent on opening it. If the prisoners here were stronger, perhaps they would be of use when he tried to escape the dungeon.


    While the locks on the cells in the hallway had been easy to break, he discovered these to be far stronger. Still, he broke through them, blasting them with the raw Essence that coursed through his body. With each attack, he felt relief, as he released at least some of the pressure that was still causing him to grimace in pain.


    When he broke through the final lock on the first door, he quickly removed the bars, then opened the door.


    "So he finally sent someone, then?"


    In front of Arran stood a tall, broad-shouldered man with a strikingly handsome face. Square-jawed and golden-haired, he looked like a figure out of legend.


    "Nobody sent me," Arran said.


    "Then why are you here?" the man asked, a curious look on his face. Unlike the previous prisoners, he did not seem emaciated or underfed at all.


    "I intend to escape," Arran said. "Can you help?"


    "Do you have any weapons?" the man asked, casting a covetous look at Arran''s starmetal sword.


    "Not that one," Arran quickly replied. He took out another sword, one of the Herald''s treasures, then tossed it to the golden-haired man. "Take this."


    The man easily caught it in one hand and gave it a few quick swings, then nodded appreciatively. "Good sword. Got another?"


    "Another?" Even though Arran''s void bags were filled with treasures, he felt some unease at the rate with which he was losing them.


    "I have two hands," the man said, holding out his left hand to demonstrate that he did, indeed, have two hands.


    Arran reluctantly took out another sword and tossed it to the man, who caught it in his left hand.


    Wielding a sword in each hand, the man performed a few quick strikes, then grinned excitedly. Arran was astonished ¡ª with just the few moves he had seen, he already knew that this man was a master swordsman, probably more skilled than anyone he had ever met.


    "I''ll cut a path out of here," the man said. "You go free the others ¡ª be careful, they''re a tricky bunch." As he finished the words, he started to walk toward the hallway, leaving Arran behind.


    Just as Arran was about to head to the second door, the man turned around.


    "Don''t take any more of those pills," he said, a serious expression on his face. "Your Realms are already on the verge of becoming unstable. Any more, and you will die."


    Before Arran could respond, the man turned and left. The mention of unstable Realms caused Arran some pause, but he did not have the attention to spare right now.


    With a shake of his head, he moved toward the next door. He could worry about unstable Realms later.


    As with the first door, opening the second one took a while. When he finally broke the last lock, he was disappointed to see that the cell was completely empty. Hurriedly, he moved on to the third.


    Again, it took him some time to break through the locks, but this time, he was stunned at what the door revealed once he opened it.


    In the cell stood a gaunt figure. It was about Arran''s height, and it lacked the impressive build of the man Arran had freed earlier. Yet its face was the stuff of nightmares ¡ª deathly pale, lacking a nose, and with black holes where its eyes should be.


    Arran felt a wave of terror as the creature approached him, stronger than even the creature''s hideous appearance would justify. With a start, he realized that the feeling seemed to come from the creature, as if it emanated a magical aura of pure dread.


    "A debt will be repaid," the creature said in a hissing voice, turning its eyeless face toward Arran.


    Arran did not dare respond. He just stood there, frozen, until finally the creature headed into the hallway. Whatever it was, Arran fervently hoped that he would never meet it again.


    As he was about to head for the next door, he hesitated, wondering just what he had unleashed on the world ¡ª and what lay behind the two doors that were left.


    But the pain of the Essence in his body left him neither the time nor the concentration to consider the matter more carefully, and he headed for the fourth door.


    This time, he found a young girl, twelve at most, with long black hair and an excited look on her face.


    "Oh! You are like me!" she said, lips curling in a mischievous smile. "I''ll see you soon!"


    "What do you¡ª" Arran stopped talking as the girl had vanished into thin air.


    Although her disappearance was uncanny, it did not leave him as shaken as the creature behind the third door had, and with a shrug, he moved on to the final door.


    Once more, he broke through the locks, and the moment the door opened, a giant man came walking out. Seven feet tall if not more, he had a bald head and muscles like steel cables, with a neck nearly as thick as Arran''s waist.


    The man did not give Arran so much as a single look, instead heading straight for the hallway.


    The last of the cells opened, Arran finally relaxed ¡ª and immediately, he knew it was a mistake. Just a slight lapse in focus, and the painful pressure of the Realm Opening Pills instantly threatened to overwhelm him.


    For a second, he considered blasting some of the Essence into the empty hall to relieve the pressure. But then, he realized he might still need it later. Even if he was certain the four people he had just released would wreak havoc on whatever lay at the end of the staircase, he doubted he would be lucky enough to escape without a fight.


    No choice but to bear the pain, he hurried toward Windsong''s cell, the sound of his footsteps echoing in the empty hallway.


    When he arrived, he saw that five of the prisoners he had released earlier had joined Windsong. Emaciated as they were, they still looked far better than when he first saw them, and he realized that freeing the final four must have taken longer than he thought.


    As he stepped inside the cell, one of the prisoners spoke up, a plain-looking man with graying hair and a long, bushy beard.


    "You kept us waiting long enough," the man said. "Now that you''re here, we must prepare. Once we''re ready, I will lead, and you will stay behind us to cover our retreat. When we¡ª"


    Smack!


    The man was sent sprawling to the ground as Arran slapped him in the face. When he got to his feet a few moments later, there was a look of shock on his face.


    "You will¡ª" the man began.


    "I will leave now," Arran interrupted him. "Follow, or don''t. It''s up to you."


    He did not say another word, instead hurrying toward the staircase. He knew that he needed to release the raw Essence that was trying to burst from his body, and for that, he needed a fight.

 Chapter 60 A Clear Path

    As Arran hurried up the stairs, climbing three steps at a time, he heard the mages he had freed following behind. He paid them little heed. What mattered now was what lay ahead of him.


    The staircase seemed to go on forever, steeply winding upward, and after some time Arran began to wonder just how far below the ground he was. Although he couldn''t be sure, it seemed like he had already climbed half a mile upward, and still the stairs continued.


    Had his body not been strengthened through Body Refinement, he would have long been out of breath by now, but as it was, he did not even break a sweat.


    Now, he understood why no one had come after he used a vast amount of Essence to escape his cell. Half a mile underground, it would simply have been impossible to sense for those above.


    The escaped mages were still behind him, and although he heard some panting by now, he marveled at their endurance. In their current state and without the aid of Body Refinement, that they kept up with him at all meant that they were quite powerful.


    Finally, he reached the top of the staircase, stepping into a small, empty hall. The hall had only a single exit, where Arran could see the shattered remains of a door hanging from its hinges. At once, he hastened toward it.


    When he stepped through the exit, he could not suppress a gasp at the scene in front of him.


    Before him stretched a long hallway, numerous closed doors on either side. The hallway itself was completely covered in fresh blood, and the floor was littered with severed body parts.Someone ¡ª something ¡ª had passed through here like a storm of slaughter, leaving no one alive in its path.


    Amid the slaughter, Arran saw some pieces of cloth that had not been soaked with blood, and from their white color, he knew that the people who had died here were Academy guards or mages.


    "What is this?!" Windsong blurted out, voice trembling with shock at the sight.


    "You''re not the only prisoners I released," Arran said. "It seems the others have cleared us a path."


    He glanced at the other mages, and he felt some relief upon seeing that they looked just as shocked as Windsong. If nothing else, that suggested


    "We must free the prisoners!" one of the mages said, a short woman in her middle years who might have been beautiful had her face not been gaunt from hunger.


    "Prisoners?" Arran asked. "But I already did¡­"


    The woman shook her head. "Not us. The ones who are locked up here. The dungeon below only held the most powerful prisoners. Here, they keep the rest ¡ª adepts and below."


    Arran did not question how the woman knew all these things. Instead, he simply nodded, then moved forward.


    He approached the first door, and although it was thick and made of steel, a small blast of raw Essence was enough to tear it from its hinges. Unlike the doors at the lower level, this one clearly wasn''t build to stand up to powerful mages.


    Inside, Arran saw a thin man in a tattered gray robe, who looked at him in fright. He did not bother to explain the situation to the man. If the man had any sense, he would seize his newfound freedom.


    Arran moved onward and blasted the next door with raw Essence as he approached it, ripping it out of the wall and freeing whoever was inside. He did not stop to check the cell behind it, instead moving on without pause, destroying each door as he passed it.


    He was thankful for the opportunity to release some of the Essence that filled him, as it lessened the pain he still felt, if only slightly.


    The hallway continued for several hundreds of paces, and at its end, Arran found another staircase. Before he moved on, he glanced backward, and was startled to see that there were dozens of gray-robed prisoners behind him.


    He moved up the staircase. There was no long climb this time, and a moment later he stood in another long hallway, a floor higher this time.


    Much like the previous hallway, this one was covered in blood, no trace of living guards anywhere in sight. Here, too, there were numerous locked doors lining the sides of the hallway, and Arran opened them in passing, knowing there were more prison cells behind them.


    Twice more, he passed steep stairs and blood-covered hallways, and he lost count of how many cells he opened.


    After yet another staircase, Arran did not find the hallway he expected to find. Instead, the staircase now emerged into a large stone hall, again filled with blood and dead bodies.


    Ignoring the gore, Arran looked around the hall, and his eyes went wide with anticipation as he saw the exit ¡ª a large double door to the outside, with half of it currently splintered and broken, and the other half mostly torn from its hinges.


    Finally, he had found the way out, and if the remains of battle inside the building were any indication, the path to freedom might already be clear.


    Just as he was about to head toward the exit, one of the mages anxiously spoke up.


    "Wait!" she said, her voice sounding nervous, on the verge of panic.


    When Arran looked over, he saw that it was the woman who had spoken earlier.Understanding that she knew more of the prison than he did, he stopped to listen to whatever it was she had to say.


    "Once we leave," she said, "we''ll be easy to spot. And even if a few guards have died in here, there are many more Academy members in the rest of the stronghold."


    "How many are there?" Arran asked.


    "How many?" The woman frowned. "Thousands, at least. This isn''t just a prison. It''s one of the main strongholds of the Academy in this region of the Empire."


    "Thousands?!" Even though Arran''s emotions were numbed by the pain that still enveloped his body, he was shocked at the answer.


    "Most of them are weak," the woman replied quickly. "Adepts, novices, initiates¡­ nothing you have to worry about."


    Arran raised an eyebrow at the idea that he had nothing to fear from adepts, but then, he realized the woman wasn''t wrong. At least right now, with raw Essence coursing through his body, killing an adept would be as easy as swatting a fly.


    "And the others?" he asked.


    She furrowed her brow in thought, and this time, there was a tremble in her voice as she spoke. "There will be a few hundred Masters, and at least several dozens of Grandmasters."


    At this, Arran sighed. It was as bad as he feared. Even if the four prisoners who had cleared the path from the dungeon had massacred their way out of the stronghold, there would still be hundreds of Academy mages left.


    He looked at the large group of prisoners behind him, and knew they would have to fight. Weak though most of them might be, only numbers would ensure that the few powerful mages in their group would not be targeted and overwhelmed immediately.


    Regretfully, he dumped all but the most valuable weapons from his void bags on the floor.


    "Arm yourselves!" he called out to the prisoners.


    Treasures though they might be, the weapons would do him no good sitting in bags. And unless he was luckier than he thought himself to be, there was a large fight ahead.


    The freed prisoners who had not yet picked up blood-soaked weapons from the hallways began to arm themselves with the weapons Arran had put down, and as he looked at them, he felt a moment of guilt.


    In a fight with Masters and Grandmasters present, most of the prisoners would have little chance of survival. Once they were out of the building, he might be leading them to their deaths.


    Yet when he saw the hard expressions on their gaunt faces, the feeling of guilt disappeared. This was their only chance of escape, and just from looking at them, Arran understood that to a man, they would rather die than go back to their cells.


    He stood and waited until all the weapons had been taken. A few unlucky people were still unarmed, but there was no helping it ¡ª if a fight broke out, they would simply have to grab weapons from the fallen.


    Arran took a deep breath, trying to steel his resolve. Then, with a yell, he charged ahead, out of the prison and into the Academy stronghold.

 Chapter 61 A Change of Plans

    After bursting out the door, Arran found himself in what looked to be a large, walled courtyard. Although there were clear signs of battle in the form of bodies and damaged buildings, there weren''t any enemies present as far as Arran could tell.


    Without having to face the attack he had been expecting, Arran almost felt lost as he headed into the courtyard to take a better look at the surroundings. There was no trace of any living Academy guards, and the gate in the wall had been twisted into a ruined mess by some frighteningly strong force.


    While he remained watchful, it seemed as if the four prisoners from the most heavily locked cells had completely wiped out their enemies.


    Behind him, he could hear the freed prisoners flooding into the courtyard, their voices low but excited. Some sounded fearful and others eager, but none of them sounded the least bit calm.


    There were well over a hundred now, and even if most of them were weak, their sheer numbers should provide at least some protection. In the Empire, there were few places where over a hundred mages would not be considered a force to be reckoned with.


    "Quiet!" Arran hissed suddenly, and a few moments later, the muffled voices disappeared.


    The reason for the sudden order had been that Arran thought he heard sounds of battle, and now, he could clearly hear thunderous explosions far in the distance ¡ª several miles away, if not more.


    "Hear that?" he said to the Windsong and the mages who were standing closest to him. "I think the others have drawn them away. If we hurry, we can¡ª"


    He did not get the chance to finish, because just then, a small group of white-clad Academy mages emerged from the ruined gate in the surrounding wall.


    For a moment, the two groups stood watching each other, seemingly frozen in shock. Both the escaped prisoners and the Academy patrol had clearly not expected to run into their enemies just now, and neither side responded immediately.


    The first to react were the prisoners. As if by some unspoken agreement, several dozens of them simultaneously threw their most powerful attacks at the Academy patrol, the others following an instant later.


    Arran was among those who attacked, and faced with Academy mages, he drew upon all the might of the raw Essence within him.


    Just his attack alone was enough to eliminate the Academy patrol. Combined with the other prisoners'' attacks, it was so strong that it ripped not just through the patrol, but also through the wall behind, through the buildings behind that, and through everything else for at least a quarter mile.


    Arran cursed loudly, at once recognizing his mistake.


    In the blink of an eye, their chance to make an easy escape while most Academy mages were fighting elsewhere was lost. With this idiotic display of power, they had just announced their presence to any mage within half a dozen miles, and the Academy would be sure to respond.


    Worse, the moment Arran threw the devastating attack, he felt a sense of relief, with the pain in his body lessening immediately.


    At any other time that would have been a welcome change, but right now, Arran knew what it meant: that the raw Essence of the Realm Opening Pills was beginning to run out.


    He had barely fought at all, instead using the raw Essence on doors and locks until it almost ran dry. It had been worth it, as he had exchanged his raw Essence for temporary allies who had already proven their worth many times over, clearing a safe path out of the prison.


    Yet now, Arran felt painfully vulnerable, with his fount of power running dry long before the final fight was over ¡ª or worse, before it had even truly begun.


    If he was lucky, he would have another dozen strong attacks left before the raw Essence ran out. That might be enough, but only if he was lucky enough to avoid any Grandmasters.


    After that, he would have to rely on his own strength. And although he had grown much stronger since Panurge had locked him away, he knew he could not hope to match a Grandmaster with only his own power.


    Of course, he still had more Realm Opening Pills left, but after the golden-haired man''s warning, he would only take those as a last resort, and only if there were absolutely no other options available.


    He shook his head. It was pointless to think about all of this. What he needed to focus on was one thing, and one thing only: to escape as soon as possible.


    "Listen up!" he called out. "Right now, every mage in the city is coming for us! The only way we can escape is if we leave now, and don''t stop until we''re out of danger!"


    Arran was about to lead the way out of the city when the short female mage once more spoke up.


    "No!" she called out, shaking her head anxiously. "Half of us will be dead before we''re outside the city, and the other half will die while being chased down in the plains surrounding us."


    "Then what do you suggest we do?" Arran asked. From the tone of her voice, he could already tell she had a plan.


    "We attack the main prison," she said. "Most guards will still be chasing the others, or guarding the outer walls. The few that remain to guard the main prison won''t expect an attack ¡ª and once we''re there, with the prisoners we free on our side, we''ll easily be able to fight them off."


    "This isn''t the main prison?" Arran asked flatly, only barely having heard the words that came after. He was astonished at the idea that the prison he had just escaped from would not be enough to hold the Academy''s foes.


    The woman looked slightly annoyed, as if the question was the kind of thing a particularly ignorant five-year-old might ask. "Of course not. The main prison is gigantic. It holds many thousands of prisoners."


    "Then how do we get there?" Arran asked. He did not like the idea, but he could not think of a better one, and he knew they had little time left to spare.


    "Just follow me," the woman said. "I know a path that should take us there quickly."


    Before he could reply, several bolts of lightning shot at them. Although they missed Arran and the woman, a handful of people around them died instantly, and Arran immediately turned his attention toward their source.


    At a glance, he saw a tall white-robed man at the head of a small group of Academy mages. Other prisoners had reacted even quicker than Arran, and already, the Academy mages were having trouble defending from the torrent of Fire, Wind, Water, Earth and other types of Essence that came soaring their way.


    Arran shot a blast of raw Essence toward them, intentionally limiting himself to not waste his rapidly dwindling power.


    The shot was only barely enough to disrupt the Academy mages'' defenses, but that was enough. With the numerous attacks from the former prisoners coming at the Academy mages in a constant barrage, just having their protection disrupted for a moment was an instant death sentence.


    As the Academy mages died, their bodies torn apart by dozens of magic attacks, Arran turned back toward the short woman.


    "Lead the way," he said, "but hurry. We have only moments before more of them arrive."


    The woman smiled confidently. "Just follow me. We''ll be gone before they have a chance to catch up."


    She set off immediately, with Arran following closely behind her, and the other mages following behind him. Arran fervently wished that she would be right ¡ª if she wasn''t, every single one of them would likely die.

 Chapter 62 Assaulting the Prison

    Arran followed the short woman as she led him back inside the prison building, a long line of escaped prisoners trailing behind them.


    Some of the prisoners looked unhappy with the sudden change in plans, and Arran couldn''t blame them ¡ª after the conditions they had to endure within the walls of this building, it was only natural that they had little interest in going back.


    A handful of them actually didn''t follow the group back inside, instead running out of the gate and leaving the walled area behind.


    Their screams only lasted some moments, but that was enough to tell the other prisoners what was waiting for them outside the walls. No others left after that.


    Understanding that beyond the courtyard lay only death and that the courtyard itself offered little protection, the remaining prisoners hurried back inside.


    With a thought, Arran directed the bushy-bearded mage from the lowest level of the prison ¡ª the one he had slapped for trying to command him ¡ª to take a handful of prisoners and cover the exit.


    "The moment anyone enters the courtyard, attack them with all you have," Arran ordered the mage.


    If his instincts were right, it wouldn''t be long before the first Academy mages made their way into the courtyard. Once they did, some fierce attacks might see them off until more help arrived.


    It wouldn''t buy them much time, but hopefully, they wouldn''t need much.


    "This way," the short woman said, motioning for Arran to follow her.


    She led Arran to a small office located on the side of the main hall. When they entered it, Arran saw only the door through which they had come in, and he shot the woman a questioning look.


    "Help me move this aside," she said, pointing toward a massive wooden bookcase that covered half the wall and reached all the way to the ceiling.


    Arram helped move the bookcase, and he was surprised to find that it slid to the side easily.


    With the bookcase out of the way, a small stone chamber was revealed, empty but for a single spiral staircase leading down beneath the floor.


    "How did you know about this?" Arran asked the woman, suddenly suspicious.


    That she was familiar with most of the general details of the stronghold wasn''t too strange ¡ª it made sense for at least some of the prisoners to be familiar with the prison and the stronghold that housed it.


    Yet her familiarity with the stronghold''s secrets was a different matter. There was no way some random prisoner would know about that.


    "I used to be a member of the Academy," she replied. "A captain at the stronghold. They imprisoned me after I refused to lock up a¡ª"


    Her next words were drowned out by a barrage of thunderous noises, and Arran could suddenly sense a great amount of Essence being used. He understood that the mages guarding the courtyard had just spotted enemies and attacked them, and he knew that even if these were scared off, it would not be long before more arrived.


    He took a quick look around the chamber, then spotted Windsong.


    "Windsong," he said. "Tell the men guarding the courtyard to join us the moment everyone''s inside. And close that door behind us when you follow."


    Arran had little doubt that the Academy mages would find them even if the exit were hidden, but every second they spent searching would give Arran and the prisoners a better chance of making it to the main prison.


    Of course, what would happen once they arrived was a different matter entirely.


    "Let''s go," Arran said, motioning for the others to join him. "If you see any Academy mages, don''t hesitate in attacking."


    Without waiting, he set off, heading down the staircase.


    Arran soon discovered that it led to a dark and narrow underground passage. Little more than a tunnel, it was only barely wide enough for two people to walk abreast, and in places the ceiling was just a single hand removed from his head.


    He illuminated the way with an orb of Fire, and he could see that the passage was dusty and filled with cobwebs. From the look of things, it hadn''t been used in years.


    As they headed deeper into the passage ¡ª Arran in the lead with the short woman next to him, and hundreds of mages following behind them ¡ª he could not help but feel a sudden wave of anxiety.


    If they were betrayed, a single blast of Essence would be enough to collapse the ceiling and bury all of them. And if there were enemies waiting at the end of the passage, Arran and all those behind him would be slaughtered with ease.


    Arran cast a nervous look at the short woman next to him, suddenly suspicious of her explanation for the knowledge she had of the stronghold.


    Despite Arran''s misgivings, they arrived unharmed at the end of the passage not much later, with another spiral staircase leading out of the underground passage.


    "Wait," the woman said, just as Arran was about to head up the stairs. "The chamber upstairs leads directly to the guards'' quarters. The moment we come out, there will be battle."


    "Do you know where the other prisoners are?" Arran asked.


    The woman nodded. "There are two main areas where they¡ª"


    "Then you will lead a group to free them," Arran interrupted her. "I and the others will try to keep the Academy busy as long as possible."


    The woman hesitated, but only for a moment. "Be careful. Most of the guards are weak, but among their commanders will be Masters and Grandmasters," she warned.


    Arran nodded. "Wait here for a short while after we attack," he said. "I''ll try to draw away as many of them as I can." A moment later, he added, "And collapse the ceiling of the passage behind us after we attack, so we don''t get attacked from behind."


    Already, an idea had formed in his head. If one group could attack with enough force to shock and distract the enemy, the other group could use the confusion to release the prisoners. And once the prisoners were free, the tide of the battle would turn their way.


    It was simple, barely enough to be called a plan. But then, the situation wasn''t one that allowed for complex planning.


    Just organizing this plan took more time than Arran would have liked, but eventually, they managed to split the prisoners into two groups.


    The first group, the larger one, would be led by Arran and Windsong, and they would focus on doing as much damage as possible as quickly as possible, while clearing the way to the dungeons for the second group.


    The second group would be led by the short woman and the bearded man. Arran was fairly certain that both were Grandmasters, and as long as his group cleared the way, they should be able to break out the prisoners without too much trouble.


    The plan wasn''t bad, but the raw Essence from the Realm Opening Pills that Arran had used to escape was now close to running out. Once it was gone, Arran would have a hard time fighting even a Master, much less a Grandmaster.


    And that was where Windsong came in.


    Arran looked at the man as they both stood in front of the exit, then gave him a nod. Windsong nodded in return and took a deep breath.


    A moment later, the wall in front of them was blown to pieces by a massive gust of Wind, revealing a white-robed man sitting behind a desk, with a stunned expression on his face.


    Immediately, Arran rushed forward, throwing a Battering Force spell at the man with his left hand while raising his starmetal sword in the other. The spell caught the man head-on just as he got up, and he staggered several paces backward. Before he could recover, Arran''s sword hit him at full force ¡ª once, twice, thrice, the sword struck, delivering grievous wounds to the man.


    The mere fact that he wasn''t killed outright suggested that he was extremely powerful, but it was no use. Just as he regained his footing and turned toward Arran, he was struck from behind by a devastating attack from Windsong.


    Even in the middle of battle, Arran could not help but feel awe at seeing the Windblade spell used by a Grandmaster who specialized in using Wind.


    The attack was only barely perceptible, and it struck more like a razor than a greatsword. The white-robed mage who was turning to attack Arran only had time to widen his eyes as a thin line of blood appeared across his neck. A moment later, his head toppled to the ground, and his body collapsed.


    The exchange was over in a second or two, and Arran did not pause as it ended. Instead, he immediately rushed through the door, out of the office and into the hall that lay beyond it.


    The numerous white-robed guards in the hall did not surprise Arran, exactly, but he still had to suppress a gasp when he saw their numbers. There were several hundreds, at the least, and it looked as if they had just gathered here only moments ago, probably about to set off in pursuit of the escaped prisoners.


    Yet right now, their numbers did not help them.


    Unlike Arran, the guards did not expect the confrontation.Although some of them had turned toward the office after the sudden noise, the emergence of Arran still took them completely by surprise.


    When Arran''s sword cut down five of them in as many breaths, surprise turned into terror, and they scattered in all directions, desperately trying to get away from the sword even as they stumbled over each other.


    Given a few moments to recover they might have done so, but Windsong entered the hall only seconds after Arran. Immediately, he sent dozens of Windblades cutting through the crowd, further fueling the panic.


    The guards'' situation only worsened from there, because behind Windsong followed the other prisoners ¡ª first a handful, then dozens, then hundreds, all of them attacking the moment they laid eyes on the white uniforms in front of them.


    In moments, the hall was transformed into a chaotic battlefield. Yet even amid the chaos, it was clear that the guards were on the losing side of the exchange ¡ª the attack had just been too sudden, too unexpected, and too violent.


    As the prisoners unleashed their rage at the Academy on the guards, Arran and Windsong sought out the enemy commanders among the crowd.


    The tactic they used was simple but effective: using the physical advantage Body Refinement gave him, Arran attacked the enemy commanders up close. The weaker ones among them simply fell to his sword, while the stronger ones were opened up to Windblade''s magic attacks, who struck them down with cold efficiency.


    Just a few minutes later, the last of the guards fell, his white uniform dyed deep red by the blood of a dozen mortal wounds.


    Seeing the massacre, Arran took a deep breath.


    The first confrontation had gone better than expected, but there was no time to celebrate. At least some of the guards would have escaped to warn the others, and if those that remained in the rest of the prison could reorganize, the battle might yet be turned around.


    Arran would not allow that to happen.


    Barely even pausing to catch his breath after this first victory, he moved onward, intent on using the momentum of this first strike to defeat the enemy completely.

 Chapter 63 Resistance

    "Watch out!" Arran yelled.


    Windsong barely dodged the fireball, but the prisoner behind him wasn''t as lucky. Before the man had time to look shocked, he was dead, a head-sized hole burned through his chest.


    Arran rushed toward the Academy mage who had launched the attack, a terrifyingly strong fighter with a hard face and snow-white hair. And, if Arran was right, one of the few Grandmasters who still fought on the side of the Academy at the prison.


    Their initial attack had been unexpectedly successful. Before the Academy could mount a defense, Arran, Windsong, and the prisoners who accompanied them had overrun the guards'' quarters, taking down hundreds of unprepared enemies while losing less than two dozen of their own.


    Without delay they had forged ahead to the officers'' quarters, attacking with enough fury that it seemed as if they really were intent on finding and fighting the enemy commanders.


    In truth, the whole thing was a ruse ¡ª with their attack on the officers'' quarters they hoped to draw away those few guards who still defended the dungeons, allowing a small group of their allies to release the prisoners.


    The plan was simple enough, but it did rely on them not running into any unforeseen obstacles ¡ª like the white-haired commander who was currently fighting off both Arran and Windsong as his men engaged the other prisoners.


    Unlike their previous foes, this one seemed to understand instantly that Arran was trying to create openings for Windsong, and he wasn''t playing along.


    Despite Arran''s attacks, the mage constantly managed to stay out of Windsong''s line of sight, using Arran and other prisoners to block Windsong from attacking him. At the same time, he steadily took out weaker prisoners around them, while launching the occasional attack of opportunity at Arran or Windsong.


    Arran knew he could not let this continue. With the enemy commander taking down prisoners one after the other, it was only a matter of time before their group would break.


    Face twisted in frustration, he launched himself at the enemy commander.


    The man saw the opening instantly, and he launched a white-hot fireball at Arran. Arran had expected the attack, of course, and he put up a Force Shield just as the fireball was about to hit.


    The fireball shattered the Force Shield, but lost most of its power in doing so. What remained slammed into Arran, and although he staggered backward, his Essence-strengthened body wasn''t injured in the slightest.


    Arran immediately retaliated with a blast of raw Essence that hit the mage square in the chest, but he was surprised to see that although the man swayed on his feet, he did not fall.


    The man''s power still wouldn''t save him ¡ª although Arran hoped the blast of raw Essence would be enough, his true aim was to distract the Academy commander long enough to create an opening for Windsong.


    Just as the Academy commander regained his balance, several thin red lines appeared across his body. A moment later, blood gushed forth from a dozen deep wounds, and he collapsed just seconds after that.


    Their commander gone, his men were no longer able to keep up their fight, and the last of them fell within a minute.


    "That was too close," Arran said as he approached Windsong.


    Windsong nodded, a grave expression on his face. "He was a Grandmaster, like me, but¡­" He did not finish the sentence, but Arran knew what he was thinking. The Academy commander had clearly been stronger than Windsong.


    "No point in worrying about that," Arran said. "We should get going again."


    By now, they should now have created enough space for their allies to make it into the dungeons. If they could just distract the Academy guards a little longer, their first reinforcements should appear soon enough.


    Once that happened, the battle would be all but won.


    Arran and Windsong moved ahead, the prisoners following behind them. Although their numbers had fallen by another two dozen, there were still more than enough to keep the Academy occupied a little longer.


    As they hurried through the hallways Arran took the lead, cutting down those guards who were still scattered through the prison and found themselves in Arran''s way.


    The few who made it past him were quickly cut down by Windsong and the others, and their group moved through the hallways like a storm of death, leaving only corpses where they passed.


    Arran was just starting to begin feeling hopeful when they burst into yet another hall, and found that this time, it was filled with enemies.


    There were at least a hundred guards before them, and Arran cursed under his breath the moment he laid eyes on them.


    Unlike the previous groups, these guards were clearly prepared for battle. They were arranged in three lines, their weapons drawn and ready, and behind them was a broad staircase upon which stood several white-robed mages.


    It was a perfect counter to the group of prisoners ¡ª a handful of powerful mages who were free to attack while they were protected by several rows of well-armed guards.


    Before Arran could act, the middle mage raised his hand in a sharp gesture. In an instant, two dozen of the prisoners were killed, their bodies crushed by what seemed like an invisible force that hit like an avalanche.


    "Kill the intruders."


    The man who spoke was the one who had just attacked, and other than his strength, he seemed completely unremarkable. He was of average height and weight, with brown hair and a face that was neither handsome nor ugly.


    If Arran had not just seen his frightening power, he could easily have mistaken the man for a bookkeeper in a small merchant clan, or a clerk in the offices of some low-ranking city official.


    But Arran had no time to spend considering the man''s appearance.


    He rushed forward with an inhuman burst of strength, appearing amid the guards before they could even turn their weapons toward him. In an instant, half a dozen of them lay dead or dying, and Arran braced himself for what was about to come.


    As expected, he had drawn the mage''s attention, and a moment later a terrifyingly strong blast of Essence struck the Force Shield he had raised, shattering it instantly and sending Arran flying into the wall with a violent crash.


    Had he not practiced Body Refinement, the impact would have killed him, but as it was, he was only barely injured. Immediately, he got to his feet, casting a glance at the monstrously strong Academy mage.


    As expected, the man''s eyes went wide with surprise, and Arran almost grinned as he knew that Windsong had used the opportunity to attack.


    Yet this time, there were no sudden wounds, nor did the enemy mage collapse.


    Instead, he swept his hand in Windsong''s direction with a violent gesture, and a thunderous noise sounded as a devastating force crashed down on Windsong and the prisoners around him.


    Arran''s eyes went wide with shock at the sight. Windsong and at least two dozen of the prisoners around him were struck with a blast of power so devastating it cracked even the stone floor beneath them. Without even seeing the results, Arran knew none had survived.


    With a feeling of panic that bordered on nausea, he sensed the amount of power that was being used, and he knew at once that the man before him had to be an Archmage.


    Before Arran had the chance to even consider fleeing, another thunderous crash sounded as the hallway behind their group collapsed, shutting off the only path of escape.


    "Leave none alive," the Archmage said, his voice completely calm.


    A moment later, deadly attacks began raining down on the group of prisoners.

 Chapter 64 Facing the Archmage

    The hall had exploded into chaos the moment the Academy mages and guards attacked, and for a time, all Arran could do was desperately dodge the mages'' attacks while fighting off the guards.


    That he still remained standing was only because the Academy mages seemed hesitant to kill their own, allowing him to use the guards to block them from attacking.


    Yet while Arran was barely holding on, the other prisoners weren''t faring as well. Within minutes half of them lay dead, and more fell by the second, with both the guards'' weapons and the mages'' Essence attacks cutting them down mercilessly.


    Seeing that the situation had turned desperate, Arran knew he had to use the last of the raw Essence within his body. There was only enough left for a few more attacks, but there was no point in saving it now.


    Arran rushed forward, ducking behind a small cluster of guards to avoid a burst of Fire that lashed his way from the direction of the mages. In the blink of an eye, his sword cut down the guards, and suddenly there was an open path from Arran to the mages.


    Barreling forward, Arran controlled the last of the raw Essence within his body, forcing it into a series of blasts that he launched at the five mages. Six attacks slammed into the small group, each of which far surpassed anything Arran could have managed by himself.


    Two of the mages were killed outright, their bodies ripped apart by the violent energy of the raw Essence as it hit them. Two more were sent to the floor, and even if they weren''t killed directly, they were out of the fight for at least some moments.


    The only one who remained standing was the Archmage, and even he appeared to be swaying on his feet.


    Yet it wasn''t enough.


    Arran had aimed the bulk of his raw Essence attacks at the Archmage, and seeing the man was still standing, he knew the battle was lost.


    With the last of the raw Essence gone, Arran would have to rely on his own strength. And if even the raw Essence attacks weren''t enough to take down the Archmage, there was no way his own power could even harm the man, much less defeat him.


    Despite this, Arran did not despair. If he was to fall, so be it, but he wouldn''t give up until he was well and truly defeated.


    The remaining mages were still recovering from Arran''s attack, and he continued his rush toward them. One of those who had been sent to the floor was just getting back to his feet when Arran''s starmetal sword hit him in the neck at full force.


    Although the blow did not decapitate him outright, the sword still cut deep enough to cause a fountain of blood to gush forth from his neck, and his body slumped to the ground just a moment later.


    Without pausing, Arran hurried to the other downed mage, intent on killing the man before he had a chance to recover. Even if he could not defeat the Archmage himself, taking out the man''s allies certainly could not hurt his chances.


    Yet before Arran could reach the downed mage, an overwhelming force slammed into his side, and he was swept away like an ant being struck by a giant.


    He was smashed into a wall, and as he got back to his feet he could feel that this time, he was seriously injured.


    Ignoring his injuries, he immediately rushed into the middle of the ongoing battle between the guards and the prisoners ¡ª the danger the guardsmen posed to him was nothing compared to the threat of the Archmage.


    Facing an opponent he could not harm but who could kill him with a single attack, the only one thing he could do was to avoid his fate just a little longer.


    He waded through the guardsmen''s lines, making little effort to attack them and only taking out those who got in his way. Fighting them wasn''t important now ¡ª all that mattered was that he did not remain in the same place for even a second.


    Despite his best efforts to use the guards as cover, it did not take long before he was struck by another attack from the Archmage, and he was sent to the ground.


    Ignoring his pain and injuries, he immediately got back to his feet and jumped to the side ¡ª just in time, because an instant later two guards near the spot where he had fallen exploded in a shower of blood and gore.


    At this, Arran understood that the Archmage was no longer taking care to avoid harming his allies, and he knew the end was drawing near.


    Already he could feel his movements being slowed by his injuries, and even using the guards for cover, it was becoming increasingly difficult to avoid the Archmage''s attacks.


    Still, he fought on. More guards fell to his sword, and several magic attacks that had been aimed for him took down Academy guards instead.


    Then another attack slammed into him, and again he was sent to the ground. This time, he had a harder time getting back on his feet, his body already driven far beyond its limits.


    When he finally got up, he knew he had been too slow ¡ª the next attack would hit before he could move, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.


    Yet the attack did not come, and when Arran looked at the Archmage, he saw that the man stood frozen, his face twisted in a horrified expression.


    Arran turned around, and he could see that the collapsed hallway had somehow been cleared, the hundred-ton pieces of stone that had blocked it earlier now swept to the side.


    In the middle of the hallway stood the short woman, accompanied by at least a dozen mages, none of whom he recalled seeing earlier.


    Although the sight was right in front of him, Arran''s injury-muddled mind took some moments to register it. Finally, understanding dawned, and he breathed a deep sigh of relief.


    They had made it. The mages tasked with freeing the prisoners had done so, and just in time to save Arran''s life.


    "Kill him," the woman said with a look at the Archmage. Her tone was casual, as if she was talking about a fly to be swatted.


    The mages who accompanied her attacked all at once, a dozen streams of Essence hitting the Archmage at the same time.


    Even with Arran''s mind clouded by the injuries he had sustained during the desperate fight, he could still feel that the attacks were terrifyingly powerful. With a start, he realized that each of these mages was at least as strong as the man they were now attacking.


    The Archmage went down in seconds, his body pierced, crushed, and torn apart by a barrage of devastating attacks.


    Arran shivered at the sight. The seemingly invincible man who had come so close to killing him was defeated in an instant, without any hope of even defending himself.


    Although his life had been saved, this stark reminder of his own weakness filled Arran with a deep sense of unease, and he did not allow himself to dwell on it. Instead, he turned his attention to the woman.


    "You made it," he said, still only half believing that it was true.


    "And not a moment too soon, it seems." She looked around the hall, where the last of the Academy guards were being slaughtered by her companions. "None of the others survived?"


    Arran glanced toward the area where Windsong had fallen. "They were too strong," he said simply, voice thick with regret.


    "There are no battles without casualties," the woman said. Then, a smile appeared on her face, and she continued, "But you¡­ you performed even better than I expected."


    To Arran''s eyes, the smile on her face looked unnatural, almost as if it belonged to someone else. "Who are you?" he asked.


    "You don''t recognize an old friend?"


    The woman grinned broadly, and a ripple went through her face. An instant later, only the grin remained the same, and the rest of the face now exactly resembled Panurge''s.


    Arran knew he should be shocked, but after everything that happened since he broke out of his cell, he found himself unable to feel much of anything.


    "Why?" he asked.


    "I''ll explain it after we get your wounds looked at," Panurge said. If Arran didn''t know any better, he would have thought the man sounded worried.


    Arran nodded, vaguely aware of the terrible shape his body was in. He was about to say something, but just as he opened his mouth, the world went black before his eyes and he collapsed.

 Chapter 65 Birds and Dragons

    Arran awoke in a small but clean bedroom, lying in a bed so hard it almost seemed like its owner had wanted to prove his toughness even when sleeping.


    The room was furnished with simple but well-made furniture, and several ink drawings of battle scenes decorated the walls. At a glance, Arran thought it should be one of the commanders'' quarters.


    The first thing he did after waking was to examine his body, and when he did, he saw that it was covered in bruises. And not just that ¡ª with every breath he took he felt sharp stabs of pain in his chest. From this, he knew that at least some of his ribs had to be bruised or even broken.


    His left shoulder and arm were covered in bandages, and when he looked underneath them, he found several deep wounds, still open even if they weren''t bleeding anymore.


    Moving his left arm was extremely painful, but he felt some relief at this ¡ª the mere fact that he was able to move the arm at all meant there likely wouldn''t be any permanent damage.


    Worse were the injuries he could feel within his body. Even if they were invisible to the eye, he could sense that they were more serious than his surface wounds.


    His dire state made it clear that he had come within a hair''s breadth of losing his life, and when he recalled the fight, he knew that it was a small miracle that he had survived at all.


    Even with the borrowed Essence from the Realm Opening Pills, he had been no match for the Archmage.


    His training in Body Refinement had allowed him to survive attacks that would have killed most others, but even then, just distracting the Archmage for a few minutes had ended with him very nearly stepping across the brink of death.


    He shuddered when he thought about how the fight would have ended had Panurge not appeared at the last moment, and once more, he felt like an ant stuck in a war between giants.


    The temporary power of the Realm Opening Pills allowed him to play at being a true mage, but only for a short while. And each time he tried, it had almost cost him his life.


    Now, he had only three Realm Opening Pills left, but if the golden-haired warrior he freed from the prison was to be believed, taking even a single one of those would likely kill him.


    Not that it mattered much ¡ª in his present state, even a mild breeze might well kill him.


    He sat up in the bed with some effort. Trying to ignore the pain that seemed to be present in every fiber of his body, he closed his eyes, then began to perform Lord Jiang''s circulation technique.


    With how badly hurt he was, using Body Refinement to heal his injuries felt a lot like trying to repair a collapsed building using only straw and mud. There was just too much damage to be healed easily, and the only thing that could help him recover was time.


    Nevertheless, he persisted. If healing completely would take a long time, then the sooner he got started, the better.


    Hours passed, but if Arran''s body saw any improvement at all, it was too small to be noticed.


    "That was a very stupid thing you did."


    Arran was shaken from his meditation by the voice, and when he looked up, he saw that Panurge was standing in front of him.


    "Stupid?" Arran scowled in anger. The man, god, or whatever he might be had locked Arran in a cell, then sent him to a fight he had no chance of winning. And now, Panurge was berating him?


    "I gave you a gift more precious than gold or magic treasures," Panurge replied, "and you squandered it. Although I will admit that you did so in a remarkable fashion."


    "A Realm and some spells in exchange for my freedom? You call that a gift?!" Arran fumed with rage.


    "Of course not," Panurge said calmly. "My gift was the cell."


    Arran was dumbfounded. Even for Panurge, this sounded unusually mad.


    "What I gave you was a few decades to practice in safety," Panurge continued. "Had you not used a foolish trick to break out long before you were supposed to, you would have eventually emerged with enough power to defend yourself."


    "You expected me to stay there and slowly starve to death like the other prisoners?!"


    "I provided you with food," Panurge pointed out. "Unlike the others, you would not have had to feed on your own Essence. A few short decades of training, and you would have been able to face Grandmasters and perhaps even Archmages on equal terms."


    With a gesture at Arran''s injured body, he added, "And just look at you now ¡ª one small fight, and you look like you''ve been ravaged by a pack of hellhounds."


    "You had me fight an Archmage!" Arran''s eyes were wide in disbelief at the man''s bewildering words.


    "I had you fight a beetle," Panurge replied flatly.


    "A beetle?" Despite his anger, Arran found himself speechless at the sheer absurdity of the statement.


    "The ant looks at the beetle and thinks it a giant. The bird looks at both and sees only food." Panurge nodded in satisfaction, seemingly impressed with his own sagacity.


    "And I take it you''re the bird?" Arran asked. Without asking, he already understood that he was the ant.


    "Me?" A wide grin appeared on Panurge''s face. "I''m the mighty dragon, able to eat a thousand birds in a single bite and still feel hungry afterward."


    Although Arran knew it was a bad idea to provoke Panurge, he could not help but frown at the man''s shameless boasting.


    Panurge laughed loudly. "If you don''t want to believe me, I suppose I''ll just have to show you."


    At once, Arran felt panic. He understood very well that whenever Panurge wanted to do something ¡ª anything ¡ª bad things were bound to happen.


    Ignoring Arran''s fearful face, Panurge snapped his fingers. A moment later, Arran found himself in the air, several thousands of feet from the ground. He was about to scream in panic when he realized he wasn''t falling, instead simply floating in mid-air.


    "Look beneath you," Panurge said.


    After Arran calmed his nerves, he glanced downward, doing his best to ignore the nauseous feeling the distance from the ground caused him. As he looked, he saw two vast armies facing each other, one twice the size of the other, with barely a mile between them.


    "Now look closer," Panurge said.


    Arran was surprised to find his eyesight suddenly sharpening, to the point that he could now make out the individual soldiers of each army even from miles away.


    Studying the two armies, he could see that the larger one consisted of tens of thousands of knights in magnificent silver-colored armor, each wielding a sword and holding a large white shield.


    The smaller army, meanwhile, was made up of what looked to be monks in simple gray robes, their heads all shaved. Some of them wielded staves or swords, but most were barehanded.


    "What is this?" Arran asked. Despite himself, he was intrigued at the scene below him.


    "The start of a battle," Panurge replied. "Those fools in shining armor are part of the Brotherhood of Radiant Light ¡ª forces of Order, like the Academy. Even the weakest of them is a thousand times stronger than the beetle who came so close to crushing you."


    "And the others?" Although the knights were the first to catch his eye, the monks were the more interesting group to Arran, if only because they seemed so ill-prepared for battle.


    "The others," Panurge continued, "are part of a small society of monks who decided to side with neither Order nor Chaos."


    Arran furrowed his brow on hearing this. The idea that there were powerful groups who rejected both sides opened possibilities he had not previously considered.


    "Now look at that handsome fellow over there," Panurge said, pointing toward a lone figure who had just emerged from the smaller army.


    The man was wielding a simple wooden staff, and with a start, Arran realized that he strongly resembled a bald Panurge ¡ª only instead of Panurge''s maniacal grin, he bore an expression of calm resolve.


    Before Arran could ask any questions, the lone figure started to move toward the large army, first at a jog, then at full sprint.


    When the figure had almost reached the knights'' lines, he suddenly shot forward, almost faster than Arran''s eyes could follow. In an instant, knights began to fall one after the other, struck down by the wooden staff.


    While Arran could not see the lone figure use magic, his movements suggested that he practiced Body Refinement, but at a level far beyond anything Arran had thought possible.


    The fight went on for some time, and it was starting to look as if the lone figure was going to defeat the entire army by himself. Hundreds of the knights had already fallen, and although they fought desperately, nothing they did even slowed the lone figure in the slightest.


    Yet then, a giant white-robed man arose among the ranks of the knights. Surrounded by a bright glow, he rapidly increased in size, standing at least a hundred feet tall after just a moment.


    Ignoring the lone figure who was fighting the knights, the giant man pointed his right hand toward the monks'' army. A massive stream of white light burst forth from his hand, and it struck in the middle of the army.


    Instantly, the ground exploded where the stream of light hit it, and before Arran could even register what was happening, the entire stretch of land where the army had stood was turned into a lake of boiling rock.


    Before Arran could see what happened next, Panurge snapped his fingers again, and Arran found that he was back in the small bedroom.


    "Was that real?" he asked, voice subdued as he tried to understand what he just witnessed.


    "Perhaps," Panurge replied, although, for the first time since Arran had met him, his eyes seemed to lack their normal exuberant madness.


    "What happened next?" The scene had ended abruptly, and although Arran knew it could all just have been a product of Panurge''s imagination, he did not believe that to be true.


    "A dragon had a feast," Panurge answered cryptically, his voice emotionless.


    "Why did you show me this?" Even if the man seemed mad at the best of times, Arran could not believe that it was all just a simple coincidence. There had to be something more to his sudden interference in Arran''s life.


    "To help you understand," Panurge said. "That the monsters you fear are insects to others. That the strength of your enemies will not match your own. That at any moment, a dragon can step out of the shadows and swallow all the birds in this world."


    "But why me?" Arran asked. Whatever it was that Panurge was trying to tell him, he understood little of it. Yet what truly baffled him was that Panurge had chosen to target him of all people.


    "Why not?" Panurge asked in return. "Should I have a reason for making a young man''s life a little more interesting than it would be otherwise?"


    When Arran saw that the manic twinkle had returned to Panurge''s eyes, he knew there was no point in asking further questions.

 Chapter 66 Leaving the Stronghold

    Three months had passed since Arran escaped from the prison, and by now, he had recovered almost completely.


    Although he would sometimes still feel pangs of pain if he moved too quickly, he knew that for some time already, he had been well enough to travel.


    That he remained here was in part because he wanted to recover fully before braving the dangers of the road, but mostly, he was reluctant to abandon the peace and safety of the stronghold.


    After the stronghold had fallen to the prisoners, surprisingly little had happened.


    Arran had been unconscious during the final battle for the stronghold, and after he came to, it had taken some weeks before he had been able to leave his bed.


    When he finally got the chance to explore the stronghold, he found it almost shockingly normal. Instead of the castle he had imagined, the stronghold was more like a small town, albeit an unusually well-fortified one.


    If the streets weren''t exactly bustling with traffic, they were by no means abandoned either. Merchants and farmers sold their wares at the market, and on many street corners, there were hawkers vending food of questionable origins.


    Even many of the townsfolk remained, having taken the change of leadership in stride once it became clear that the prisoners had no intention of allowing the stronghold to descend into an orgy of pillage and murder.


    While many of the prisoners had left, the ones who chose to remain kept the stronghold at peace, interfering little in the townsfolk''s affairs other than to buy their goods.


    Those few prisoners who did cause trouble were quickly dealt with by the others, and the sight of their bodies hanging from the walls did much to discourage further violence.


    The signs of battle had not been completely erased, of course. Many buildings still bore scars from what must have been terrifying attacks, and in several spots the buildings had been destroyed completely, only rubble remaining.


    Yet most of the damage had disappeared within weeks of the battle, and had it not been for the presence of some terrifyingly powerful mages, one could almost mistake the stronghold for a normal town.


    Initially, Arran had feared that the Academy would attempt to retake the stronghold, but when he shared his worries with Panurge, the man had merely laughed.


    As Panurge explained it, the prisoners who had taken control of the stronghold were strong enough to defend against anything short of a major assault from the Academy. And although such an attack would come eventually, Panurge said it would take them years to organize it.


    Arran wasn''t fully comforted by the man''s words of reassurance ¡ª it was Panurge, after all ¡ª but if an attack did happen, he should be able to flee before battle broke out.


    Moreover, leaving would not take him out of danger either. Even if he was confident in being able to handle any bandits he encountered, there was still the matter of his involvement in the fall of the prison.


    Most of those who knew his role had died in the fight against the Archmage, but if even a single person informed the Academy, he had no doubt that there would be few places in the Empire where he would be safe.


    He wasn''t exactly frightened by this ¡ª by now, he was used to the idea of the Academy wanting to kill him ¡ª but he still cherished the opportunity not to have to think about the Academy for a while.


    As he spent his days within the walls of the stronghold, Arran sought little contact with the prisoners and the townsfolk.


    A few nights he spent drinking in the few taverns the stronghold counted, but other than that, he spent his days mostly by himself, focusing on his recovery and occasionally practicing his magic.


    "You''re leaving for the Shadowflame Society, then?" Panurge asked him one evening.


    During Arran''s months at the stronghold, Panurge visited him often, although the man often disappeared for days at a time. Had Arran not known better, he would almost have thought Panurge was lonely.


    Arran nodded. "In a day or two." He did not bother to ask how Panurge knew about his plans. At this point, he was all too familiar with the man''s annoying habit of knowing things he shouldn''t.


    "You need to watch out for the Academy," Panurge said, his expression uncharacteristically serious.


    "I know," Arran said, wondering why the man felt the need to point out something so obvious.


    "You don''t," Panurge replied. "Before, you were just another youth with a forbidden Realm. But now¡­ if they figure out your part in the prisoners'' escape, those they send after you will be far more dangerous."


    "Wasn''t that your plan when you brought me here?" Arran asked. "Force me to choose your side by making me an enemy of the Academy?"


    With the benefit of hindsight, it hadn''t been difficult to piece together Panurge''s plan in putting Arran in an Academy prison.


    Had Panurge merely wanted to give him a peaceful place to improve his strength, there were many other options. But in the prison, the only means of escape involved battle against the Academy''s guards.


    "My plan had you becoming far stronger than you are now," Panurge said. "Weak as you are, you will be in far more danger than I intended."


    "If they send stronger mages, I''ll just have to run faster." Although Arran knew he could only barely take on a Master using just his own power, he was still confident in his ability to escape if needed.


    Panurge shook his head. "You still don''t understand. Until now, you have faced only the dregs of the Academy."


    "Dregs?" Hearing this, Arran could not help but frown. Just a few months ago, he had only barely survived the terrible power of an Archmage, and now he was being told that his foe had been among the dregs of the Academy?


    "The Academy mages you''ve faced so far only studied a single Pillar," Panurge said.


    "Pillar? Pillar of what?" Arran furrowed his brow at the term, trying to recall if he had ever heard Master Zhao or Lord Jiang use it.


    "Power," Panurge replied. "Essence is one of the Pillars, and so is Strength ¡ª what you call Body Refinement."


    "What are the others?" Arran asked.


    "You should learn that at the Shadowflame Society," Panurge said. "For now, all you need to know is that defeating a mage with only a single Pillar is like kicking over a chair with only a single leg."


    "I have more questions," Arran said promptly, now understanding that the subject was an important one.


    "And I am more than willing to answer them," Panurge replied with a grin. "All you need to do is pledge yourself to Chaos and become my apprentice. With my guidance, you''ll be able to squish Academy Archmages like bugs in a matter of years."


    Arran''s enthusiasm instantly disappeared when he heard Panurge''s conditions, but still, he hesitated for some moments.


    "I can''t do that," he said finally. Even if he was willing to go against his better judgment and trust Panurge, he wasn''t willing to tie his fate to Chaos.


    "Then you will have to travel to the Shadowflame Society and learn by yourself," Panurge said, sounding not at all disappointed at the rejection. "It''s a longer path, but if you manage to survive, the destination will be the same."


    Arran nodded. Already, plans were forming in his mind, and he knew that he would no longer put off his departure from the stronghold.


    He left the stronghold just a few hours later, in the deep of night. He did not inform Panurge of his departure, but there was no doubt in his mind that the man knew about his decision well before he made it.

 Chapter 67 The Edge of the Empire

    After leaving the stronghold, Arran traveled in secret.


    Although the Academy wouldn''t be looking for him just yet, he knew it was only a matter of time until they came after him. To avoid leaving a trail for them to follow, he made it a point to avoid villages and even roads.


    Instead, he moved through the wilderness, doing all he could to avoid other travelers. The fewer people who saw him, the fewer ways the Academy would have to find him.


    The journey was lonely, but not uncomfortable. His void bags contained all the supplies he needed, as well as a large tent to protect him during cold and rainy nights.


    He didn''t know exactly where he was going, but that didn''t bother him ¡ª as long as he kept moving west, he would eventually reach his destination.


    The Shadowflame Society controlled the western border of the Empire, and from what others had told him, he knew the entire border was covered by a massive mountain range that stretched thousands of miles from north to south.


    If he just kept moving west he would eventually reach the mountains, and after that, he would have to find one of the border cities. It would be a long journey, but not a difficult one.


    As he traveled, he often thought about the things Panurge told him before he left.


    Unless the man had been lying ¡ª a distinct possibility ¡ª Essence was only one of the Pillars of Power, with Strength being another one.


    Thinking about the matter, Arran had remembered something Lord Jiang had told him when they first met: that true power requires strength in all regards, magical, mental, and physical.


    At the time, Arran had dismissed it as a mere platitude, but now, he suspected that Lord Jiang had actually been talking about the Pillars of Power, even if he hadn''t used the words.


    And thinking back further, he also recalled how Master Zhao had started his training: not with magic, but with months of sword practice.


    The more he thought about it, the more he became certain that Panurge had told him the truth. And not just that ¡ª he began to understand that even if he hadn''t known it, his training so far had involved more than just one Pillar.


    Until now, he had believed Essence manipulation and Body Refinement to be mostly separate things, but looking back, he wondered how he could have been so blind to the truth.


    When Lord Jiang had taught Arran Body Refinement, it was to allow Arran''s body to withstand more Essence than it could handle otherwise.


    And conversely, when he first learned about Body Refinement, Lord Jiang had him use Shadow Essence to strengthen his body.


    Although he had later switched to using Natural Essence ¡ª Essence drawn from the natural world instead of Realms ¡ª the memory now helped him understand that there was a stronger connection between the physical and the magical than he had realized.


    Once Arran got over his initial shock at both these new insights and his own blindness, he set off on a frenzied quest to learn more about the connection between Body Refinement and Essence manipulation.


    Although most of his time was spent traveling, he used every free moment trying to understand how his magical and physical powers affected each other.


    Yet despite these efforts, he made no progress whatsoever. With only a vague idea of what he was even looking for, it was like searching for a needle in a haystack without ever having seen a needle before.


    After nearly two months of fruitless experiments, he gave up.


    Panurge had said Arran would learn more about the Pillars of Power at the Shadowflame Society, and he grudgingly accepted that his curiosity would have to wait until he reached his destination.


    Instead, he moved his attention to the spells Panurge had given him, Battering Force and Force Shield.


    The Realm Opening Pills whose power he had used to escape the cell had also further opened his Force Realm, and although he already had a basic grasp of the spells, using them with more Essence wasn''t an easy task.


    Months passed as he traveled through forests, hills, and grasslands, only stopping for rest and practice. His travels were smooth if somewhat boring. He rarely encountered other people, and when he did, they were hunters, shepherds, or farmers.


    Half a year into the journey, he finally caught his first sight of the Western Mountains, and the view left him awestruck.


    Even from hundreds of miles away, the vastness of the mountain range was something he would not have believed possible had he not seen it with his own eyes.


    Like a jagged wall that stretched up thousands of feet, the mountains reached up into the clouds and beyond. From what he could see, the mountain range seemed both endless and impassable.


    Briefly, he wondered why the Shadowflame Society was even needed to protect the western border of the Empire. Hidden behind a wall greater than any man could build, it seemed like the Empire had little need for additional protection.


    When he arrived at the foot of the mountains several weeks later, he spent some time camping in the hills, suddenly reluctant to move on.


    Eager though he was to join the Shadowflame Society, the journey to get here had taken him over two years, and finding it at an end he had trouble taking the final step.


    He had changed in many ways since the start of his journey, but some small part of him still felt like that country boy who had marveled at the sight of Fulai City.


    Few of the people he had grown up with had ever traveled more than a week away from Riverbend. When he set off on his journey to Fulai City, it had felt like a great adventure ¡ª a tale he would someday tell his grandchildren.


    Yet now, he had traveled far beyond Fulai City, and he stood at the edge of an Empire he had grown up believing was endless. Soon, he would step over that edge.


    Although before him still lay mountains so vast they beggared belief, he knew that after he joined the Shadowflame Society, he would travel to the lands beyond those mountains.


    The prospect was daunting.


    Eventually, he set off again, traveling north in search of one of the border cities.


    The search took longer than expected, and he spent several weeks just to find a village with people who could tell him where to go.


    After another month, he reached a walled city that looked to be larger than Silvermere, with traveling merchants and caravans continuously moving through its wide gates.


    With some trepidation, Arran approached the city, knowing that behind its gates he would find the first steps of his next journey.


    Yet when he stepped through the gates, the trepidation made way for excitement.


    He had finally arrived.


    END OF VOLUME ONE

 Chapter 68 The Story So Far

    Arran grew up the son of a common guardsman in a small town named Riverbend. His mother abandoned him when he was just a small child, and he was raised by his father.


    After Arran''s father was mortally wounded by bandits, on his deathbed he revealed that Arran''s mother had been a mage.


    Arran took revenge for his father''s death, killing the bandits responsible by barricading the farm where they were hiding out and setting it ablaze with them inside.


    With his father dead and knowing that his mother had been a mage, Arran decided to travel to Fulai City in hopes of joining the Academy, a magical college.


    When he was tested for magical talent at the Academy, Arran was discovered to have a forbidden Realm ¡ª a forbidden type of magic that would see him imprisoned and killed by the Academy if he was caught.


    Arran fled the Academy and Fulai City with the help of Master Zhao, a powerful mage and member of the Academy with mysterious motives.


    During their travels, Master Zhao instructed Arran in swordsmanship and magic, helping him gain two additional Realms, Fire and Shadow.


    Master Zhao greatly sped up Arran''s his training by giving him a Realm Opening Pill ¡ª a type of pill containing concentrated Essence. After Arran took the pill, the Essence within it forced open his connections to his Realms.


    Eventually, they reached a monastery headed by Grandmaster Windsong, an old friend of Master Zhao. Here, Arran gained a Wind Realm, and he was further instructed in the use of magic while forging friendships with some of the monastery''s students.


    Arran and Master Zhao were betrayed to the Academy by Windsong, and although they survived the Academy''s attack, the monastery suffered heavy casualties.


    After the attack, Master Zhao left with Arran and Jiang Fei, one of the monastery''s students, explaining that they would travel to the Shadowflame Society.


    Shortly after they departed, Master Zhao left Arran and Jiang Fei, telling them that his presence would only draw further attention and attacks from the Academy.


    During their travels, Arran got involved in a battle with a powerful Academy mage named Stormleaf. In a desperate bid to survive, Arran managed to defeat Stormleaf by using the Essence of nearly a dozen Realm Opening Pills at once.


    Although successful, this desperate action left him severely injured and opened his Realms further than his body could withstand.


    Arran was helped by Lord Jiang, who taught him how to use Body Refinement to allow his body to withstand the Essence within him, while also greatly increasing his strength in combat.


    During their time at Lord Jiang''s estate Arran and Jiang Fei grew close, but their time together was cut short after a group of members of the Jiang Clan attempted to use Arran to challenge Lord Jiang''s authority.


    Although Lord Jiang easily dealt with them, the incident made him decide to take back control of the Jiang Clan, and he left, taking Jiang Fei along as his apprentice.


    Arran traveled alone for some time, but eventually, he got drawn into a conflict between two exceedingly powerful individuals, Senecio and Panurge ¡ª gods of Order and Chaos, supposedly.


    Panurge offered to accept Arran into the ranks of Chaos to protect him from the Academy ¡ª who were on the side of Order ¡ª but when Arran refused, he instead whisked him off to a cell in some unknown place.


    Handing Arran a Force Realm Scroll and some spells, Panurge told him that with a few decades of practice, he should be able to escape by himself.


    Arran managed to escape the cell after just a year using the condensed Essence of five Realm Opening Pills, but the cell turned out to be deep within an Academy prison, and in the ensuing battle Arran was heavily injured.


    After he recovered, Arran finally set off for the Shadowflame Society.


    ¡ª¡ª¡ª


    CHARACTERS


    ARRAN - The protagonist.


    MASTER ZHAO - A powerful mage who helped Arran escape from the Academy. Despite the time they spent traveling together, much about him still remains a mystery to Arran.


    GRANDMASTER WINDSONG - An old friend of Master Zhao who headed a monastery where mages studied magic. Windsong betrayed Arran and Master Zhao to the Academy, but after the Academy''s attack failed, he was caught and imprisoned by the Academy.


    Arran eventually freed Windsong from his cell while making his own escape, but he fell in the ensuing battle, dying while fighting at Arran''s side.


    ADEPT KADIR - One of the mages at Windsong''s monastery, and a teacher and friend to Arran. After the fall of the monastery, he escaped into the mountains to hide from the Academy.


    AMAR GUHA - An initiate at Windsong''s monastery and talented swordsman who became a good friend of Arran''s. He joined Adept Kadir in fleeing into the mountains.


    JIANG FEI - An initiate at Windsong''s monastery who traveled with Master Zhao and Arran after the Academy''s failed attack, eventually becoming a close friend (and maybe more) to Arran. A low-ranking member of the powerful Jiang Clan, she was lifted into prominence when Lord Jiang decided to take her as his apprentice.


    STORMLEAF - A powerful Academy mage who intended to kidnap Jiang Fei and kill Arran. This did not work out well for him. After Arran burned him to a crisp, Lord Jiang took his skull as a decorative paperweight.


    LORD JIANG - A powerful mage, Body Refinement practitioner, patriarch of the Jiang Clan, and potential competitive eating world champion, Lord Jiang helped Arran recover after his encounter with Stormleaf by teaching him Body Refinement.


    When members of the Redstone branch of the Jiang Clan challenged his authority, he decided to leave and take back control of the Jiang Clan, taking Jiang Fei with him as his apprentice.


    SENECIO - A mysterious representative of the forces of Order, Senecio is an extremely powerful ally of the Academy and possibly a god. Despite being on the side of Order, Senecio has so far shown no hostility toward Arran.


    PANURGE - A representative of the forces of Chaos and self-proclaimed god, Panurge is a temperamental and powerful liar and scoundrel, as well as an enemy of the Academy who may or may not be an ally or enemy to Arran.


    ¡ª¡ª¡ª


    MAGIC


    REALMS - Realms are parts of reality that are filled with concentrated magic Essence. Mages can draw Essence from these Realms, and the stronger their connection to a Realm is, the more Essence they can draw in. In common parlance, the word "Realm" is often used to refer to the connection rather than the Realm itself.


    Normally, a mage''s connection to his Realms will gradually strengthen over time as he uses Essence, but there are ways for mages to rapidly strengthen the connections.


    REALM SCROLLS - Magical items that can be used to grant someone a connection to a Realm. This connection will initially be sealed, and the mage will have to break through it himself.


    This is normally a slow process, but it can be sped up if a mage uses a Realm Opening Pill or ¡ª like Arran ¡ª has access to certain special kinds of Essence.


    ESSENCE - Concentrated magical energy that is drawn from Realms and can be used to perform techniques or spells. While doing so is normally safe, if a mage somehow takes in more Essence than his body can handle, he might die.


    SEALS - Seals are made from Essence, and can be used to mask or even seal off a mage''s connections to his Realms.


    TECHNIQUES - Techniques are relatively simple and straightforward ways to use Essence, for example using Fire Essence to form and throw a fireball.


    SPELLS - Spells are complex ways to manipulate Essence. Far more difficult to learn than simple techniques, spells also have the potential to be far more powerful. Examples of spells so far are Windblade, Battering Force, and Force Shield.


    BODY REFINEMENT - Body Refinement uses Essence to strengthen the body rather than to perform spells.


    NATURAL ESSENCE - A special kind of Essence which is drawn from the natural world rather than from Realms, and which is extremely effective when used for Body Refinement.


    While drawing it in by oneself is normally too slow to be useful, it can also be gathered by consuming plants or animals that contain a heavy concentration of natural Essence.


    REALM OPENING PILLS - Realm Opening Pills are pills made from condensed Essence. When someone with a closed or weak Realm takes a Realm Opening Pill, his connection to the Realm will be forcibly opened and widened, greatly increasing his access to the Realm.


    As Arran discovered, the Essence contained in Realm Opening Pills can also be used directly, provided that one is able to withstand the pain of being filled with far more Essence than would otherwise be possible. This may not be safe.


    VOID BAGS - Void bags are bags that have been enchanted to have their own Void Realm, a space where mages can store items. Void Realms can be far larger than the bag they''re linked to, and the weight of items in a Void Realm is not transferred to the void bag that contains it.

 Chapter 69 The Border City

    Arran spent several hours exploring the city, which he discovered was named Eremont after asking some of the locals. Although it was even larger than Silvermere, there was an aura of impermanence to it, as if many of those in the city either arrived only recently or did not plan to stay for long.


    The city was littered with inns and taverns, far more than would be found in any normal city, and as Arran wandered the streets he soon realized that many of the people there were either traveling merchants or youths hoping to join the Shadowflame Society.


    After a time, he got hungry, and he stopped at a small food stall on the side of the road, where an old man stood beside a red-hot grill.


    "What''ll you have?" the old man asked as Arran stopped in front of him. "I''ve got flatbread, grilled goat, mutton, sausages, and ribs."


    "I''ll have a piece of flatbread with grilled goat," Arran said.


    "Just give me a moment to prepare it," the man said, taking a piece of meat and putting it on the wood grill inside his stall. Soon, the smell of roasted meat wafted into the air, and Arran''s mouth watered in anticipation.


    As the old man prepared the food, he gave Arran a measuring look. "Planning on joining the Society?"


    Arran nodded. "I just arrived, but I''m hoping to join as soon as I can. Got any good tips?"


    There was little point in hiding his intentions. With a good portion of the people in Eremont being to join the Shadowflame Society, it would be more suspicious if Arran said he was there for some other reason. Moreover, the old man looked like he might know a thing or two about how things worked in the city.


    "Bad idea, what with everything that''s going on across the border and all," the old man said with a shake of his head.


    "What''s going on across the border?" Arran asked, his interest immediately aroused.


    "Many things, all of them bad," the man replied. "Caravans disappearing, villages getting burned to the ground, Society patrols being ambushed¡­ Things are never quiet on the other side, but nowadays, it''s as if the whole region has gone mad."


    "You''re saying I shouldn''t join the Shadowflame Society?" Arran asked.


    "I''m just saying it''s no place for a nice young man like yourself, is all," the man replied.


    Arran smiled wryly at hearing himself being described him as a nice young man, and he wondered what the man would think if he knew about the things Arran had done over the past few years. Nothing good, he suspected.


    "I''ll keep it in mind," he said noncommittally. Of course, no matter how dangerous joining the Shadowflame Society might be, it could hardly be more dangerous for Arran than staying in the Empire.


    "Do what you will," the old man said with a shrug. "Not like you youngsters ever have much sense. Anyway, the food''s ready."


    Arran thanked the man for his advice and paid him for the food, then went on his way, eating as he walked. The grilled meat tasted even better than it smelled, and for some time, he idly wondered the streets of Eremont, content at finally tasting some simple hot food again.


    As he considered what the old man had told him, he decided to ask around a little more, to see if maybe anyone else could tell him what exactly was going on across the border.


    Arran spent some hours browsing the city, stopping by several inns to talk to merchants and locals about the situation on the other side of the border. Yet although everyone seemed to know about the general state of things, nobody could tell him any details ¡ª even the merchants who traveled across the border with trade caravans only knew that travel was more dangerous than usual.


    The young people who hoped to join the Shadowflame Society were all dismissive when they talked about the dangers of crossing the border, and Arran could not help but think that perhaps the old man had been right about youngsters'' lack of sense.


    After several hours, Arran gave up, at least for the time being. He had not even begun to start thinking about ways to get recruited, and he would have plenty of time to figure things out later.


    For now, he would just find a decent inn, and focus on learning more about how the recruitment process worked. But first, he thought, he would get something more to eat ¡ª even if he was still full from the grilled meat he ate earlier, he was sure he some space left for another few bites.


    He passed a few food stalls, but dismissed them when he saw their offerings. Finally, he came across a food stall run by an old woman, and when he saw the dumplings she sold, he was instantly reminded of Jiang Fei.


    "How much?" he asked.


    "Three coppers for a dozen," the woman replied.


    Arran was about to order when suddenly, a voice sounded.


    "I wouldn''t do that if I were you. Not unless you like the taste of rat meat, at least."


    The old woman turned around with an angry glare, but when she saw the man who had spoken, her face fell.


    "Apologies, young master Darkfire," she said. "I did not know he was a friend of yours."


    Arran had turned as well, and seeing the man who had spoken, he could not help but be surprised.


    Darkfire was young, around Arran''s age, with long dark hair and a handsome face. Although he wore a simple black robe, he would have stood out in any crowd ¡ª even if Arran was by no means short, Darkfire stood at least half a foot taller than him, with broad shoulders and arms that were thick with muscle.


    Feeling some envy, Arran realized Darkfire looked like a hero out of legend. Yet he could not bring himself to dislike the man ¡ª there was something unusually open and straightforward about his manner that immediately appealed to Arran, especially after the time he had spent with the ever-deceitful Panurge.


    "If you follow me," Darkfire said, "I''ll show you a place with better food."


    "All right," Arran said, deciding that for now, he would trust the man. If things changed, he was confident that he was strong enough to escape unharmed.


    They left the food stall behind, the old woman silently glaring at them as they walked away. After a short while, they arrived at another food stall that sold dumplings, and these turned out to be of excellent quality.


    "Who are you?" Arran asked as they ate.


    "My name''s Dao Qianjun," the man replied, "though people usually call me Darkfire."


    "Are you a mage?" The nickname reminded Arran of Windsong and Master Zhao''s alias, Flameheart, and he wondered if the name Darkfire had similar origins.


    "If only," Darkfire said with a sigh. "The nickname''s because of my lack of talent in magic. I have a Fire Realm, but I never managed to open it. So when I try to produce Fire¡­ well, there''s no light."


    Arran nodded in understanding. "So why did you save me from eating rat dumplings?"


    "Other than an honest desire to stop others from experiencing the horrors of badly cooked rat meat?" Darkfire made an exaggerated grimace. "Truth is, it''s that sword of yours," he said, pointing toward the sword at Arran''s side.


    Arran had hidden the starmetal sword in one of his void bags, but the sword he wore was one of the treasures he had taken from the Herald''s stronghold ¡ª large and heavy, with perfect balance and a blade that never seemed to dull, it was only slightly inferior to the starmetal sword.


    "The sword? What about it?"


    "If you know how to use it, I was hoping you''d be up for a few rounds of practice."


    An eager grin appeared on Darkfire''s face, and even if Arran was still slightly wary, he could see no signs of anything but guileless enthusiasm in Darkfire''s expression.


    "All right then," he said. "I suppose I could do with some practice."


    "Perfect," Darkfire replied. "Follow me. We can use the training grounds at my home."

 Chapter 70 Darkfire

    When they arrived at Darkfire''s home, Arran was stunned for a moment. It was not so much a house as it was a vast mansion, large enough to serve as the headquarters of a merchant clan and surrounded by a ten-foot wall.


    "You live here?" Arran asked with some disbelief.


    "For the time being," Darkfire replied. "I was hoping not to have to stay here long, but then¡­" He sighed before finishing the sentence. "It''s been a while already."


    Arran remained quiet. Although he was curious, he didn''t want to pry into Darkfire''s affairs.


    "So, you want to go a few rounds?" Darkfire asked, changing the subject.


    Arran nodded. It would be good to get some practice.


    Darkfire led the way through the gate, Arran following him inside. Within the walls, a large field lay next to the mansion, empty except for some training dummies and other practice equipment.


    Darkfire took out some wooden training swords, tossing one to Arran. The sword was heavier than Arran expected ¡ª from its weight, he thought the center must be filled with lead.


    "Ready when you are," Darkfire said with an eager grin.


    Arran gave the sword a few practice swings, then nodded. He stepped forward with the sword raised in front of him, and Darkfire did the same.


    They started slowly, cautiously exchanging blows and testing each other''s defenses. At once, Arran found himself impressed with Darkfire''s skill. The young man''s style reminded him of Master Zhao''s, with near-perfect control and sudden powerful attacks.


    Although he had planned not to use the strength he owed to his training in Body Refinement, Arran soon found himself lacking the skill to match Darkfire. Unwilling to lose, he decided to use just a bit of his real strength ¡ª just enough to avoid embarrassing himself.


    As Arran attacked with greater strength and speed, Darkfire''s eyes lit up in what seemed to be excitement. A moment later, his strength and speed increased as well, and once more Arran found himself hard-pressed to keep up with his opponent.


    Again Arran increased the strength and speed of his attacks, and again, his opponent did the same. This continued for some time, until at last Arran felt he could go no further ¡ª yet Darkfire had ceased to increase his power slightly earlier, leaving the two equally matched.


    Between Darkfire''s greater skill and Arran''s greater strength and speed, neither was able to gain the upper hand over the other. Yet the fight filled Arran with excitement ¡ª finally, he had found a sparring partner who was his match physically, and who wasn''t trying to kill him.


    They sparred for some hours, and already, Arran could tell that his skills were benefiting from the experience. He was forced to go all-out to match Darkfire, but without the risk of death, he was able to focus on his skills and technique.


    Finally, Darkfire stepped back, panting loudly. "That''s enough for now," he said, then promptly sat down on the grass. From the look of it, he was as exhausted as Arran felt.


    Arran sat down as well, his body weary and weak from hours of hard exercise, and his robe soaked in sweat.


    For some time, they sat in silence, both recovering from the fight.


    "You''re a Body Refinement practitioner," Arran said after a while, the exhaustion still slowly ebbing from his body.


    "And so are you," Darkfire replied. "Your technique needs some work, but you really are monstrously strong. I haven''t had an opponent like that in years."


    Arran didn''t mind the criticism, because he knew it was true. Even if his greater physical strength allowed him to match Darkfire, purely in terms of technique he had to bow to the man''s superior skill.


    "I could use a good sparring partner," Darkfire said. "I''d invite you to stay here with me, but¡­" His voice trailed off as a troubled expression appeared on his face.


    "But what?" Arran asked. Even if he had no serious intention of staying with Darkfire, the words still sparked his curiosity.


    "Associating with me isn''t a good idea. It will hurt your chances of being recruited." As Darkfire spoke, it was clear from his voice that the words troubled him.


    "How so?" Arran asked, now even more curious.


    "My family holds some influence within the Society," Darkfire said. "Normally, that would have been enough for me to join directly. But with my lack of magical talent¡­" He shook his head dejectedly. "I''ll have to join the same way outsiders do ¡ª by being recruited here in the city."


    "But with your strength, how hard can that be?" Arran asked. Having seen Darkfire fight, it seemed like the Shadowflame Society should be happy to have him.


    "I would be easy if I were someone else," Darkfire responded. "But because of my family, things aren''t as simple."


    "Why not?" Arran asked.


    "To be recruited, a novice needs to select you to join a patrol across the border," Darkfire explained. "But few novices would risk angering my family''s enemies within the Society by recruiting me, and those that would are afraid of being blamed if something happens to me across the border."


    "I''m not too worried about that," Arran said. "I''m in no hurry to join, and I figure I''m strong enough to get recruited eventually."


    "Then, will you stay?" Darkfire asked, a smile appearing on his face. "With a few hours of daily sparring, I think we could both grow a fair bit stronger."


    Arran hesitated, but then he shook his head. "I can''t," he said. Even if Darkfire''s information about the Shadowflame Society would be invaluable, he couldn''t bring himself to endanger the young man.


    "Why not?" Darkfire asked, a confused look on his face. "If you''re not concerned about your chances of being recruited, what''s there to worry about?"


    "There are people after me," Arran said. "Powerful people. It''s part of the reason I''m here."


    "You don''t have to worry about that," Darkfire said with a shake of his head. "Many people here are fleeing something or someone. But within Shadowflame territory, no one would dare come after you."


    Arran was silent for a moment, but then, he decided to repay Darkfire''s honesty in kind. "It''s the Academy."


    "You''ve managed to piss off those bastards?" Darkfire frowned for a moment, but then, a grin appeared on his face. "It doesn''t matter. We''re in Shadowflame territory. Even if you killed a thousand of them, they wouldn''t dare attack you here."


    Arran shook his head. "They will want¡ª" he began.


    "It doesn''t matter," Darkfire interrupted him. "There are many dangers around here, and even more when you cross the border. But the Academy isn''t something you have to worry about."


    Arran slowly nodded, although he still wasn''t entirely convinced.


    "So will you stay?" Darkfire asked.


    "All right," Arran said. It would be good to have a sparring partner, and he knew that with Darkfire''s help, he would be able to learn far more about the Shadowflame Society than he would otherwise.


    "It''s settled then," Darkfire said, a broad smile appearing on his face. "Now, how about we go and celebrate with some drinks?"

 Chapter 71 A Small Figh

    "You should meet my friend," Darkfire said, speaking to the two pretty girls standing in front of him. "He''s a master swordsman from the east."


    Arran groaned in discomfort. He was sitting in a chair in the tavern, trying very hard not to be noticed as he drank his ale.


    The entire night had been like this. They had already visited a handful of taverns, each filled with young people who were hoping to join the Shadowflame Society, and in each tavern, the story was much the same.


    The moment they entered, the girls'' eyes would turn toward Darkfire''s handsome face. To Arran, it was like watching moths being drawn to a lantern ¡ª girls would constantly approach Darkfire, adoring smiles on their faces, giggling as they spoke to him.


    Darkfire, seemingly intent on being a good friend, kept trying to steer girls Arran''s way, talking up his martial prowess and exotic origins.


    Although Arran appreciated the effort, all it did was make him uncomfortable.


    It wasn''t that he was completely unused to female attention ¡ª back in Riverbend, he''d occasionally stolen a kiss or two from some of the girls in town during festivals ¡ª but this was different.


    "So you''re a master swordsman, then?" One of the girls, a beauty with light-brown skin and black hair, directed her attention to Arran.


    Arran shrugged. "I wouldn''t call myself a master," he said truthfully.


    "You''re so modest," the girl said with a giggle. "Maybe you could give me a few lessons?"


    "I, ah¡­ I already have someone," Arran responded, stumbling over the words even as he spoke them.


    Instantly, a hard expression appeared on the girl''s pretty face. "I was just asking for some lessons! Don''t be so presumptuous!"


    She gave him an annoyed glare, then turned around and walked off, leaving Arran behind. He drained his ale in a single swig, the mug covering his flustered face.


    "So, do you?" Darkfire asked, sitting down next to Arran and handing him another mug of ale.


    "Do I what?"


    "Have someone," Darkfire said. "A girl."


    "It''s difficult," Arran said with a frown. In truth, he wasn''t entirely certain of the answer himself. There was something between him and Jiang Fei, but he could not say what exactly it was.


    "When it comes to women, it always is," Darkfire replied. "Who is she?"


    "Someone I met while traveling," Arran said. "We spent half a year together, but we parted ways a little over a year ago. It might be a long time before I see her again."


    Darkfire nodded. "If you''re joining the Shadowflame Society, it will be years, perhaps even decades. Do you think she''ll wait that long?"


    "I don''t know." Arran sighed. "I don''t even know if we will meet again."


    Arran and Darkfire spent more time drinking and talking after that, even if neither of them could truly get drunk ¡ª for Body Refinement practitioners, drinking normal alcohol had little effect.


    Finally, well after midnight, they left the tavern. Yet they had only gone a few dozen paces when someone called out to them.


    "Darkfire!"


    When Arran turned toward the voice, he saw that the one who had spoken was a tall young man with a gangly body and a scowl on his face that was probably intended to be intimidating but instead made him look like a spoiled and sulky youth.


    "What do you want, Li Da Wei?" Darkfire said in a bored tone that made it clear he thought little of the young man.


    "We heard you have a new friend. We just wanted to welcome him to the city." The tall youth slapped his balled fist in an awkward gesture that was more comical than it was intimidating.


    "Are you sure about that?" Darkfire asked, an amused smirk on his face. "It might not go the way you expect."


    "He doesn''t look all that tough," Li Da Wei said. "And besides, we''re no cowards."


    Despite the words, Arran could not help but notice that the tall youth seemed to have no intention of fighting alone, his companions standing close behind him, doing their very best to look threatening ¡ª a task that was clearly beyond them.


    Darkfire turned to Arran. "You should give it a go. Give them a good thrashing, but try not to hurt them too badly."


    Arran nodded. Then, he stepped forward, cracking his knuckles.


    "Come on then," he said. "Let''s see what you can do."


    The tall youth and his companions approached cautiously, forming a half-circle around Arran but staying several paces away. From their expressions, he could tell that his confidence made them wary.


    Still, he waited for one of them to make the first move.


    Finally, one of the young men darted forward toward Arran, fists raised and ready to strike. An instant later, the rest followed, and Arran found himself in the middle of the group, being attacked from all sides while defending himself from a rain of blows.


    Almost immediately, Arran understood that it was like a grown man fighting a group of toddlers. He could tell that none of the young men practiced Body Refinement, and the fight was so one-sided as to be pointless.


    Even if he was far from an expert in hand-to-hand combat, it didn''t matter. Lacking the strength to even bruise Arran, there was nothing his opponents could do to hurt him.


    His own strikes, on the other hand, were far beyond anything they could withstand, and each time he struck, one of his opponents went down.


    One by one, they fell to Arran''s blows. He took care not to do any serious damage, limiting himself to only a fraction of his true strength. Even so, he thought most of them would be in pain for at least a week or two.


    The fight only lasted for some moments before Arran had defeated the last of them. In truth, even calling it a fight was a stretch ¡ª the entire exchange was over in seconds, with Arran finishing it completely unharmed.


    "Bravo! Terrific job!" a large and broad-shouldered man with a shaved head called out, clapping his hands as he approached. He was wearing a uniform, and although it looked a bit shabby, Arran figured him for some kind of official.


    "Especially you, Li Da Wei," the bald man continued, glancing at the lanky young man. "That new technique of yours, blocking punches with your face¡­ have you named it yet?"


    Neither the tall youth nor his companions responded, instead helping each other back to their feet. When they were all standing again ¡ª some a bit unsteady on their feet, and several with bloodied faces ¡ª they eyed the bald man warily.


    "Off with you," the man simply said, making a shooing gesture with his hands.


    At once, the group departed, but not before each of them gave Arran a nod of acknowledgment. This surprised Arran ¡ª he had not expected them to be gracious in defeat, but apparently, there was no bad blood between them. He gave a slight nod in response.


    "Now then," the bald man said. "Young master Darkfire, who''s your new friend?"


    "Ghostblade," Darkfire answered, ignoring the puzzled look Arran gave him.


    "A pleasure to meet you, Ghostblade," the man said, nodding at Arran. "I''m Xiao Zhuzi, the local guard captain. From the look of it, you''re every bit as monstrous as your friend."


    Taking the words as a compliment, Arran slightly bowed in response. "Good to meet you, Captain Xiao," he said.


    "I expect the Governor will want to meet you," Captain Xiao said. "The two of you should pay him a visit tomorrow. But until then, please, no more fights ¡ª save that for the tournaments."


    With a final wave at Arran and Darkfire, the man departed, walking off casually.


    "What was that about?" Arran asked Darkfire. "And why did you want me to fight them?"


    "To be recruited," Darkfire began, "you need to be noticed, and that means building a name for yourself. That''s why they challenged you ¡ª even if they know they can''t defeat me, defeating a friend of mine could still have won them some small fame."


    Arran nodded, understanding now. "And what about the Governor? And the tournaments?"


    "The Governor likes to know about any strong fighters who enter the city," Darkfire said. "As for the tournaments, the city has weekly and monthly tournaments, where fighters try to make a name for themselves."


    The last words raised piqued Arran''s interest. "When''s the next one?" he asked, already eager for a chance to test his skill.


    "The next weekly tournament is tomorrow," Darkfire said. "But don''t get too excited ¡ª I doubt anyone there will be much of a challenge for you. "


    "What about you?" Arran asked. "Do you ever fight in any of them?"


    "Me? I''m banned from participating," Darkfire said, giving Arran a look of mock sadness that could not fully hide the grin underneath. "They said I was ruining it for the others."


    Arran chuckled, at once understanding the level of opponents he''d likely face ¡ª at a guess, he expected to see more young men and women of the kind he''d just faced, with more enthusiasm than strength.


    Remembering something, Arran turned to Darkfire. "Oh, and¡­ Ghostblade? Really?"


    Darkfire shrugged. "You''re pale, and you have a sword."


    "But why not use my real name?" Arran asked, somewhat puzzled.


    "It makes you sound weak," Darkfire explained. "Like you haven''t earned your own name yet."


    "But I haven''t," Arran pointed out.


    "Others don''t need to know that," Darkfire replied, a big grin on his face.

 Chapter 72 Tournamen

    When they returned to Darkfire''s mansion, Arran finally got a look at how vast the place was. With over two dozen bedrooms, a library, several studies, and not one but two great dining halls, the mansion was clearly designed for to house dozens of people.


    And yet, Darkfire lived there by himself, without even servants to look after it.


    Moreover, from the state of the place, it was clear that Darkfire wasn''t much of a decorator. If the mansion hadn''t been clean and mostly free of dust, Arran could easily have believed it to be abandoned.


    "You can take any room you want," Darkfire said. "Other than my bedroom, I don''t really use the place much."


    "Then why get something so big?" Arran asked.


    "The field outside is great for training," Darkfire replied with a grin.


    Arran picked out a large bedroom on the second floor, with a good view of the city and a massive bed. After spending over a year sleeping on the stone floor of a prison cell, a soft bed would be a welcome change.


    He awoke early in the morning, and when he went downstairs, he found that Darkfire was already outside, practicing.


    Arran observed him for a while, impressed by the sight. He could see that Darkfire was executing a seemingly endless series of sword strokes, each different from the last.


    Although there wasn''t a pattern to the movements, exactly, to Arran''s eyes it looked as if Darkfire was engaged in a fight with a dozen invisible enemies.


    "That training technique of yours¡­ what is it?" Arran asked after Darkfire finished.


    "It''s something my mother taught me when I was a child," Darkfire replied. "Let me show you how it works."


    Darkfire spent the next hours teaching the technique to Arran, and although Arran only understood a small part of it, he could already tell that it would greatly help his own training.


    "Want to head for the tournament?" Darkfire asked after they finished their training some hours later. "We can visit the Governor afterward."


    They arrived at the arena half an hour later. It was large, circular, and made of stone, with a floor covered in yellow sand. Although it looked like it could easily accommodate a crowd of thousands, right now only barely a quarter of the seats were taken.


    "The weekly tournaments don''t usually draw large crowds," Darkfire explained. "Only the monthly ones draw out the strongest fighters."


    As Arran looked around, he spotted half a dozen youths in black robes who stood out from the rest of the crowd, with nobody in the audience closer than ten paces to them.


    "Who are they?" he asked, pointing at the group.


    Darkfire looked over, and the moment he saw the group, his face fell. "Shadowbloods," he said in a disgusted voice.


    "Shadowbloods? What are they?"


    "They''re a faction within the Shadowflame Society," Darkfire said. "If you know what''s good for you, you''ll stay far away from them."


    "Why?" Arran asked. This was the first time he saw actual members of the Shadowflame Society, and he hadn''t expected he would have to avoid them.


    "They believe that only those born within the Society should be allowed to join," Darkfire said. "You don''t see them much in the border cities, since they don''t usually recruit outsiders. And when they do, those recruits are rarely seen again."


    "And this group?" Arran asked.


    "These are just novices," Darkfire said. "But don''t take them too lightly ¡ª they''re still Society members. If they try to recruit you, refuse, but be polite about it. No point in needlessly making enemies."


    Arran nodded, deciding that he would do his best to stay away from the Shadowbloods. Yet even as he made the decision, he saw one of them point at Darkfire, and a moment later the group approached them.


    "Darkfire," one of the Shadowflame novices began, a sinister smile on his face. "I was wondering if your friend¡ª"


    "Fuck off," Darkfire said, not at all polite.


    The young man''s smile disappeared instantly. "You think just because your family¡ª"


    "Fuck off!" Darkfire said again, louder this time.


    The young man''s face twisted in anger, and for a moment, it looked as if he was going to attack Darkfire. Yet an instant later, he regained his composure, although a scowl remained on his face.


    "One of these days you''re going to get recruited," he said. "We''ll see what happens when you''re out there in the wilderness."


    After a final glare at Darkfire, he turned around and left, the other novices following close behind him.


    "That could have gone better," Arran said once they were out of earshot.


    "Sorry about that," Darkfire said, sounding slightly embarrassed. "I just can''t stand those treacherous bastards."


    Arran nodded. Although part of him feared that the incident might cause problems in the future, he understood that Darkfire wasn''t the type to hold his tongue. And even if it wasn''t exactly convenient, Arran appreciated the lack of duplicity.


    "So where do I go?" Arran asked, turning his attention back to the tournament.


    "Follow me," Darkfire said, leading Arran to an area on the side of the arena where a large group of young men and women stood, apparently waiting to fight.


    A large man immediately approached them, giving Darkfire a wary glance ¡ª clearly, the man recognized who he was.


    "It''s just him," Darkfire said, gesturing toward Arran, and a look of relief appeared on the man''s face.


    "Do you know the rules?" he asked, turning to Arran.


    Arran shook his head.


    "No sharpened weapons, and no killing blows," the man said. Pointing to Arran''s sword, he added, "You''ll have to leave that outside the arena, and use one of the provided weapons."


    Arran handed his sword to Darkfire, then walked over to a large bucket filled with blunted swords. None of them were particularly well-made, but after a quick search, he found one that seemed at least halfway decent, even if it was far too light for his liking.


    As they waited for the fights to begin, Darkfire leaned over to Arran.


    "Don''t show your full strength," he said in a low voice. "You won''t need it, and you don''t want to draw any more attention from the Shadowbloods."


    They watched the first few fights from the sideline, and it didn''t take long for Arran to understand that there would be no real challenge today. Although the fighters might be skilled by normal standards, none of them seemed to have any training in magic or Body Refinement.


    When Arran was finally called to fight, his first opponent turned out to be one of the young men he had fought the previous night, face still carrying a large bruise. The moment the young man saw Arran, his eyes went wide with shock.


    "I concede!" he called out, ending the fight before it had even started.


    The crowd booed and jeered as they walked back to the waiting area, and Arran could not help but feel annoyed with the young man ¡ª even if he had no chance of winning, he should at least give it an honest effort.


    The next few fights proved little more difficult than the first. Although now Arran''s opponents did make an effort, the difference in strength was just too large. Even with Arran taking care not to injure his opponents, none of them lasted more than a few seconds.


    The one exception was his final opponent, but that was only because the man ran away the moment the fight started, much to the amusement of the crowd. When Arran caught his opponent after a short chase, the man conceded before he could land even a single blow.


    Arran felt some disappointment at his opponents, but then, he reminded himself that none were mages or Body Refiners.


    The announcer was just about to call out his victory, when suddenly, a voice sounded.


    "How about a real challenge!"


    Arran sighed. Without even looking, he knew that the voice belonged to one of the Shadowbloods.

 Chapter 73 The Shadowblood Novice

    When Arran looked, he saw that one of the black-robed Shadowblood novices had jumped into the arena, sword already drawn.


    It was a brown-haired young man, tall and with an athletic build. He had an eager look on his face, bordering on manic, his eyes shining with lust for battle.


    "You''re trying to build a name fighting only weaklings? Pathetic! Try fighting me, instead! Or are you afraid?"


    It was clear that the Shadowblood novice was trying to goad Arran into attacking him, but Arran wouldn''t fall for it just yet ¡ª if he was going to have a real fight, he wanted something to show for his troubles.


    "What''s in it for me?" Arran responded, keeping his voice calm despite the situation. "If I defeat you, what do I get?"


    "You think you have a chance of defeating me?" The Shadowflame novice sneered at the suggestion. "Fine. If you win, you can have my sword."


    "Stop!" By now, Darkfire had rushed over, and he turned to Arran. "I don''t know if you can take him. If he uses magic¡­" A troubled expression came over his face.


    The Shadowblood novice smiled wickedly. "Afraid of facing a real opponent?" he asked, a mocking tone in his voice. "But don''t worry ¡ª I won''t use magic, and I won''t kill you. It''s just a friendly little contest."


    "I accept the challenge," Arran said in a loud voice, drawing some cheers from the crowd. Turning to Darkfire, he asked, "Hand me my sword, please."


    Darkfire hesitated. "Are you sure you can handle him?"


    Arran gave him a confident nod. After the enemies he had faced in the Empire, a single novice shouldn''t give him too much trouble.


    "Be careful," Darkfire said, handing Arran the sword. In a low voice, he added, "And give him a thrashing he''ll remember."


    Arran gave his sword a few quick swings, then faced the Shadowblood novice.


    "Now let''s see if your sword can match your words," Arran said softly, giving the young man a mocking smile.


    His opponent wasted no time in attacking, immediately rushing forward with his sword drawn, launching a flurry of strikes the moment he reached Arran.


    Arran was pushed back several steps by the furious attack, and despite himself, he still felt some surprise at his opponent''s power. Even if the Shadowblood novice was neither as strong nor as skilled as Darkfire, resisting him took Arran more effort than he had expected.


    Moreover, Arran could tell that despite his earlier words, his opponent had no intention of letting him step out of the arena alive. Each attack that came his way was meant to kill rather than injure, and he understood that the Shadowblood novice intended to finish him off quickly.


    Yet even if it took him some effort, Arran was still easily capable of fending off attacks like these, and after some moments his opponent''s face darkened as he finally understood that Arran would not be easily defeated.


    As the attacks came to a halt, Arran seized the offensive, launching a series powerful strikes of his own. He did not hold back in the slightest, putting all his power in his attacks in an attempt to catch his opponent off-guard.


    The tactic worked, and the young man stumbled backward, each of Arran''s powerful blows staggering him, forcing him to defend desperately without the chance to counter Arran''s blows.


    Arran pressed the attack, striking rapidly at his opponent, and a panicked look appeared in the young man''s eyes. Whatever it was he had expected from Arran, this clearly wasn''t it.


    It took only a moment before Arran saw an opening appear, and he seized it without hesitation, his sword darting past his opponent''s defenses.


    "Wait!" the Shadowblood novice blurted out, Arran''s sword only inches away from him.


    "You''ve lost," Arran said. "Concede."


    The novice stepped back, head bowed, and it seemed as if he was about to do as he was told.


    Yet just as Arran was about to accept his opponent''s surrender, the young man suddenly let go of his sword. Thrusting both hands forward, he produced a brightly glowing fireball that soared toward Arran.


    Arran only barely managed to dodge in time, but the fireball still grazed his shoulder, and immediately he could feel that he was injured ¡ª shocked, he realized that if he had dodged only a moment later, it would have burned straight through him.


    He had been confident of his victory only a moment ago, but now he understood that the Shadowblood novice was far stronger than a novice should be. Yet he didn''t have time to ponder the matter, because immediately another fireball came his way.


    Again Arran dodged, this time managing to avoid the attack. Yet even as he got to his feet, he saw another fireball forming, and he knew that he was already too late to dodge it.


    At once, he threw up the strongest Force Shield he could manage, and although the fireball wasn''t stopped, it was deflected enough to miss Arran.


    Without stopping to think, Arran launched a fireball of his own at the Shadowblood novice, using every bit of Fire Essence he had available. Although it wasn''t anywhere near as strong as his opponent''s attacks, it was enough to provide a moment''s distraction.


    Arran did not give his opponent time to recover. Instead, he followed up the fireball with a powerful Windblade, and then a Battering Force. In an instant, Arran had used all his most powerful attacks, draining much of his Essence in just a few seconds.


    The young man clearly had not expected to face such a sudden barrage of magic attacks, and he staggered backward, dazed and bleeding from a shallow wound across his chest.


    Arran rushed forward, and before the novice could regain his senses, a powerful blow of Arran''s weapon disarmed him, sending his sword flying out of his hand. Arran used his momentum to ram his elbow in the young man''s face as hard as he could, and finally, the Shadowblood novice collapsed.


    Yet although his opponent was down, Arran did not cease attacking. Rather, he took the opportunity to launch a final attack.


    "Stop!" a panicked voice sounded from the area where the other Shadowblood novices were standing.


    Arran didn''t listen. Instead, he brought down his heel with all the force he could muster, stomping down violently onto the downed novice''s knee.


    It struck the young man''s kneecap with an audible crash, the sound of bone being shattered sounding through the arena. Arran could tell that the stomp had crushed not just the kneecap, but also the bones surrounding it.


    Instantly, a loud scream came forth from the novice who had tried to kill Arran just moments earlier ¡ª a high-pitched squeal that sounded almost inhuman, like the sound of a pig being slaughtered.


    Without paying attention to the screaming novice, Arran immediately turned toward the others. As expected, they were already rushing toward him, and he readied himself to defend against them if needed.


    "You!" one of them said with a snarl, a black-haired young man with a face that was twisted in fury. "You''ll pay for this!"


    "He tried to kill me," Arran said calmly. "He''s lucky I only crippled him."


    The Shadowblood novice looked at Arran with hate-filled eyes, yet it took him some moments to respond.


    "That''s on you," he said finally. "You turned a friendly duel into a deathmatch. Our friend was only defending himself from your attempts to kill him."


    "Don''t be an idiot," Darkfire said. "Hundreds of people saw what happened."


    Focused on the Shadowblood novices, Arran had not seen Darkfire approach, but now, he was glad for the man''s company. Against the Shadowblood novices, he needed all the help he could get.


    "Who do you think the Society will believe?" the black-haired man responded. "Us, or some outsiders?"


    "I trust they will believe me," a voice sounded. Soft and gentle, the voice was nevertheless filled with calm confidence.


    When Arran looked, he saw the voice belonged to a short woman in her middle years, with black hair that showed some traces of white. Although she was wearing a simple gray robe, she somehow exuded an air of authority.

 Chapter 74 The Gray-Robed Lady

    The group of Shadowblood novices looked at the woman with some hesitation. Even if she was dressed simply, her calm confidence even when faced with mages suggested that she wasn''t just a random person.


    "Who are you?" one of them finally asked, a young woman with large eyes and a pouting face.


    "Who are you to ask?" the woman replied.


    "I''m a member of the Shadowflame So¡ª" the novice began.


    "You''re a novice," the woman interrupted her. "A novice who mistakenly believes he has enough status to impress others. "


    The young novice looked at her angrily, but still, she held her tongue, wary of the woman''s identity and status.


    "Well?" the woman said, with a cold look at the group of novices.


    "Well what?" the novice said, some uncertainty in her voice.


    "Why are your insipid little faces still staring at me?" The woman''s voice hardened as she spoke, and some anger could be heard in her voice. "Why haven''t you left yet?!"


    "I¡­ We¡­" The novice stumbled over her words, clearly unsure of how to respond to the woman who had so suddenly appeared. Finally, she said, "He crippled one of us!"


    "One of you was an idiot who took on an opponent stronger than he could handle," the woman said. "The question now is whether the rest of you are idiots, too."


    To this, the novice had no answer. Wordlessly, she stared at the middle-aged woman, her face showing a struggle between fear and anger. Fear seemed to win out, and she silently took a step backward.


    "Leave. Now. Or that crippled fool will be the least of your worries." By now, the woman seemed to have lost her patience, and from her expression, it seemed that the Shadowblood novices were close to finding out who she was, in a most unpleasant way.


    No longer hesitating, two of the novices helped up Arran''s defeated opponent, supporting him as he leaned on their shoulders, one of his legs hanging limply next to the other. Although his earlier screams had ceased, he was still groaning in pain, and there was a senseless look in his eyes, as if the pain left him unable to focus.


    The others also finally took action, picking up the sword and seemingly getting ready to depart ¡ª clearly, they were unwilling to risk the woman''s ire, even if they didn''t know who she was.


    "Wait!" Arran said loudly.


    The novices stopped in their tracks, and the middle-aged woman gave Arran a puzzled look.


    "What is it?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.


    "His sword," Arran said. "He said it was mine if I defeated him."


    Immediately, anger flared on the novices'' faces. "You shameless bastard!" one of them said in a furious tone. "You crippled him, and now you demand a prize?!"


    "We all heard your friend bet the sword," the gray-robed woman said. "And we all saw him get defeated. Are you saying he lacks even the dignity to honor his bets?"


    The novices didn''t respond, and she added, "Besides, he doesn''t have much use for it, anyway. If he ever recovers, it will be years from now. Until then, I don''t imagine him being much good in a fight."


    Some of the novices'' faces showed some defiance at this last humiliation, but the one who held the sword simply stepped toward Arran and handed it over. Leaning over, he spoke in a low voice only Arran could hear, "You won''t have it for long."


    Arran did not respond, simply accepting the sword with a gracious nod. He gave it a few swings, and was pleased to find that it was both heavy and well-balanced ¡ª while it might not match up to the starmetal sword, he suspected it was a fair bit better than the sword he had used since arriving here.


    When he looked up again, he saw the Shadowblood staring at him with murderous gazes. Had the gray-robed woman not been there, Arran was certain they would have attacked immediately.


    Ignoring them, he faced the woman, giving her a respectful bow. "Thank you for the assistance," he said. "I''m in your debt."


    In the corner of his eye, he saw that the group of novices was finally leaving, but he did his best to show any concern or worry. For now, he thought his best chance would be to avoid appearing vulnerable ¡ª the more dangerous the novices thought, the less likely they would be to attack right away. With a bit of luck, he might be out of the city before they took action.


    The woman gave Arran a slight smile, then said, "There''s no debt. I''m just helping keep the peace in the city."


    Arran gave her a nod, then turned to Darkfire. "Perhaps it''s time for us to leave?" Even if the situation had been resolved for the moment, Arran was anxious to be away from the arena.


    "Not so fast," the woman said before Darkfire could respond. "First, I need the two of you to come with me."


    Arran hesitated for a moment, but then he nodded, even if he felt somewhat wary of the mysterious woman. She had just saved him from an extremely dangerous situation, and he would not repay kindness with rudeness.


    "Of course," Darkfire said with a slight bow. "Lead the way."


    With that, they left, following the gray-robed woman out of the arena. They walked in silence for several blocks, until suddenly, she stopped.


    To Arran''s surprise, she let out a deep sigh, and her calm confidence seemed to disappear in an instant. "That was terrifying," she said, a slight tremble in her voice.


    "Lady Ellara," Darkfire said, a huge grin on his face, "that truly was a performance worthy of applause."


    "You owe me for this, Darkfire," she replied, giving him a dark look.


    "I always honor my debts," Darkfire responded. "But for now, perhaps we should celebrate with some drinks?"


    Lady Ellara shook her head. "We''ll need to see my brother," she said. "Immediately. What just happened here¡­ he needs to know about it."


    Turning to Arran, she added, "What you just did may well be one of the stupidest things anyone has ever done in the history of this city."

 Chapter 75 Governor Eddarin

    "Stupid?" Arran gave the woman an annoyed look. "What the hell was I supposed to do? Let that bastard kill me?"


    Lady Ellara shook her head. "Of course you had to defend yourself. But did you really have to cripple him?"


    "If I hadn''t, he would have been back in the fight a moment later," Arran said.


    "But you were stronger than him," she replied. "Even if he got up again, wouldn''t the result have been the same?"


    "Stronger? Me?" Arran let out a mirthless laugh. "The moment he began to use magic, I was only a single mistake away from death. You''re a mage, how could you not see that?"


    "I''m not a mage," Lady Ellara said. "I''m just the Governor''s sister. There''s not a thing I could have done if they had decided to attack, although I''m sure my brother would have sent them a strongly worded letter had they killed me."


    At this, Arran frowned, finally understanding the situation. Rather than being a powerful mage, the woman had merely put on a front, using the novices'' ignorance to intimidate them.


    "Then I owe you an apology," he said. "You saved my life, and at great risk to yourself."


    Lady Ellara simply nodded in acknowledgment. "So you had no other choice?" she asked, her brow furrowed in thought.


    "I could have killed him while he was down," Arran replied. "Other than that¡­ my only chance was to catch him unprepared and take him out of the fight before he could recover."


    Lady Ellara sighed, a troubled expression on her face. "I suppose it doesn''t matter now. What''s done is done. For now, we''ll go visit my brother, and see if he had any ideas."


    They set off once more, Lady Ellara leading the way as Arran and Darkfire followed. They mostly stuck to the city''s back streets, and before long, they reached a wealthier part of the city, where the houses were larger and the streets wider.


    After some time, they arrived at a walled mansion that was even larger than Darkfire''s, with several uniformed guards posted at the gate.


    When the guards recognized Lady Ellara, they waved them through wordlessly, respectfully bowing as she passed.


    Inside the gate, Arran was impressed at the size of the mansion. Half a dozen buildings of wood and stone stood around a splendidly decorated courtyard that featured at least half a dozen marble statues, and there were dozens of servants and guards hurrying across the courtyard''s many paths.


    Lady Ellara wasted no time, immediately heading for the largest building at the far end of the courtyard. Four stories high and carved from marble, it was a truly impressive building.


    A large wooden door stood open at its entrance, and on either side of the door, there were a handful of uniformed guards, spears in their hands and swords at their sides.


    "Is my brother inside?" Lady Ellara asked one of the guards.


    "He''s in his office," the man said. "I think he''s expecting you," he added in a softer voice, seeming slightly nervous.


    They headed inside, Lady Ellara leading the way, and once more Arran found himself impressed. The hallways were broad and clean, lined with paintings and busts, and it looked as if considerable effort had gone into decorating the place.


    After going through several hallways and heading up two sets of stairs, they finally arrived at a large wooden door that had two guards posted in front of it.


    As soon as the guards saw Lady Ellara, one of them gave the door two hard knocks, and a moment later, a muffled voice could be heard from inside.


    "Come in!"


    The guards opened the door, closing it after Arran and the other two had passed. Inside was a luxurious office with its walls filled with well-stocked bookcases, and a large wooden desk stood in the middle of the office.


    Behind the desk sat a slender man with a gentle face and white hair that still contained some traces of the black it had once been, and although he looked neither imposing nor powerful, Arran understood that he must be the Governor.


    "Governor Eddarin," Darkfire said with a respectful bow, and Arran quickly followed his example.


    "Darkfire," the Governor said with a nod. Looking at Arran, he added, "And this must be your friend, Ghostblade?"


    Arran nodded, even if the name still felt alien to him.


    "When Captain Xiao informed me that a powerful friend of Darkfire had entered the city, I did not expect there would be trouble quite as soon," the Governor said. Turning his head toward Lady Ellara, he added, "Nor did I expect that my family would get involved in it."


    Lady Ellara shrugged, though her expression was apologetic. "A group of Shadowblood novices tried to kill him," she said. "I just decided to step in before things got out of hand."


    "Whatever the reason, it does not matter now," the Governor said. "What matters is that we''re in a bit of a mess, and we need a solution."


    He turned to Darkfire. "I''ve already sent word to your family, but it could be some weeks before I receive an answer. Until then, Eremont isn''t safe for you and your friend."


    Arran could no longer remain quiet. "But aren''t you the Governor?" he asked, voice filled with frustration. "Can''t you stop them from causing trouble in the city?"


    Governor Eddarin gave Arran a puzzled look. "Darkfire hasn''t told you about the situation, then?"


    "He only just arrived in the city," Darkfire said, a sorrowful look on his face. "I haven''t had time to explain all of it to him."


    The Governor looked at Arran with a troubled expression, remaining silent for some moments. Finally, he spoke, his voice grave.


    "For now, what you need to understand is that I hold little power here," he said. "The real power is in the hands of the Shadowflame Society, and their members'' actions are outside my control. If they cause trouble, only the Society can punish them ¡ª but any punishment will take a long time in coming, and if the troublemakers enjoy protection within the Society, there might be no punishment at all."


    "I assume the Shadowblood novices enjoy protection within the Shadowflame Society?" Arran asked. Just from their behavior, he guessed that they had more powerful people backing them.


    "Correct," the Governor said. "Thankfully, the Shadowblood novices don''t visit the city often, but when they do¡­" He threw up his hands in a powerless gesture.


    "We should be safe at my place," Darkfire said. "They wouldn''t dare start an open conflict with my family."


    "I wouldn''t stake my life on that," the Governor said. "And even if they don''t harm you, they could still kill your friend without you being able to stop them. Unless you finally gained some magical abilities?"


    Darkfire shook his head at the last part, a dispirited expression on his face. "Then what do we do?" he asked.


    "I own a small estate outside the city," the Governor said. "You should be safe there, at least for a few weeks. By then, hopefully, your family will have sent some help."


    "They will," Darkfire said, sounding confident. "They would not allow some Shadowblood novices to cause trouble for someone in the family ¡ª not even if it''s me."


    "Good," Governor Eddarin said. "You can spend the night here. I will arrange for you to travel out of the city before first light."

 Chapter 76 Leaving the City

    After Arran and Darkfire left the Governor''s office, a servant escorted them to the guest quarters, which turned out to be an otherwise empty building with a handful of bedrooms, a dining room, a sitting room, and several bathrooms.


    Once they arrived, several other servants brought them food and drinks, then departed, leaving the two of them alone in the dining room.


    For some time, Arran and Darkfire sat in silence, eating their meals while drinking the Governor''s fine wines.


    Finally, Darkfire spoke.


    "You can use magic," he said, a complicated expression on his face.


    "I can," Arran replied.


    "You didn''t tell me."


    Even if Darkfire didn''t sound angry, Arran could hear some disappointment in his voice, and he knew Darkfire''s trust had been hurt by Arran''s failure to tell him earlier.


    "I would have told you," Arran said, "but we only just met, and with the Academy after me, I try not to show it too much."


    "No matter," Darkfire said, his expression softening. With a slight grin, he added, "That fight of yours was truly something. That Shadowblood idiot didn''t know what hit him."


    Arran laughed, glad to change the subject. "I hadn''t expected it to go that far. I never thought he would actually try to kill me."


    "I''m afraid I''m to blame for that," Darkfire said, looking uncomfortable. "They targeted you to get to me, and it almost cost you your life."


    Although Arran wanted to deny it, he knew it was true. Even if he didn''t blame Darkfire for what happened, the Shadowblood novices'' true target had almost certainly been Darkfire.


    After a moment, Arran shrugged. "Whatever their reason, they got what they deserved."


    "And then some," Darkfire said, laughing. "When you stomped on his knee, I think people could hear him scream even beyond the city walls."


    Arran winced at this. Although it had been the best decision in the heat of battle, he had not intended to be that ruthless.


    "You''ve seen a lot of battle, I take it?" Darkfire asked.


    "I have," Arran answered honestly. "Ever since the Academy came after me, it''s been one battle after another. What about you?"


    "I''ve been in a few fights," Darkfire said, "though mostly against bandits and the like. I''ve never been up against real opponents. Not in real fights, at least."


    The answer surprised Arran. He had expected Darkfire to be a seasoned fighter, given the young man''s obvious skill.


    Seeing Arran''s confounded look, Darkfire laughed.


    "It''s not that I''ve avoided battle, I just never had many opportunities to fight outside of training," he said. "I spent my youth in the Shadowflame Society, and after that, I moved here. Just about all good fighters I''ve met were Society members."


    "What about the Shadowbloods?" Arran asked.


    "Loathsome though they are, they''d never attack a Society member," Darkfire replied. "Not inside the borders, at least."


    "What about outside the borders?" Joining the Shadowflame Society would require Arran to travel beyond the Empire''s borders, and he felt some worry about what could happen there.


    A thoughtful look appeared on Darkfire''s face. "I suppose things will be different there. Many initiates and novices disappear beyond the borders every year, and there''s little anyone can do to find out who''s responsible."


    The answer did little to ease Arran''s worries, but the wine proved to be more effective. They spent several hours drinking and talking, until they had all but forgotten about the day''s events.


    When they finally went to bed, it was well past midnight, and Arran had barely fallen asleep when a loud banging sounded on his door.


    "Time to wake up!" a voice sounded, followed by more banging on the door.


    Arran rubbed his eyes, then called out, "Who is it?"


    The door opened, and briefly, Arran saw only a broad-shouldered silhouette standing in the doorway. When his eyes finally adjusted to the light, he saw that it was Captain Xiao.


    "Get dressed! We''re leaving in half an hour!"


    Seeing that Arran was well and truly awake, Captain Xiao moved on, leaving him to drag his weary body from the bed.


    Although the fight the day before hadn''t been too bad ¡ª as far as fights went, at least ¡ª his body was still sore, and his shoulder still injured. Even if the injury was a minor one, he wished he had more time to rest and allow it to heal. Yet clearly, rest and healing would have to wait.


    After Arran got dressed, he headed to the sitting room, where he found Captain Xiao and a sleepy-looking Darkfire. He greeted Darkfire with a nod, then turned to Captain Xiao.


    "We''re leaving already?"


    "The two of you can eat first, but I want to be out of the city a good two hours before sunrise," the big man said. "This time of morning, there''s few prying eyes. And after yesterday, I figure the fewer people who know where you are, the better."


    They ate quickly, and before long, Arran and Darkfire were following Captain Xiao along the dark city streets, the three of them all covered in gray cloaks. When Arran remarked that the cloaks only made them look more suspicious, Captain Xiao laughed.


    "The city is filled with suspicious people," he said. "What matters is that they don''t know which of them we are."


    As Captain Xiao had said, they left the city a good two hours before sunrise, and by first light, they were already several miles away. Even if the man had not seemed especially nervous earlier, Arran could see that Captain Xiao''s became more relaxed as they put distance between them and the city.


    The journey took them several uneventful days, and eventually, they arrived at an estate that was surrounded by farmlands. Although Governor Eddarin had said the estate was small, to Arran''s eyes it looked quite large, with several buildings surrounding a sizable courtyard.


    "This is it," Captain Xiao said when they arrived. "I''ll be leaving you here, but there are half a dozen servants who can help if you need anything."


    After they said their goodbyes it wasn''t long before Captain Xiao departed again, leaving Arran and Darkfire behind at the estate.


    They settled in quickly, each of them picking an empty room in the main building. The rooms were simple but luxurious, as if they had been decorated according to a wealthy official''s idea of what a farmhouse should look like.


    Once they finished picking rooms, they explored the area surrounding the buildings. It was mostly empty farmland, with a small vineyard and a few acres of rocky hills.


    Altogether, it was a pleasant if somewhat dull place ¡ª perfect as a temporary hideout, even if Arran would prefer not to stay there for too long.


    That night, Arran and Darkfire sat together in the sitting room, drinking wine as they talked about the city and the Shadowflame Society.


    As they talked, an idea entered Arran''s mind.


    "You have a Realm, right?" he asked.


    "I do," Darkfire said, the topic bringing a gloomy look to his face. "I just never managed to open it. I tried for several years, but I never succeeded in even finding it."


    Arran hesitated, but only for a moment. "I think I can help," he said.

 Chapter 77 Darkfires Ordeal

    "You can help?" Darkfire gave Arran a doubtful look. "With my Realm?"


    "I can," Arran said confidently. "Just wait a moment¡­"


    It didn''t take him long to find one of the Realm Opening Pills he had left in his void bags, and after taking it out, he held it up between his fingers.


    "Know what this is?"


    At once, Darkfire''s eyes went wide. "Is that¡­ a Realm Opening Pill?!"


    "You''re familiar with them?"


    "I know they''re used to open Realms," Darkfire said, his eyes focused on the pill as if it was a precious gem. "I''ve never seen one with my own eyes, though."


    "It''s yours if you want it," Arran told him. "With that, you should be able to open your Realm tonight."


    An astonished look came over Darkfire''s face, and for several moments, he said nothing "I can''t accept it," he finally said, his expression pained. "It''s far too valuable."


    "Nonsense," Arran replied. "I don''t have much use for them anymore, and I have more treasure than I know what to do with."


    "You don''t understand," Darkfire said, his voice low. "Within the Shadowflame Society, Realm Opening Pills are unimaginably valuable. Just with this, you could buy yourself a position of power in the Society."


    "How so?" Arran asked. Although he knew that they were valuable, he imagined that an organization as powerful as the Shadowflame Society would have plenty of them.


    "The Society has nine Valleys, each of them home to millions of people," Darkfire said.


    "Millions?" Arran knew the Shadowflame Society was large, but somehow, he had imagined it to be like a larger version of Windsong''s monastery.


    Darkfire nodded, then continued, "The children of Society members are given Realms when they are young, and those who succeed in opening them can join without having to be recruited. But there are many thousands like me, who are unable to open their Realms."


    "But if the Shadowflame Society is so powerful, can''t they just get more?" To Arran''s mind, Realm Opening Pills were rare, but not that difficult to get ¡ª all told, he had used well over a dozen just by himself.


    "Each Realm Opening Pill requires the condensed Essence of a Grandmaster," Darkfire said with a sigh. "No matter how hard the Society tries to gather them, there are never enough for even a fraction of those who need them. There are just too many people who need them."


    "Then what happens to those who can''t open their Realms?" Arran asked, finally understanding that things were more difficult than he had imagined. "Do they all head to the border cities, like you?"


    "Most stay in the Valleys," Darkfire said. "Even if they can''t become true members of the Society, life in the Valleys isn''t too bad. The rest of us¡­ we head to the border cities, hoping to get recruited. Surviving the initiation means you become a full member of the Society, even without an opened Realm."


    As Arran looked at the pill in his hand, now understanding how valuable it was to those without magic. For those who failed to open a Realm, it could mean the difference between living as a commoner or a mage.


    "Just that one pill you''re holding is enough to buy you a life of comfort within the Society," Darkfire said. "And there are many powerful families who would stop at nothing to get it."


    Arran gave it some thought. Finally, he shrugged. "It''s a good thing I have more of them, then."


    "You mean¡­?"


    "It''s yours," Arran said, tossing the pill over to Darkfire.


    Darkfire looked like he was about to object, but after a few moments, he let out a deep sigh. "Thank you," he said.


    "Before you take it," Arran said, "do you have any other Realms?"


    Darkfire shook his head. "Just Fire. They wouldn''t give me any others until I succeeded in opening that."


    Arran furrowed his brow, then dug into his void bags. A short while later, he held up two scrolls.


    "Before using the pill, read these," he said. "They''ll give you Shadow and Wind Realms."


    "That''s too much," Darkfire said, shaking his head. "You''ve already given me a Realm Opening Pill. I can''t accept more."


    "Don''t be an idiot," Arran replied. "If you''re going to use a Realm Opening Pill, it''s better to open several Realms at once."


    Darkfire had no response to that, and he accepted the scrolls, albeit reluctantly.


    The next two hours, Darkfire diligently studied the scrolls as Arran sat and waited, using Lord Jiang''s circulation technique to speed up his injured shoulder''s healing. While the injury had mostly healed already, it still felt slightly sore.


    Finally, Darkfire finished, the second scroll crumbling to dust in his hands.


    "So how does it work?" he asked, taking the pill in his hand with a nervous look.


    "You just swallow it," Arran said. "It''ll hurt like hell for a few hours, but once that passes, your Realms will be opened ¡ª and you''ll have access to more Essence than someone with several years of training."


    "How bad is it?" Darkfire looked more curious than worried, and Arran could tell that to Darkfire, gaining a Realm was worth any amount of pain.


    "It''s like being doused in oil and set on fire," Arran answered truthfully. "But as a Body Refiner, you shouldn''t be in any real danger."


    "That bad, huh?" Darkfire said with a slight frown. "Well, here goes." Without hesitating, he took the pill in his mouth and swallowed it.


    They sat in silence for several minutes, Arran watching Darkfire as they waited for the pill to take effect.


    "This isn''t too bad," Darkfire said finally. "It just feels slightly warm, and¡ª" Suddenly, his eyes went wide with shock. "Fuck!"


    Arran only barely managed to suppress a laugh as his friend cried out at the sudden pain. "It gets worse," he said with a chuckle.


    "Worse?!" Darkfire stared at him wide-eyed, face twisted in agony. "Just how much worse can it¡ª Ow! Shit!"


    Arran watched with some amusement as Darkfire let out a litany of curses and screams while the pill did its work. He did not feel too bad for Darkfire ¡ª the pain was only temporary, and he knew that just a few hours from now, his friend would have something he''d longed for all his life.


    After an hour, a worried-looking servant stepped into the room, drawn by Darkfire''s screams, and his eyes went wide with panic when he saw Darkfire''s twisted body.


    "What''s wrong with him?!" the man asked frantically. With a fearful look at Arran, he added, "Did you do this?"


    "Ease up," Arran said. "He''s just doing some strenuous training. In a few hours, he''ll be fine ¡ª better than fine, really."


    The servant gave Arran a distrustful look, but he backed out of the room, undoubtedly realizing that even if Arran had performed some dark magic on Darkfire, there was nothing he could do about it.


    Another hour passed, and finally, Darkfire lost consciousness. Arran could not help but think being a Body Refiner had not served him well ¡ª someone else would have passed out within the first hour, avoiding much of the pain.


    As Darkfire lay unconscious, Arran examined the sword he had won a few days earlier. Long and heavy, it was forged from a dark type of steel that he did not recognize, and once more he was impressed by its quality. Although he couldn''t be certain, he thought it might well match up to the starmetal sword.


    One of these days, he thought, he should get his treasures looked at by someone who knew more about these things.


    Arran''s thoughts were interrupted when he heard Darkfire groan.


    Immediately, his eyes shot toward his friend. Despite knowing that there was not much danger, he had begun to feel somewhat worried as Darkfire lay unconscious, and he was relieved when he saw Darkfire slowly opening his eyes.


    "That," Darkfire said, his voice slow and hoarse, "was bloody terrible."


    Arran relaxed as he heard the words. If Darkfire was able to complain, then he should be all right.


    It took Darkfire some time to recover from the ordeal, but he eventually sat up, a weary look on his face.


    "So was that it, then?" he asked.


    "You want some more?" Arran replied with a chuckle.


    "Gods, no," Darkfire said hurriedly. "I''d rather gnaw off my own leg. But¡­ did it work?"


    "See for yourself," Arran said, smiling in anticipation. "Just close your eyes, and focus on what''s inside of you."


    Darkfire did as Arran said, and some moments later, he opened his eyes again, his expression ecstatic. "I can feel it!" he said loudly. "I can actually feel the Essence inside my body!"

 Chapter 78 A New Arrival

    "You did what?!" Darkfire''s stared at Arran in disbelief.


    "I took ten of the pills," Arran said again. "At the same time."


    They sat on the top of a hill about a mile from the estate, taking a short break from training. Ever since Darkfire had opened his Realms two weeks earlier, he had trained relentlessly, with Arran helping as best he could.


    "What the hell made you think that was a good idea?!" Darkfire looked like he had just seen a goat sprout wings and fly up into the sky.


    "It was either that, or get killed by an Archmage," Arran said, shrugging. "At least the pills gave me a chance."


    "And you survived."


    "Clearly."


    His shocked expression finally easing, Darkfire burst into laughter. "That Archmage must''ve had quite the look on his face, being defeated by a novice."


    "Initiate," Arran corrected him. "I only learned my first spell after that. And really, there wasn''t much left of his face after the fight."


    "So what happened after that? I took only one Realm Opening Pill, and I''m still amazed at the amount of power I have now."


    "It was more Essence than I could handle," Arran replied. "I nearly died, and I had to learn Body Refinement just to withstand it."


    "Can you show me?" Darkfire asked, a curious glint in his eyes. "How much Essence you can use if you go all-out?"


    "Sure," Arran said. "See that hill over there?" He pointed at a large hill around two hundred paces from the one they sat on.


    He stood up and raised his right hand, then willed all the Fire Essence he could control into it. Without the urgency of a fight, he could take his time, ensuring that he gathered every bit of power he could use.


    Finally, he felt that he could gather no more, and with a burst of effort, he expelled the Fire Essence from his hand, forcing it into a massive fireball that he sent rushing toward the hill.


    When it hit, the entire hill was engulfed in fire. A moment later a booming sound hit them, as loud as a hundred thunderclaps, and Arran could feel the heat of the shockwave when it reached them.


    For some moments, all that could be seen was dust filling the air, but when it finally cleared, the entire hilltop had disappeared.


    "Wow," Darkfire said. "That was awesome. But¡­"


    "I know," Arran said before he could finish. "The Shadowblood novice was stronger. And I imagine the same holds true for other novices in the Shadowflame Society."


    He had already given the matter some thought, but so far, he had failed to come up with an explanation. He knew that in terms of raw power, he came close to matching an Academy Master. Yet when the Shadowblood novice had used magic against him in the arena, the attacks were far stronger than his own.


    Darkfire frowned. "Not stronger, exactly. When you use Essence, it''s like you''re controlling a foreign object. But with them, it''s like it''s part of their body."


    "Watch this," Arran said.


    Once again he gathered Essence, Force Essence this time. Even if his Fire Realm was stronger than his Force Realm, the Battering Force spell more than made up for the smaller amount of Essence.


    After months of practice, he could now form the Battering Force spell almost effortlessly, and he thrust out his hand again a moment later. Nothing could be seen emerging from his hand, but almost immediately, the remains of the hill exploded violently.


    Even if the impact didn''t look quite as impressive as when he used Fire, the devastation was even greater. Where the hill had stood, there was now a shallow pit, its edges lined with debris from the explosion.


    "See?" Arran said. "This time I used a spell instead of a technique, and the Essence was more concentrated. But still, it wasn''t anywhere near as powerful as what that novice used."


    "Maybe it''s a matter of practice?" Darkfire offered. "How long ago did you learn to cast spells?"


    "Not too long ago, but that''s not the issue," Arran replied. "I''ve seen Academy mages use magic, and even the strongest ones lacked the type of control that novice had. They had far more raw power, of course, much of it was just wasted."


    Arran was certain it had something to do with the Pillars of Power that Panurge had told him about, but he still hadn''t figured out what it was.


    "I don''t know much about magic," Darkfire said, looking thoughtful. "They never told those of us without opened Realms about it. But¡­ I once overheard my parents talking about something that might be related."


    "What did they say?" Arran asked, immediately interested. Darkfire''s parents were mages within the Shadowflame Society, and he was certain that they would know more about this.


    "It was something about how most of the Empire''s mages walked a False Path, making them weaker than Society members." Darkfire shook his head, scrunching his face in thought as he tried to recall the memory. "I don''t remember much of it¡­ it was long ago, and back then, it made little sense to me."


    Arran nodded thoughtfully. He was certain that the False Path Darkfire had mentioned was somehow connected to Panurge''s Pillars, and although the tiny shred of information did little to help him, he committed it to memory nonetheless.


    As he stared into the distance, lost in thought, Arran suddenly noticed a small group of people in the distance. Although they were too far away to be recognizable, it looked as if they were heading toward the estate.


    "Look!" he said. "They''re coming this way!"


    Darkfire looked toward the group, and apprehension appeared on his face. "Think they''re the ones Governor Eddarin sent for?"


    "We''ll find out soon enough," Arran said. "But just in case, we should probably prepare for a fight."


    They hurried down the hill, back to the estate. When they arrived, the servants looked at them in worry, clearly recognizing that something was wrong.


    "There might be trouble," Darkfire said to them. "All of you should hide in the basement, just to be sure. If you don''t hear any sounds of battle soon, it should be safe to come out in an hour or so."


    The servants immediately rushed off, understandably unwilling to face whatever it was that was about to happen. After the weeks they had seen Arran and Darkfire training, they should know that any fight involving the two young men was something they wanted no part of.


    As the servants hid in the basement, Arran and Darkfire made some hasty preparations, even if there wasn''t much they could do.


    Darkfire changed into an armored coat and belted on two swords. From his tense look, Arran could tell he was worried ¡ª and with good reason.


    For his part, Arran changed into the black robe Jiang Fei had given him when he left Silvermere. Even if it wasn''t as good as armor, it was still enchanted, and it should give him at least some protection if there was a battle.


    He wore the sword he had won from the Shadowblood novice, with the starmetal sword and the dragonbone bow at the ready in his void bag.


    There wasn''t much else they could do after that, and they headed toward the path leading up to the estate. Both of them eyed the road nervously, and it wasn''t long before the small group of people they had spotted from the hilltop appeared.


    When Arran recognized them, he let out a curse. At the front of the group was a black-robed woman he didn''t know, but behind her were the Shadowblood novices, the one he had crippled sitting on horseback.


    "Well, damn," Darkfire said. "Think we can still run?"


    Arran sighed, his hand grabbing the hilt of his sword as the group slowly approached them.

 Chapter 79 Judgmen

    As Arran waited for the group to reach them, his only comfort was that there was no immediate attack.


    But then, he realized that there was no reason for them to attack straight away. Even if the woman was completely powerless ¡ª something he strongly doubted ¡ª the novices were strong enough to not need surprise attacks against Darkfire and himself.


    With some luck, he would be able to take one of them in a fair fight. If Darkfire managed to keep another busy long enough for Arran to finish the first, perhaps they could barely defeat two of the novices ¡ª and even that would require a great deal of luck.


    But now, there were five Shadowblood novices before them, not counting the crippled one. There simply was no amount of luck that would allow them to overcome those odds.


    They waited in silence, neither Darkfire nor Arran feeling the need to speak. Whatever was going to happen, they would have to face, and there was no amount of talking that could change that.


    As the group approached, Arran got a better look at the woman in front.


    She was tall, with long dark hair and black eyes. There was something wild and domineering about her appearance, as if she was longing for battle, and there was an ageless quality to her face, making it impossible to tell just how old she was.


    "Shit!" Darkfire hissed quietly. "This is bad¡­"


    "Unhappy to see me, Darkfire?" the woman called out.


    "Elder Batu," he said, bowing deeply. "We''re honored at your company, of course, although the two of us hardly seem worthy of your attention."


    As Darkfire finished speaking, the woman came to a stop a few paces away from them. She gave Darkfire a derisive sneer, then spoke, "You think charm will solve your problems?"


    "It was worth a try," Darkfire said with a shrug. "Better than calling you a terrifying monster, I''d think."


    Elder Batu let out a shrill laugh. "I do appreciate honesty," she said. Then, she turned to Arran. "This is the one who crippled my nephew?"


    "That''s him, Elder," one of the novices behind her said, his voice gratingly sycophantic.


    "What''s your name?" she asked, looking Arran up and down as if he was a piece of cattle.


    "Ghostblade." There was little point in trying to resist her questions, but he would not resort to groveling ¡ª mostly because he doubted it would help.


    "You crippled my nephew," she said, staring at him intently. "What do you have to say for yourself?"


    "He tried to kill me," Arran replied. "All I did was defend myself."


    "If you were just defending yourself, why did you choose to cripple him?" There was no anger on her face. Instead, she seemed genuinely curious about what his answer would be.


    "He was stronger than me," Arran answered honestly. "It was the only way I could take him out of the fight."


    She nodded, her expression one that could almost be mistaken for approval. Then, she turned toward the novices behind her.


    "Now, which of you can tell me what happened?"


    "I can, Elder." The one who spoke was a young woman with pouting lips and a face that would be pretty had it not been for a hint of cruelty in her eyes.


    "Then what are you waiting for?" Elder Batu said. "Speak!"


    "Novice Arban challenged the outsider to a friendly duel," the novice began hurriedly. "When the outsider was about to lose, he used an underhanded magic attack to gain the advantage, then crippled novice Arban before he could react."


    Elder Batu gave the young woman a smile so cold it sent shivers down Arran''s spine.


    "Let''s try that again," she said slowly. "And this time, if you tell even the slightest lie, I will burn those pretty eyes from your face."


    The novice paled instantly, a fearful expression appearing on her face. "I didn''t¡ª" she began.


    "Tell me the truth," Elder Batu interrupted her, "or suffer the consequences."


    The young woman shot a panicked look at the other novices, but seeing that they would be no help, she sighed in resignation.


    Once more she told the story, but this time, she told the truth, not even omitting the slightest detail.


    "So that''s what happened," Elder Batu said, her gaze resting on her nephew. "You wanted to kill the outsider to shame Darkfire, and when he defeated you, you tried to blindside him with a magic attack. And still, you lost. It seems my brother''s blood runs strong in you."


    The young man cried out in protest, but she ignored him, turning toward the other novices. Their faces, filled with arrogant confidence only minutes ago, were now fearful.


    "All of you have shamed the Society. As penance, you will serve beyond the border for one decade, alone. Those who survive will be allowed to return."


    The novices responded with looks of shock and horror, but none of them dared to speak against her ¡ª it was clear that Elder Batu was not in a merciful mood.


    "Leave now," Elder Batu said. "If any of you delay in departing, or return early, your punishment will be death."


    It only took a few moments before the novices were gone, leaving behind Arran and Darkfire, Elder Batu, and the crippled young man.


    "Now, my nephew," Elder Batu said, her eyes cold, "you have shamed not only the Society, but also our family. And look at you now¡­ useless. I could banish you for your actions, but then, a stain like this requires thorough cleaning."


    She stretched her hand toward him with a calm gesture that nevertheless held great threat, and Arran nearly gasped in shock when he understood what was about to happen.


    "You can''t do this!" the young man cried out. Yet even as he finished the words, his eyes glazed over, his body slumping down from the horse a second later.


    "And so dies my grandfather''s name," Elder Batu said. She remained silent for a short while, looking at her nephew''s corpse in disgust.


    Finally, she turned her attention back to Arran.


    "You must think me heartless," she said, her voice cold, without even the faintest trace of emotion.


    Arran could certainly have agreed with that, though other terms came to mind as well ¡ª like ''murderous'' or ''insane''. Yet he held his tongue, for fear of losing it.


    "I''m just glad you didn''t kill me," he finally said, understanding that she was waiting for an answer.


    "War is coming," she responded. "And the Society needs fighters. Weak as you are, your victory over my nephew means you might be of some use yet."


    Arran did not reply, simply nodding. Given the woman''s terrifying behavior, he did not want to run even the slightest risk of offending her.


    "I see you are wearing my grandfather''s sword," she remarked with a look at his side.


    Immediately, Arran unsheathed the sword, handing it hilt-first to Elder Batu. "You can have it," he said quickly. "Had I known it belonged to your family, I wouldn''t have taken it."


    "I don''t want the cursed thing," she replied. "It was forged by my grandfather, then passed down from my useless father to my useless brother, before falling into the hands of my useless nephew. Keep it, if you think it will bring you better luck."


    Arran hesitated briefly, then sheathed the sword again. To him, a sword was just a tool, neither lucky nor unlucky. And as far as swords went, this was a particularly fine one.


    "What happens now?" he asked.


    "Now," she said, "you travel north. The other Shadowblood fools will undoubtedly figure out what happened, and when they do, this region will no longer be safe for you."


    "You''re telling us to join a different Valley?!" Darkfire had been quiet before, but now, he spoke in an astonished tone, a tremble of anxiety in his voice. "But what about¡­"


    "I will inform your parents that you are safe," Elder Batu cut in. "They''re the ones who asked me to come here in the first place."


    "Then you were the one who was sent to help us?" Arran asked, puzzled at the sudden revelation.


    "I was asked to deliver a fair judgment," she replied. "My fool nephew and his fool friends thought a few drops of shared blood would be enough to sway my decision. But between blood and the Society, there can be no choice." Turning to Darkfire, she added, "You would do well to remember that."


    "So what should we do?" Darkfire asked, his brow furrowed in thought.


    "Travel to one of the border cities near the Sixth Valley," Elder Batu said. "Then, get recruited. With your skills, that shouldn''t be too hard a task ¡ª although I would suggest hiding your magical abilities for the time being."


    "Should we use different names?" Arran asked, hoping for an excuse to finally get rid of the ''Ghostblade'' moniker.


    "Darkfire and Ghostblade?" She raised an eyebrow. "There are hundreds with those names in every Valley. I''d say your lack of imagination serves you well, in this case."


    Arran let out a sigh. It seemed that for now, he was stuck with that ridiculous name.


    "Unless you have any other questions, I shall leave now," Elder Batu announced.


    Arran kept his mouth firmly shut. Whatever questions he had could wait until he found someone less frightening to ask.


    Elder Batu wasted no time on goodbyes, instead simply turning around and walking off.


    Both Arran and Darkfire stood in silence, until finally, Arran was certain she was gone.


    "That," he said in a low voice, "is a terrifying woman."


    "You don''t know the half of it," Darkfire replied.

 Chapter 80 New Techniques

    Arran and Darkfire left the estate not long after Elder Batu. While they had months of travel ahead of them, there wasn''t much they could do to prepare ¡ª Arran already carried multiple void bags filled with food and supplies, while Darkfire had only his sword, an armored coat, and some clothes.


    Now that Darkfire had opened his Realms he was able to use void bags, but since he had none of his own, Arran gave him the one that had belonged to Stormleaf. He filled it with food and other supplies, adding some of the remaining treasures from the Herald''s stronghold as well.


    Darkfire accepted the gifts reluctantly. Although he seemed excited at having a void bag of his own, Arran could tell he felt uncomfortable at the help he was receiving.


    "My debt to you grows larger every day," Darkfire said. "At this rate, I won''t ever be able to repay it."


    "There are no debts between friends," Arran replied. "Besides, having someone to watch my back is more valuable than any treasure."


    In truth, there was more to it than that.


    After the year Arran had spent alone in a dungeon cell, simply having someone to talk to was a luxury he treasured. If some small gifts could help prevent Darkfire from dying to some random misfortune, then he would gladly part with them.


    They did not hurry in their travels, instead using the time to train together. Being recruited into the Shadowflame Society might be easy enough, but after that, they would travel beyond the border, where dangers abounded.


    Darkfire made steady progress in his magical abilities, and with Arran''s guidance and Jiang Fei''s notes, it took him only a month to form his first Windblade.


    At this, Arran could not help but feel some slight jealousy. Even if he was glad to see his friend progress this rapidly, he was reminded of how much longer it had taken him to achieve the same feat.


    Still, he quickly rid himself of the thought. With Darkfire as a friend and ally, any progress Darkfire made would benefit both of them.


    As they traveled, Arran also shared Lord Jiang''s food and Panurge''s wine with Darkfire, who was astonished at the Natural Essence they contained.


    "No wonder you''re so strong," Darkfire said with a baffled laugh. "Even princes would be lucky to have just a fraction of all this."


    To Arran''s surprise, Darkfire''s power rose rapidly in the weeks that followed, to the point where he closed much of the gap in strength between Arran and himself.


    Arran had previously been able to match Darkfire in combat by relying on his superior strength, but now, he found himself struggling to keep up. Even if he was still somewhat stronger, the difference just wasn''t large enough anymore to make up for Darkfire''s expertise with the sword.


    One night, Darkfire suddenly stopped in the middle of a training session.


    "There''s something we need to discuss," he said, looking serious.


    "What is it?" Arran asked.


    "Your Body Refinement techniques aren''t good enough."


    "Not good enough?" Arran frowned thoughtfully. Seeing Darkfire''s rapid progress he had already begun to suspect that there was a problem with his own techniques, and it seemed Darkfire had the same thought.


    "Your techniques¡­ they''re too wasteful," Darkfire said. "Most of the Natural Energy you consume is squandered. With how many natural treasures you consume, you should be ten times as strong by now."


    Suddenly, Arran understood. His techniques had been created by Lord Jiang, who seemed to have an endless supply of precious natural treasures. Rather than using the Natural Essence in them efficiently, the man simply consumed more of them.


    "You have better techniques?" Arran asked, curious to see if he could learn something useful.


    "I do, but¡­" Darkfire hesitated. "They''re Society secrets. The punishment for sharing them with outsiders is death."


    Slightly disappointed, Arran nodded. "Nothing we can do about it, then. I''ll just have to wait until after we''re recruited."


    Darkfire remained silent for a second or two. "To hell with it," he said finally. "I''ll teach you. Just don''t let anyone know about it."


    "Are you sure?" Arran asked uncertainly. "I don''t mind waiting."


    "You can''t wait," Darkfire replied. "Nine out of every ten recruits die in their first year beyond the border. We need every advantage we can get."


    With that, Darkfire deemed the issue settled. In the weeks that followed, he began to teach Arran his Body Refinement techniques, which turned out to be wholly different from Lord Jiang''s.


    Initially, Arran had some trouble with the new techniques. The ones he knew relied on consuming copious amounts of natural treasures, yet the techniques Darkfire now taught him seemed to be centered around slowly drawing Natural Essence from the outside world, then thoroughly absorbing even the slightest shred of t.


    Even if the principles were the same ¡ª circulating Natural Essence around his body and directing it to his muscles, bones, and organs ¡ª Darkfire''s techniques required far more care and control.


    Yet after just some weeks, the training began to have an effect. Even if Arran was far from mastering the techniques, he sensed that he was already absorbing far more of the Natural Essence in the food and wine than he had previously.


    As a result, his strength increased far more rapidly than before. And although Darkfire still held a slight advantage in their sparring matches, Arran was once again able to keep up with him.


    Consumed as they were with training, Arran and Darkfire barely noticed the days pass. Even if much of their time was spent walking through the endless plains and hills that lay before the mountains, their real attention was on the mornings and evenings, when they would train and spar.


    After some months of travel, they were almost surprised when they reached their destination ¡ª a vast city named Hillfort, just a few days'' travel from the entrance to the Sixth Valley.


    At a glance, Arran could see that it was several times the size of Eremont, with countless thousands of buildings centered around a large, barren hill that rose above the rest of the city. Atop it stood not a fort but what looked to be a palace, and Arran could only guess that the fort for which the city was named had been taken down long ago.


    The city had no walls, but then, it didn''t seem to need any. Just its sheer size and the proximity of the Sixth Valley should be all the protection it required.


    "I think this is it," Arran said, feeling overwhelmed at the city''s size. "Any idea where we should go?"


    Darkfire shrugged, looking as bemused as Arran felt. "I suppose we''ll just have to take a look."

 Chapter 81 The Arenas of Hillfor

    "Just how big is this city?"


    Darkfire groaned in frustration, and Arran felt much the same. They had already spent several hours exploring the city''s seemingly endless streets, and yet, Arran knew that they had barely seen a fraction of it.


    "Let''s find a decent inn first," Arran said. "After that, we can take our time exploring the city."


    They decided on an inn named The Golden Pig. Large and fairly clean, it was more expensive than most inns they had found so far, with a crowd of merchants instead of the mercenaries, caravan guards, and Shadowflame hopefuls that filled most inns.


    Unconcerned with cost ¡ª he already had enough gold to last a lifetime ¡ª Arran got them the two largest rooms in the inn, then paid some more for clean bedsheets.


    After they settled in, they headed back down to the common room, where they approached the innkeeper. As soon as he spotted them, the man gave them an ingratiating smile, undoubtedly eager to see more of their coin.


    "Do you know where we can find the arena?" Arran asked him.


    "You''re hoping to get recruited?" The innkeeper''s smile disappeared almost immediately, a look of mistrust replacing it. Apparently, he preferred merchants over fighters.


    "We are," Darkfire replied curtly. "So can you tell us?"


    "There''s four arenas in the city," the man answered. "One in each of the northern, southern, eastern, and western quarters of the city. There''s fights every day, as well as monthly tournaments."


    "Every day?" Arran asked, surprised. Even for a city this large, having four arenas with daily fights seemed excessive.


    The innkeeper sighed. "There''s no shortage of Shadowflame aspirants in Hillfort, nor gamblers to support them."


    "Any difference between the arenas?" Even if the innkeeper seemed annoyed with the subject, Arran still hoped he could at least learn some useful information.


    "Nothing worth mentioning," the innkeeper replied. "You see one, you''ve seen ''em all."


    With that, the innkeeper turned and left to tend on some merchants who were sitting in the common room. Arran could not help but be puzzled at the man''s behavior ¡ª even if he disliked fighters, one would expect he would at least like gold.


    "Friendly fellow, that." Darkfire gave Arran a smirk. "So you take north, and I take south?"


    "You want to split up?"


    "Not much point in fighting each other."


    The idea made sense. If each of them took an arena, they should be able to rack up wins easy enough, with little chance of being defeated.


    "All right," Arran said. In a lower voice, he added, "Just remember to hold back a bit ¡ª we don''t want to draw too much attention."


    They agreed to meet again later that night, then left immediately, both of them eager to test their skills against new opponents.


    Finding the northern arena took Arran longer than he would have liked. Although the arena was supposed to be only an hour''s walk from the inn, Hillfort''s narrow streets made it almost impossible to find his way, and he had to ask for directions at least half a dozen times.


    When he eventually found the arena, he was amazed at its size. While the arena in Eremont had been little more than a glorified practice field, this one was large and imposing, with proper stone walls and rows of seats looking out over the fights.


    "Entry''s one copper," a man in a slightly shabby uniform said as soon as Arran entered.


    "I''m here to fight," Arran responded.


    "You?" Although the man gave him a skeptical look, he waved Arran through. "Go to the back, they''ll tell you what to do."


    As Arran walked to the back of the arena, he threw a glance at the fight in progress, seeing a burly bald-headed man face a lanky youth. In a moment, Arran could see the youth had little if any training, and he was defeated in just a few blows.


    "Next!" the announcer''s voice called out, and as the youth left the arena, another fighter took his place, nervousness plain on the new fighter''s face as he faced the burly man.


    Arran turned his attention to the crowd, and saw that there were several hundreds of people, most of them intently watching the fights, with some occasionally shouting in encouragement or anger.


    Amid the crowd, several men and women walked, and after a moment, Arran understood that they were taking bets. At once, the size of the crowd made sense ¡ª the people in the audience were there to gamble, not to watch any great display of skill.


    When he reached the back of the arena, Arran found a doorway cut into the stone, and behind it was a large chamber in which several dozens of people stood waiting.


    He entered the chamber, and immediately, a tall man in a pristine uniform approached him.


    "Here to fight?"


    Arran nodded.


    "What''s your name?"


    "Ghostblade."


    "Grab a sword from one of the barrels, then get in line," the man said, pointing toward a handful of barrels to the side of the chamber. "Once you''re called, you can fight until you lose. If you lose, get out of the arena, and move to the back of the line. Any questions?"


    Arran looked at the line of fighters, seeing that there were over two dozen people in front of him. He sighed, then asked, "Any rules?"


    "No killing, and Shadowflame members aren''t allowed to fight," the man said. Without bothering to ask if Arran was a member of the Shadowflame Society, he turned his attention to the man behind Arran. "Here to fight?"


    Arran took a wooden sword, then lined up behind the others. The line moved slowly, and as he waited, he studied the other fighters. Most of them looked to be hapless youths, although a few had the bearings of experienced fighters.


    Finally, Arran''s turn came.


    When he stepped into the arena, he was surprised to see the burly man was still there. Apparently, the man was having a good day ¡ª at least so far.


    Seeing Arran approach, the man gave him an indifferent glance, then attacked immediately, rushing forward with his weapon raised.


    A moment later, the man was on the ground, sporting several new bruises and a shocked expression.


    "Next!" the announcer''s voice sounded, and as the burly man left the arena, a new opponent entered ¡ª a handsome young man with broad shoulders and an arrogant face.


    "Next!" the announcer yelled as the young man limped out of the arena, now sporting a black eye and a sulking expression.


    "Next!"


    Arran fought for several hours, soon losing track of how many opponents he had faced. Most of them, he fought only once, although a few returned several times. The burly man he had faced first tried five times before finally giving up.


    With none of his opponents being Body Refiners or mages, Arran never came even close to losing a fight, and he used only a fraction of his true strength.


    Still, the endless supply of opponents proved excellent practice ¡ª even if they were too weak to pose a real challenge, testing his skills against them and facing their numerous different styles helped Arran hone his swordsmanship.


    Night had fallen by the time Arran finally decided he''d had enough for the day, and as he returned to the entry chamber he was surprised to see that there were now thousands of people in the crowd, many of them cheering loudly.


    "So much for not drawing attention," he muttered to himself as he stepped back inside, hoping he hadn''t caused too much of a stir.

 Chapter 82 The Victors Spoils

    When Arran stepped back inside the waiting chamber, he was met with the gazes of several dozens of fighters.


    No longer engrossed in battle, he finally had time to wonder why so many people wanted to fight him. He''d defeated numerous opponents already, and it seemed unlikely that these newcomers would fare any better.


    "You can''t leave yet!" one of them said, a young man with ruffled brown hair and a thin face. "We haven''t fought yet!"


    "Give it a rest, rookie," an older man said. "It''s not like you had a chance, anyway."


    "I still could''ve learned something," the young man replied, looking dejected.


    Hearing those words, Arran suddenly understood why opponents kept coming long after it was clear they had no chance of winning. Even if they knew they would lose, they likely thought they could improve their skills by fighting someone they believed to be a master swordsman.


    He could not help but feel slightly embarrassed at this.


    Although he was more skilled than most of the opponents he had faced, his true advantage lay in strength rather than skill, and the only thing others were likely to learn from fighting him was to stick with weaker opponents.


    "You caused quite a stir, and in less than a day."


    When Arran looked, he saw that the voice belonged to the uniformed man who had given him a cold welcome some hours ago. Although the man had hardly paid him any attention when he arrived, Arran''s string of victories seemed to have raised his interest.


    "Just wait until you see me fight next time," Arran said. Any chance of staying unnoticed already lost, he figured he might as well act the part of the arrogant young fighter.


    The uniformed man chuckled. "You won''t be fighting here again," he said. "Not outside the tournaments, at least."


    "What?" Arran was puzzled. "Why not?"


    "The arenas run on gambling," the man replied. "Fighters like you are bad for business. If the Governor knew what you cost him today, he''d probably have a fit." He laughed at the last part.


    "Then what about the tournaments?" Arran asked. "I can still join those?"


    "Anyone with at least ten wins can take part in the monthly tournaments," the man said. "You''ve achieved that and then some, so you''re free to join the next one, in about two weeks." A thoughtful expression on his face, he added, "You should find more of a challenge there, too."


    Arran nodded in understanding. "I suppose I might give it a shot." Although he was in the city to be recruited by the Shadowflame Society, he wouldn''t mind the chance to test his skills against stronger opponents.


    Figuring there wasn''t much point in waiting longer, he stepped out of the waiting chamber, ready to head back to the inn. Yet to his surprise, a noisy crowd immediately formed around him, with at least a hundred people all trying to reach him.


    "Thank you!" a red-faced man with a joyous expression cried out, pressing something into Arran''s hands.


    The man disappeared back into the crowd before Arran could respond, but when he looked at what the man had handed him, he saw that it was a bulging coin purse.


    Before he could see what was inside, someone else pushed a handful of coin into his hands. He looked up, and saw it was a tearful woman. "You saved my family!" she blurted out.


    As Arran struggled to make his way through the crowd, people kept putting coin and other gifts in his hands and pockets.


    At first, he was confused by this strange turn of events, but then, he realized what was going on.


    All of these people were likely to be gamblers, and Arran had just won over a hundred fights in a row. With some amusement, he realized that anyone who had bet on him must have earned a fortune.


    He made his way through the crowd as best he could, keeping his hands on his void bags. He didn''t care too much about the coin his new fans put in his pockets ¡ª he had more than he needed anyway, and if some got stolen, he wouldn''t miss it.


    Finally, he stepped out of the arena and onto the street. Even here he was followed, over a dozen voices still sounding around him, some thanking him, others merely praising him, and yet others asking for favors.


    He ignored them all, hurriedly stepping into a side street to shake off the crowd. A few more quick turns, and he stood in a mostly empty street, where he finally breathed a sigh of relief.


    Yet before he even had a chance to catch his breath, he was approached by a young man in a black robe.


    "You did well today," the young man said. "I take it you''re planning to be recruited into the Shadowflame Society?"


    "Perhaps," Arran said. "But what business of yours is it?"


    "I''m Li Jing," the young man said. "I''m a Shadowflame novice, and after seeing your performance today, I would be happy to have you join me."


    "Oh?" Arran said, immediately wary. "That''s a bit quick, isn''t it?"


    Li Jing shrugged. "I figured I should move before someone else snatches you up. Talent like yours is rare, even here in Hillfort."


    "I think I''ll try my luck in the tournaments, first," Arran said, suspicious of the quick invitation. "I only just arrived in the city, and I want to see what my options are, first."


    "You''re holding out for the auction, then?" Li Jing asked, a dejected look appearing on his face.


    "The what?"


    The young man gave him a puzzled look. "The auction," he repeated, as if the words were self-explanatory.


    "I have no idea what you''re talking about," Arran said. "What auction?"


    "It seems you really are new here," Li Jing observed. "Every month, the Governor holds an auction where Shadowflame novices get to bid on the strongest fighters in the city."


    "You novices actually bid on fighters?" Arran asked, surprised.


    "Not me," Li Jing replied. "I don''t have the wealth. But the richer novices bid on fighters, yes."


    "But why? You''re Shadowflame novices, aren''t you? What difference does a fighter make?" From what Arran understood, novices should be strong enough that having normal fighters on their side would make little difference in a fight.


    "It''s dangerous beyond the border," Li Jing said. "Especially these last few years. Having some strong fighters on your side can make a difference, if you have enough of them. Even a short distraction can make a big difference in a fight, after all."


    "So if I hold out for the auction, what can I expect to get?" Although he had little interest in gold, Arran figured that if novices were bidding on fighters, they would have more to offer than just a bit of coin.


    "You? Not much," Li Jing said with a laugh. "Only mages and Body Refiners are worth a lot."


    Arran nodded absentmindedly, thinking about this unexpected turn of events. He had expected that finding a novice to recruit him and Darkfire would require at least some effort, but instead, it seemed that they''d be able to not just get recruited, but make a profit as well.


    "It''s a bad idea, though," Li Jing said in a serious voice.


    Arran looked back up, eying the novice. "Why''s that?"


    "Some members of the Shadowflame Society believe outsiders shouldn''t be allowed to join," Li Jing explained in a low voice, as if he was sharing a secret. "Occasionally, they''ll bid on strong fighters, only to have them disappear beyond the border."


    "Members of the Shadowblood faction, you mean?"


    "You already know of them?" Li Jing asked, his eyes wide in surprise.


    "Someone warned me about them," Arran replied, unwilling to reveal all he knew. "Told me to stay far away from them."


    "Then you know that joining me now would be in your best interest," Li Jing said. "In the auction, you won''t know who''ll be bidding on you. And if you do well in the tournament, you might well draw dangerous attention."


    "Still, I''m going to keep my options open, at least for now," Arran said. He did not point out that he had no reason to trust the young novice in front of him any more than other Shadowflame novices.


    "If you change your mind, you can find me at the Drunken Weasel," the young man said, although he didn''t look hopeful. "I''ll be there for at least a few more days."


    "I''ll give it some thought," Arran said. "For now, thanks for the information."


    In truth, he had no intention of accepting the novice''s offer. Friendly though the young man might be, the fact that he hadn''t noticed Arran was a Body Refiner meant he was either stupid or lying.


    With a nod to Li Jing, Arran headed back to the inn, already curious to hear how things had gone for Darkfire.

 Chapter 83 An Unexpected Invitation

    Although he had already traveled the route earlier that day, Arran''s return to the inn still took him some time. Navigating the city''s many narrow streets proved even harder at night than it was during the day, and once more, he had to rely on directions from passersby to find his way.


    When he finally arrived at the Golden Pig, it was already past midnight, and inside, he found the common room filled with a lively crowd of people in various stages of inebriation. Although it wasn''t quite as rowdy as a common inn or tavern would be, it seemed even the respectable merchants at the Golden Pig weren''t above enjoying a drink or three in the evening.


    At once, his eyes searched for Darkfire, and he found his friend in a corner of the common room, sitting behind a table with a large mug of ale and an annoyed expression.


    When Arran approached him, he looked up, a wronged look on his face.


    "They threw me out after just a few dozen fights," Darkfire said, sounding peeved. "I barely even had time to get warmed up. Said I was bad for business. Can you believe that?"


    Arran chuckled. "They won''t let me fight anymore, either," he said, "although they waited until I was finished before they told me."


    "They told you to wait for the tournaments, too?" Darkfire asked.


    "They did," Arran replied with a nod. "So, did any Shadowflame novices try to recruit you?"


    "Three," Darkfire said. "After that, I made my way out of there."


    "Looks like you''re more popular than me," Arran replied with a laugh. "I only got one. Did they tell you about the auction?"


    Darkfire gave him a blank look. "What auction?"


    "There''s a monthly auction the Governor holds, where Shadowflame novices can bid on recruits."


    "What?" Darkfire looked baffled. "Novices actually bid on recruits? But why?"


    "That''s what I was wondering," Arran said. "I take it that sort of thing doesn''t happen in Eremont?"


    Darkfire shook his head. "The closest I''ve heard was someone bribing a novice to recruit him. Didn''t end well for either of them. But novices paying for recruits? That just doesn''t make sense." Again, he shook his head, clearly dumbfounded by the idea.


    "Maybe the Sixth Valley is more dangerous than the Fourth Valley?" Arran offered, trying to come up with an explanation.


    "Maybe," Darkfire said. "But even then¡­ what good would a few normal fighters do?"


    They talked about the matter for some time, drinking ale while trying to find an explanation. Yet no matter how hard they tried, neither of them could come up with a good reason for novices to be so ardent in finding recruits.


    "We''ll just have to ask around tomorrow," Arran finally said. "Maybe someone in the city can tell us what''s going on."


    They talked for a while longer before Arran headed to bed, leaving Darkfire in the company of several young girls who had approached him as they sat talking.


    Whatever it was that drew women to Arran''s friend, it clearly worked just as well in Hillfort as it had in Eremont.


    Arran awoke late in the morning after a long night of dreamless sleep ¡ª it seemed that the hours of fighting the previous day had tired him out more than he had thought.


    When he headed down to the common room to have breakfast, he was immediately approached by the innkeeper.


    "Young master Ghostblade," the man said, bowing politely. "I have some news for you."


    Arran''s blinked in surprise at the man''s sudden change in behavior. Just a day earlier, the innkeeper had treated him with thinly veiled disgust after learning he was a fighter looking to join the Shadowblade Society. Yet now, the innkeeper acted like he was a nobleman.


    "What is it?" Arran asked, hiding his confusion.


    "This morning, I received some messages for you," the innkeeper said, handing Arran a stack of letters.


    "Oh?" Arran replied.


    Immediately, he began opening the letters, and it didn''t take him long to find that each of them contained an invitation, several from local merchants and nobles, but most from Shadowblade novices.


    From the looks of it, he and Darkfire had drawn even more attention than they thought.


    After working his way through the stack of letters he looked up and was surprised to see that the innkeeper was still standing there.


    "Is there anything else?" he asked.


    "Young master Ghostblade," the man began, "there is another one. An invitation to visit the Lord Governor this afternoon."


    With that, he handed Arran a thick cream-white envelope. On the outside, the names Ghostblade and Darkfire were spelled in letters of golden ink.


    "You opened it?" Arran asked with a frown.


    "Apologies, young master," the innkeeper said, his face turning red. "I¡­ I''m afraid my curiosity got the better of me."


    Arran sighed, then turned his attention back to the letter. As he read it, he saw that the innkeeper had spoken the truth ¡ª the Governor had invited him and Ghostblade to visit for a midday meal.


    "What time is it now?" he asked, feeling a tinge of worry.


    "About an hour to noon," the innkeeper said.


    Arran cursed under his breath. "If you''re going to open my letters, you could at least let me know when I''m late to see the damn Governor," he said to the innkeeper.


    Without waiting for the man''s response, he hurried up the stairs and headed to Darkfire''s room, where he gave the door several loud knocks.


    "Wake up, you lazy bum!"


    Several moments passed without an answer, and Arran knocked on the door again. This time, he heard some stumbling noises come from the room, and a few seconds later the door opened, revealing a sleepy Darkfire with ruffled hair and a look on his face that suggested he had barely slept.


    When Arran looked past him, he saw a young brown-haired woman lying in the bed, pretty and blushing, covering her naked body with a bed sheet.


    "Looks like at least one of us had a good night," he said, sighing loudly. "Time to get dressed. The Governor has invited us for a midday meal."


    "What time is it?" Darkfire asked, lazily rubbing his eyes.


    "A good half hour after we should''ve left," Arran replied. "Now get going!"


    As Darkfire headed back inside to get dressed, Arran headed for his own room. After hesitating for a moment, he put on Jiang Fei''s robe, figuring she knew more about proper clothing than he did.


    He headed back down to the common room, where Darkfire appeared not much later, looking surprisingly well-dressed for someone who had been asleep just moments earlier.


    "Who was the girl?" Arran asked as they left the inn.


    "Just someone I met last night after you went to bed. You wouldn''t believe the way she¡ª"


    As they hurried through the streets, Darkfire regaled Arran with bawdy tales of his latest conquest, and several times Arran could not help but gape in shock at the sordid stories. Once more, he was reminded of his own lack of experience with women.


    Unlike the arenas, the Governor''s palace was easy to find ¡ª there could be no mistaking the lone building atop the hill at the center of the city for anything else ¡ª and they arrived only a few minutes late.


    The sight of the palace caused Arran to pause in wonder. It was surrounded by white walls that seemed to be made wholly from marble, and the building itself featured several large towers with ornate marble decorations that depicted armored warriors and fierce monsters.


    Before the gate stood over a dozen guards, each wearing an immaculate uniform that seemed to be garish to the point of impracticality, bedecked with silk and lace designs in a handful of bright colors.


    "Halt!" one of them said sternly as Arran and Darkfire approached. "What''s your business here?"


    "I''m Ghostblade," Arran said, trying his hardest not to laugh at the man''s outfit. "We were invited by the Governor."

 Chapter 84 Lunch with the Governor

    The guard looked at Arran and Darkfire suspiciously. "You were invited by the Governor?" he asked, some doubt in his voice.


    "We were," Darkfire said. "So are you going to let us in?"


    The guard didn''t answer, instead whispering something to one of the other guards, who quickly entered the gate.


    Some moments passed in silence as Arran and Darkfire waited. Finally, a man emerged from the gate. Dressed in a blue silk robe and with his black hair elegantly coiffed, he looked like a high-ranking official or noble.


    "Darkfire and Ghostblade?" he asked, a practiced smile on his face.


    "That''s us," Arran said curtly, slightly annoyed at the wait.


    "Excellent," the man replied with a nod. "I''m the Governor''s steward. Please follow me inside."


    He stepped inside the gate, Arran and Darkfire following close behind him.


    Within the walls, they found a large garden filled with neatly trimmed hedges, several fountains, and numerous marble statues.


    With just a quick glance Arran could see that all the statues seemed to depict unusually well-endowed nude women, and he instantly found himself wondering just what kind of man the Governor was, to have his garden decorated like this.


    He had no chance to give the statues a closer look, however, because the steward hurriedly led them to the palace itself, which looked even more imposing up close than it had from a distance.


    The steward led them through the palace doors, passing several guards on the way. Once they entered, Arran saw that the palace was even more lavish on the inside than on the outside. Elaborate murals decorated the walls, and he was stunned to see that the ceiling was covered in gold plating.


    Yet what really caught Arran''s eyes were the statues that stood on the side of the hallway. Carved from pristine white marble, they all depicted curvaceous women and couples in various states of undress, engaging in activities that could only be described as obscene.


    "What the hell is this place?!" he whispered to Darkfire, who looked to be as astonished as he was.


    "I don''t know, but I don''t think that''s even possible," Darkfire said, pointing at a statue that depicted a woman with curves so exaggerated it looked like she could topple over at any moment.


    "Please refrain from discussing these matters in the palace," the steward said. Then, in a lower tone, he added, "And yes, the Governor''s tastes are quite¡­ specific."


    "That''s one way to put it," Arran said, glancing at a statue that showed three women contorted in a position that was not just extremely lewd but also, he thought, physically impossible.


    The steward led them through several large hallways, each clearly decorated according to the Governor''s tastes. As Arran passed the statues and paintings, he stared in amazement, several times only barely able to keep himself from gasping in shock.


    When they reached the dining hall, Arran was relieved to see that it lacked the decorations that filled the rest of the palace. Had there been any statues like the ones in the hallways, he was certain he''d have choked on his food during the meal.


    As he looked around, he saw that the dining hall was filled with several dozens of people, spread across three long tables that were stacked with all sorts of food and drink.


    On a small dais at the far end of the dining hall sat a large man, dressed in flowing silk robes in a variety of bright colors, and Arran immediately knew this would be the Governor.


    The man was large in every sense of the word, tall and round-bellied, smacking his lips as he tore the meat of a roasted bird leg with his teeth.


    "My Lord Governor," the steward announced as they entered, "I bring you the fighters Ghostblade and Darkfire."


    "Ah good! My final guests for the day are here!" The Governor tossed aside the bone he held, then wiped his hands on his clothes. "Come, let me get a look at the two of you!"


    Arran and Darkfire walked toward him, the rest of the people in the hall turning their heads and eying them with some curiosity. Many of them looked to be fighters, although some seemed to be merchants or nobles, and a few looked like they could be Shadowflame novices.


    When they reached the dais upon which the Governor sat, he regarded them with an appraising eye, as if they were a pair of prize horses and he was a merchant considering a purchase.


    Finally, he nodded in approval. "Good, good!" he said. "The two of you will do well in the next auction. Now sit down, and eat!"


    Arran exchanged a look with Darkfire, who seemed as unimpressed with the Governor as Arran was.


    Still, there was no point in causing trouble, so they gave the Governor short bows, then found seats at the tables. There were few empty seats, and Arran ended up at a different table than Darkfire, next to a young woman he suspected was a Shadowflame novice.


    When he sat down, she gave him a curious glance. "I take it you and your friend are the ones who caused the big stir yesterday?" she asked, a smile on her lips.


    "I suppose," Arran said. "Though we just had a few small sparring matches."


    "No need for false modesty," she replied, an amused glint in her eyes. "You are obviously skilled, but I think you will find that the tournaments offer much more of a challenge."


    Arran was about to ask about the tournaments when suddenly, the doors to the dining hall opened and the steward once more stepped inside.


    "My Lord Governor," the man called out. "The young Lady Tirrand has arrived."


    "My beautiful daughter," the Governor spoke loudly. "So good of you to join us!"


    Arran turned toward the entrance, curious to see what the Governor''s daughter would look like. He hoped for the girl''s sake that she hadn''t inherited her father''s looks.


    To his surprise, he immediately recognized her ¡ª it was none other than the girl he had seen that morning in Darkfire''s room, although now, she was wearing a dress rather than a bed sheet.


    At once, he looked over to Darkfire. Seeing his friend red-faced and wide-eyed, staring at the girl in utter shock, he nearly choked trying to contain his laughter.

 Chapter 85 Amaya

    "Is something funny?" the young woman next to Arran asked, giving him a questioning look.


    Arran coughed several times, only partly succeeding in stifling his laughter. "My friend may have done something stupid," he said, his attention focused on the Governor''s daughter as she entered the dining hall.


    Now that he got a better look at her, he saw that she was really quite beautiful ¡ª her flowing brown hair framed a well-proportioned face, and her dark eyes were large and alert.


    When she noticed Darkfire, her eyes lit up, and she immediately approached him, seemingly unconcerned with what the others in the hall would think.


    As she reached Darkfire, she cast a glance at the man who was sitting next to him ¡ª a wealthy merchant, judging from his elegant robe and slightly pudgy physique.


    "Move!" she said in an unexpectedly firm tone that caused some looks of surprise among the other guests in the dining hall.


    The man looked up at her with a startled expression, obviously unsure of what to do.


    "Move!" she repeated. When the man didn''t move, she gave him an annoyed glare, then added, "Now!"


    The merchant looked at the Governor, seemingly hoping for some sort of help with the situation.


    "What are you waiting for?" the Governor said in a commanding voice. "My daughter told you to move!"


    At this, the merchant hurriedly stood up and made his way to a different seat toward the back of the room, an unhappy expression on his face.


    The Governor''s daughter smiled at her father, then sat down next to Darkfire.


    To Arran''s astonishment, she leaned over, then gave Darkfire a short kiss on his cheek.


    At once, Arran looked over to the Governor, fearful of what would happen next. Yet to his surprise, the man merely nodded, then went back to eating.


    "The Governor is many things," the young woman next to Arran said in a low tone, "but a hypocrite, he is not." When he turned to her, he saw that she had a smile on her face.


    Arran sighed in relief, understanding that he and Darkfire wouldn''t have to fight their way out of the palace. Amused though he had been by Darkfire''s predicament, he had also felt some worry at what the Governor''s reaction would be.


    Yet from the look of things, there would be no trouble ¡ª at least not today.


    Reassured, Arran turned his attention to the young woman next to him, hoping she could answer some of the questions he had about Hillfort.


    "You''re a Shadowflame novice, right?" he asked, unwilling to bother with subtlety.


    "Well-noticed," she replied. "Have you met any of us before?"


    "A few," he said. "I was wondering if you could answer some questions for me."


    "That depends on what those questions are," she said, a twinkle in her eye. "But first, perhaps we should introduce ourselves?"


    "I''m Ghostblade," he said.


    "Just Ghostblade?" she asked, smirking. "You don''t have a real name?"


    The question took Arran by surprise. This was the first time someone had asked for his real name in a long time, and although he had little love for his nickname, there was something uncomfortably intrusive about the question.


    "It''s Arran," he said after a moment''s hesitation. "No family name."


    "A pleasure to meet you, Arran," she said. "I''m Amaya Tir. Call me Amaya."


    The bright smile she gave him made him forget his questions, but only for a moment. Pretty though she was, with her long dark-brown hair, olive skin, and dark eyes, what mattered to him now was learning more about his prospects in the Sixth Valley.


    "Why do the novices here place so much value on fighters?" he asked, starting with the most obvious question.


    "You don''t know about the current situation?" she asked with a puzzled expression.


    "I only arrived yesterday," Arran said truthfully. "I haven''t had time to ask around yet."


    She gave him a thoughtful look. "Then you may have unknowingly stepped into a hornets'' nest."


    "So what''s going on?" he asked.


    "Not one for subtlety, are you?" She laughed as she spoke. "Very well. A little over a decade ago, the Patriarch of the Sixth Valley fell ill. Since then, several factions have formed around the main contenders to be his successor."


    Arran frowned. "But what does that have to do with the recruits?" he asked. He could not imagine recruits having any influence on the selection of a new Patriarch.


    "Recruits are future initiates," she replied. "And some will become novices, or rise even higher. The more of them a faction can bring in, the stronger that faction will be when the time comes to choose a successor."


    "The factions are trying to boost their numbers?" Arran thought he was beginning to understand what was happening, although it still didn''t explain why novices would go so far as to bid on fighters in an auction.


    Amaya hesitated for a moment before speaking. "In the beginning, novices would just take in more recruits ¡ª dozens, or in some cases even hundreds. But after the first few years, some of the less scrupulous factions decided that reducing the numbers of their opponents was as good as increasing their own."


    "Reducing the numbers?" Arran asked in disbelief, both at the idea and at her discussing it so openly.


    "Killing them," Amaya said bluntly. "Beyond the border, the Society does little to protect novices and their recruits ¡ª especially when their enemies are Society members themselves, with enough support to shield them from repercussions."


    "So it''s a war," Arran concluded.


    "It''s a war in all but name," Amaya agreed. "Once you step beyond the border, there are constant battles between the novices, along with their recruits. The strongest recruits serve as commanders, while the weaker ones are little more than soldiers."


    "Do others get involved in these battles?" Arran asked. Novices and recruits he could handle, but anything stronger than that would be a real problem. "Adepts and Masters?"


    "It hasn''t gotten to that point just yet," she said. "Having novices and recruits fight each other is one thing, but having the Society''s stronger members interfere¡­ that''s something different altogether."


    She hesitated, then added, "Although the way things are now, even that might not be far off."


    "Why are you telling me all of this?" Arran looked at Amaya with some suspicion, unsure of both her motives and the truth of her words.


    If she was speaking the truth, these hardly seemed the kind of things the Shadowflame Society would want discussed in the open.


    "Because you asked, of course," she said. Then, with a resigned sigh, she added, "And it''s nothing you wouldn''t find out after staying in Hillfort for a week. But perhaps at the auction, you''ll be swayed by my kindness ¡ª if you prove to be worth something."


    "I suppose I''ll have to win the tournament to prove myself?"


    "Of course," Amaya replied with a playful smile. "If you can''t even do that, you''re useless. But if you do¡­ I have several hundreds of recruits that still need a good commander."


    Arran was about to respond when he noticed that the other people in the dining hall were beginning to stand up. As he looked around, he saw that the steward had once more entered the dining hall.


    "Honored guests," the steward said, his voice as practiced as his smile. "Today''s entertainment is at an end. The Governor thanks you for your company, and bids you farewell."


    Hearing those words, Arran stood up as well, following the other guests'' example in bowing to the Governor.


    The first guests were already beginning to leave, and Arran was about to follow behind them when the Governor''s loud voice sounded through the dining hall.


    "Darkfire," the Governor called out. "You and your companion are welcome to stay longer, if you would like."


    Although the words sounded like an offer, the man''s voice sounded like a command, and Arran realized he had little choice but to stay.


    He cast a frustrated look toward Amaya as she left the dining hall, realizing that his other questions would have to wait.


    "Young master Ghostblade," a voice sounded.


    When Arran turned around, he saw that the steward had appeared next to him.


    "Please follow me."

 Chapter 86 Searching for Answers

    In the days following his meal with the Governor, Arran saw little of Darkfire.


    The steward had given Arran a room in the guest quarters that stunned him both with its luxury and with its decorations, but after that, the man hadn''t shown himself again, leaving Arran to his own devices.


    While he understood that he had only been invited as a courtesy to Darkfire, Arran was still taken aback by how little his presence mattered here. He had a room and was allowed to attend the Governor''s meals, but other than that, nobody even seemed to notice he was there.


    The first few days, he dutifully attended all the meals, hoping that he would unearth more information about what was happening beyond the border. Yet Amaya did not make a second appearance, and the other guests proved far less talkative.


    After two days, he decided to skip both the meals and the company that came with it, instead using his time to practice Body Refinement, and eating the natural treasures Lord Jiang and Panurge had left him.


    Darkfire, meanwhile, appeared to spend every waking moment with the Governor''s daughter.


    Once, Arran encountered him in the Palace halls, early in the morning. He looked weary, and there were dark rings around his eyes, as if he hadn''t slept in days.


    "Are you all right?" Arran asked, somewhat worried at his friend''s appearance.


    "It''s that woman," Darkfire said, suppressing a yawn. "She keeps me up all day and night. Not that I''m complaining, but¡­" He shook his head.


    "You''re a Body Refiner," Arran pointed out. "How can a single girl tire you out this much?"


    Darkfire merely threw up his hands, either unable or unwilling to answer the question.


    Their conversation was cut short by the arrival of the Governor''s daughter, who greeted Arran with a short but friendly smile. Without saying a word, she took Darkfire''s hand, then led him away.


    As they departed, Arran could hear her voice as she began to talk to Darkfire.


    "We''re meeting Lady Wu for lunch today, and I want you to wear¡­"


    Understanding that it would be a while before Darkfire would be of use again, Arran decided to go into the city, to find answers to his questions about the Shadowflame Society.


    Leaving the palace wasn''t an issue ¡ª the guards simply waved him through, apparently already aware of his status as a guest.


    After that, he decided that the best way to find answers would be by scouring the city''s inns for information. There were nearly as many fighters in the city as there were locals, and with a few drinks to loosen their tongues, at least some of them should be able to tell him more about the situation.


    Yet although Amaya had made it seem like information would be easy to find, Arran discovered it was more difficult than he anticipated. While rumors abounded in Hillfort, he soon found that most of them contradicted each other, and precious few seemed to have even the slightest shred of truth to them.


    "The Sixth Valley Patriarch has died, and now his sons are fighting to succeed him," a fat man with a ruddy face told him in between two swigs of brandy.


    "There''s a new king across the border, and the Shadowflame Society is recruiting soldiers to defeat him," another said confidently. With a knowing smile, he added, "When he attacks, the Patriarch will come out of hiding and wipe out his army."


    Yet another had a completely different reading of the events. "The novices are planning to overthrow the Patriarch," he explained in a low voice. "That''s why they''re recruiting so much. Got the Governor on their side, too ¡ª one of the novices is going to marry his daughter."


    After spending several days hearing a multitude of rumors, each even wilder than the last, Arran gave up on the idea of trying to unearth information from the endless rumors.


    Perhaps there were some slivers of truth in some of the stories, but even so, to Arran, it felt like trying to find pearls in a manure pit.


    Giving the matter some thought, he finally decided to find the Shadowflame novice who had approached him after his fights in the arena.


    The young man should be staying in the Drunken Weasel, and even if he did not seem particularly smart, his information could hardly be worse than what Arran had found so far.


    The Drunken Weasel turned out to be less unsavory than its name suggested. Although it certainly was less luxurious than the Golden Pig ¡ª not to mention the Governor''s palace ¡ª it was mostly filled with small merchants and the like, rather than the mercenaries and drunks Arran had expected.


    He found the Shadowflame novice in the common room, sitting in a corner with a large mug of ale and a forlorn look on his face. As soon as the young man saw Arran, his eyes lit up in surprise.


    "You''ve decided to join me after all?" the novice asked, not fully managing to hide his excitement.


    "Perhaps," Arran lied. "But first, I need some questions answered."


    "Of course!" the young man said. "Let me buy you a mug of ale, and I''ll tell you whatever you need to know."


    A short while later, they sat down at a table in the back of the common room, the novice eagerly listening to what Arran had to say.


    "What do you know about the factions within the Sixth Valley?" Arran asked, deciding not to waste time on small talk.


    "You know about that?" The novice gave him a startled look, then shook his head. "Of course you do¡­ the Sixth Valley doesn''t have many secrets, these days."


    "So can you tell me anything?" Arran asked.


    "Not much," the young man said. "I only recently became a novice." He furrowed his brow in thought, then said, "All I know is that there some people who might succeed the Patriarch ¡ª legendary figures all of them ¡ª and the most powerful families and factions are throwing their support behind different ones."


    "And they''re massing recruits to increase their influence?" Arran asked, remembering what Amaya had told him.


    The novice shrugged. "I suppose. Either way, I''m staying far away from it all ¡ª when I cross the border in a few weeks, I''m going to sneak right past the fighting and travel to the edge of the border region."


    "It''s safer there?"


    "Better than facing the other novices," the young man said. "There''s plenty of dangers beyond the border, but the other novices¡­" He lowered his voice, then cast a furtive glance around before continuing. "I hear one of them has recruited an entire army."


    "An entire army?" Arran frowned. If a novice had really gathered an army, surely there should be some sign of it. "Then where are the soldiers?" he asked, some doubt in his mind.


    The novice gave him an uneasy look. "A few miles north of the city. But the one who recruited them¡­ it''s best to stay far away from him."


    "Why''s that?" Arran asked, already wondering if he should go take a look for himself.


    "He calls himself Lord Stoneheart," the novice said. "He''s a member of one of the most influential families in the Sixth Valley, and he''s terrifyingly strong. But the worst part is his temper ¡ª it is said even his own family fears him."


    "A novice calling himself ''Lord''?" Arran gave the young man in front of him a questioning look. "And nobody''s tried to beat some sense into him?"


    The novice paled at the words. "Don''t talk like that," he said in a low voice. "If Stoneheart heard about it¡­"


    Arran frowned, then decided to change the topic. Even if there was little chance of this so-called Lord Stoneheart overhearing them, the novice in front of him seemed terrified.


    "There''s something else I was wondering," Arran said. "I''ve seen mages before, but somehow, Shadowflame novices seem far stronger than novices should be. I was wondering if¡ª"


    "I can''t tell you," the novice interrupted him, sounding so resolute it surprised Arran. "Some Society secrets cannot be told. But of course, if you join me, after you become a Shadowflame member¡­"


    "Thanks for your help," Arran said, unwilling to give the novice any more false hope.


    "You''re not going to join me, then?" the novice asked.


    Arran shook his head. "I just needed some information," he said. With a thought, he produced one of Panurge''s bottles of wine, and handed it to the novice. "For your troubles," he said. "Just make sure to drink it slowly. It''s filled with Natural Essence."


    The young man''s eyes went wide in an instant. "Then you''re¡­?"


    "A Body Refiner," Arran confirmed. "Don''t tell anyone."


    With that, he made his way outside.


    As he stepped out of the inn, he hesitated about what to do next, but only for a second. If there was an army just a few miles outside the city, he had to go take a look.

 Chapter 87 Stonehearts Army

    Just getting out of the city took Arran frustratingly long, with the crowded and narrow streets making it slow and difficult to find his way.


    Yet after a time, the streets got less busy and the houses grew sparser, and finally, he found himself outside the city.


    Here, the roads were much quieter than the streets had been, though there was still a good bit of traffic, with farmers and merchants bringing goods to and from the city.


    As Arran made his way north, he relaxed a bit, enjoying the sunny countryside while thinking about the weeks that lay ahead.


    From what he had heard these past few days, he now understood that the situation in the Sixth Valley was far more complicated than he had expected. With several factions fighting for power, choosing the wrong novice to join could be disastrous ¡ª deadly even.


    Yet so far, Arran had only seen a handful of Shadowflame novices in Hillfort, and of those, he had only spoken to two. If he was going to make the right choice, he would have to step up his efforts in finding information, and he would have to do it before the tournament.


    The tournament itself, meanwhile, provided as much danger as it did opportunity.


    Arran had little doubt about his ability to do well in the tournament, but doing so would inevitably draw attention, and not necessarily the good kind.


    If he was lucky, a good performance in the tournament could draw the attention of the more powerful novices, perhaps giving him and Darkfire a strong ally when they crossed the border.


    But at the same time, he understood all too well that showing too much power during the tournament would turn him into a target for the enemies of whichever novice he chose to join.


    And then there was the auction.


    Arran''s void bags weren''t quite as full as they had once been, but he had little interest in what he could gain from the auction. Whatever it was the novices could offer for a fighter ¡ª even a strong one ¡ª could hardly be worth much to him.


    Still, the auction was probably the best chance he had to get a look at the novices he would be up against across the border, and for that reason alone, he would watch, even if he did not take part.


    He sighed deeply, understanding that he had much to do and little time.


    Yet worrying now would do him little good, and he decided to focus his attention on the matter at hand. And after that, when he knew the truth about Stoneheart''s supposed army, he would try and find out more about the other novices in Hillfort.


    He walked for over an hour, but finally, about half a dozen miles from the city''s northern edge, he saw what looked to be a small band of mercenaries on the road ahead of him. These, he thought, must be some of Stoneheart''s recruits.


    He quickened his pace to catch up, but when he approached them, he saw that up close, they more resembled farmers dressed up as mercenaries than they did actual mercenaries.


    What little armor they wore was old and ill-fitting, and the swords at their sides did not seem to be in much better shape.


    Worse, among the twenty or so men and women in the group, there wasn''t a single one who didn''t look either several years too young to fight or several decades too old.


    "You there!" he called out.


    Several of the people in the group turned their heads toward Arran, and a moment later the group came to a stop.


    "What is it?" one of the men asked. He was thin and gray-haired, and looked to be on the wrong side of sixty by at least a decade.


    "Do you know where I can find Stoneheart?" Arran asked.


    "We''re on our way to join Lord Stoneheart now," the man said. "You''re looking to join, too?"


    "Maybe," Arran replied. He took another look at the group, then asked, "Why do you want to join him?"


    "Gold, of course," the man answered with a cheerful laugh. "A week or two ago, one of his men came to our village. Said Lord Stoneheart will pay anyone who can lift a sword five gold just to join up, and another five after serving for a year."


    Hearing this, Arran frowned. "You''re joining for gold?"


    "Of course," the man said. "Just five gold pieces''ll buy you a farm, and a good one at that."


    "Not much use for gold if you''re dead," Arran pointed out.


    The man chuckled in response. "We''re farmers, lad. We''re used to dealing with bandits."


    "If you join Stoneheart, you''ll be dead farmers," Arran replied.


    Without waiting for the gray-haired man''s response, he turned toward the largest man in the group. Middle-aged and with dark hair that only showed a few streaks of gray, this man stood at least half a head taller than Arran, and his shoulders carried the muscle of decades of farm work.


    "You!" Arran said. "Draw your sword."


    "What?" The tall man looked at Arran with a confused expression, seeming unsure of what to do.


    "Draw your sword," Arran repeated, "and strike me. I''ll give you ten gold right now if you draw even a single drop of blood."


    The man drew his sword, but he still hesitated for several seconds. After a few moments, he finally swung a half-hearted blow at Arran.


    Arran slapped the blade away with his hand before it could touch him.


    "Again," he said. "And make it a real strike."


    Once more the man struck, and this time, he put some effort into the blow.


    Arran slapped the blade away effortlessly, and now, some gasps sounded within the group of farmers.


    "Again."


    Emboldened by his previous two blows, the man finally stopped holding back and struck out with all his might in a heavy two-handed blow.


    Arran caught the blade mid-strike with his hand, stopping it dead in the air. Then, holding the blade in his hand, he effortlessly ripped the sword from the tall man''s hands and tossed it aside.


    "Beyond the border, you will face enemies far stronger than me," he said in a soft voice. "If you go, you will die."


    The gray-haired man looked at Arran with a fearful expression, but still, neither he nor the other farmers appeared like they were about to heed Arran''s advice.


    "But the gold¡­" the man began.


    Arran reached for his void bag and took out a handful of gold. Without looking at it, he threw it on the ground.


    "Take that, and go back to your farms," he said. "Or join Stoneheart, and see how much good gold will do you in the grave."


    He waited no further, ignoring the group of farmers as he continued along the road. He had done all he could, and then some. Whether they continued on their foolish path was their own decision.


    As he walked, he found himself cursing in anger ¡ª anger at Stoneheart for recruiting people who could barely defend themselves, and anger at the farmers for being so willing to throw away their lives.


    He arrived at Stoneheart''s camp a little over half an hour later, and although his anger had subsided somewhat by then, after just some minutes in the camp his jaw once more stiffened as he looked around in disgust.


    The camp was large and crowded, holding hundreds if not thousands of tents, with throngs of people slowly moving between them.


    Some of the people here looked to be mercenaries or other fighters, but the vast majority were clearly like the farmers Arran had met along the way ¡ª untrained, ill-equipped, and wholly unprepared for whatever they would face if they crossed the border.


    Arran spent some time looking around, and as he did, his mood grew darker and his heart heavier.


    Several of the youths in the crowd seemed like they had barely even reached their teens, and for every well-equipped mercenary in the masses there were at least a dozen farmers who would be more comfortable holding a rake or sickle than a sword.


    "Where''s your badge?" a voice suddenly sounded, interrupting Arran''s thoughts.


    "My what?" Arran looked at the man in front of him, and saw that it was likely a mercenary or soldier ¡ª wearing armor and seeming comfortable with the sword at his side, Arran figured him for one of the few people in the camp who had actually been in battle before.


    "Your badge," the man repeated. "Have you gone through recruitment yet?"


    Arran shook his head. "I just arrived," he said with a noncommittal shrug.


    The man let out a frustrated sigh. "You gotta get a badge before you can find a tent," he said. "Come along and I''ll get you sorted."


    As the man made his way through the camp, Arran followed silently behind him.

 Chapter 88 Stonehear

    "Wait in line until it''s your turn," the mercenary said. "They''ll give you a badge once you''re sorted." Without waiting for an answer he left, seeming glad to be rid of Arran.


    Arran looked at the man as he walked off, then shifted his attention to the line in front of him. From what he could tell, there were at least a hundred people ahead of him, waiting before a tent the size of a small house.


    Briefly, he considered leaving right then. Yet although he now knew that Stoneheart''s army was real, he had only gotten a short look at the camp, and he hadn''t learned even a single thing about Stoneheart himself.


    He sighed in annoyance, then got in line. Perhaps the recruiters would be willing to tell him more about the army and its leader.


    As he waited, he studied the people who were waiting with him. Most seemed to be farmers and villagers, much like the people he had grown up with in Riverbend. Just from looking at them, he knew that few would know anything about mages beyond tall tales told at the village tavern.


    Once more, he felt anger rising within him. With just a few gold, these men and women were being lured into making a choice that they had no way of understanding, and that would likely cost them their lives.


    Yet angry though he was, right now, there was little he could do about it. So instead, he waited impatiently for his turn to be let into the large tent.


    The wait was shorter than he had feared, and a little over half an hour later he stepped inside.


    The interior of the tent was sparse but spacious, and at its center stood a table with a man and a woman sitting behind it, both bearing scars that suggested they had survived more than just a few battles.


    "Name," the woman said in a weary voice, not even bothering to raise her eyes from the papers in front of her.


    "Ghostblade," Arran answered.


    Hearing the name, she looked up immediately. "You''re a fighter?"


    Arran nodded.


    "Then we''ll have to test you," she said. "If you''re skilled enough, you can get double pay. More, if you''re good."


    "I don''t think that will be necessary," a voice sounded from the back of the tent. A moment later, a large figure emerged from the shadows.


    As the figure stepped into the light, Arran could see it was a giant of a man. Seven feet tall if not more, he had shoulders like boulders and a bull-like neck. His dark hair was cut short, and a black beard adorned his angular face.


    Arran realized this had to be Stoneheart, and at once, any idle thoughts he had of saving the recruits by killing the man disappeared.


    Although Stoneheart was at least a head taller than Arran and so thickly muscled he could have passed for a bear, that wasn''t what worried Arran.


    Rather, it was the way he moved ¡ª smooth and controlled, yet with power exuding from even his smallest gestures.


    At once, Arran knew that Stoneheart was a hideously strong Body Refiner. Definitely more powerful than Darkfire, and most likely stronger than Arran, too.


    That alone would make him a foe worthy of respect, but from the Shadowflame novices Arran had encountered previously, he knew that Stoneheart''s control of magic would easily exceed his own.


    He held back a sigh, understanding that he was outmatched. In a fair fight, he would have little chance of surviving against Stoneheart, much less defeating him.


    Luckily, however, it seemed the man currently had little interest in fighting Arran.


    "I''ve been expecting you," the giant said in an unexpectedly friendly voice.


    "Stoneheart?" Arran asked, just to be sure.


    "It''s Lord Stone¡ª," the woman began to correct him, but Stoneheart silenced her with a sharp gesture.


    "Friends can call me Stoneheart," he said, causing the woman to cast a curious look at Arran.


    Stoneheart reached out to Arran. "Come, take a walk with me. There are things we should discuss."


    Arran was puzzled by this turn of events, but given the situation, there was little he could do but follow Stoneheart out of the tent.


    "I take it you aren''t here to join my army," Stoneheart said as they exited the tent.


    "I was having a look," Arran replied. "When someone told me a novice was gathering an army, I couldn''t help but be curious."


    "You shouldn''t trust her," Stoneheart said. "Pretty though her lips may be, every other word they produce is a lie."


    "Her?" Arran asked, confused. The novice who had told him about Stoneheart wasn''t female, nor did Arran think he had particularly pretty lips.


    "I know she talked to you at one of the Governor''s gatherings," Stoneheart said. "But whatever she said about me, you can assume it to be little more than half-truths and whole lies."


    Arran remained silent. Amaya had not so much as mentioned Stoneheart when they met, but it seemed Stoneheart believed otherwise.


    "Now that I''ve seen you myself, I can see why she approached you," Stoneheart continued. "I wondered why she would be interested in someone just for winning a few rounds in the arena, but finding this strong a Body Refiner is rare, even in Hillfort."


    Arran understood that just like he had immediately recognized Stoneheart as a powerful Body Refiner, Stoneheart had no trouble recognizing Arran''s strength, either.


    "Rare enough that you resort to recruiting farmers, instead?" Arran asked, turning his gaze at the camp.


    "You don''t approve?" Stoneheart asked, some curiosity in his eyes.


    "Look at them," Arran said. "They''re too weak to be of any use in a fight. Leading them across the border is like sending children into battle."


    "Many of them will die," Stoneheart agreed. "But for a worthy cause."


    "Deciding who the next Patriarch will be is worth so many lives?"


    Stoneheart sighed, then shook his head. "It seems there''s much she failed to tell you."


    "Like what?"


    "You didn''t think the Elders of the Sixth Valley would allow such numbers of recruits to join just for some squabbles over the Patriarch''s successor, did you?" There was a hint of mockery in Stoneheart''s tone, as if the very idea was ridiculous.


    Arran frowned. Up until now, that was exactly what he had thought. "What''s the real reason, then?"


    Stoneheart''s expression grew serious. "War is coming," he said. "The lands beyond the border have always been dangerous, but there always was a certain order to the violence ¡ª warlords rose and fell, but none dared challenge the Empire. Yet in the past decades, the region has grown restless and chaotic, and new powers are arising that threaten the border itself."


    Arran took some moments to consider Stoneheart''s words. If they were true, joining the Shadowflame Society might be even more dangerous than he had expected.


    "How do the recruits fit into all of this?" he finally asked.


    "The current struggles cull the weak, leaving the strong to join the Society," Stoneheart answered. "Many of those who survive will never make it beyond the initiate stage, but even so, their sheer numbers will strengthen the Society."


    "And that''s worth the lives of the others?" Although Stoneheart''s explanation made sense, Arran was far from convinced.


    "If the border falls, far more than just them will die," Stoneheart replied.


    To this, Arran had no answer. If what Stoneheart said was true ¡ª something he was by no means certain of ¡ª then the matter was more complicated than he had thought.


    Even if his opinion wasn''t exactly swayed, he realized with some frustration that he simply knew too little about the situation to cast judgment.


    "But you can worry about those things later," Stoneheart said. "For now, your attention should be on the tournament. With your strength, you should do well, but there will be more competition than you might expect."


    Arran left a short while later, politely rejecting Stoneheart''s offer to spend the night at the camp. He had learned all he could about Stoneheart and his army, and in the morning, he would start searching for other novices, to see what they would tell him.


    It was well into the evening when Arran reached the city, and close to midnight by the time he reached the Governor''s palace.


    He had only barely returned to his room in the guest quarters when he heard a knock on the door. When he opened it, he was surprised to see the Governor''s steward.


    "Young master Ghostblade," the man said, polite as always. "I received a letter for you."

 Chapter 89 Zehava

    Arran read the letter in his hands, then tossed it aside. It held an invitation from a novice named Zehava, but it contained no time or other details, just mentioning the name and an address.


    Although Arran thought he could probably afford to ignore it, there was little point in offending a novice he didn''t yet know. He would pay the novice a visit the next morning, he decided.


    After he got into bed, it took him some time to fall asleep, and as he lay awake, he thought about his forbidden Realm. Well over two years had passed since Master Zhao had sealed it, and still, the seal remained in place.


    Partly, this was a testament to Master Zhao''s extraordinary skill. Although the lesser seals on Arran''s Wind and Fire Realms had been torn away when Arran took ten Realm Opening Pills at once, the seal on Arran''s forbidden Realm remained as strong as the day it was created.


    Yet the greater part of the story was that Arran had been lazy in trying to open it. During the past two years, his attention had been focused almost entirely on Body Refinement and spells using Wind and Force Essence. What little time he had spent on Shadow seals, he had spent learning to form lesser seals.


    That he had all but ignored the seal on his forbidden Realm was not just due to laziness, however. Perhaps more importantly, he was glad just to be rid of it, and as long as the seal remained in place, it was easy to pretend that the Realm simply did not exist.


    Yet it did exist, and even if he would rather dismiss it, neither the danger nor the power it held could be ignored. Whatever power the forbidden Realm held, he was currently unable to touch or even study, and if the seal somehow failed, he had no way to restore it ¡ª not without learning how it worked, first.


    Decision made, he began to study the seal.


    Once more, he found himself awed by the thousands upon thousands of strands of Shadow Essence from which the seal had been crafted, woven together in a pattern so intricate that just trying to study it left him lightheaded.


    He continued regardless, knowing that this was just the first step in a journey that could take years. Perhaps if he spent all his time studying the seal it could be undone faster, but he simply did not have that luxury.


    Instead, he would have to use what little free time he had to work on the seal, and he would have to do so without neglecting his training. Just the thought of it filled him with weariness.


    Forcing himself to continue, he spent some hours studying the seal, carefully analyzing the ways in which it resembled and differed from the lesser seals he already knew.


    It was tiring work, and at some point during the night, sleep overtook him even as he studied. The sleep that followed was troubled, filled with dreams of shadows twisted in impossible patterns.


    When he awoke, much of the morning had already passed, yet he felt little more rested than he had the previous night.


    After a quick breakfast, the first thing he tried to do was find Darkfire. With the tournament only days away there was much they needed to discuss, but ever since they had arrived at the Governor''s palace, Darkfire had barely shown his face.


    He asked one of the Governor''s servants where Darkfire was, and was unsurprised to hear that Darkfire had gone out to some social function with the Governor''s daughter.Briefly, he considered waiting until his friend returned, but he soon decided he had neither the time nor the patience for that.


    Instead, he would visit the novice who had invited him. He would have to go sooner or later, and perhaps he would be able to glean some new information.


    He left the palace without delay, asking the guards for directions to the address that had been in the letter. To his relief, it wasn''t far, barely half an hour''s walk from the palace.


    The address in the letter was in one of the wealthier areas of the city, but when he found it, he saw that the mansion itself was neither lavish nor excessively large. Built out of bare stone and three stories high, it looked sturdy and sober, seemingly built with little care for appearances.


    He knocked on the large wooden door, and it opened a moment later, revealing a broad-shouldered man with several facial scars, short hair, and a sword at his side.


    The man did not speak. Instead, he merely looked at Arran, indifferently waiting for the visitor to introduce himself.


    "I was invited," Arran said. "By a novice named Zehava."


    The man nodded. "Come," he said.


    Arran entered the doorway, following behind the scarred man. As he looked around, he saw that the interior of the mansion was much the same as the exterior ¡ª sober and functional, without even the slightest bit of decoration. It resembled a barracks more than a mansion, he thought.


    The man led Arran through several hallways, and he saw that there were more people inside ¡ª a few dozen, at least, all of them with the appearance of battle-hardened soldiers and mercenaries.


    Finally, they arrived at a closed wooden door. The scarred man opened the door without knocking, then turned to Arran and said, "Enter."


    Arran did as the man said, and beyond the doorway, he found a large but bare room. On the side of the room stood a plain bed, and in the corner were several wooden chairs, stood around a small table.


    In one of the chairs sat a young woman, thumbing through some notes with a bored expression. She had tanned skin and long golden hair, and although she was sitting down, Arran could see that she was probably at least as tall as he was.


    As Arran entered the room, she looked up. "Ghostblade?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.


    Arran nodded. "And you must be Zehava."


    "I am," she said. Then, she went silent for several moments, looking at Arran intently. As she studied him, a thoughtful expression came over her face.


    "I see why the others are so interested in you," she finally said. "Have a seat."


    Arran sat down in one of the wooden chairs, then asked, "So why did you invite me?"


    "If Amaya and Stoneheart are interested in you, then so am I."


    "I only had a short conversation with Amaya," Arran said. "Hardly reason to think she''s interested in me."


    "A public conversation," Zehava corrected him. "At the Governor''s palace. For Amaya, that''s as good as claiming you as her own."


    Arran furrowed his brow in thought. He never would have expected that the single conversation he had with Amaya would draw such attention ¡ª if he had, he might have chosen to eat his meal in silence.


    "Of course, if Amaya wants you, then Stoneheart cannot let her have you," Zehava continued. "And if Stoneheart wants you, then Amaya will not allow it."


    "But I haven''t even fought in the tournament yet," Arran said. "Why would they care?"


    "They hate each other," she answered plainly. "Even if they weren''t on opposing sides, they''d do all they could to hinder each other. With the current situation, they have plenty of opportunities to do so."


    "Opposing sides?" Arran asked. Although he knew a little about the conflict, he was curious to hear what Zehava''s take on it would be.


    "There''s a minor disagreement within the Sixth Valley," Zehava said. "But for the time being, that''s no concern of yours. What you should be worried about is what happens after you pick a side."


    "And what would that be?"


    "Whichever of them you choose, the other will not accept it," she answered. "And beyond the border, they will have plenty of chances to act on that. Even if you join someone else, you would risk offending both of them. Unless, of course, you choose someone with the ability to protect you."


    "Someone like you?"


    Zehava''s attempts to influence Arran could hardly be called subtle, and he had long since figured out what her intentions were.


    "Perhaps," she said, "if you prove yourself in the tournament. Unlike Amaya and Stoneheart, I only recruit those who are worthy of joining the Society."


    "I suppose we''ll find out in a few days, then," Arran said, standing up from his chair. "For now, I think I''ll need to focus on my preparations. Thank you for the advice, and perhaps we''ll meet again."


    "I assume we will," Zehava said, although she looked startled at Arran''s sudden move to depart.


    A few minutes later, Arran once more found himself outside the mansion, and he breathed a sigh of relief at no longer having to suffer through Zehava''s clumsy attempts to win him to her side.


    If not completely useless, the meeting hadn''t been particularly useful, either. That there was bad blood between Stoneheart and Amaya was something Arran had already gleaned from Stoneheart''s comments the previous day, and that novices were eager to recruit strong fighters was plain as day.


    When Arran returned to the Governor''s palace, Darkfire was still nowhere to be found. After a thought, Arran asked a guard where to find the steward, then told the steward to inform Darkfire that they had urgent matters to discuss as soon as he returned.


    The steward looked somewhat irritated at being ordered around by a guest, but he did not complain, although the polished elegance of his voice did have a hint of annoyance to it when he agreed.


    Darkfire arrived some hours later, looking less weary than the last time Arran had seen him.


    "How did the meeting with Zehava go?" he asked as he entered Arran''s room.


    "You know about that?" Arran asked, slightly puzzled that Darkfire knew about his activities.


    "What? Did you think I spent these past few days in bed?" Darkfire asked with an indignant look.


    "Yes," Arran replied honestly. "That is exactly what I thought."


    "Well, I suppose I did," Darkfire admitted. "But I also attended a hideous number of banquets, dinners, brunches, and other gatherings. And while you were running in circles, I actually gathered some useful information."


    "And what would that be?" Arran asked.


    "For a start, you managed to get yourself entangled with the three most influential novices in the city," Darkfire said. "Quite a feat, really ¡ª you could''ve fought a hundred rounds in the arena wearing only a sock, and still drawn less attention to yourself."

 Chapter 90 Unexpected News

    "The three most influential novices in the city?"


    Arran understood that Darkfire was talking about Amaya, Stoneheart, and Zehava, although he was surprised to hear that Zehava was included in the list ¡ª from what he had seen, she lacked both Stoneheart''s power and Amaya''s cunning.


    "You know about the conflict in the Sixth Valley, right?" Darkfire asked.


    "I have," Arran said. "It''s about the successor to the Patriarch, isn''t it?"


    Darkfire shook his head. "It isn''t. Or¡­ it is, but it isn''t."


    "You''ve lost me," Arran said. "Is it or isn''t it?"


    Darkfire let out a frustrated sigh. "It''s complicated," he began. "As Liane tells it¡ª"


    "Who''s Liane?" Arran interrupted him.


    Darkfire raised an eyebrow. "Liane Tirrand. The Governor''s daughter. The girl I''ve been¡­ I didn''t tell you her name?"


    "You''ve barely said a word to me since we arrived at the palace," Arran pointed out. "But go on."


    "Right," Darkfire said, his eyes once more narrowing with the effort of trying to remember the details. "So, as Liane tells it, the lands beyond the border have changed over the past decade, becoming far more dangerous than before. And rumors abound that things will get worse."


    Arran nodded. So far, the story matched what he had heard.


    "At the same time," Darkfire continued, "the Patriarch of the Sixth Valley has fallen ill ¡ª or maybe he''s been gravely injured, or has died already. Nobody knows exactly what the truth is. But whatever the case, a successor is needed."


    "So it''s about the successor, then," Arran said, wondering why Darkfire was struggling with such a simple story.


    "No, let me finish. The Patriarch himself doesn''t matter. He''s a figurehead more than anything, and his successor will be, too."


    "Why would they be fighting over a figurehead?"


    "That''s where it gets complicated," Darkfire said. "There are several factions within the Sixth Valley, and they¡ª"


    He stopped mid-sentence, and his expression turned frustrated. "You know what, forget it. I''m going to get Liane. She''s brilliant ¡ª she can tell you far more about this than I can."


    Before Arran could respond, Darkfire was out the door, leaving Arran behind in the empty room.


    When Darkfire returned a few minutes later, the Governor''s daughter ¡ª Liane, Arran reminded himself ¡ª was with him. She greeted Arran with a friendly smile.


    "Darkfire has told you about the situation?" she asked.


    "After a fashion," Arran said. "But it seems the factions are beyond his understanding."


    Darkfire scowled, but Liane merely nodded, a thoughtful expression on her face.


    "It''s complicated," she said. "And although I hear many things from my father, there''s much the Shadowflame Society doesn''t discuss with outsiders."


    "So what can you tell us?" Arran asked, eager to finally hear what was behind the Shadowflame novices'' strange behavior.


    "First, you need to understand the role of the Patriarch," she said. "He''s the leader of the Sixth Valley, but not its ruler ¡ª that role belongs to the Elders."


    "Then why is there a conflict over who succeeds him?" Arran asked. "If he holds no real power, what does it matter who gets the title?"


    "It''s about the factions behind him," Liane explained. "When a new Patriarch is chosen, his allies also rise in power, because the Patriarch is the one that decides who are allowed to become Elders. And that''s what the conflict is about ¡ª which faction will rule the Sixth Valley."


    With this, Arran finally began to understand the situation. "Which factions are there? And why are they fighting?"


    "That''s a big question," Liane said. "There are many factions ¡ª dozens, if not more. But of those, there are three that truly matter: the Scorching Sun faction, the Waning Moon faction, and the Iron Mountain faction. And they disagree not just about who should be Patriarch, but about the very future of the Sixth Valley. "


    Arran nodded thoughtfully, committing the three names to memory. "What are their differences?"


    Liane hesitated before speaking. "There''s not enough time to explain all of it," she finally said. "Not unless you have a week to spare. And even then, all I know I''ve heard from others, so I can''t be certain how much of it is true. But with that said¡­"


    She took a deep breath and a look of concentration appeared on her face. Then, she began to speak.


    "The Scorching Sun faction believes that the Sixth Valley must grow, becoming larger and less dependent on the Empire. To accomplish this, they have begun recruiting large numbers of fighters. Their main support is the Naran family ¡ª you''ve already met one of their scions, Stoneheart. The Naran family is small but extremely powerful, yet their support within the Society lies mostly with the Valley''s younger members.


    "The Waning Moon faction agrees with the Scorching Sun faction that the Sixth Valley must change its path, but they believe that the Valley should forge alliances within the Empire. Still, they have also begun to recruit more fighters, to compete with the Scorching Sun faction. Behind them stands the Tir family, a large family that is almost as powerful as the Naran family. The novice you met at my father''s gathering, Amaya, is one of them.


    "Finally, the Iron Mountain faction belongs to the old Patriarch''s allies and does not see a need for change, preferring to continue on the current path. Theirs is the largest faction by far, and they don''t rely on the support of any single family. Yet with the troubles beyond the border getting worse every year, they''ve slowly been losing support. Zehava is a member of one of the more prominent families within the faction."


    As Liane finished speaking, Arran took some moments to consider what she had just told him. It was a lot to take in, and he wanted to make sure he remembered it all.


    "So if I get it right¡­" he finally said, "The Scorching Sun faction wants to recruit more fighters, the Waning Moon faction wants to strengthen ties with the Empire, and the Iron Mountain faction just wants things to stay the same?"


    "More or less," Liane replied, somewhat hesitantly. "There''s far more to it, but you could put it like that."


    "Any suggestions on which we should choose?" Arran asked. Although he understood that he and Darkfire would ultimately have to make the decision, it couldn''t hurt to get Liane''s opinion ¡ª she clearly knew far more about these matters than they did.


    She shook her head. "If you choose anyone who belongs to one of those factions, it means more than just who you''ll face as a recruit. It will also determine which faction you''ll be allied with once you return to the Valley after a year."


    "We''ll have to make it through the year first, for that to matter."


    "That''s another problem," Liane said, her expression showing some worry. "In the borderlands, there will be far more novices than here in Hillfort, and many of them will be allied with one of the factions. Regardless of who you choose, you can expect to have many enemies."


    "What if we join a novice who isn''t in any of the factions?" Arran asked.


    Liane hesitated before answering. "I''m not sure. The rumors I''ve heard, though, say that many of the unaligned novices are forced to choose ¡ª either join, or die."


    "They''d go that far?" While he knew the matter was serious, Arran still found it difficult to imagine that novices could kill each other without the Valley''s leaders intervening.


    "They''re fighting over the future of the Sixth Valley," Liane said. "From what I''ve heard, there''s little they wouldn''t do."


    "So it''s a choice between either joining one of the factions and facing the other two, or joining none and facing all three," Arran concluded glumly.


    He sighed deeply, then turned to Darkfire. "What do you think?"


    "That is something else we must discuss," Darkfire said. "Something important."


    "What is it?"


    "The tournament¡­ I''m not taking part."


    "That might actually be a good idea," Arran said. "Avoid further attention, join some low-level novice, and be gone before the others arrive. But if we¡­" The words died in Arran''s mouth as he looked at Darkfire and Liane, suddenly understanding the meaning of Darkfire''s words.


    "You''re staying in Hillfort."

 Chapter 91 Darkfire’s Decision

    Darkfire''s Decision


    Arran looked at Darkfire in shock. There were many things he had feared could happen in Hillfort, but Darkfire changing his mind about joining the Shadowflame Society was something he hadn''t expected.


    "You''re staying here? In Hillfort?" he asked again.


    Liane stood up. "I''ll let the two of you talk in private," she said in a muted voice. She gave Darkfire a meaningful look, then left the room.


    For some moments, neither Arran nor Darkfire spoke, Arran still processing the news and Darkfire seeming almost fearful to say the words.


    Finally, Darkfire let out a deep breath. "I''m staying here," he confirmed. "At least for now."


    "Because of her?"


    "Because of her."


    "You only just met her," Arran said. "And you spent years trying to be recruited."


    "You''re right," Darkfire replied, an uncomfortable look on his face. "I spent my entire life waiting to join the Shadowflame Society, and now that I have the chance, I''m passing it up for a woman I met just a few days ago." He sighed. "You must think I''m an idiot."


    "I''m just wondering what the hell is going on," Arran said bluntly. "You disappear for a few days, and now you''ve suddenly changed your mind about everything?"


    Darkfire knitted his brow in thought, seeming to struggle to find the right words. Finally, in an uncertain voice, he said, "I think I might love her."


    "And you''re certain of that?" Arran asked. "Despite not knowing she even existed just two weeks ago?"


    "I''m not certain ¡ª not at all," Darkfire replied. "But if I stay here, I can still be recruited later. If I leave now, there will be no going back for years to come."


    "So you''re going to give up on the Shadowflame Society?"


    "No," Darkfire said. "I talked it over with Liane, and we agreed that we''ll join together, eventually."


    "Why not now?" Arran said, a small spark of hope rising within him. If Liane wanted to join as well, he thought, she could simply join them.


    "Liane has no training," Darkfire said. "If she traveled across the border, she wouldn''t be able to protect herself. And if we protected her instead, she''d only be a burden to you, and to the rest of whatever group we joined."


    Arran was about to say that he would gladly help Darkfire protect Liane, but then, he remembered Stoneheart''s recruits. Beyond the border, Liane would be like them ¡ª useless, unable to fight off even the smallest threat, and more likely to die than not.


    He was only barely confident that he could protect himself, so how could he possibly offer to protect another?


    "You''re planning to train her?" he finally asked, understanding that taking Liane across the border wasn''t an option.


    "I am," Darkfire said. "If I teach her Body Refinement and swordplay, she should be strong enough in just a few years."


    "You''re making a terrible mistake," Arran said. Then, with a sigh, he produced two Realm scrolls from his void bag, one Fire and one Wind, and pushed them into Darkfire''s hands. "Give these to her. You can teach her the Windblade spell yourself."


    Darkfire looked at him in confusion. "Why are you doing¡ª" he began.


    "If you''re going to train her, you might as well do it properly," Arran interrupted him. "When I become a novice, if you''re still in Hillfort, I''ll come and recruit the both of you."


    "So you''re not angry?" Darkfire asked, a look of relief on his face.


    "Of course I am," Arran said. "And I do think you''re an idiot."


    With a shrug, he continued, "But it''s your choice, not mine. And if you''re willing to pass up joining the Society after waiting for all those years, I doubt anything I could say would make a difference."


    They spent several more hours talking after that. Even if there was little more to be said, they both understood that they would soon part ways, and that this was one of the last times they would talk.


    When Darkfire finally left, Arran sat in silence for some time. Then, he closed his eyes, and began training Body Refinement.


    In the days that followed, Arran tried his best to prepare for the tournament, but he had trouble staying focused, his thoughts wandering both to Darkfire''s choice and his own path.


    Once more, he would have to continue his journey by himself.


    Since he had fled Fulai City, he had met many people, but all of them had disappeared along the way. Master Zhao, Amar, Adept Kadir, Jiang Fei, Lord Jiang ¡ª it seemed like every friend he made was destined to leave.


    And now, Darkfire would follow their example, once more leaving Arran to continue alone.


    Although some part of him was angry, he knew couldn''t blame Darkfire for the decision. While they had become friends in the months since they met, they were nowhere near close enough that he could expect Darkfire to set aside his own desires for Arran''s sake.


    He had helped Darkfire with a Realm Opening Pill, of course ¡ª but then, Darkfire had initially rejected the gift. That he accepted it after Arran insisted could hardly be taken as an obligation to spend years at Arran''s side.


    Yet despite knowing this, Arran still felt a sting of betrayal in his heart, no matter how much he tried to convince himself that Darkfire''s choice was his own to make.


    Nevertheless, as the tournament approached, Arran shared several meals with Darkfire and Liane. Some part of him had wanted to dislike the woman who had taken away his friend, but he was almost annoyed to find that she was both kind and smart.


    Still, if he did not exactly dislike her, he couldn''t bring himself to like her either. Liane seemed to sense this, and whenever the three of them met, the atmosphere was somewhat uncomfortable.


    Eventually, the night before the tournament, Arran found himself in the palace garden, sharing a bottle of wine with Darkfire.


    This time, Liane wasn''t present, and Arran suspected that she had chosen to give the two friends some time alone.


    "Have you decided yet? What you''re going to do?" Darkfire asked.


    "I have," Arran said. He had given the matter some thought, and there was only one path he could see that would help him. "I''m going to lose."


    "Lose?" Darkfire frowned, as if he was uncomfortable with the idea of intentionally losing a fight.


    "I''ll win the first few matches, then lose before I make it to the last round. If I show myself to be a disappointment, the strongest novices should lose interest, and I can join a less prominent novice."


    "But won''t you be safer if you join a stronger novice?" Darkfire asked, his brows knitted in thought.


    Arran shook his head. "Across the border, Stoneheart and the others will be most concerned with each other. The less they think I matter, the better my chances of slipping away unnoticed while they fight."


    Darkfire nodded slowly, although he did not seem entirely convinced.


    "There''s one more thing," Arran said. "I need you to ask Liane for a favor."


    "Liane?" Darkfire''s eyes went wide with surprise. "I didn''t think you¡­ Nevermind, whatever it is, she''ll help. What do you need?"


    "I need her to find a suitable novice for me to join," Arran said. "I don''t know enough about them to make a good decision, and I don''t have the time to find out."


    A smile appeared on Darkfire''s face. "She can definitely help with that," he said. "In fact, I''ll go ask her right now."

 Chapter 92 Before the Tournamen

    It was early morning when Arran set off with Darkfire and Liane for the tournament. Their departure caused some consternation for the steward, who tried to foist a handful of guards on Liane, but the man relented when she pointed out that both Darkfire and Arran could each easily take on a dozen of his strongest guards.


    Arran looked around as they walked along the streets of Hillfort, and he saw that there were even more people than usual ¡ª something he''d previously thought was barely possible.


    The city held a festive atmosphere, and there were families walking through the crowd, all dressed in bright colors, many of them carrying baskets and bags.


    He could also see groups of young boys and girls, excitedly hitting each other with wooden swords in mock combat, with the occasional cry of pain when one of them attacked a bit too enthusiastically.


    "The tournaments are extremely popular with the people in Hillfort," Liane explained. "Every month, they draw huge crowds, with people coming even from the villages in the region."


    "Can the arena even hold that many people?" Arran asked, looking at the size of the crowd. Remembering the size of the northern arena, he could not imagine even a fraction of the people on the streets fitting inside.


    "You don''t know?" she asked him, looking surprised. "The tournament takes place across all four arenas. In each arena, fights are held between all fighters who qualified there, until there are four left. The final four from each arena then face each other outside the city, with tens of thousands of spectators watching the fights. Many people skip the arenas, instead traveling outside the city to eat and drink in the hills until the fighters arrive."


    "Tens of thousands?" At this, Arran frowned. He would prefer not to attract anywhere near as much attention. A thought occurred to him, and he asked, "Are there any good fighters at the northern arena?"


    "None that I know of," Liane replied. "You should have little trouble making it through. But of course, there are some surprises at each tournament ¡ª people who hide their strength until they need it."


    Arran sighed, disappointed. If he met a strong enough opponent at the northern arena, he could throw the match without raising too much suspicion, and never even have to appear in the final rounds. But for that to happen, he would need to face someone who at least looked like a worthy opponent.


    When they arrived at the northern arena, it was already filled with a crowd so thick the people inside could barely move. It seemed that even if most people skipped the arenas, the people who did come were still more than the arena could hold.


    "I''ll take the lead," Darkfire said, then started to push his way through the crowd, with Liane and Arran following behind him.


    As a Body Refiner, Darkfire had little difficulty pushing his way through the crowd, even if his efforts did draw some cries of protest.


    Finally, they made it to the back of the arena, where the waiting chamber was. "I suppose there''s no point in me waiting outside," Arran said. "I''ll see the two of you after the fights."


    "Good luck," Darkfire said before Arran left. Then, in a low voice, he added, "And don''t lose too easily. Show them at least some of what you can do."


    At the entrance to the waiting chamber, Arran found over two dozen guards, straining to hold back the crowd from the fighters'' quarters.


    "It''s Ghostblade!" one of them called when he approached. "Let him through!"


    The guards broke ranks just long enough to let Arran slip through, then formed a line again before the crowd would get past them ¡ª even if the people weren''t trying to get inside, there were so many of them that every empty space quickly got filled.


    Finally rid of the constant push of the thick crowd, Arran breathed a sigh of relief. He had never expected there would be so many people for the tournament ¡ª it was as if the entire city had squeezed itself into the arena.


    And yet, he knew that there were three other arenas in the city, each of them likely just as packed as this one. The thought filled him with some awe, and he could not help but imagine how large the crowd at the final fights would be.


    Freed from the crowd, he stepped into the waiting chamber, where he found several dozens of fighters already present.


    "Ghostblade!" someone called out as soon as he entered, and when he looked, he saw that it was the same uniformed man who had also welcomed him when he first visited the arena. This time, the man seemed a lot friendlier.


    "Good to have you here today!" the man said with a broad smile. "It''ll be a while before the fights start, but you can pick a weapon right now."


    The man gestured to a long table upon which lay a row of swords, including various sizes and designs. When Arran inspected the swords, he found that although the weapons were blunted, they were made of steel, and all were well-made and properly balanced ¡ª very different from the wooden weapons he had used the previous time.


    After a short time browsing the weapons, he picked a longsword that did not look particularly special but had a good heft to it. He gave it a few practice swings, then nodded in approval. It wasn''t perfect, but for now, it would do.


    As he waited for the tournament to begin, he looked around the chamber. A few of the fighters looked familiar, and he realized he had faced them already during his first time at the arena.


    Most of the others, however, Arran hadn''t seen before. Still, he could see that all of them had the easy movement of practiced fighters. Men and women, young and old, he could tell that none were like Stoneheart''s recruits. Even if they might not match up to Arran, none of them were defenseless.


    Time passed, and more fighters kept trickling into the chamber, until it was finally so full Arran hardly had room to stand.


    Just when he began to worry that the chamber would become overcrowded, the uniformed man''s voice sounded.


    "Listen up!" the man called out. "The tournament is about to start! For each fight, I will send two of you into the arena. Defeat your opponent, and you can return here. Lose, and you must leave. The rules are simple: no deliberate killing, and no deliberate maiming! Any questions?"


    "What if my opponent tries to kill me?" a man''s voice called back, although Arran could not see whose it was.


    "Then you defend yourself as best you can," the uniformed man replied. "Now, the first fighters will be¡­"


    Seemingly at random, he selected two fighters from the group, then sent them into the arena.


    Within the chamber, Arran and the other fighters could not see what was happening in the arena, but he knew that the fight had ended when a loud cheer sounded from the crowd outside.


    Some moments later, one of the two fighters returned, wearing a big smile along with several large bruises.


    The next two fighters were sent out only moments later, and again, a loud cheer informed those in the waiting chamber when the fight had ended. This happened several times, until finally, it was Arran''s turn.


    Arran''s first opponent turned out to be the burly man he had faced when he first came to the arena, and when the man heard his name called alongside "Ghostblade," his face fell.


    "I don''t suppose you''ll give me a break?" he said, a miserable look on his face as he and Arran walked out of the waiting chamber.


    Arran chuckled. "I promise I won''t hurt you too badly," he replied.


    As they stepped onto the arena floor, Arran was almost overwhelmed when he saw the surrounding crowd. Thousands upon thousands of people stood around the arena, pressed tightly against each other, waving banners and shouting at the top of their lungs.


    Briefly, he tried to find Darkfire and Liane, or perhaps one of the Shadowflame novices, but the crowd was simply too large to spot them.


    Taking his eyes off the crowd, Arran looked at his opponent, who was eying him nervously. Then, he raised his sword, preparing himself for combat.


    "Begin!" the announcer''s voice called out.


    With that, Arran''s first fight in the tournament had started.

 Chapter 93 The Tournament Begins

    The moment the announcer called a start to the fight, Arran''s opponent launched a series of furious attacks at him, striking over a dozen times in an instant.


    Arran only barely managed to fend off all the attacks, with several almost slipping past his defense.


    Even as he desperately defended himself, he was shocked at the difference between their previous fights and the current one.


    His opponent was incomparably stronger than the last time they had faced each other ¡ª not only did he show far more skill, he was also very clearly an unusually strong Body Refiner.


    Arran stumbled back several paces, parrying the man''s attacks as well as he could. Yet even as he defended, he was losing ground, his opponent attacking relentlessly and not leaving him even the slightest chance to counter.


    Panicked by the unexpected onslaught, he knew that the way things were going, he would soon lose the fight. Now, he understood that earlier, his opponent had hidden his true strength, studying Arran''s skills even as he lost match after match.


    He had no time to give it further thought, because right at that moment, his opponent intensified his attacks even further. Appearing to sense Arran''s weakness, he struck with such force that it shook Arran''s hands, each blow nearly knocking his sword from his grasp.


    Arran knew that he could not let this continue, yet he saw no way out ¡ª forced to defend with all his might, he simply had no way to use his sword to attack. Even attempting to counter would leave him exposed, and his opponent was too good a swordsman not to seize such a chance.


    That left only one option. In a desperate move, he rushed forward right as he parried yet another attack with his sword, ramming his shoulder into his opponent''s chest.


    Although the man did not fall, the force of Arran''s charge still brought him off balance, and just that short moment was enough for Arran to seize the initiative. Without wavering, he launched a series of blows at his opponent, attacking so violently it forced the burly man to step back in defense.


    Arran knew that his advantage would soon pass, and before his opponent could recover, he struck out with all his force, slamming his sword into the man''s defense in an attempt to break through with sheer strength.


    Yet when the two blades met, the burly man''s defense did not break. Instead, caught between the power of two Body Refiners, the hardened steel of Arran''s sword snapped with a loud crack.


    For a moment, Arran stood still in astonishment, staring at the broken blade in his hands.


    His opponent, however, did not hesitate. The moment he saw the opportunity, he swung his sword at Arran in a savage strike.


    Acting on instinct, Arran raised his left hand and threw up a Force Shield that stopped the attack in mid-air. Then, with all the strength he had, he rammed the pommel of his bladeless sword into his opponent''s face.


    The man staggered back a pace, dazed from the impact, and before he could recover Arran rushed toward him, first striking his face again with the pommel of the sword, then unleashing the most powerful Battering Force he could muster at the man.


    The magic attack sent Arran''s opponent flying, his body tumbling a dozen paces across the arena floor before finally coming to a stop.


    Even so, the man got to his feet again in an instant, raising his sword as if he was about to resume his attacks.


    But then, to Arran''s surprise, the man dropped his sword and called out loudly, "I concede!"


    As the crowd erupted in cheers at the unexpected spectacle they had just witnessed, the burly man approached Arran with a limp that was obviously feigned to trick the crowd into thinking he was injured.


    "Good fight," the man said, twisting his bloodied mouth in a grin. "Amaya will be pleased with your performance."


    With that, he started to limp toward the exit.


    For several moments, Arran stood there motionless, only now fully understanding what had happened.


    As he began to move toward the waiting chamber, the cheers from the audience did little to lift his spirits. Amaya and the burly man had played him like a fiddle, and despite his victory, he felt like an idiot.


    Arran''s opponent had tested him for Amaya, and in the process had forced him to show much of his true power ¡ª not just his strength in Body Refinement, but his skill in magic, too. Just one fight into the tournament, any hope he had of going noticed was already lost.


    Had he known what was going to happen, he would simply have conceded the fight. Yet in the heat of battle, he had fought on instinct, treating the fight as if it was real.


    He shook his head in disgust at his own foolishness.


    Now that he knew the burly man worked for Amaya, he was all but certain that their meeting at the Governor''s palace had not been a coincidence. In all likelihood, Amaya had posted the man to the northern arena, ready to report on any skilled fighters he encountered.


    When Arran and Darkfire were invited to the Governor''s palace, Amaya must have already known who they were, and she had most likely arranged to be there herself just to meet them.


    The worst thing, however, was the fight itself.


    Arran''s opponent had conceded the fight, but Arran knew very well that the man could have won if they had continued. And that was just the man Amaya had posted to the northern arena ¡ª who was to say that she didn''t have three equally strong fighters in the other arenas?


    So far, he had believed that only the novices themselves were a threat to him, but now, he understood that there were recruits who could match him as well.


    That meant the dangers beyond the border would be even greater than he had expected. With a sigh, he realized that he had gravely underestimated the situation.


    "Ghostblade!" a voice sounded, shaking Arran from his thoughts.


    He looked up and saw that it was the uniformed man. "What is it?" he asked bluntly, his mood too foul for courtesy.


    "Where''s your sword?" the man asked.


    "It broke," Arran replied.


    "And you still won?" The man raised an eyebrow, then nodded in approval. "Well done. Now, go pick out a new one before the next fight."


    As Arran made his way to the table to get a new sword, he silently cursed his own carelessness.


    He knew that in the months to come, he would have to be more careful. If he wasn''t, his enemies were likely to defeat him without ever even having to raise a sword.

 Chapter 94 The Tournament Continues

    As he waited for his next fight, Arran considered the situation.


    He had believed that he was a rarity among the recruits, vastly stronger than any of the others. Yet now, he understood that he had been misled by his own arrogance. Despite his strength, it seemed there were still other recruits who could match him, if not defeat him outright.


    Aside from taking his pride down a notch or two, it also meant he needed to rethink the dangers that lay ahead.


    If there were other recruits as strong as he was, then Amaya and the others likely didn''t value him as much as he had believed. And that, he hoped, might also mean that he was less of a target than he had feared.


    Zehava had said neither Amaya nor Stoneheart would allow the other to have him, but then, she had been trying to influence him. If he was merely a reasonably strong recruit, he doubted whether any of them would care enough to take action ¡ª unless, of course, they had a good opportunity.


    With the protection of one of them, perhaps he would be shielded from attacks by the other two. And if he managed to win the tournament, they would be certain to try their best to win his allegiance.


    On the other hand, he would not be able to rely just on his own strength for protection, and that worried him. If mere recruits were this strong, then the novices themselves were bound to be truly horrifying.


    He had believed he would be able to match them, but now, he was starting to think his pride had gotten the better of him.


    Still, he decided that the best thing to do now was to abandon his old plan, and try to win the tournament, instead. For better or worse, he had already shown his strength, and there was little point in holding back.


    "Ghostblade! You''re up next!"


    Arran looked up and saw that his next opponent would be a young woman. Short and slender, she did not have the appearance of a fighter, but he knew that appearance meant little.


    When they faced each other in the arena, Arran began the fight cautiously, still wary from his last experience.


    This time, however, there were no surprises. Although the young woman was exceptionally skilled with the sword, she wasn''t a Body Refiner, and he defeated her in short order.


    Relieved that this fight, at least, had gone as he intended, he returned to the waiting chamber.


    With many fighters already eliminated, it did not take long before Arran was sent out to face his next opponent. Once more, his opponent turned out to be a normal but skilled fighter, and the fight posed little challenge to Arran.


    Still, the first fight had left Arran too wary to let his attention slip even the slightest bit, and in the fourth fight his caution paid off.


    This time, his opponent was a gaunt man with pale skin and dark eyes, and when the man attacked Arran instantly knew it was another Body Refiner.


    Before the announcer even finished his call to start the fight, Arran''s opponent launched a fierce attack, striking ferociously as he rushed forward without any regard for his own defense. It was clear that the man intended to catch Arran off guard and overwhelm him before he could respond.


    Had Arran''s first opponent not used a similar tactic, the man might have succeeded. Yet his first fight was still fresh in Arran''s mind, and in the waiting chamber, he had carefully considered the mistakes that had brought him to the edge of defeat.


    Now that he faced a similar attack, he was as well-prepared as he could be. The moment he saw his opponent rush forward, he knew what was happening and quickly sidestepped the attack, at the same time striking a forceful blow at his enemy''s undefended midriff.


    The gaunt man''s momentum carried his body into the blade even as Arran struck with all his strength, and in a single blow, the fight was over.


    Had the blade been sharp, it would have cleaved the man''s body in two. As it was, the man merely doubled over and fell to the ground, writhing in anguish and clutching his belly.


    With a quick check on his defeated opponent Arran saw the man that although the man was hurt, he was not seriously injured. Satisfied, he returned to the waiting chamber.


    By now, the chamber was mostly empty. Just ten fighters remained, counting Arran, and after the next two fights the final round, whittling the last eight down to four.


    Although Arran was confident in his power, he still felt tense. The fighters who had made it this far would all be strong, and now that he had decided to try to win the tournament, he could not afford to underestimate what would be his last opponent at the northern arena.


    As he waited for his final fight, he looked at the fighters who were still left in the chamber, wondering which of them would be his next opponent.


    All of them were Arran''s age or older, with many bearing visible scars that suggested their lives had been filled with combat. Idly, he wondered how their experiences compared to his own.


    When it was finally Arran''s turn to fight again, his opponent turned out to be one of the least conspicuous among the remaining fighters. Slender and slightly shorter than Arran, with short black hair and an unscarred face, he looked more like a scribe or bookkeeper than a warrior.


    As they walked onto the arena floor and faced each other, Arran closely observed the man, trying to get a measure of his opponent. Yet there was little he could read from the man''s face or body ¡ª he seemed entirely relaxed, patiently waiting for the announcer to start the fight.


    The only useful thing Arran saw was that the man held his sword in his right hand, while leaving the left empty. From that, Arran suspected that he would be a mage.


    There was no time for further speculation, because right then, the announcer''s voice called out, "Begin!"


    In a calm movement, Arran''s opponent raised his left hand, forming a bright ball of flame that he launched at Arran. This was something that Arran had expected ¡ª suspecting his opponent was a mage, he had already prepared himself to put up a Force Shield in an instant.


    Yet right as the fireball hit his Force shield, Arran suddenly felt the ground explode beneath his feet. It was only by sheer luck that he managed to jump aside in time to avoid most of the force, but even as he struggled to regain his balance, he saw his opponent moving toward him in a flash.


    He quickly raised his sword, ready to parry his opponent''s attack, but it was already too late ¡ª a stab of pain surged through his wrist as his opponent struck, and he felt his sword slipping from his grasp.


    Before he could react, his opponent struck again, and there was nothing Arran could do as the blade came to a halt beside his neck, stopping just a hair short of actually hitting him.


    "You lose," the man said, his face showing no sign of excitement or exertion.


    Shocked, Arran nodded. There was no need to announce that he conceded ¡ª his defeat was plain for all to see.


    The man turned around and began to walk back toward the waiting chamber, while Arran stared at him in astonishment.


    The fight had lasted only a few seconds, yet he had been utterly defeated, without even the slightest chance to resist.


    Only as he made his way to the arena''s exit did the shock of his defeat fade, and as it did, Arran could not help but let out a cheerless laugh.


    He had lost, without even getting the chance to fight in the final stage outside the city. All his worries about showing his true strength had been for naught ¡ª as it turned out, his true strength was nowhere near enough.

 Chapter 95 Defeated

    As Arran walked off the arena floor, cheers and jeers sounded from the audience.


    Although he felt some embarrassment at suffering so public a defeat, the only part of him that had been injured was his pride, and despite his annoyance at being defeated, he could not help but be impressed by how easily his opponent had secured a victory.


    That the man was stronger than him was clear, but even then, he should have been able to at least put up a fight. Yet instead, he had fallen for what appeared to be a simple magical feint.


    His opponent had distracted him with a fireball, then used the distraction to hit him with some other kind of magic ¡ª Earth, perhaps? ¡ª and take him out before he could recover.


    It was a simple and seemingly well-practiced tactic that had left him completely flummoxed, and in a real battle, it would have cost him his life before he even knew what had happened.


    That he had encountered the tactic now instead of later could almost be considered lucky, but then, knowing about it would only help him if he found some way to counter it.


    With a sigh, he stepped past the guards at the exit of the arena, and into the mass of people that waited beyond.


    The crowd was loud and rowdy, so thick it was impossible to walk even a step without bumping into someone, and some of the people within it shouted at Arran in anger ¡ª gamblers who had bet on him, he guessed.


    Yet even if Arran wasn''t strong enough to win the tournament, he wasn''t quite so weak that he couldn''t force his way through a crowd, and he did so without hesitation.


    The few people who tried to get in his way were unceremoniously shoved aside, and soon, he was far enough from the arena to see the crowd around him grow thinner, if only slightly.


    "There you are!" someone called out over the noise of the crowd.


    Arran looked in the direction of the voice and saw Darkfire making his way toward him through the mass of people.


    "Took me a while to find you in this mess," Darkfire said when he finally made it to Arran, gesturing in annoyance at the crowd around them.


    "Where''s Liane?" Arran asked, seeing that she wasn''t at Darkfire''s side.


    "Some servant came for her," Darkfire replied. "She said we should meet her in the hills outside the city, where the final fights will be."


    "We might as well go, then," Arran said. "Get there before the rest of the crowd."


    "You don''t want to watch the final fights?" Darkfire asked. "I know you had to throw your fight, but there should still be some good battles to watch."


    Arran shook his head. "I didn''t throw the fight. I was defeated."


    At this, Darkfire''s eyes went wide with surprise. "That was actually real? He beat you that easily?"


    "I didn''t stand a chance," Arran said with a sigh. "He was stronger than me, and his tactics were better, too."


    "Huh." A thoughtful expression appeared on Darkfire''s face, and Arran knew what he was thinking. If Arran couldn''t win the tournament, then Darkfire would have even less of a chance. And although Darkfire would stay in Hillfort for some more years, eventually, he was planning to cross the border, too.


    "I suppose I''ll have to start training harder," Darkfire muttered, an uncomfortable look on his face.


    "Let''s go," Arran said. "I''ve had enough of this place."


    He knew it would be better for him to stay and watch the remaining fights, to see if he could learn anything more about the other fighters'' skills and tactics. Yet between his fresh loss and the suffocating thickness of the crowd, he couldn''t bring himself to remain at the northern arena any longer.


    Darkfire took a look at Arran, then nodded. "Alright," he said, and Arran was thankful that he didn''t ask any questions.


    They began to make their way out of the city, but although the fights hadn''t ended yet, the streets were already filled with people. Apparently, Arran wasn''t the only one who had wanted to avoid the crowds.


    Outside the city, the roads were filled with masses that flowed steadily toward the hills, and Arran and Darkfire had little choice but to join them in their sluggish pace.


    After what seemed like an eternity in the slow-moving crowd, they finally arrived in the hills.


    Immediately, Arran could see why this place had been chosen for the final fights. A group of low hills lay in a rough circle, with a shallow depression lying in between them, forming what looked like a giant natural arena.


    Within this arena, preparations for the fights ahead were already underway, with guards keeping the area clear of spectators and servants setting up large tents.


    The sides of the hills were filled with numerous small groups of people, most of them groups of youths and families with children, eating and drinking as they cast interested looks at the goings-on at the center of the vale.


    It took Arran and Darkfire some time to find Liane, and when they did, they found her sitting in a comfortable bamboo chair, surrounded by servants. It seemed that although she had foregone luxury at the northern arena, she had decided to make up for it during the final part of the tournament.


    As they approached, Arran could see a girl sitting in the chair next to Liane. She was short and thin, with jet black hair and ivory-pale skin, and she was dressed in a robe as black as her hair. To Arran''s eyes, she looked to be barely sixteen, if that.


    When Arran and Darkfire neared, the girl turned her head toward them, her dark eyes looking at Arran with some curiosity.


    "Is that him?" she asked in a soft voice.


    "That''s Ghostblade," Liane confirmed.


    The girl looked at him intently. "Do you know anything about plants?" she finally asked.


    "Plants?" Arran gave her a confused stare.


    "I will have to teach you, then," the girl said, a thoughtful look in her eyes. After a moment, she nodded and stood up. "Very well. We should get going."


    "Going?" Arran asked, dumbfounded. "Going where?"


    The girl frowned. "Liane told me that you were looking for a novice to join," she said. "Someone who could protect you. Was she mistaken?"


    "She wasn''t mistaken," Arran said. "But¡­" For a moment, he went silent, at a loss for words after the unexpected turn of events.


    "But you changed your mind?" the girl asked, raising an eyebrow.


    "I didn''t change my mind," Arran said, "but who are you?!"


    "Can you give me a moment to talk to him?" Liane cut in, with an apologetic look at the girl.


    The girl sighed, then nodded. "Just try to be quick," she said. "I want to leave before the others arrive."


    Liane motioned for Arran to follow, then walked away from the group. Arran followed behind her, already wondering what was going on.


    When they were a few dozen paces away, Liane turned around. To his surprise, there was a slight smile on her lips, and she looked as if she was rather proud of herself.


    "That," she said, speaking in a low voice, "is the Patriarch''s granddaughter."

 Chapter 96 Snowcloud

    "She''s what?" Arran looked at Liane in confusion, unsure whether he heard her correctly.


    "The Patriarch''s granddaughter," Liane repeated. "She arrived in the city just this morning, to see my father. She''s a novice, and if you join her, none of the others will dare touch you."


    "But why would the Patriarch''s granddaughter want to recruit me?"


    "She doesn''t," Liane said. "She didn''t intend to recruit anyone. But my father has known the Patriarch for a long time, and when I called in some of his favors, she couldn''t refuse."


    "You called in your father''s favors for me?" Arran looked at Liane, surprised that she would have gone that far to help him. Whatever there was between her and Darkfire, she only barely knew Arran.


    "Consider it payment for a debt I owe you," Liane said. "I know you and Darkfire were going to travel together, and I got in the way of those plans."


    "That was his choice to make," Arran responded flatly. "You don''t owe me anything."


    "I owe you a companion," Liane replied. "Someone to watch your back beyond the border."


    Arran opened his mouth to object, but then, he reconsidered. "Thank you," he said after a moment. "But if she''s the Patriarch''s granddaughter, doesn''t joining her put me in the Iron Mountain faction?"


    He remembered that the Iron Mountain faction was made up of the Patriarch''s old allies, and although he didn''t know much about it, it seemed like joining the Patriarch''s granddaughter would certainly put him in their camp.


    Liane shook her head. "She''s not involved in the conflict, and has no taste for politics. That''s why the others won''t touch her ¡ª any attack on her would only create enemies for those responsible."


    Arran rubbed his chin as he thought it over. From what Liane said, it sounded like the perfect solution to his problems. And yet, there was something about the whole thing that felt off.


    "Why isn''t she involved?" he asked after some thought. "It''s a fight over the future of the Shadowflame Society, isn''t it?"


    "She''s a herbalist," Liane said. "An accomplished one, supposedly. And from what I''ve heard, she cares little about other things."


    Suddenly, the girl''s question about plants made sense to Arran. "So across the border¡­"


    "You''ll spend the year gathering flowers and plants," Liane said, some amusement sounding in her voice. "With a bit of luck, you''ll be able to avoid combat altogether."


    Arran sighed at the prospect of a year spent picking flowers. "I suppose it''s better than dying," he said. "If only slightly."


    "So you''ll join her?" Liane asked, a smile appearing on her face.


    "It sounds like it''s my best chance to return alive," Arran said. After a moment''s hesitation, he added, "And thank you. I''m in your debt."


    "I''m just looking out for Darkfire," Liane said. "If something happened because he wasn''t there to help you, he wouldn''t forgive himself."


    "One last thing¡­" Arran began. "What''s her name?"


    "Dao Xueyun," Liane replied. "But people call her Snowcloud."


    "Dao?" Recognizing the name, Arran raised an eyebrow.


    Liane nodded. "She and Darkfire are family, albeit very distant." With a laugh, she added, "So you could say I traded you one sword for another."


    Understanding that he had to decide, Arran took some moments to give the matter more thought.


    Regardless of what Liane believed, he doubted that joining the Patriarch''s granddaughter would help him avoid trouble. Even if she could protect him from his current problems, he was all but certain that joining her would merely create new ones.


    Still, the offer was tempting. As the granddaughter of the Patriarch, the girl should have answers to many of the questions that plagued him. And even if she didn''t, she would certainly know someone who did.


    Moreover, joining her meant he could avoid choosing one of the factions in the Shadowflame Society. With as little as Arran knew about the situation, delaying a choice like that could save him a great deal of regret.


    It was a difficult choice, but of all his options, this seemed like the best one.


    "Alright," he finally said. "I''ll join her."


    Liane gave him a pleased look. "Let''s go tell them."


    They walked back to the group, and even as they approached, Snowcloud turned toward them.


    "Have you decided?" she asked, a hint of impatience in her voice.


    "I have," Arran said, nodding. "I''m joining you."


    "Good," she replied. "Then stop wasting time, and let''s go."


    "Right now? We''re not staying to watch the tournament?"


    "Why would we?" she asked, a chill in her soft voice. "There''s little point in watching some recruits beat each other with blunt swords."


    "What about the auction?" Most of the influential novices would be present at the auction, and Arran had hoped to use the chance to find more information about the other novices in Hillfort. Even if he wasn''t going to participate, he would at least have like to see it.


    "If you think I''m going to bid on you, you''re mistaken," she said in a flat voice. "Now get ready. I''ve waited long enough."


    "Just give me a moment," Arran replied, understanding that there would be no delaying his departure until another day.


    He turned to Darkfire, and when he did, there was a heavy feeling in his heart. Although they had only known each other for some months, Darkfire was one of the few true friends he had made during his travels, and now, their ways would apart.


    Their farewell was short, and more sudden than either of them had expected. Taken by surprise, neither of them had the time to find the right words, and there was little they could say that had not been said already.


    As they said their goodbyes, Arran knew he would miss Darkfire''s company in the months to come. Although he would not be alone this time, what little he had seen of Snowcloud convinced him that her company would be far less pleasant than Darkfire''s.


    "So you''ll return once you''re a novice?" Darkfire finally asked.


    "I will if I can," Arran replied. "And I''ll keep the two of you safe across the border, if you still want to go by then."


    "Then we''ll train as hard as we can," Darkfire said. "So we won''t be a burden when you return."


    Arran glanced at Snowcloud, who was waiting with an impatient look on her face. "I suppose I''ll have to go," he said, suppressing a sigh.


    "Stay safe," Darkfire said. The look on his face said there was more he wanted to say, but no words came forth.


    Arran nodded, then turned to Snowcloud.


    "Let''s go."


    Just moments later, they were on their way, leaving Hillfort behind, and Darkfire with it. When Arran turned to look back, he saw Darkfire and Liane standing next to each other on the hill, their hands locked together as they watched Arran and Snowcloud depart.


    He gave them a final wave, then turned back to the road ahead of him. Although he didn''t know whether he would see Darkfire again, some part of him suspected that their paths had separated for good.


    Arran and Snowcloud walked in silence for the better part of an hour. Although Arran had many questions he wanted to ask, the girl seemed to have little interest even in friendly conversation, much less answering questions.


    "I have some questions," Arran said finally, no longer able to control himself. "About the Shadowflame Society."


    Snowcloud looked at him, then shook her head. "I''ll answer your questions, but only after we reach the Society and you take the Oath."


    "There''s an oath?" Arran asked. "What kind of oath?"


    "You''ll find out when we get there," she replied. "It should only take us a week or two."

 Chapter 97 The Valley

    "¡­this is white witchflower. You can tell it apart from white dragonflower by looking at the edges of the leaves, which should be serrate rather than dentate. White witchflower is a powerful poison, while white dragonflower has potent healing properties. Now, if you look at the¡­"


    Arran suppressed a yawn, trying his best to feign interest.


    Snowcloud was usually cold and quiet, barely speaking at all for hours on end. Yet whenever they encountered plants and flowers she deemed interesting, she would launch into lengthy monologues on their medicinal properties and how to tell them apart.


    To Arran, all the plants still looked the same, and the main thing he had learned so far was that he had no interest in herbalism whatsoever.


    Between Snowcloud''s silence and her enthusiastic lectures on the local vegetation, he thought he preferred the former. At least when she was silent, he didn''t have to pretend to listen.


    "When do we arrive in the Valley?" Arran asked, interrupting Snowcloud''s herbalism lesson.


    "Perhaps another day or two," she answered. "But right now, you should concentrate on the poisonous attributes of the white witchflower. An interesting characteristic of the poison is that it works even on¡­"


    As Arran tried to look interested, his thoughts moved to the destination that was now only a few days ahead of him. Just a few more days, and he would finally see the Shadowflame Society. And, he hoped, he would finally get answers to some of the questions that plagued him.


    The journey from Hillfort had been unexpectedly smooth, with the well-maintained road into the mountains quiet, but by no means empty. Several times a day, they would pass trade caravans and traveling merchants making their way to or from the Valley, but none of those gave them any trouble.


    As they higher into the mountains, the trees grew sparser, and the landscape gradually changed from its previous lush green into a rocky gray, with patches of grass and moss eventually being the only green left ¡ª which, to Arran''s joy, meant there were no more opportunities for Snowcloud to teach him about herbalism.


    The road kept twisting its way ever higher up the mountains, and eventually, the gray rocks gave way to white snow.


    Arran looked around in amazement when he saw this. It should be late spring, but here in the mountains, the snow lay as thick as it would in the middle of winter elsewhere. And not just that ¡ª the thin air was so cold he could see his own breath when he exhaled.


    Yet although the snow lay thick on the mountains, the road itself remained clear, and the change in environment did not slow them much. Nevertheless, Arran found himself wondering just how much higher they could go. To his eyes, the barren landscape looked hostile to humans ¡ª or any other life, for that matter.


    His question was answered when they reached a narrow pass half a day later. Barely wide enough to fit two wagons abreast, it seemed to be cut through the mountains, and it continued for the better part of a mile.


    At its end, Arran saw a massive wall that was at least a hundred feet high, and at the bottom of the wall stood an opened gate.


    This, Arran knew, would be the entrance to the Valley, and the sight caused him to frown in wonder.


    From all he knew, the Shadowflame Society existed to protect the Empire from threats beyond the border. Yet it was obvious that the fortifications here were built to protect against attacks from the Empire, as if the Shadowflame Society feared some hostile army would emerge from the Empire itself.


    When they reached the gate, they found several dozens of soldiers guarding it. Leading them was a broad-shouldered man in a dark gray robe, who stepped forward as they approached.


    "Lady Snowcloud," the man said with a small bow, his tone deferential. With a look at Arran, he asked, "You''ve brought along a recruit?"


    "I have," she said.


    Although the man seemed to expect an explanation, she offered none, and after a few moments of silence, he waved them through.


    Beyond the gate, the pass widened sharply, expanding into a clearing that seemed large enough to hold an entire army.


    With a glance backward, Arran saw that on both sides of the wall there were paths leading up into the mountains overlooking the pass. Now, he understood how much of a death trap the pass would be for any army foolish enough to attack the Shadowflame Society.


    Just getting through the pass would be nearly impossible, with rocks and arrows raining down from above. And if any attackers somehow broke through, they would find themselves outnumbered a hundred to one.


    The sight left Arran wondering just what the Shadowflame Society was defending against, but when he turned to Snowcloud to ask, her expression quickly made him reconsider.


    On her face was a look of intense worry, and Arran felt some concern as he saw it ¡ª whatever it was that worried her could only mean bad news for him. Yet when she saw Arran''s gaze, her expression turned neutral once more.


    "It will be another week before we reach the capital," she said. "Once we''re there, I will have you take the oath, but after that, I will need to leave for some days."


    "Another week?!" Arran looked at her in astonishment. "Just how large is this Valley?"


    "It''s about five hundred miles from east to west," she said. "And perhaps three hundred miles from north to south, at its widest."


    Arran''s eyes went wide when he realized just how large the Valley was. He had known it was large, but this was far beyond his expectations. Just traveling to the western edge of the Valley would take them weeks, if what Snowcloud said was true.


    "Is it really that big?" he asked, somewhat doubtful.


    "You''ll see soon enough," Snowcloud replied plainly.


    At the end of the large clearing the road led them past a large camp filled with numerous barracks and other buildings, and between the buildings, Arran could see groups of soldiers, some of them training while others sat around with bored looks on their faces.


    Arran realized that the camp held a small army worth of soldiers, ready to defend the Valley from the Empire at a moment''s notice. That would have made sense if there was a conflict between the Empire and the Shadowflame Society, but as far as Arran knew, the Shadowflame Society existed to guard the Empire''s border from the outside world.


    He resolved to question Snowcloud about the matter after he took the oath she had mentioned, knowing that any questions he asked now would go unanswered.


    About a mile past the camp they found a town, and if it was small compared to Hillfort, it was still nearly as large as Fulai City.


    Snowcloud showed no signs of wanting to make a stop along the way, and Arran had no choice but to satisfy his curiosity with what little he could see as they passed through. He saw that the streets were mostly filled with soldiers and merchants, and he understood that the town was likely built on trade with the Empire.


    He didn''t have a chance to see much more, because hurried as Snowcloud appeared to be, it wasn''t long before they had already left the town behind them.


    They continued for a while, following the road downward through the snowy landscape, until suddenly, after a turn in the road, Arran stopped in his tracks.


    Before him, perhaps a mile below them, lay a vast green landscape.


    Hilly green lands stretched as far as his eyes could see, and although he knew there should be mountains farther in the distance, he could not see them. Instead, what he saw were endless rolling hills with rivers flowing between them, and what looked to be farms and towns far in the distance.


    When Snowcloud had told him the size of the Valley, there had been some doubt in his mind, but now, none remained. The Valley was large enough to be a kingdom in its own right.

 Chapter 98 Oathbound

    As they made their way to the capital of the Sixth Valley, Arran was surprised at how normal the Valley seemed.


    He had somehow expected the Sixth Valley to be like a much larger version of Windsong''s monastery, filled with nothing but mages who were constantly in training. But instead, what he found were endless fields with crops and cattle, littered with small farms, and the occasional village or town.


    From what Arran had seen of the Valley so far, it might as well have been any random part of the Empire, with the only difference being the mountains he could see in the distance behind him.


    Yet even those vanished into the distance as they traveled further from the valley''s edges, until finally, only the thinness of the air was left to remind Arran that they were still in the mountains.


    As they traveled, Snowcloud remained her quiet self. She seldom spoke, and when she did, it was about plants by the roadside. Here in the Valley, there seemed to be fewer plants that caught her interest, and it wasn''t unusual for them to only exchange words a few times a day.


    "Is the entire Valley like this?" Arran asked one morning.


    "Like what?" Snowcloud gave him a puzzled look.


    "Filled with farms and villages, like the Empire," Arran said.


    She shook her head. "There''s a large region within the Valley that only full members of the Shadowflame Society are allowed to enter. You''ll see the walls when we reach the capital, although you will only be allowed to travel beyond them after you become an initiate."


    "But I''m taking the Oath when we reach the capital, right? Won''t that make me a member of the Shadowflame Society?"


    "Recruits take the Oath so that novices can teach them," she replied. "But only after a year of service beyond the border will you be a true member of the Society."


    Arran nodded thoughtfully, once more reminded that his path within the Shadowflame Society would be long. But there was nothing for it ¡ª all he could do was continue to move ahead, impatient though he might be.


    In the peaceful lands of the Valley, they made rapid progress, and they reached the capital several days later.


    Standing atop one of the hills that overlooked the city, Arran could see the capital was large - rivaling Hillfort in terms of size, but with buildings that looked older and grander.


    Yet what caught his eye was something different.


    Crossing straight through the city was a long wall, neatly separating the city into two distinct parts. It continued into the distance both to the east and west, stretching as far as Arran''s eyes could see.


    "The Shadowflame region lies beyond the wall?" Arran asked, although he already knew the answer.


    "Yes," Snowcloud said. "While the rest of the Valley is open to all, only Society members are allowed to venture beyond it." She frowned, then added, "The punishment for crossing if you''re not a Society member is death, so don''t get any ideas."


    Arran had no intention of needlessly breaking the rules, so he merely nodded at the warning. "What about the city itself?" he asked. "Is the part beyond the wall off limits, too?"


    "It is," Snowcloud replied, then continued, "The greater part of the city lies outside the wall, and is open to all. The lesser part lies inside the wall, and is only open to Society members. You need not worry about accidentally crossing into that part ¡ª a single gate connects the two, and only members of the Society are allowed to pass."


    With that, they continued onward to the city, and it wasn''t long before they reached their destination.


    Immediately, Arran could see that the city was far older than Hillfort. Although it was lively with commerce and traffic, few buildings looked to be less than a century old, and many seemed far older than that.


    The environment gave Arran a strange feeling, as if he had somehow wandered centuries into the past, or perhaps into a place that existed out of time.


    "We''ll get the Oath taken care of, first," Snowcloud said. "After that, I will take you to an inn, where you can wait until I return."


    She clearly knew the city well, expertly guiding Arran through the streets toward the city center. Although he had little time to look around, he already saw several things that caught his interest ¡ª stores that claimed to sell magical scrolls and items, alchemists, and other places where he might be tempted to part with some of his excess coin.


    After a time, they arrived at a large building that looked even more ancient than the rest of the city. It was vast and massive, built from weathered gray stone that looked like it had survived untold centuries, with several large towers, and walls so thick they made the building resemble a fortress.


    At the front of the building was a wide stone staircase that led up to a large portico supported by massive stone pillars. Beyond the portico lay the entrance, with a set of vast doors that were at least twenty feet high.


    Currently, the doors stood open, and guarding the entrance were over a dozen men and women in robes that suggested they were mages. Although they didn''t quite have the disciplined look of normal guards, they more than made up for it with the power Arran knew they held.


    Snowcloud led Arran past the guards'' disinterested glances and into the building, where he found a large entrance hall. Without pausing, she took him to the back of the hall, where a number of people were seated at large wooden desks.


    She approached one of them, a middle-aged man, then gestured at Arran.


    "He''s here to take the Oath."


    The man gave Arran an examining look and nodded. "Very well," he said to Snowcloud.


    Then, he turned to Arran. "You should know that once you enter the chamber, there is no changing your mind ¡ª once you enter, the punishment for refusing to take the Oath is death."


    "Death?" Arran was taken aback when he heard this. "Can I know what the Oath is, first?"


    "You can''t," the man answered plainly. "If you want to change your mind, now is¡ª"


    "I''ll take the Oath," Arran interrupted him. Although he didn''t like the idea of staking his life without even knowing what he would have to promise, there was no turning back now.


    "Follow me," the man said, standing up from the desk.


    Arran followed the man through some hallways, until they finally reached a large, circular chamber. The chamber was empty but for a single pedestal at its center, upon which lay a white disc-shaped object.


    The man closed the door and walked toward the pedestal, taking the disc in his hand. He motioned for Arran to approach, then handed him the disc.


    Arran accepted it with some hesitation. It was heavier than he had expected, and its smooth surface felt strangely cold to the touch.


    "Repeat the following words," the man said, "and as you do, do not resist the power of the Oath Disc."


    Arran nodded, although he was somewhat surprised at the lack of ceremony.


    "I shall not teach the True Path to those unbound by the Oath," the man said slowly, then looked at Arran expectantly.


    With a start, Arran realized the phrase sounded familiar ¡ª some months ago, Darkfire had told him he had once overheard his parents mention that Academy mages were weak because they followed a False Path.


    Now, it seemed, Arran was finally on the verge of learning about a different approach to magic ¡ª a stronger one, he hoped.


    The man coughed softly, and Arran was reminded that he was supposed to repeat the words.


    "I shall not teach the True Path to those unbound by the Oath," he said hurriedly.


    At once, he felt a wave of cold emanating from the disc. It lasted only a moment, but even so, he could feel it spreading through his body, seemingly reaching every part of him. Then, as abruptly as it had started, the sensation ended.


    A moment later, the man nodded thoughtfully. He reached out with his hand, clearly expecting Arran to return the disc.


    "That''s it?" Arran asked, handing the disc back to the man.


    Ignoring Arran''s question, the man placed the disc back on the pedestal, then said, "Hold out your left hand."


    Arran did as he was asked and extended his left hand. The man reached out and took it, then turned it over, exposing the inside of Arran''s wrist.


    To Arran''s surprise, a small black mark could now be seen on his inner wrist, shaped like a flame. At first glance, it looked like a tattoo, but when Arran examined it more closely, he could see that it moved as if it was burning.

 Chapter 99 Urgent Matters

    The man closely examined the mark on Arran''s wrist, seeming to study every detail at length. Arran was already beginning to worry that something was wrong when the man finally nodded.


    "From this day forth," the man said in a serious tone, "you will be unable to teach the True Path to those outside the Society, who haven''t taken the Oath."


    "But I don''t even know what the True Path is," Arran replied. "What if I talk about it unintentionally?"


    "You don''t need to worry about that," the man said, a practiced smile on his face. "The Oath will prevent you from discussing anything related to the True Path with outsiders, whether you intend to or not."


    Arran frowned. "What happens if I try to do it anyway?"


    "You will find that you are unable to do so," the man replied. "Even Archmages are unable to break the Oath."


    "So that''s it? I''m free to discuss other Society matters with whomever I choose?"


    "Of course not," the man said. "Carelessly sharing the Society''s other secrets and techniques with outsiders will be punished, possibly with death."


    "Then why not include those things in the Oath?" Arran asked. If the Society had a way to create a binding Oath, he thought, it made little sense to use it only for a single thing.


    "The Oath is intended to protect only the Society''s most treasured secret, not to take away your freedom to choose," the man said.


    "But what about¡ª"


    "The novice who recruited you will answer any further questions you have," the man interrupted Arran.


    Before Arran could object, the man ushered him into the hallway, then guided him back to the entrance hall.


    "All done?" Snowcloud asked when she saw them return.


    The man nodded, then added, "But I think your recruit has more questions to ask."


    "He''ll just have to be patient," she replied.


    She appeared to be in a hurry as she led Arran out of the building, curtly dismissing any questions he tried to ask. They arrived at a small inn not long after.


    "You will stay here until I come back," she said. "Once I return, there will be plenty of time to discuss things."


    "Why are you in such a hurry?" Arran asked. After the weeks they had spent traveling, a few hours spent answering his most pressing questions hardly seemed like too much to ask.


    "I have private matters to attend to," she replied. "Urgent ones."


    Arran sighed in frustration, but the look in her eyes made it clear that she would not reveal more. Not right now, at any rate.


    "When will you return?" he asked.


    "I should be back in a few days," she said. "Until then, you can explore the city. Once I return, we will head to the border, and you can ask all the questions you want."


    With that, she departed, leaving Arran behind at the inn.


    He spent the first few days wandering around the city, but although there was much to see, he had little interest in the sights the city had to offer. Perhaps someone with an interest in architecture or history would have been intrigued by so old a city, but to Arran, after the first dozen ancient buildings, those that followed just looked like more of the same.


    More interesting were the people. Even this side of the city held plenty of Shadowflame initiates and novices, and although few of them were willing to speak more than a few words to a mere recruit, just observing them granted Arran some insights.


    From what he could tell, many initiates and all novices appeared to be Body Refiners. How strong they were exactly he could not tell, but just the fact that he could recognize them as Body Refiners meant they would not be weak.


    He also spent some afternoons observing the building where he had taken the Oath, curious about the other recruits and the novices leading them.


    With some regularity, he saw novices leading small groups of recruits into the building, then emerging some time later. Unlike Snowcloud, however, these novices did not leave their recruits behind in the city. Instead, they left the city almost immediately, traveling further west ¡ª to the border, Arran assumed.


    These weren''t the only people to enter the building, however. Almost as often as he saw novices with groups of recruits, he saw what looked to be parents taking youths inside.


    Remembering Darkfire''s history, Arran suspected that these youths were born within the Sixth Valley. As he recalled, that would allow them to join the Shadowflame Society the moment they opened a Realm, without first having to spend a year across the border.


    Seeing the youths, Arran could not help but feel some envy. While he would have to spend a year proving himself, Society membership was simply handed to them, with no requirements other than opening a Realm and taking the Oath.


    Still, Arran knew that complaining about how unfair it was would not help him, and he quickly decided not to linger on the matter ¡ª the only thing it would do was cause him frustration.


    Finally, he spent much of his time exploring the city''s many stores, in hopes of finding some useful spells, artifacts, or whatever else might catch his eye.


    Unfortunately, the stores proved to be a disappointment. Although there were some that sold magical items like body strengthening potions and Realm Scrolls, none of the goods were of much use to him. Nor, for that matter, were they worth the exorbitant prices the shopkeepers charged.


    When Arran inquired if there were better goods to be had, he was told that more potent magical items were only sold in the other half of the city ¡ª the half that he wasn''t yet allowed to enter.


    Discouraged but not dissuaded, he nevertheless diligently searched many of the city''s stores in hopes of finding at least something worth buying. But after several days of fruitlessly browsing dozens of stores, he was finally forced to accept defeat.


    By then, it had been nearly a week since Snowcloud left, and he was beginning to feel worried. What if she didn''t return for weeks or months ¡ª or worse, not at all?


    The thought of being left stranded in the Sixth Valley by himself wasn''t an appealing one, and having to find a new novice to follow would be even worse.


    Yet these worries were only replaced with new ones when Snowcloud returned.


    He was awakened in the dead of night by a series of loud knocks on his door. When he got up and opened the door, he saw that it was Snowcloud, with a tense look on her face.


    "Get your things," she said. "We''re leaving right now."

 Chapter 100 Running

    Arran followed Snowcloud out of the inn, and in short order, they had left the city behind.


    "How long can you run before you get tired?" she asked him.


    "As long as I need to," Arran said. Although he had never tested the limits of his endurance, he knew that even running at a sprint for hours did not leave him noticeably tired.


    "Then follow me," she said. In an instant, she dashed off along the road, her moonlit silhouette almost disappearing in the distance before Arran could even respond.


    Immediately, he followed, sprinting after her. He caught up a few moments later, then slowed his pace to match hers as he ran beside her.


    "Why are we in such a hurry?" he asked.


    Although he did not know the reason, he would have been a fool not to understand that she was fleeing something. And anything that was cause enough for her to flee would certainly be a danger to him.


    "I will tell you when¡ª" she began.


    "No," Arran said, unable to fully keep the anger from his voice. "You''re going to tell me now. I''ve had enough of running around like a headless chicken, without the slightest idea of what''s going on. You either tell me why we''re running right now, or I''m heading back to the city."


    Only when he said the words did he realize that he actually meant them. He was sick of getting into dangerous situations while only barely knowing what was happening. If he was to place himself in danger, he would only do so knowingly. And if that meant he would have to return to the city to find some other novice to join, then so be it.


    There was a moment of silence from Snowcloud, but then, she spoke. "Alright."


    Despite his insistence, Arran was surprised at the response. As far as he knew, she hadn''t wanted a recruit with her in the first place, so his threat to leave could barely be considered a threat at all. Yet somehow, it had worked.


    "So what''s going on?" he asked.


    "The Sixth Valley has chosen a new leader," Snowcloud said, "Elder Fang."


    "They''ve replaced the Patriarch?" Arran asked with a start.


    "Not exactly," she said. "Elder Fang is only a temporary leader, chosen to maintain order as the Valley prepares to select a new Patriarch."


    "So your grandfather, is he¡­"


    "No," she replied. "Not yet, at least. He is¡­ unwell. But Elder Fang has asked me to remain in the Valley, to help bolster support for the new Patriarch when he is selected."


    "And you''re afraid he will try to seize power for himself, and use you?"


    "Elder Fang? He has neither the spine nor the brain for that. The problem lies with the factions. With the selection of a new Patriarch so close, the support of the old Patriarch''s closest family is crucial for all the contenders. And I am the only close family Grandfather has left."


    "What about your parents?" Arran asked, realizing that although he knew she was the Patriarch''s granddaughter, he had heard nothing of her parents.


    Snowcloud was silent for some moments. When she finally spoke, there was a slight tremble in her voice. "My mother disappeared beyond the border about two years after Grandfather fell ill. My father left to find her, but he never returned."


    "Then¡­" Arran began to speak, but the words died in his mouth. There was no need to tell Snowcloud how suspicious it all sounded ¡ª she was certainly aware of that.


    "Things will be dangerous for me, within the Valley," she continued. "Until now, I have managed to remain neutral, but if any faction suspects that I might support one of their rivals¡­"


    She did not need to finish the sentence for Arran to understand the danger. If her support really was that important to the factions, then so was keeping their rivals from gaining it.


    At once, he realized that traveling with her would be more dangerous than any other option he could have chosen, and the irony of it nearly caused him to burst into laughter. After spending weeks carefully trying to choose the safest path, he had instead stumbled upon the most dangerous one.


    "Do you still wish to travel with me?" she asked.


    Arran did not answer immediately. If he wanted to remain safe ¡ª insofar as that was possible ¡ª his best choice would be to turn around right now. Yet this time, if he chose to go ahead, he would do so while knowing the dangers that lay ahead.


    "I''ll come along," he said finally.


    Although he wasn''t sure the choice was the right one, at least he would be able to face the threats ahead with open eyes.


    "Alright," she replied. "I will answer any other questions you have once we''re safely outside the Valley."


    This time, Arran did not object. Even if there were many things he still wanted to ask, he had to admit that this was hardly the right moment to ask them.


    They kept running through the night, and then the day that followed, not pausing for even a moment. If Elder Fang wanted to keep Snowcloud inside the Valley, then he would likely send word to the soldiers at the border, and their best chance to get away was to be gone before then.


    By the end of the day, Arran began to feel tired. Even if his body was able to bear the physical exertion of running without pause, the lack of sleep was clouding his mind, and several times he felt himself on the verge of nodding off even as he ran.


    "Take this," Snowcloud said, tossing him a small flask. "It will help you stay awake."


    Arran opened the flask and swallowed its contents. Immediately, his face twisted in disgust. The liquid was beyond foul, so bitter it made him gag in revulsion.


    "What the hell was that?!" he blurted out, fearful that the liquid would make its way back up his throat, forcing him to taste it a second time.


    "Yellow flax extract and rockbean grounds," she replied. "The taste is slightly unpleasant, but it should keep you awake."


    Although the taste was far beyond unpleasant, Arran soon discovered that she hadn''t been lying about the liquid''s effects. His weariness disappeared almost instantly, being replaced by a feeling of boundless energy ¡ª along with a throbbing headache and a feeling in his chest that made him fear his heart could explode at any moment.


    Yet even if the liquid''s effects were unpleasant, it did its job in keeping Arran awake, and he did not feel the slightest bit tired as they ran through another sleepless night.


    They reached the western border of the Valley by the end of the second day, and Arran was unsurprised to see that it resembled the Valley''s eastern border.


    Here, too, stood a large camp filled with soldiers, protecting fortifications that seemed like they could withstand even a hundred armies.


    They had stopped running when they neared the camp, knowing that it would draw unwanted attention, but they did not waste any time in heading to the gates.


    At the gates, they found a group of soldiers, led by a weary-looking black-robed man. As they approached, the man gave them an examining look.


    "Best wait until tomorrow before you cross," he said. "The descent isn''t safe in the dark."


    "We''ll be going now," Snowcloud said.


    The man hesitated, then shrugged. "Suit yourself," he said, then waved them through.


    They passed unhindered, but even as they did, Arran had trouble controlling his nerves. At any moment, he thought, word from Elder Fang could arrive, and the soldiers would come after them.


    Yet despite his fears, nothing happened, until they finally passed out of sight of the fortifications and the many soldiers manning them.


    They glanced at each other, looks of relief on both their faces. Then, without saying a word, both of them began to run once more.


    By the time the light of dawn began to appear, they had made it to the foot of the mountains. Somehow, they had managed to avoid any serious injuries ¡ª although Arran had fallen several times, he had not plunged into a ravine as he feared, instead merely sustaining some cuts and bruises.


    "Now what?" Arran asked with a look at the road ahead of them.


    "Now, we leave the road," Snowcloud replied. "And we run until we can''t run anymore."


    Arran yawned. "Do you have any more of that¡­" He nearly gagged just remembering the liquid''s taste.


    "As much as you need," she said, handing him a flask.


    Arran opened the flask, then steeled his will and downed the liquid inside in a single swig. Half of it came up again immediately, and he was forced to swallow it a second time.


    "Let''s go," he said.

 Chapter 101 Questions

    They ran until Arran lost track of the days and nights, crossing so many hills and forests that he thought they should be several hundreds of miles from the border, if not more.


    Snowcloud''s potion kept them awake while they ran, but as the days progressed, it began to exact a toll well beyond its disgusting taste.


    As the days passed, Arran''s coordination seemed to weaken gradually, and he would fall regularly, tripping over roots and rocks that he normally would have seen a hundred paces away. It seemed that although the potion kept him from feeling tired, it did little to cure the actual effects of his lack of sleep.


    In those rare moments when they weren''t running, Arran''s vision would sometimes randomly turn blurry, as if the world was still moving around him. Worse still was that at times, he would see shadowy figures at the edges of his vision that vanished the moment he tried to look at them.


    At first, he feared they were being followed, but when he told Snowcloud about it, she informed him that it was a side-effect of the potion ¡ª one that would grow worse the longer they used the potion to stay awake.


    Arran was beginning to fear that he would be driven to madness, when finally, Snowcloud stopped.


    "We''ve gone far enough," she said.


    When Arran looked at her, he was shocked at her appearance. Her eyes had dark rings around them, and her face looked gaunt and even more pale than usual. Had he not known better, he would have thought her on the verge of death.


    "Are you alright?" he asked, feeling some worry. "You look terrible."


    "You should see yourself," she replied with a weary laugh. "But I think it''s time we find a place to sleep ¡ª neither of us can go any further, and this deep in the wilderness, there should be no risk of meeting other novices."


    They found shelter in a small hillside cave among the trees. Although it could hardly be called comfortable, it was dry and concealed, and right now, that was more than enough.


    As they entered, Arran took a thick blanket from one of his void bags and wrapped it around himself as he lay down on the floor of the cave. Although his void bags contained supplies that might allow for a more comfortable rest, he did not bother with them ¡ª right now, all he could think about was resting.


    Within moments of lying down, he was vast asleep.


    Arran''s sleep was deep and dreamless, and when he finally awoke, it took him some moments to remember where he was. The previous days were like a blur in his mind, and he almost thought it had all been a dream.


    Yet as his mind slowly cleared, he found that he was still in the cave, lying on the rock floor and wrapped in a blanket. Ignoring the soreness of his body, he shook off the blanket and sat up. When he did, he saw Snowcloud sitting next to a fire at the entrance of the cave, roasting what appeared to be several haunches of meat.


    "So you''re finally awake," she said without looking at him. "I''ve made you some food ¡ª it should help you recover a little faster."


    "How long was I asleep?" he asked.


    "No idea," she replied. "I only woke up a few hours ago myself. But I think we probably slept for a day or two, if not more."


    Arran got up, then sat down next to her. Wordlessly, she handed him a piece of roasted meat, which he devoured in moments. A second piece disappeared almost as quickly, and it wasn''t long before Arran began to feel slightly better.


    "Do you have any idea where we are?" he asked when he was done eating.


    As he spoke, he began to use Darkfire''s Body Refinement technique, to heal and restore his body after the grueling journey. Although he had not noticed it while they were running, he could now feel that his body was covered in bruises, and there wasn''t a muscle he had that wasn''t sore from the days of endless exertion.


    "We should be a few hundred miles southwest of the Valley''s entrance," she said. "But I''ll get a better idea of where we are once I explore the area."


    Arran nodded, then focused all his attention on Body Refinement. Unless he recovered at least somewhat, there would be little he could do to help or contribute.


    It took several hours, but eventually, the soreness disappeared from his body. His mind was still slightly foggy from the ordeal, but he could tell that this, too, would pass with time.


    Now that he felt better, he remembered the promise Snowcloud had made.


    "You said you''d answer my questions when we were safe," he said, unwilling to waste any more time.


    "And I will," she replied. "But first, I have a question of my own."


    "What is it?"


    "Why did you decide to join me?"


    Arran hesitated for a few moments before answering. There were several reasons he had chosen to join her, only some of them well-considered.


    "Because I need a good teacher," he finally said. "The other strong novices all had numerous recruits. With them, I would be lucky to get even the slightest bit of personal instruction. But with you, I figure my chances of actually learning something are much better."


    Snowcloud gave him a pleased smile at hearing this. "Then I will do my best to prove your choice the right one.".


    "But what about you?" Arran asked. "Why did you choose to take me along? It can''t just be because you owed the Governor a favor."


    Although he had initially believed the explanation made sense, by now, he had figured out that there must be more to it. In her current position, she would not take the burden of guiding a recruit just to repay a favor.


    "You underestimate the value of favors," she said. "But no, it wasn''t just that. The real reason is that you''re strong ¡ª strong enough to be a valuable companion beyond the border."


    "Because I''m strong?" Arran felt slightly embarrassed, but he continued anyway. "Then I''m afraid you''ll be disappointed with me. I wasn''t even strong enough to make it to the final rounds of the tournament."


    "That''s because you lack a proper foundation," she replied. She shook her head, then continued, "You have a staggering amount of raw power, but it''s as if you haven''t had any decent instruction at all. Once I give you some proper training, you''ll see your strength rise rapidly."


    Arran frowned. "How do you know that?" he asked.


    Snowcloud had never even seen him fight, and although she had watched him train while they traveled to the Sixth Valley, that should be nowhere near enough for her to know how strong he was.


    "You will understand once I begin training you," she said. "But first, you said you had questions to ask. Ask them, and I will answer."


    The opportunity almost took Arran by surprise. He had numerous questions about the Shadowflame Society, and for months, they had gone unanswered. Now that he finally had the chance to receive answers, he had trouble even deciding where to begin.


    "Why are Academy mages so weak?" he finally asked.


    Of all the questions he had, that was the most burning one. Initially, he had thought Shadowflame novices were merely very strong, but his opponents in the arena had shown him that other mages were far stronger than Academy mages, too.


    "You''ve faced them before?" Snowcloud asked, a curious look in her eyes.


    "I have," Arran said. "And from what I can tell, Shadowflame novices are at least as strong as Academy Masters, if not stronger. But I''ve seen recruits on that level of power, as well."


    "It''s true that most within the Academy are weak," Snowcloud said, nodding thoughtfully.


    "But why?" Arran asked again. "And if they''re so weak, how do they control most of the Empire?"


    "It''s a long story," Snowcloud said softly. "One that has its start in the distant past."


    "We have time," Arran replied curtly.


    "I suppose we do," she said. "Very well, I will do my best to explain. Although I should warn you ¡ª there is much that I don''t know."


    Arran listened attentively as she began to speak. Finally, he would have the chance to learn about the differences in power between mages that had confounded him for so long, and he wouldn''t risk missing a single word.

 Chapter 102 Answers

    "The Shadowflame Society was founded thousands of years ago," Snowcloud began, "by a powerful mage known as the Saint of Shadows. He was the one who created the Society''s secret teachings ¡ª the True Path ¡ª and armed with his techniques, his followers built the Shadowflame Society into a powerful sect, dedicated to advancing their knowledge of magic.


    "At the time, there were many other such groups in the Empire. Although sometimes conflicts occurred between them, they mostly co-existed peacefully, and their power strengthened the Empire, allowing the Imperial Family to expand it until its borders stretched so far it would take years just to travel from one end of the Empire to the other.


    "Among the sects, there was one that stood above the others. Known as the Radiant Society, it had techniques and spells that surpassed anything the other sects knew. When the Radiant Society announced that it would create an alliance to further the study of magic, many of the Empire''s sects were eager to join.


    "This alliance became known as the Radiant Academy. At first, it only used the promise of powerful magic techniques to lure in other groups. Yet as it grew stronger, it began to attack less powerful sects, forcing them to join and destroying those that refused.


    "Four of the strongest sects, which later became known as the Great Societies, resisted the Academy''s threats, and a war broke out. The war lasted for centuries, but eventually, the Great Societies were driven to the edge of the Empire.


    "Faced with the prospect of being driven from the Empire altogether, they came to an agreement with the Academy: while the Academy would control the use of magic within the Empire, the Great Societies would protect its borders.


    "Without opposition in the Empire, the Academy quickly tightened its grip over the use of magic. It began to recruit anyone with even the slightest bit of magical talent, drawing talented youths in with the promise of training. Yet only its most loyal members were allowed to learn its true secrets, while the masses were kept ignorant and weak.


    "Meanwhile, the Academy began to hunt those who practiced types of magic it deemed forbidden ¡ª techniques, spells, and even some Realms were outlawed, and mages who possessed them imprisoned or executed. This allowed the Academy to extinguish any threats to its power long before they ever even had the chance to develop.


    "Today, only the Imperial Family and the major clans still manage to resist the Academy''s control within the Empire ¡ª and only because the Academy knows that an attack on one means war with all."


    The story at an end, Snowcloud let out a deep breath.


    "And that," she said after a moment, "is how the current situation came to be."


    Arran spent some moments silently thinking it over. The story had been long and there was a lot to process, but the more he thought about it, the less sense it made. From what Snowcloud told him, it sounded like the Academy intentionally kept its own members weak.


    "But that doesn''t explain anything," he said finally. "Why would they prevent their own mages from growing strong?"


    "From what I understand, much of the Academy only exists to draw in the Empire''s young mages and steer them toward weakness," Snowcloud replied. "Most of its members are more like unknowing prisoners than true members, and by taking them in and thwarting their growth, the Academy can prevent them from ever becoming a threat."


    "But what use is there in keeping their own members weak?" Arran asked.


    "Sheep are easier to herd than tigers," she said with a shrug. "If all the Academy''s mages reached their full potential, the Academy would never be able to control them. And from what I know, what the Academy truly wants is to maintain complete control and order within the Empire."


    "The Shadowflame Society manages to maintain order without rules like theirs, doesn''t it?"


    Snowcloud laughed. "As we speak, the Sixth Valley is on the verge of civil war. You call that order?"


    "I suppose not," Arran admitted. "But if the Academy intentionally keeps its mages weak, don''t they know about it?"


    "The older members probably know the truth, or at least suspect it," she said. "But what can they do? Disobeying the Academy means death, and they are too weak to rebel. And if they remain loyal, the Academy might eventually deem them worthy of learning its true secrets."


    "So it''s like a trap for magic users?" Arran asked, a frown on his face. "The Academy lures in anyone with the potential to become a mage, then ensures they remain weak enough to control?"


    Snowcloud nodded. "You could put it that way."


    Although Arran thought he understood, there were still things about it that made little sense. "If the Academy intentionally leaves its members weak, won''t it fall behind the Great Societies?"


    "The Academy''s most loyal and talented members are taught its true secrets," Snowcloud said. "And because the Academy draws its members from the entire Empire, their numbers still dwarf those of the Great Societies. At the same time, the Societies lose many members each year defending the borders, while the Academy only grows stronger."


    Arran sighed in frustration. "But why? What''s the point? What do they gain from all this?"


    "That, I do not know," Snowcloud replied. "All I know is that they will stop at nothing to maintain control of magic users within the Empire. But to what end¡­ that''s anyone''s guess."


    "And everyone in the Shadowflame Society knows about this?"


    "Of course not," she answered with a laugh. "I know because Grandfather told me, but most of it is unknown to all but the Elders of the Society. If everyone knew about the extent of the conflict, many within the Society would call for war against the Academy ¡ª even if it''s a war we would have no chance of winning."


    "If it''s a secret, why tell me?" Arran asked with a frown. He had not expected Snowcloud to share secrets only the Shadowflame Elders knew.


    "Because I promised you answers," she said plainly. "And after you chose to risk your life by traveling with me, offering you lies or half-truths would be poor repayment."


    Arran sat in silence for a while, thinking about all she had told him, and how it related to his own experiences with the Academy. Now, he understood that the Academy members he had faced must be the weak ones ¡ª the ones who had been lured into taking a path designed to stifle them.


    Thinking back on his time with Panurge, he also thought he understood at least part of the Academy''s motivations.


    With nearly all of the Empire''s mages bound to the Academy, it would be extremely difficult for the forces of Chaos to gain a foothold within the Empire. And if the Great Societies protected the borders, then the Academy could reserve its true strength for when it was needed.


    "Do you know anything about the war between Chaos and Order?" he finally asked.


    Snowcloud gave him a blank look. "The what?"


    "I once heard that there is a war between the forces of Chaos and Order, with the Academy standing on the side of Order, while Chaos reigns beyond the border."


    "That sounds like an old wives'' tale," Snowcloud said dismissively. "Rumors about the Academy abound among commoners within the Empire ¡ª no doubt encouraged by the Academy itself, to help muddle the truth."


    Arran nodded. Although he knew she was wrong, he didn''t trust her enough to tell her everything he had experienced. Not yet, at least. Besides, even if he did tell her, he doubted she would believe him.


    Still, he felt some guilt at hiding things from her after she had revealed so much, and he quickly decided to change the subject.


    "So those techniques that make Shadowflame mages so strong¡­ what are they?" he asked, only partly feigning the eagerness in his voice.


    "We will begin your training tomorrow," Snowcloud said, smiling in amusement at his enthusiasm. "You will find out then. But first, you should focus on recovering completely ¡ª I can tell your body is still weak from our journey."


    Arran did as she said, closing his eyes as he began to use Body Refinement techniques. If he was to set his first steps on the True Path tomorrow, he would make sure he would be ready.

 Chapter 103 First Steps

    The next day, Arran was all but recovered from the journey. Between his Body Refinement techniques and a good night''s sleep, all that remained of the ordeal was a vague feeling of weariness, which he took to be an after-effect of Snowcloud''s potion.


    That the potion had any after-effects at all came as a surprise ¡ª with his Essence-strengthened body, even most light injuries normally healed in a matter of hours. That the potion''s harm lasted beyond that was worrying, and he resolved not to use it again unless he had no other choice.


    Snowcloud was already sitting at the cave''s entrance, and as he sat down in front of her, she gave him an appraising look.


    "You recovered quickly," she said. "Are you ready to begin?"


    "Ready and impatient," he replied.


    She responded with a smile. "Let''s get started then. The first thing I will have to do is teach you a decent Body Refinement technique."


    "I already have several Body Refinement techniques," Arran said.


    "The techniques used in the Empire aren''t good enough," Snowcloud replied. "You need something that allows you to use every bit of Essence you have available."


    Although Arran thought the technique Darkfire had taught him would suffice, he nodded quietly ¡ª he would not object to learning something even better.


    Yet as Snowcloud began to explain her technique, Arran immediately thought it sounded familiar. A few moments more, he realized that she was describing the technique Darkfire had already taught some months earlier.


    "I know this technique," Arran interrupted Snowcloud''s explanation. "I learned it several months ago."


    Hearing his words, she looked up in surprise. "Are you sure? This is a Shadowflame technique that''s not usually shared with outsiders. If someone taught it to you¡­" She frowned, seeming unhappy with the idea.


    "I''m sure," Arran said.


    She gave him a studious look, and for a moment, Arran worried there might be trouble. But then, she shrugged.


    "I suppose the technique is hardly a secret," she said. "And knowing it will save you a few weeks of training. Alright, we''ll move on."


    She reached for her void bag, and after a quick search, she took out what looked to be a marble-sized sized piece of crystal, which she handed to Arran.


    "What is it?" Arran asked.


    He looked at the small crystal in his hand with some curiosity. It was completely clear, and although it could easily be mistaken for a simple piece of glass, he could vaguely feel some power emanating from it ¡ª although he could not tell exactly what kind of power.


    "It''s an Essence Crystal," Snowcloud said. "It''s made of Purified Essence."


    "Purified Essence? What''s that?"


    "It''s what remains when you purify Essence by cleansing it of all specific properties and attributes," she said. "Like distilling alcohol from wine, or extracting the sap from yellow flax."


    Arran nodded, although he wasn''t exactly sure how either of those things worked. Right now, he was more interested in what the Purified Essence would do than in how it was created.


    "What does it do?" he asked.


    "Use it, and you''ll find out," Snowcloud answered. "After that, I can explain more."


    "Then how do I use it?" Arran asked.


    "Hold it in your hand, then take control of the Essence within the crystal and draw it into yourself. Once you''ve done that, you can circulate it using the Body Refinement technique.


    Arran immediately set to work, holding the crystal while trying to take control of the Essence from which it was made.


    This proved to be more difficult than he had expected, and just gaining some control over the Essence took him the better part of an hour. Although it didn''t resist his control, exactly, he could tell that the Essence wasn''t his own.


    When he finally succeeded in controlling the Essence within the crystal, drawing it into himself was easy, and he managed to do so on his first try. After that, he immediately began to circulate the Essence within his body using Darkfire''s Body Refinement technique.


    At once, he could tell that this was different from using Natural Essence or Essence drawn from Realms. Although the Purified Essence wasn''t more potent, something about it felt different ¡ª gentler, in a way.


    If circulating Natural Essence was like drinking ale, circulating Purified Essence was like drinking water. It was nourishing but indistinct, and as Arran absorbed it into his body, he could feel no apparent effects.


    Less than half an hour later, Arran had finished taking in the last of the Purified Essence. Yet to his disappointment, he felt no real changes whatsoever.


    "Now what?" he asked, at a loss. He had done what Snowcloud said, but as far as he could tell, nothing had happened.


    "Try using a spell," she said patiently.


    Arran did as she told him, creating a Windblade and sending it at a tree in the distance. Immediately, he was surprised at the effect ¡ª although the difference wasn''t too large, he could tell that the Windblade was easier to control. Progress that would normally have taken weeks of practice now seemed to have come to him instantly.


    He frowned as he considered it, and realized it made no sense. Body Refinement techniques were supposed to strengthen the body, yet now, his control of Essence had increased.


    "How is that possible?" he asked, bewildered. "I used a Body Refinement technique, but it increased my control of Essence. What happened?"


    "That is the first step on the True Path," Snowcloud replied with a smile. "Your body and your control of Essence are fundamentally linked, and by infusing your body with Purified Essence, you can strengthen your magical power."


    "But isn''t controlling Essence done with the mind?" Arran asked, still confused.


    She shook her head. "The body and mind are one," she said. "And to use magic, you need to be attuned to the magical Realms from which you draw Essence, but also to the natural world you try to manipulate."


    "But I''ve been practicing Body Refinement for years using Natural Essence. Why didn''t that have the same effect?"


    "Natural Essence belongs to the natural world," she replied. "Infusing your body with Natural Essence strengthens it, but it does little to help you control Essence from other Realms ¡ª it can even make it more difficult, by weakening your attunement to the Essence you draw from your Realms."


    "But I''ve also used Body Refinement with Essence from other Realms," Arran said, recalling his time at Lord Jiang''s estate. "And that didn''t have this kind of effect, either."


    "It probably did have an effect, but one too small to notice," Snowcloud said. "Infusing your body with Essence from other Realms strengthens your link to them, but at the cost of weakening your link to the natural world."


    "So Natural Essence strengthens your link to the natural world but weakens your link to the magical Realms, while Essence from Realms does the exact opposite?"


    "Exactly," Snowcloud replied. "And the only way to grow truly powerful is to be strong in both ¡ª because magic requires controlling Essence within the natural world."


    Arran nodded, beginning to understand how it worked.


    "That is the reason common Academy mages are weak," Snowcloud continued. "Just using magic infuses their bodies with Essence, although more slowly than if they used a refinement technique. But as their affinity to Essence strengthens, their affinity to the natural world weakens, and the result is that each step forward sets them back nearly as much."


    "But what about Purified Essence?" Arran asked. "Why does it have so strong an effect?"


    "Purified Essence is bound to neither the natural world nor the magical Realms," Snowcloud said. "It directly strengthens your affinity to Essence itself, and that allows you to strengthen your control of Essence."


    "Is Purified Essence the only way to grow strong, then?"


    Snowcloud shook her head. "You can grow more powerful by carefully balancing your affinity to both the natural world and your Realms, but that''s a slow and difficult process. Following the True Path and using Essence Crystals is much easier and faster."


    Arran nodded thoughtfully, and he could not help but grin as he thought learning the True Path would be far easier than he had expected.


    "Do you have any more Essence Crystals?" he asked, eager to make good use of what seemed like a powerful shortcut.


    "I do, but not enough to share freely," Snowcloud replied. "I need them myself as well. And besides, you need to learn how to create them."

 Chapter 104 Crystals

    "I can learn how to create them?" Arran scratched his chin, already thinking of the possibilities. If he could create Essence Crystals himself, it was as good as having an unlimited supply of them.


    "You can create Essence Crystals by purifying Essence," Snowcloud said. "It''s not particularly difficult work, but it''s extremely slow."


    Arran let out a sigh at this. He had known there would be a catch, but some part of him had still hoped against hope that things would be simple, just this once. But then, if becoming a powerful mage was simple, there would probably be more of them.


    "When can I start learning it?" he asked. If it was going to be slow work, he''d best start as soon as he could.


    "Now," Snowcloud said, then handed Arran a scroll. "This explains the process for purifying Essence. Study it well, and then you can start practicing."


    Arran worked his way through the scroll eagerly and found that the process seemed simple enough. All he had to do was draw out a small amount of Essence, then gradually separate it into its constituent parts and discard all the unneeded bits.


    Yet although the idea was simple, when he actually tried it, it proved to be all but impossible. For several hours he struggled, but he didn''t make the least bit of progress.


    "It''s not working," he said eventually, discouraged by his failure to even identify the different parts of the Essence, much less separate them.


    Snowcloud gave him a thoughtful look. "Do you have any other Realms besides Fire and Wind?" she asked.


    "I also have Shadow and Force Realms," Arran said, almost surprised that she hadn''t sensed this already.


    "Four Realms?" Snowcloud let out a deep sigh. "Then this will be far more difficult than I expected. The more Realms you have, the harder it is to draw out a single type of Essence without traces of the others. With three Realms, it would have been difficult. With four¡­ it could take you months to succeed."


    "What if I seal my other Realms?" Arran asked.


    "Seal them?" Snowcloud raised an eyebrow. "You have a way to seal your Realms?"


    "I have a technique to create seals using Shadow Essence," Arran said. "If I seal all my Realms except for Shadow, would that help?"


    Snowcloud looked at him in shock. "You know how to use Shadow seals?!"


    "My old teacher taught me how to use them," Arran said hesitantly, taken aback by Snowcloud''s reaction.


    "Your teacher?" Snowcloud looked at Arran intently. "Who was he? And where did you meet him?"


    "He was a former Academy mage¡­"


    Arran relayed the story of how he had met Master Zhao and fled the Academy, albeit with a few changes. Although he told her most of it, he left out that he had a forbidden Realm, instead inventing a story about having an unusually strong Fire Realm.


    Snowcloud didn''t seem particularly interested in Arran''s part of the story, however. All her attention was on what he told her about Master Zhao, and to that, she listened to with great interest.


    By the time Arran finished talking, Snowcloud was looking at him with what looked like a mixture of awe and disbelief.


    "That Master Zhao of yours," she said in an excited voice. "He''s a Shadowflame mage."


    "What?" Arran gave her a puzzled look. "A Shadowflame mage? Master Zhao?"


    "The Shadow seals¡­ that''s a secret Shadowflame technique," she said. "And wasn''t he strong in Fire and Shadow? Plus, the disguises¡­ I know that some of the more powerful Elders are able to do that. And it explains how he taught you that Body Refinement technique."


    Arran nodded silently. Although Master Zhao had not taught him the Body Refinement technique, everything else about it made sense. And, he thought, it would also explain why Master Zhao had sent him from the eastern part of the Empire to the Shadowflame Society, which lay at the western border.


    "You can''t tell anyone else about him," Snowcloud said, her tone serious. "If my suspicions are correct, he infiltrated the Academy, and after he left you, he may have returned. I wouldn''t be surprised if there are Academy spies in the Society, and if any of them found out¡­"


    "I''ll keep my mouth shut," Arran said.


    "You must," she replied. A musing smile on her face, she muttered, "A Shadowflame mage in the Academy¡­" It was clear that the thought excited her.


    "But those Shadow seals¡­" Arran began. "Can they help me now?"


    Even if the thought of Master Zhao being a Shadowflame mage was interesting, right now, Arran was more concerned with learning to purify Essence. What he needed was to grow stronger, and quickly.


    "Help you?" Snowcloud looked puzzled for a moment. "Oh! To purify Essence!" She gave it some thought, then nodded. "It should work. I don''t know exactly how Shadow seals work, but if they cut off your other Realms and their Essence, it should be as if you only had the Shadow Realm."


    Arran quickly put it to the test, sealing his Fire, Wind, and Force Realms. After that, he expelled the lingering Essence within him with some devastating attacks on the local plant life, until only Shadow Essence remained within him.


    Then, he set to work, once more trying to purify Essence.


    This time, his progress was far better than it had been earlier. Although it took great effort to sense all the impurities within the Essence, and even more to expel them, the absence of any traces of Essence other than Shadow made the work much easier.


    Yet as he progressed and the Shadow Essence in his hand steadily grew purer, the amount decreased at just as steady a pace. When, after several hours of work, he had purified the Essence as much as he could, barely any of it remained.


    He looked at the Essence Crystal in his hand with an ugly look on his face. He would have sighed, too, but it was so small that he feared even a sigh could blow it away.


    The Essence Crystal he had formed was barely as large as a grain of sand, and rather than the clear color of the Essence Crystal that Snowcloud had given him, it looked dark and cloudy ¡ª though with how small it was, it was difficult to tell exactly.


    "Very good," Snowcloud said in an encouraging voice. "That''s much better than most people manage on their first try."


    "So can I use it?" Arran asked.


    "You can try, but it won''t do you much good," she replied. "With that little Purified Essence ¡ª and badly purified, at that ¡ª it will become contaminated with Shadow Essence the moment it enters your body."


    "So what do I do with it?" Arran asked.


    "You add more Essence to it," Snowcloud said. "A few hours of work every day, and you can grow it large enough to use in a month or so."


    "A month?!" Arran did not know whether to feel more shocked or disappointed. If it took a month to make an Essence Crystal, it would be years before he gained anything useful.


    "It won''t be as strong as the one you used yesterday, of course," she continued. "It''s not pure enough for that. But as you practice, you will slowly become better at it."


    "Just how long will it take before I can make something like the one you gave me?" Arran asked.


    "Years," she replied instantly.


    Reaching for her void bag, she took out an Essence Crystal and held it up. Rather than the clear color of the one Arran had used the day before, this one was opaque and filled with dull orange clouds.


    "That took me a week of work," she said. "And it''s still many times weaker than what I gave you yesterday."


    "Then who made that one?" Arran asked.


    "The Master I bought it from," Snowcloud replied.


    "You can buy them?" Immediately, Arran''s eyes went wide with excitement. If there was one thing he had in abundance, it was treasure.


    "They''re sold in the Valley," Snowcloud said. "But just the one I gave you was worth as much as a small village."


    "That much?" As Arran thought it over, he realized that if Essence Crystals were that expensive, even his fortune would not last long. "Then why did you give it to me?"


    "I have a few more," she answered. "And the control you gained from that one should make it easier to create your own, if only slightly."


    "Thank you," Arran said, now realizing he had unknowingly received a treasure. "Are there any other ways to get them?"


    "You can take them from others," Snowcloud said. "Here across the border, many novices fall, while others defect. If we kill defectors or defeat those who took Essence Crystals from fallen novices, we can take whatever they have."


    Arran nodded thoughtfully. "Wouldn''t it be better to focus on that, then?"


    He had little interest in spending months slowly purifying Essence if there were other paths available. Just the few hours he had spent today had been excruciatingly dull, and if he could take Essence Crystals by force, that seemed like a far better option.


    "We''ll do both," Snowcloud said. "But you will need to practice purifying Essence, not just because you will need it later, but also because you need to train your Sense."


    "My Sense?" Arran asked, unsure of what she was talking about.


    "Right now, you''re blind as a bat when it comes to magic," she said. "The next step in your training is to fix that. Purifying Essence is one part of it, but soon, we will start other parts ¡ª ones that aren''t quite as dull."

 Chapter 105 Blindsided

    "This is insane."


    Arran had already said it at least a dozen times, but he still hoped he could somehow change Snowcloud''s mind.


    "I''ll only be gone for a month or two," Snowcloud said. "You''ll be able to handle it."


    "What if I run into another novice? Or bandits? Or a rogue mage?" He only barely kept himself from screaming in frustration.


    "You''re over a hundred miles from the nearest village," she replied calmly. "There''s almost no chance of meeting other people here."


    "Then what if I''m attacked by wild beasts, or monsters?"


    "You will just have to kill them," she answered. "You''re a mage. You can defend yourself."


    "But you blinded me!"


    That, of course, was the real problem.


    When Arran awoke that morning, Snowcloud had handed him a mug of herbal tea, telling him that drinking it would aid his Sense training. After the potion she had used to keep him awake when they fled the Valley, he was hesitant to ingest her concoctions, but at her insistence, he had done it anyway.


    He had realized his mistake only moments later, because almost immediately after he drained the mug, his vision began to fade. A few moments more, and it was gone completely, with Arran suddenly finding the world plunged into complete darkness.


    He had felt some panic at this ¡ª how could he not? ¡ª but he had tried to stay calm, reminding himself that with Snowcloud at his side, he wasn''t in any real danger.


    His panic had turned into terror when she informed him that she would be departing for several months, leaving Arran behind to train his Sense. Once she returned, she said, she would give him the antidote to the poison that had blinded him.


    He had pleaded, raged, begged, reasoned, and threatened in hopes of dissuading her from the insane plan, but none of his efforts had any effect in changing her mind.


    Instead, she had told him that it was a necessary step for him to develop his Sense, and that he would be grateful for the lesson once she returned. He had already resolved to show his gratitude with a fireball to her face once he regained his vision.


    "What if you don''t return?" he asked. "What if you die, or get injured? What if you decide to leave me here?!"


    "If I don''t return, your vision should return in under half a year," she answered. "Although by then, you should be able to do without it."


    The words offered Arran little comfort. He wasn''t confident in lasting even a week without being able to see, much less half a year.


    "Why do you need to go, anyway? Can''t you stay here, at least?"


    Although her company was the last thing he wanted right now, anything would be better than being left blind and alone beyond the borders of the Empire.


    "There are certain herbs I need to find," she said. "And you would only get in the way. Even with your vision, you need a stronger Sense to be useful to me."


    "If I could see you right now, I would punch you," Arran said in a bitter voice, realizing there was no changing her mind.


    "But you can''t," Snowcloud said. "And that''s the problem. You rely entirely on your natural senses, and you haven''t even begun to train your magical Sense."


    "I didn''t know I could train it," Arran replied. "If I''d known, I would have started long ago."


    "But you didn''t, so now, I''m helping you." Although he could not see her face, Arran thought he could hear some amusement in her voice.


    "There has to be a different way," Arran said pleadingly.


    "There is," Snowcloud replied. "You could do what most initiates do, and spend a night or two blindfolded every week, slowly developing your Sense. With that, it should only take you about a decade to reach the level you need to be. Would you prefer that?"


    "Yes!" Arran exclaimed instantly. Right now, several years of steady training sounded infinitely better than being left blind in the wild.


    "Too bad," Snowcloud said. "I can''t wait that long, and neither can you. Now, take this."


    She pressed something into Arran''s hand that felt like a rectangular piece of stone.


    "It''s a Memory Amulet," she explained. "It contains information on the rare herbs that can be found in this region. Your Sense isn''t strong enough to read it just yet, but in a few weeks, you''ll be able to begin deciphering it. Doing so will help you train your Sense, as well as teaching you the basics of herbalism. I expect you to memorize it before I return."


    "Can''t you at least give me some advice on how to train my Sense?"


    No answer came, and after some moments, Arran realized that Snowcloud must have left. He called out several more times, but there was no response.


    He sat down on the cave floor, then spent the next hour waiting, hoping that she would return. Perhaps she would realize that her plan was complete madness, change her mind, and come back.


    But she didn''t, and after a while, the truth finally began to sink in. He was blind and alone, in the middle of the wilderness, and it would be months before Snowcloud would return.


    The thought filled him with a dull sense of panic, but there was nothing he could do. As he went over his options in his head, he realized none of them would do anything to change the situation.


    After some time lamenting his misfortune ¡ª and shouting various curses and insults ¡ª he began to examine the Memory Amulet. As expected, he was unable to make out its contents, although he could feel that there was something inside.


    This was not his first time encountering a Memory Amulet, of course. Years ago, when he traveled with Master Zhao, he had taken another one from a group of bandits. Supposedly, it held enchanting techniques, but he had never gotten anything from it other than a hint of Essence. As the years passed, he had all but forgotten about it.


    Now, he retrieved the amulet from his void bag ¡ª fortunately, his lack of sight did not prevent him from sensing the contents of the bag ¡ª and began to study it once more.


    Although he could still not read it, he found that the presence of Essence inside seemed much clearer than before. And not just that ¡ª it was also clearer than the contents of Snowcloud''s amulet.


    He spent several hours studying it, but although he could tell there was some kind of writing inside, it was like trying to read a book from a distance of a hundred paces.


    Eventually, he gave up and focused his attention on trying to Sense what was around him. This, too, proved to be fruitless ¡ª although he thought he could feel a hint of Natural Essence in the area, it was far too weak to be useful.


    In the days that followed, he divided his time between studying the amulets, trying to use his Sense to make out his surroundings, and the drudging work of purifying Essence.


    None of it seemed to achieve much, and after a week, he found himself in the same position he had started in ¡ª blind, helpless, and without any idea of how to change his situation. The only difference he could sense was that a week without bathing properly had left him smelling somewhat foul.


    He had bottles with drinking water in his void bags, and he had used those to wash himself, but he couldn''t be too wasteful with his drinking water ¡ª if Snowcloud did not return, he might end up needing every drop of it.


    He knew there was a creek about two hundred paces from the cave, and he thought he should be able to make it there even without being able to see. But then, the risk of getting lost in the wilderness was a serious one, especially in his current state.


    Deciding whether to risk it took him half an hour, but eventually, he made up his mind. The only way he would develop his Sense was by using it, and merely sitting in a cave seemed like poor practice.


    Reaching the creek was easier than he expected. Although he fell at least a dozen times, stumbling over roots and bumping into trees, he could already hear the burble of the creek when he was halfway there, and finding it proved simple even if he fell several more times.


    When he arrived at the creek, he did not dare leave his void bags on its bed, knowing that finding them again if he lost them would be all but impossible. Instead, he wrapped his belongings in his robe, then held the bundle above his head as he bathed. It was far from convenient, but losing his void bags would be a disaster.


    As he dressed himself after bathing, he breathed a sigh of relief. Being blind and naked as he bathed, he had felt terrifyingly vulnerable. That he had gotten through it unscathed felt like a small victory.


    He did not linger before heading back to the cave, immediately heading back in the same direction he came from, careful to move in a straight line.


    After a quarter hour, he knew he had gone the wrong way. He should have reached the hill already, but instead, the land under his feet was still decidedly flat.


    Not allowing himself to panic, he made his way back to the creek. Returning was far easier, and soon, he was back where he had started.


    A second attempt to find the cave did not fare much better, and this time, he had trouble even making his way back to the creek.


    He let out a deep sigh when he understood that he could not find his way back ¡ª not without risking getting truly lost. Perhaps once his Sense improved it would be possible, but for now, his best option was to remain where he was, at least for the time being.


    Here, he had plenty of water, and there was more food than he needed in his void bags. Without shelter from the wind, the nights would be cold, but as long as it didn''t rain it wouldn''t be too bad.


    For three days, Arran stayed at the side of the creek. It was perhaps slightly more unpleasant than the cave had been, but the cold was nothing he could not bear, and in either place, all he could see was darkness.


    He fell back into his routine of studying the amulets and purifying Essence. Occasionally, he would take breaks to study the seal on his forbidden Realm, but there, too, his progress was frustratingly slow.


    On the third day, he had just begun purifying Essence when he suddenly Sensed a presence. At once, he was alarmed ¡ª anything strong enough for him to Sense had to be dangerous.


    When he heard a low growl, he knew he was in trouble.

 Chapter 106 Fighting Blind

    "Who''s there!" Arran called out.


    Although he knew the growl had not come from a human, perhaps the sound of his voice would drive off whatever creature was stalking him.


    "If you come closer, I''ll attack!" he yelled, giving his sword several swings to give some weight to the threat.


    Another growl sounded, this time from Arran''s side. He quickly turned to face it, holding his sword in front of him as he prepared to be attacked.


    But no attack came. Instead, a few moments later yet another growl sounded, now further to his side. Again he turned, understanding that the creature was circling him, probably looking for an opening to attack.


    The realization caused him to feel some worry ¡ª if the creature was testing his defenses, it was no simple beast. Perhaps it might even be intelligent enough to figure out that he was blind.


    His Sense told him there was only one creature, but other than that, it was as good as useless. All he could feel was a single presence, but he could not tell where it was, nor how far it was from him.


    A fireball might have frightened off the creature, but Arran had sealed all his Realms except for Shadow when he began to purify Essence. Removing the seals would take moments he did not have, and after that, it would be minutes more before he had gathered enough Essence to launch an attack.


    Again a growl sounded, and again Arran turned toward it, swinging his sword in what he hoped was a menacing manner. He did not dare move from where he stood, because right now, a single stumble could leave him completely exposed.


    Arran waited for the next growl to sound, but no more sound came, and Arran grew even more worried. Although he hoped the creature had decided to leave, he could still Sense its presence. And if it was still there, it had probably understood that Arran was only reacting to the sounds it made.


    His fears were confirmed only a moment later.


    A sudden rustling sounded in the trees behind Arran, and without thinking, he instantly ducked to the side ¡ª and not a moment too soon, because an instant later, the creature struck his shoulder with terrifying force, and he could feel its claws tearing into his flesh.


    Had he not ducked at the last moment, the claws would have torn through his throat rather than his shoulder.


    Ignoring the pain, he got back on his feet, then used his sword to attack the space where the creature had been a moment ago. Yet he didn''t hit anything, and he knew the creature had retreated already.


    His breath quickened from fear and pain, and he had to fight to keep his hands from trembling. The creature was clearly both stronger and smarter than he had feared, and if he didn''t find a way to defend himself, he would die.


    Nerves on edge, he attacked several times when he thought he heard something, but each time, his sword only struck air. Whatever kind of creature it might be, it was dangerously smart.


    Another attack came shortly after, but this time, Arran was luckier. As he heard a sudden noise to his side he dodged rapidly, and the creature''s claws must have missed him. Instead, he was hit by a large furred mass that he took to be the creature''s shoulder. The blow sent him sprawling to the ground, but left him otherwise unharmed.


    Again, he got up, instantly waving his sword around to keep the creature from following through on its attack. It seemed to be wary of the sword, and that, at least, gave Arran a moment of respite ¡ª until the creature had time to move to his side or back, anyway.


    He knew that if the fight continued like this, it would not be long before he lost. Without knowing where the creature was, he had no way to defend against its attacks and no way to attack it himself.


    Perhaps he could get lucky and strike the creature just as it attacked him, but then, he could not afford to rely on luck.


    With Arran blind, it was far more likely that the creature would get a good hit in before he managed to dodge, and that would be the end of it ¡ª the wound on Arran''s shoulder was all he needed to know that his foe was strong enough to disable him with a single blow.


    Unable to defend himself with just his strength, his thoughts turned to Essence.


    Shadow Essence would not be able to harm the creature in the slightest. All it could create were shadows, and small ones at that. But perhaps, he thought, if he hit the creature with a large blast of Shadow Essence, he could blind it just long enough to¡ª


    Suddenly, he gasped in surprise. He knew what to do.


    "You want to eat me, you furred bastard?" Arran said, a mad grin appearing on his face. "Let''s see who gets eaten today."


    He gathered as much Shadow Essence as he could, then forcefully expelled it.


    It was the exact opposite of how he normally attacked. Rather than concentrate the Shadow Essence as he would when using Essence from his other Realms, now he cast it out in a thin mist that spread all around him.


    He could not yet properly Sense Natural Essence, but the Essence from his own Realms was another matter. That, he could Sense with little effort.


    That alone would not have helped him, but if he could Sense where it was, then he could also Sense where it wasn''t ¡ª in the ground, in the plants and trees, and most importantly, in the massive shape that was barreling toward him right at that moment.


    Now that he could tell where the creature was, he easily sidestepped the attack, then lashed out with a deep cut into the creature''s flank as it hurtled past him.


    The creature roared in pain, then came to a stop a dozen paces from where Arran stood, on the edge of Arran''s mist of Shadow Essence.


    Arran could roughly make out its shape as a gap in the mist of Shadow Essence. It seemed to be a bear, albeit a freakishly large one, at least nine feet tall at the shoulder.


    For a moment, the creature stood still, as if hesitating what to do. Then, it slowly began to back away ¡ª perhaps it understood that the situation had changed.


    "I don''t think so," Arran said quietly.


    If it moved any further away, he would be unable to Sense it. And if it attacked again later, it might succeed in killing him before he could respond.


    Arran knew he could only maintain the mist of Shadow for a short time, and after that, he would once more be vulnerable ¡ª at least until he replenished his Shadow Essence.


    But more importantly, the creature had attacked and injured him. And for that, it would pay with its life.


    At once, Arran dashed forward as fast as he could, toward the creature. Then, with all the power he had, he rammed his sword into what he thought was its head, driving the blade in all the way to the hilt.


    For several seconds, neither Arran nor the creature moved, and Arran could feel his heart pound in his chest as he feared the creature might have survived the blow.


    But then, the creature slumped to the ground, the life ripped from its body by the four feet of steel that had torn through its brain.


    A moment later, Arran slumped to the ground as well, panting from exhaustion and trembling with the knowledge that he had only barely escaped death.


    It took him some time to gather his wits. Even if he had won the fight, the experience had been one he did not care to repeat ¡ª short though the battle might have been, and despite him escaping relatively unscathed, he knew he had only narrowly avoided a terrible fate.


    As he calmed down, however, a small smile appeared on his face. He had found a way to see without seeing.

 Chapter 107 Shadowsigh

    The first thing Arran did was to take care of his wounded shoulder. He rinsed the wound with water, then carefully bandaged it.


    Although the wound wasn''t too bad ¡ª for his Essence-enhanced body, at least ¡ª he did not want to take even the slightest risk. He needed it healed, and he needed it healed fast. The region was simply too dangerous to be weak.


    This time, he had managed to defeat his attacker. But what if a stronger creature showed up? Or what if he stumbled into a rogue mage? Snowcloud had told him there was little chance of meeting anyone here, but after she blinded him, Arran was reluctant to trust her.


    Yet all of that was of later concern. Right now, there were more pressing matters, and the first one was to find out just what he could do using the mist of Shadow Essence he had used to save his life.


    He took some time to experiment with the mist, seeing how far it would allow him to Sense his surroundings. The result was somewhat disappointing, though not unexpected.


    He quickly discovered that he could spread the mist to a distance of around twenty paces before it became too thin for him to Sense objects within it, but the amount of Essence needed for that meant he could maintain it for just a few minutes.


    If he limited the mist to a distance less than five paces around him and kept a close watch on the amount of Essence he used, he could maintain it without draining his Shadow Essence. But if he did that, it was little better than being in a pitch-dark forest with only a dim candle.


    Still, even if it was a far cry from what he was supposed to achieve, it was incomparably better than what he had just a day earlier. And not just that ¡ª it was a technique of his own, something he had invented by himself.


    It was so simple that it could hardly even be called a technique, but it allowed him to Sense his surroundings, and it had saved his life. For that, he figured it deserved a proper name.


    After a moment of thought, he settled on ''Shadowsight.'' Though the name was perhaps not as poetic or grand as it could have been, he thought it described the technique well enough.


    His new technique named, he switched his attention back to the creature he had killed.


    Using his Shadowsight without the distraction of battle, he could now tell that it was definitely a bear, but one that was so monstrously large it seemed like an entirely different species.


    For a moment, he wondered how the beast had grown that large, and he was reminded of the story Lord Jiang had told him years ago. At the time, he had thought Lord Jiang had exaggerated when he said he had battled a bear the size of a small house, but now, Arran believed it might have been true.


    The bear he had just killed wasn''t anywhere near as large as the one Lord Jiang had mentioned, but then, it probably wasn''t anywhere near as strong, either.


    He frowned as he considered the possibility of animals growing larger as they absorbed more Natural Essence, wondering just how large they might grow if that was the case. Would there be animals the size of hills, or even mountains?


    Casting the thought of mountain-sized beasts aside, he turned his attention back to the dead bear in front of him. As he did, he could not help but think about the final part of Lord Jiang''s story ¡ª killing and eating the bear.


    At once, Arran knew what he would do.


    It was a fitting end for a beast that had intended to eat him, but more importantly, this was the first time he had captured and killed a monster. Until now, he had relied on gifts from others, but this ¡ª this was something he had achieved without help.


    After a moment''s thought, he began to butcher the bear, cutting it into pieces and discarding the entrails and fur. It was hard and messy work, especially with only his Shadowsight to see what he was doing, but after several hours of effort, he finished it as well as he could.


    His clumsy work caused him to waste much of the meat, but even so, what remained was still a staggering amount ¡ª enough to feed him for months, if not more.


    He stashed the meat in one of his void bags. Although he was eager to try it, he worried that the remains of the bear might attract other wildlife, and he decided he should first try to reach the cave again.


    Now that he had the Shadowsight technique to aid him, he was less worried about getting lost, which made the search far easier. He still failed to find the cave several times, walking back to the creek after each time he knew he had gone the wrong way, but it took him less than an hour to finally find the cave again.


    Back inside the cave, the first thing he did was take a large piece of bear meat, which he roasted using his Fire Essence.


    As food, the meat wasn''t anything special. It was tough and chewy, with an earthy flavor that did little to please his senses. Although it wasn''t exactly offensive either, only someone on the brink of starvation would call it delicious.


    Yet the Natural Essence it contained was something different altogether. After only a single bite, Arran could tell that it was many times stronger than anything he''d had before.


    He didn''t know whether it was because of the beast''s power or the meat''s freshness, but whatever the reason, it was so potent he could feel the Natural Essence coursing through his body as he ate.


    By the time he finished eating, he felt as if his body could explode with energy, and he quickly set to work using Body Refinement to absorb it all.


    Fully absorbing it took him some time, but after he finished, he thought he could vaguely feel that his body had strengthened. The sensation caused him some surprise ¡ª the last time he had felt a direct effect from Body Refinement had been when he first drank Panurge''s wine. Since then, any progress he made had been too gradual to notice instantly.


    Yet even as he detected the effects, he considered what Snowcloud had taught him about Natural Essence weakening one''s link to the magical Realms. Although he couldn''t notice any negative effects on his control of Essence just yet, he was unwilling to take the risk.


    Again, he set to work practicing Body Refinement, but this time using Shadow Essence. If Snowcloud was right, the effects of doing that should help balance out his use of Natural Essence, while still bringing some small benefit in terms of power.


    He kept it up for several hours until finally, he was too tired to continue. He did not know whether he had achieved a proper balance, but weary as he was, it would have to suffice.


    He lay down on the cave floor, too tired to even lay down bedding. Moments later, he was asleep.

 Chapter 108 Exposed

    In the days following his battle against the bear, Arran found himself unexpectedly busy.


    Between purifying Essence, studying the seal on his forbidden Realm, and studying Snowcloud''s Memory Amulet, he already had a hefty workload. But now, even more had been added to it.


    He had decided not to let the bear meat go to waste, and absorbing its Natural Essence took hours of Body Refinement a day, followed by more hours doing the same with Shadow Essence to balance the effects.


    And then, there was his Shadowsight. The technique was too useful to ignore, and practicing it was also useful practice for developing his Sense ¡ª even if it was his own Essence, he spread it in a mist so thin that Sensing it still posed a challenge.


    Unlike his other activities, however, practicing Shadowsight required him to leave the cave. Despite the risk, he did so gladly ¡ª even if he could not see his surroundings, being in the cave for days on end felt too much like being in a dungeon cell for his liking.


    At first, he only traveled to the creek and back, using his Shadowsight to help guide the way. Although it was difficult at first, it quickly became easier, and soon, he could reliably find his way back from the creek without getting lost.


    As he grew more comfortable relying on the Shadowsight technique, he began to explore the area around the cave, each day going slightly farther. After just over a week, he had scouted the entire area a full mile around the cave, and any worries he had about losing his way had all but disappeared.


    By the end of the second week, however, he discovered that the Shadowsight technique brought an unforeseen benefit.


    With Shadowsight, he could Sense the mist of Shadow Essence he created around him, with any solid objects leaving gaps that were easy to recognize.


    Yet as his Sense improved, he could now tell that the Natural Essence that had previously seemed to come from everywhere actually came from those same gaps. And now that he knew where to focus his attention, it was far easier to learn to Sense Natural Essence.


    He began to reduce the amount of Shadow Essence he used for his Shadowsight, instead gradually relying more and more on the Natural Essence he could Sense in the gaps.


    After just two more weeks, he reached the point where he could find his way solely by Sensing Natural Essence, and he could not help but feel pleased ¡ª with the aid of his Shadowsight technique, his progress had been far faster than it would have been otherwise.


    Still, he did not stop practicing Shadowsight altogether ¡ª even if he no longer strictly needed it, in some ways, it was a more accurate way than Sensing Natural Essence to discern his surroundings. And when he used both together, the combination was vastly superior to either method by itself.


    So instead, he alternated between relying on his Sense and his Shadowsight whenever he was exploring the region, making sure he practiced both equally.


    But his surroundings weren''t all he could Sense.


    As he became more accustomed to Sensing Natural Essence and recognizing where it came from, he also discovered an unexpected source of it ¡ª himself.


    Previously, the Natural Essence from his own body had blended in with his surroundings, and he was so used to it that he had dismissed it as little more than background noise.


    Yet now, he could Sense a constant stream of Natural Essence emanating from his body ¡ª almost as if his body was leaking the stuff.


    The amount wasn''t large enough to have much of an impact on his strength ¡ª although he felt annoyance at having even a sliver of his hard-won power slip away ¡ª but he realized that to others, he would be laughably easy to Sense.


    Now, he understood the true reason Amaya and Stoneheart had recognized his power so easily. It hadn''t been subtle clues from his movements, as he had believed ¡ª to them, he had probably been like a lit beacon, announcing his power to all whose Sense was strong enough.


    As he considered the implications, he was filled with discomfort. All this time, he had walked around thinking he could go unnoticed, while many of the Shadowflame novices had likely known about his strength the moment he came within a hundred paces of them.


    He briefly thought about the novice he had faced in Eremont, and he wondered whether it had been the young man''s overconfidence that had saved his life, or just the good luck of facing a novice whose Sense wasn''t fully developed yet. Either way, he knew, he had come closer to death than he had realized.


    Now that he understood the situation, there was no way he could allow it to continue ¡ª being this exposed was something he would not accept.


    Unfortunately, when he began to search for a way to stop his body''s Natural Essence from leaking, he soon realized that preventing it was easier said than done.


    If he focused his attention on controlling it, he could reduce the amount that came out of his body by about half. But that required constant concentration, and even then, the amount that escaped was still unacceptably large.


    He spent several days in the cave, struggling with the problem as he ignored his other duties, but to little effect. Desperate for a solution though he might be, it seemed his wishes weren''t granted that easily.


    Yet halfway through his third day of trying to find a way to overcome the issue, a voice suddenly sounded from the cave''s entrance. "It seems you''ve progressed faster than I expected."


    Arran nearly jumped up in surprise. The voice was Snowcloud''s, and nearly a month earlier than she was supposed to return. Yet that wasn''t what startled him ¡ª rather, it was the fact that he could Sense absolutely no Natural Essence from her. As far as his Sense was concerned, it was as if there wasn''t anybody there.


    He quickly used his Shadowsight, and now, he could make out her shape ¡ª a gap in the mist, emanating not even the slightest bit of Natural Essence. At once, he understood that she could somehow block it from leaking.


    "How did you¡ª" he began.


    "Conceal myself?" she asked. "You''ll find out soon enough."


    "But why did you return so soon?" he asked. She wasn''t supposed to return for another month, yet somehow, she had appeared right when he had reached a problem he couldn''t overcome.


    "Because I saw you try to control your Natural Essence," she said. "Which means your Sense is now strong enough to recognize the problem."


    "Weren''t you searching for herbs?"


    "I was," she replied. "But the herbs I was searching for grow in this region. During the past month, I''ve been camped just over a mile from here ¡ª you nearly stumbled upon my camp a week ago."


    "You were here the whole time?!"


    "I checked on you several times a day," she said. "When that bear attacked, I nearly stepped in to save you ¡ª but it seems you found a way to deal with it yourself." After a moment, she added, "And you''ll have to tell me how you did that."


    "So I wasn''t in any real danger?" Arran asked flatly, unsure whether to feel grateful that she had been looking out for him or angry for being deceived.


    "Of course not," she said in an amused tone. "I could hardly let you die in my care."


    Arran sighed. "So will you give me the antidote now?" Even if his Sense had progressed greatly, he was still anxious to regain his vision.


    "I will," she said. "And then, I''ll teach you to conceal your Natural Essence."


    "So there''s a technique for that?" Arran asked eagerly.


    "Of course," Snowcloud replied. "And it''s one you''ll have to learn quickly, because a week from now, we''re going to kill some novices."

 Chapter 109 The Bracele

    "We''re going to kill novices?" Arran asked.


    "Deserters," Snowcloud replied.


    "So we''re going to kill them just for leaving the Shadowflame Society?"


    Arran felt uncomfortable at the idea. He understood that sometimes violence was necessary, but a few novices deciding to leave the Shadowflame Society hardly seemed like such a case.


    "No," she said. "But take the antidote first. I will explain after."


    She walked up to Arran, then handed him a small flask.


    He drained it quickly, eager to finally regain his sight. To his surprise, the liquid tasted quite pleasant, with a warm and sweet aroma that was entirely different from Snowcloud''s other concoctions.


    Yet although he had hoped the cure would be as rapid-acting as the poison had been, that didn''t seem to be the case. The antidote had no immediate effect whatsoever, at least as far as Arran could tell.


    "How long will it take before my sight returns?" he asked, not bothering to hide his impatience.


    "It will be a few days before it''s fully restored," Snowcloud replied. "But within a few hours, it should start returning."


    Arran muttered a curse when he heard it would still take days, but then he sighed in resignation. Even if he did not want to wait, there was nothing he could do to speed up the process. Instead, he turned his thoughts to the battle ahead.


    "So why are we hunting deserters?"


    "Deserters," Snowcloud began, "aren''t just people who leave the Society. Shadowflame members are free to remain beyond the border as long as they want ¡ª even if they decide never to return. Only those who abandon the Society''s laws are considered deserters."


    "What laws?" Arran asked. Although it made sense that the Shadowflame Society had laws, the only thing he knew was that he could not teach others the True Path ¡ª and that rule was enforced by an oath he could not break.


    "There are many," she replied. "But the most important ones are not to reveal the Society''s secrets, not to join its enemies, and not to use your power to abuse commoners."


    Arran frowned. "So these novices we''re going to kill, what did they do?"


    "They''ve taken commoners," Snowcloud said, her voice filled with disgust. "Enslaved them."


    When he heard this, Arran nodded slowly. If they had gone that far, he could certainly understand the need for action.


    "How many are there?" he asked. "And where are they?"


    "There are at least two novices," Snowcloud said, "And they command several dozens of bandits. They''ve taken a fortress about fifty miles from here, and they''ve been raiding nearby villages, abducting and enslaving their people."


    "Didn''t you say there wasn''t a single village within a hundred miles from here?"


    "I was wrong," Snowcloud replied. "It seems the maps are outdated." After a moment of silence, she added, "This is my first time beyond the border. It''s¡­ not what I expected."


    Arran decided not to get into the issue of Snowcloud''s inexperience. Although it caused him some worry, he had no more experience beyond the Empire''s border than she did, and unlike her, he hadn''t grown up amid tales of the borderlands.


    "If there two novices or more, can we take them?"


    "You can''t," she answered. "But I can. Only weak novices desert, the ones with little chance of rapid advancement. Nobody strong would give up the True Path so easily."


    "And you''re strong enough to defeat them?"


    "I''m the Patriarch''s granddaughter."


    Snowcloud said the words as if they explained everything. But then, Arran realized they probably did ¡ª the Patriarch''s granddaughter would undoubtedly only have the best training and resources, far beyond what any normal novice could expect.


    Still, there was a big gap between having resources and being a good fighter, and the fact that this was Snowcloud''s first journey beyond the border did not help.


    "Have you ever killed anyone?" he asked.


    "I''ve killed monsters," she replied. "Ones much stronger than that bear you fought."


    "And people?"


    "Not yet." She sounded uncomfortable when she said it, as if she was embarrassed by her lack of experience.


    Arran resisted the urge to tell her that fighting and killing people was entirely different from fighting beasts. While it was true, this was not the right time to undermine her confidence.


    "You said you were going to teach me how to conceal my Natural Essence," Arran said, changing the subject.


    "I will," Snowcloud replied. "But first, did you manage to create an Essence Crystal?"


    Arran took out the Essence Crystal he had created over the past month, then held it up. "This is what I have so far."


    Although he could not see it, he knew it would look nothing like the one he had used a month earlier ¡ª it would be cloudier and darker, polluted as it was with Shadow Essence.


    Snowcloud took it from his hand and examined it, then returned it to him.


    "Take it and absorb its Essence," she said. "After you finish, I will give you a proper one, and you will have to use that as well."


    "You''re giving me another one?" Arran asked, pleasantly surprised.


    She sighed. "You need to gain more control, and the Essence Crystal you created won''t be enough. But don''t think I''ll give you more after this ¡ª you''ll need to improve your skill at making them."


    Arran did as she said, and barely an hour later, he could feel that his control of Essence had taken another step forward. Idly, he wondered just how strong he could become if he had all the Essence Crystals he wanted.


    He did not have much time to daydream about finding some forgotten hoard of Essence Crystals, however, because once he finished absorbing the one Snowcloud had given him, she quickly moved on to teaching him how to conceal his Natural Essence.


    The technique turned out to be simple yet difficult. At its surface, it was little more than a basic Body Refinement technique, except one that was clearly designed to keep Essence within one''s body, endlessly pulling it inward and circulating it.


    What made it difficult was that it required control so fine it was only barely within Arran''s abilities, and now, he understood why Snowcloud had given him another one of her precious Essence Crystals.


    It took Arran several hours before he got the hang of the technique, but when he did, he found that maintaining it required all the concentration he could muster ¡ª even the slightest distraction would break the technique and allow Natural Essence to escape his body.


    "How do I do this while still doing other things?" he asked, taken aback. The technique would do him little good if he could only use it while sitting still and using all his focus just to maintain it.


    "Through practice," Snowcloud replied. "You need to practice until it comes as naturally as breathing ¡ª something you maintain all times, even when you''re asleep."


    "But that would take months," Arran objected, and he thought even that might be an understatement.


    "You have a week," she said. "But I have something that will help."


    "What is it?" Arran asked, immediately wary. The last time she had offered help, it had involved blinding him, and his vision was only just beginning to return.


    "It''s a magical item," she replied. "A bracelet that will cause you to feel pain whenever more than the slightest sliver of Natural Essence escapes your body. It will be unpleasant, but you will learn quickly."


    Although the sound of that did not appeal to Arran, he was forced to admit that it should be an effective way of learning. Reluctantly, he accepted the bracelet.


    He was unsurprised to learn that ''unpleasant'' didn''t even begin to describe the bracelet''s effects. Whenever his control of the technique faltered for even the slightest moment, the bracelet would send a sharp jolt of pain through his body, strong enough to make him cry out in pain.


    After that, he would have just a few moments to restore the technique. If he didn''t, more stabs of pain would follow, continuing relentlessly until he restored the technique. There was just enough time between each jolt of pain for him to focus and renew the technique, but no more than that ¡ª certainly not enough to get even a moment of rest.


    Snowcloud made him wear the bracelet even at night, and for the first two nights, he did not sleep for more than a few seconds. Each time he dozed off, his control of the technique would falter, and excruciating pain would wake him a moment later.


    By the third day, he was so tired he barely even noticed that his vision had returned. Maintaining the technique took all the concentration he could muster, and beyond that, the world seemed like a blur, his exhausted mind unable to focus on anything other than the need to maintain the technique.


    That night, he finally managed to get some sleep ¡ª an hour at best, but it was still better than nothing. It seemed that after constantly using the technique while he was half-asleep, his mind was at last beginning to maintain it even without his conscious direction.


    After a week, he had reached the point where the bracelet only very rarely woke him as he slept, and he was able to maintain the technique easily while awake, even if he left the cave to walk through the surrounding forest.


    Yet when he told Snowcloud that he was ready to take off the bracelet, her reply was short and blunt.


    "You''re not ready yet."


    With that, Arran had no choice but to continue wearing it.


    Fortunately, the second week was much better than the first, and soon, he resumed purifying Essence and practicing his other techniques and spells. This proved to be another obstacle, as he found that focusing his concentration on other things could still allow his control of the technique to slip.


    But the bracelet allowed no arguments or objections, and he was forced to learn quickly, as each failure brought a stab of excruciating pain.


    By the end of the second week, Snowcloud finally gave him a satisfied look.


    "I think you''re ready," she said.

 Chapter 110 The Deserterss Fortress

    "You think I''m ready?"


    Arran was almost surprised when he heard Snowcloud say the words. It had already been two weeks since she had given him the bracelet, but although she had said he only had a week, her previous comments on his efforts had contained precious little praise ¡ª certainly not enough to suggest she thought he was almost ready.


    "I think so," she said again. "But first, I''ll have to test your skill. Your progress in training has been remarkable, but I have yet to see you fight."


    "Then let''s spar," Arran replied, eager to find out how he matched up against a powerful novice. The only Shadowflame novice he had faced so far had been the young man he crippled in Eremont, but he knew that his opponent there had been a poor example of the Shadowflame Society''s power.


    Snowcloud nodded, then drew her sword. It had a long, thin blade, and Snowcloud held it with such practiced ease that Arran immediately knew she must have received regular training from the moment she could hold a sword.


    "We''ll try a few rounds without magic, first," she said.


    Arran drew his sword as well ¡ª the heavy-bladed one he had taken from the novice in Eremont ¡ª and faced her.


    Their first few exchanges were short and tentative, each of them trying to gauge their opponent''s skill. Yet after only a short while their movements quickened, with their attacks growing more forceful and confident as they began to learn their relative strengths.


    The difference between the two of them soon became apparent. While Arran held a slight advantage in strength and matched Snowcloud in speed, Snowcloud held a clear advantage when it came to both technique and control.


    They spent a good two hours sparring, with Snowcloud winning all but a few exchanges. This neither surprised nor disappointed Arran ¡ª he already understood that with Snowcloud''s background, she would have trained from her earliest youth, with the Sixth Valley''s best teachers to instruct her.


    When they finally finished, Snowcloud looked at Arran approvingly.


    "You''re strong," she said. "And you''re far better with the sword than most novices. But now, let''s see how you do with magic."


    Again they faced each other, and this time, the gap between them proved far larger. While Arran''s advantage in strength was even larger when it came to magic, his abilities proved no match for Snowcloud''s skill and control, and she used a number of spells he had never seen before.


    The large gap in ability meant Arran was quickly defeated in a series of exchanges, and even then, he could tell that Snowcloud had been holding back.


    Only once did he manage to best her, and that was when he surprised her with the Force Shield and Battering Force spells. But although she seemed unfamiliar with the spells, after Arran''s single win she rapidly adapted, and he did not score any more victories.


    Nevertheless, he could tell that he had improved by leaps and bounds since his last fight in Hillfort''s arena. His control over his magic was far better than it had been, and he could now Sense his opponent''s attacks as soon as they were formed, rather than when they were launched.


    "You''re strong," Snowcloud eventually said, "but clumsy. It''s almost as if you''ve had no formal training in magic at all."


    "I haven''t," Arran replied truthfully. The only skilled mage who had instructed him in the use of magic had been Master Zhao, and that was when Arran knew barely anything about it. His knowledge of spells had come from scrolls, and his practice had mostly just been trial and error.


    "Then I will need to instruct you," she replied in a thoughtful tone. "After we defeat the deserters, I will give you daily instruction ¡ª with your strength, you should make good progress."


    Arran nodded in acquiescence. Although he would much prefer to receive training before the battle, he understood that there simply wasn''t enough time for that. Snowcloud had already delayed their attack by a week to allow him to learn to conceal his Natural Essence, and she would not be willing to wait months for Arran to increase his skill at spellcraft.


    "There''s another thing I should mention," she continued. "The Essence containment technique I taught you will conceal your Essence, but using it will expose you as a mage to others."


    Arran raised an eyebrow in confusion, but after only a moment''s thought, he understood. Natural Essence was present in everything, and anyone who did not release any would necessarily have to be a trained mage.


    "Then how do I fix that?" he asked.


    "You will need to learn how to release some small amount of Natural Essence while using the containment technique," Snowcloud replied. "But that takes practice, and practice takes time."


    "How long did it take you?"


    "Too long," Snowcloud said with a laugh. "I never had much talent for the technique. That''s why I have the bracelet ¡ª it was given to me after two years of trying and failing to contain my Essence, to stop me from embarrassing the family any further. Fully controlling it took me another three years, and I was already ten when I finally managed it."


    Arran frowned. After a quick thought, he asked, "You started training at five?"


    She shook her head in response. "My training started the moment I could stand," she said. "I opened my first Realm and became an initiate when I was five."


    To this, Arran had no reply. He just stared at Snowcloud in astonishment. No wonder she was so skilled ¡ª she had been training her entire life.


    "But enough of that," she said. "It''s about time we depart. From what I''ve seen today, you will be able to handle yourself ¡ª you should be able to match even some of the weaker novices."


    They broke camp quickly, bidding the cave farewell as they set off toward the deserters'' fortress. When he looked back, Arran thought he would not miss sleeping on cave''s hard stone floor.


    They traveled at a run, and their Essence-enhanced bodies meant neither of them needed to pause for rest ¡ª not for a short fifty-mile journey, at least. Although the terrain was rough, filled with forests and hills, they arrived well before sunset.


    "So that''s it," Arran said as he looked at their foes'' stronghold.


    They had hidden in the brush on a hill about a quarter mile from the fortress. From here, they had little chance of being spotted, while they could freely observe their enemies'' defenses.


    The fortress was large, built entirely from stone. It stood atop a small hill, with an area of several hundred paces surrounding the fortress cut free of all trees and brush. From his vantage point, Arran could see that the high walls around the fortress held a number of guards, and its only gate was thick and reinforced with iron.


    "What''s your plan?" he asked.


    "We break down the gate, go inside, and kill them," Snowcloud replied. "You take the guards, while I fight the novices."


    Arran looked at Snowcloud incredulously. "That''s not a plan."


    She frowned, then said, "I should be able to defeat the novices easily, and the guards won''t give you any trouble."


    "You don''t even know how many novices there are," Arran replied. "What makes you think they''ll go down so easily?"


    "I''m much stronger than most novices in the Valley," she answered with a somewhat indignant expression. "A few deserters won''t be a problem."


    "What if there are more than two?" Arran asked. "What if there are four, or five?"


    "I should be able to¡ª" Snowcloud began, some hesitation in her voice now.


    "What if they are stronger than you expect?" Arran interrupted her, unable to fully keep the anger from his voice.


    He had known Snowcloud was inexperienced, but he had not expected her to be this naive, nor this foolish. No matter how strong she was compared to her fellow novices in the Sixth Valley, real battle was different, and he would not let her risk their lives by going in blindly.


    "Then what do you suggest we do?" she asked, sounding slightly annoyed.


    Arran remained quiet for a while as he considered the situation. When he finally spoke, there was a small grin on his face.


    "I think I have an idea."

 Chapter 111 Fighting Dirty

    "I still don''t see why¡ª" Snowcloud said.


    "Quiet!" Arran hissed.


    They were hiding in the brush just over a mile from the fortress, along one of the few footpaths that ran from the fortress''s gate. Arran had guessed that this would be one of the routes the patrols would take, and now, it appeared his guess had been correct.


    Approaching their location were half a dozen men, fighters all of them, with the rough look of bandits or mercenaries. They were wearing ragged armor and carrying weapons, and as far as Arran could tell, none were mages.


    "Remember," he whispered, "only intervene if any of them turn out to be novices."


    Snowcloud nodded, although her expression made it clear she wasn''t happy with the situation.


    Arran took a final deep breath, then left the brush and stepped out onto the road, a short distance ahead of the men.


    "Hey there!" he called out as he walked toward them.


    They eyed him somewhat warily, but none replied. Instead, their hands moved toward their weapons.


    "Thank the gods I found you," he began. "I lost my way some days ago, and if I hadn''t found this footpath¡ª"


    "Get him," one of the men said, drawing his weapon. The others quickly followed his example.


    Arran sighed. "So that''s how it''s going to be?" He drew his own weapon as well, and prepared himself for the attack that was coming.


    The first of the men reached him and attacked immediately. Arran only barely parried the blow, and that his counterattack struck the man''s neck seemed more like luck than skill. Still, the man fell to the ground, and Arran remained standing.


    The next two posed a bigger problem. Although Arran thrust his sword through the chest of one, the other scored a shallow blow to Arran''s shoulder, leaving a thin trail of blood dripping down his arm. Yet the attack left the man exposed, and a moment later he fell to the ground, screaming as he grabbed his half-severed leg.


    Only three remained, and Arran rushed forward, ramming the pommel of his sword into the face of the nearest one. But even as the man collapsed, his companions finally seemed to have understood that their opponent was beyond them, and they made a run for it.


    Arran did not pursue them. Instead, he picked up the unconscious man, then threw him down next to the injured one. The unconscious man came to a moment later, only to see Arran''s sword pointing at the two of them.


    "How many mages are there in the fortress?" he asked the man with the maimed leg.


    The man did not respond, seemingly overwhelmed with pain ¡ª and from the look of him, Arran thought he was already close to bleeding out. With a thrust of Arran''s sword, he died instantly.


    Next, Arran turned to the other man, pointing his bloodied sword at the man''s chest.


    "How many mages are there? Or do you want to accompany your comrade?"


    "Five!" the man exclaimed in a panicked voice. "There are five of them!"


    "Are you sure?" Arran asked, moving his sword closer to the man''s chest.


    "Yes!"


    Arran nodded, then stabbed the man through the heart. Briefly, he had considered asking about the mages'' power, but then, a common thug wouldn''t be able to give a meaningful answer to the question.


    "You can come out now!" he called to Snowcloud.


    She emerged from the brush a moment later, her face even paler than usual as she stared at the corpses littering the ground around Arran.


    "You killed them," she said, a shocked expression on her face.


    "That was the idea," Arran replied.


    "But those two¡­" She gestured toward the final two men Arran had killed. "They were defenseless, and you butchered them."


    "Would you have preferred if I gave them time to recover?"


    "But you let the other two get away."


    "That was necessary," Arran said. "I needed two of them to carry word back to the fortress. But these two¡­ they knew I was looking for mages."


    Finally, Snowcloud relented, though she still looked upset. But then, she glanced at Arran''s arm.


    "You''re injured," she said, some concern showing in her eyes.


    "I had to sell the story," Arran replied with a shrug.


    The entire thing had been a ruse, of course ¡ª had he wanted to, Arran could have killed all six men in the blink of an eye. But then, his real goal was to draw out the novices, not to kill their henchmen.


    By hiding Snowcloud and pretending to be weaker than he was, Arran hoped he could fool the novices into underestimating the threat. If they thought their thugs were only barely outclassed, they would hopefully send only a single novice to deal with the problem, rather than attacking with their full strength.


    And now, it seemed that the decision to be cautious had been the right one.


    "There are five mages," he said.


    "I heard," Snowcloud replied, though she was still looking at the corpses on the path with wide eyes. This caused Arran some concern ¡ª there were other battles to be fought, and Snowcloud needed to be focused if they were to win.


    "We need to get in position," he said. "There will be others soon. Do you remember what to do?"


    "Hide until they pass me, and don''t attack if there are more than three novices," Snowcloud said. In a quiet voice, she added, "And don''t let any of them escape."


    Arran nodded. "Remember, you can''t show them any mercy. It''s a favor they won''t return." And if she wavered, he thought, she wouldn''t be the only one who paid the price.


    They took up the positions they had agreed on earlier, Snowcloud in the brush along the footpath, and Arran between some shrubs on a small hill two hundred paces away from her.


    In his hand, he held the dragonbone bow Lord Jiang had given him long ago. e hadn''t been strong enough to draw it fully at the time, but now that he could, its arrows struck with enough force to shatter even the thickest oak.


    A single arrow should be enough to kill even a powerful novice, provided they were distracted. And unlike magic attacks, the arrows could only barely be Sensed.


    Now, all he could do was wait. If his plan had worked, their enemies'' numbers would soon be halved. And if it hadn''t¡­ well, best not to think about that.


    He didn''t have to wait long.


    Just a few minutes after they had taken cover, a group of some two dozen men and women appeared in the distance. Arran could feel his heart pound in his chest as they approached ¡ª everything would depend on the next few seconds.


    Yet a moment later, he let out a deep sigh of relief. Within the group, there were two robed figures, a man and a woman, and he knew that these would be the mages. The plan had worked.


    Arran waited impatiently as they came closer. When they reached the brush that held Snowcloud he felt a moment of fear, but they passed it without noticing anything. The trap had been set, and now, all he had to do was wait for Snowcloud to emerge.


    But she didn''t.


    Ten paces, twenty paces, thirty¡­ Arran cursed under his breath when Snowcloud didn''t appear, even as the group moved further along the path. Fifty paces¡­ just a little longer and they would be halfway to Arran.


    Finally, when Arran was already beginning to think of ways to escape, Snowcloud stepped onto the road. She raised her hand, and at the same moment Arran could feel Essence gathering within it, the two mages in the group turned around as one.


    At once, he loosed an arrow. At this distance it struck almost immediately, hitting the robed woman in the back with such force that it tore her body in two.


    A second arrow followed a fraction of a second later, but already the robed man had ducked aside, and the arrow instead ripped through two of the mages'' henchmen before hitting the ground.


    Before Arran could fire another arrow, a massive fireball came soaring his way, and he had no choice but to drop the bow and throw up a Force Shield. The fireball hit the Shield with such force that it threw Arran off his feet, but the Shield held up, and he was unharmed.


    He got to his feet in an instant, and already, he could Sense that the robed man was preparing another attack, while several of the fighters were running toward Arran.


    And still, Snowcloud had done nothing.


    Arran cursed loudly as he rolled to the side, only just avoiding the impact of a second fireball. Fortunately, his opponent wasn''t too strong, but he could not let this continue.


    He drew his sword and dashed forward, his blade cutting through four of the mages'' thugs in rapid succession as he prepared to attack the robed man.


    Yet then, suddenly, he Sensed a massive surge of Fire Essence from Snowcloud''s direction. A moment later, what looked like a streak of yellow-white lightning burst forth from Snowcloud''s hand toward the remaining mage.


    The man was still turned toward Arran, and the attack struck him in the back of the head, the yellow-white lightening bursting from his face as he died instantly.


    But it didn''t stop there. The lightning lashed out again, and again, ripping through the bandits like a scythe through wheat. Before the robed man''s body even hit the ground, all the remaining bandits were dead.


    Arran let out a deep sigh. The fight had been far closer than it should have been ¡ª Snowcloud''s hesitation had nearly cost him his life, and it was only his opponent''s weakness that had saved him. Had the mage been stronger, he knew the battle would have ended differently.


    He approached Snowcloud, anger building inside of him as he realized how close they had come to disaster. Yet just as he was about to shout in rage, she turned toward him, and her appearance almost caused him to stop in his tracks.


    She was pale and trembling, eyes filled with tears. As Arran approached her she gave him a despairing look, and she seemed on the verge of breaking down.


    At this, Arran hesitated. If he exploded now, he feared it might break her spirit. With another battle still ahead, that was something he could not allow.


    "Does it get easier?" she asked after some moments, her voice soft and unsteady.


    Arran could not answer her question. In truth, killing had never been hard for him. Even if hundreds of people had fallen to his hands, he hadn''t lost a single night''s sleep over any of them. He would have preferred for them to stay out of his way, but he felt no guilt for their deaths. Yet he could not tell Snowcloud that ¡ª if he did, he knew she would think him a monster.


    Instead, he reached out and silently hugged her. For several minutes, she cried against his chest, until finally, she looked up at him with red eyes.


    "I suppose we should prepare for the last ones," she said quietly, clearly trying to put on a brave front.


    "We should," Arran answered.

 Chapter 112 Assault on the Fortress

    "I could have gotten us killed," Snowcloud said, a somber tone to her voice.


    "You could have," Arran agreed. "But you didn''t. Let''s leave it at that."


    He still felt some anger at Snowcloud for hesitating in the heat of battle, but there was no point in venting it now. All it could do was further erode her confidence, and that would only increase the risk of it happening again. What he needed now was Snowcloud the way she had been at the end of the battle ¡ª a frighteningly powerful mage.


    "Will you be able to fight?" Arran asked.


    Snowcloud nodded. Although her eyes were still red, the tears had stopped, and she seemed to have calmed down.


    "What do we do now?" she asked.


    "We should take the initiative," Arran said. "They don''t yet know what happened. If we attack now, we have a chance to take them by surprise."


    "All right," Snowcloud said, her expression determined.


    "But you have to be careful," Arran continued. "The ones we face inside will be stronger."


    "How do you know?"


    "They were sent out to deal with a small nuisance," he explained. "That''s something the leaders would leave to their juniors."


    "I suppose that makes sense," Snowcloud replied. "So how do we fight them?"


    "This time, we''ll have to attack head-on, and overwhelm them before they have a chance to respond."


    It wasn''t much of a plan, but waiting longer would just give the remaining deserters more time to prepare. If they attacked right away, at least their targets would be caught off-guard. With their numbers already reduced by two, that should be enough to secure victory.


    Before they left, Arran took the slain novices'' void bags. Snowcloud looked surprised to see this, but Arran shrugged and said, "Maybe they''re carrying Essence Crystals."


    They made their way to the edge of the clearing that held the fortress, and once more, the sight caused Arran some worry.


    Around the fortress was a large clear area without any cover whatsoever, and they would have to run at least a quarter mile before they reached the gate. While that might not be enough time for their enemies to rally their defenses, it would give them an opportunity to sound the alarm.


    Still, there was nothing for it but to run as quickly as they could.


    "We''ll have to run," Arran said, speaking in a low voice. "I''ll take down the gate, then attack with all my strength. What you need to do is hide your power, then attack as soon as the novices appear. Can you do that?"


    "I can," Snowcloud answered with a nod.


    "You can''t hesitate," Arran added. "If you do, I will die."


    "I won''t," Snowcloud said. From the resolute look on her face, it seemed she believed it.


    Of course, in truth, Arran was prepared for the possibility that she would hesitate again. This time, he would not trust her blindly ¡ª after he brought the gate down, he would keep his Force and Wind Essence in reserve, ready to defend himself when the novices appeared.


    "Ready?" Arran gave Snowcloud a questioning look.


    "Let''s go," she replied.


    Arran took a final deep breath. The next few moments would be crucial, and he knew that the faster he ran, the better their chances would be.


    Then, he dashed off toward the fortress, using every bit of strength his body held. He put such force into his strides that his feet tore the ground, and he was already halfway when the first calls of alarm sounded from the fortress.


    Several arrows flew toward him from the stronghold''s walls, but Arran was moving too fast for the archers to hit him ¡ª and even if they did hit, an arrow fired from a normal bow would barely even scratch him.


    He gathered up Force Essence as he ran, and when there were only a few dozen paces left between him and the gate, he launched a powerful Battering Force attack.


    Strong though the gate might be, its iron-reinforced wood stood no chance against Arran''s attack. The gate exploded inward with a deafening crash, the wood shattered and torn from the sheer force of the impact.


    Arran did not pause to admire the damage he had wrought. Without waiting, he ran through the remains of the gate and into the courtyard.


    Within the courtyard was a group of several dozens of bandits, but they looked confused and disorganized, with several only half-dressed ¡ª clearly, they had been roused only moments ago. Arran did not give them any time to get their bearings. He rushed toward the group with his sword drawn, launching several large fireballs into their midst as he moved.


    The attacks hit with devastating effect, killing at least half the group in an instant. Screams of pain came from those who hadn''t been killed instantly, but their suffering was brief ¡ª Arran arrived a moment later, cutting down all who still stood in a matter of moments.


    By then, panic had broken out among the bandits who remained at the edges of the courtyard, and any thoughts they might have had of forming a defense vanished before the chaos unfolding around them. But even as they tried to flee, Arran continued attacking, fire sprouting from his hands, burning bandits and buildings alike.


    As he rained down destruction upon the courtyard and those within it, Arran only barely paid attention to the men he was killing. They posed no real threat, and his real opponents had yet to show themselves.


    The moment he had been anticipating came quickly. Arran Sensed a sudden build-up of Fire Essence that wasn''t his, and he knew one of the novices had appeared. Instantly, he threw up a Force Shield and turned toward the threat, but there was no need ¡ª this time, Snowcloud did not hesitate.


    Before the mage could even launch his attack, he was struck by a massive blow of Wind Essence that rammed into his body with such force he was flung several dozens of paces backward, only halting when he slammed into a wall. His broken body fell to the ground, motionless.


    There was no time to celebrate, however. Even as one deserter died, another revealed himself, throwing a series of fireballs at Snowcloud. She deflected them with what seemed like a shield of Wind Essence, then retaliated with the same yellow-white lightning she had used to kill a novice earlier. Her opponent deflected the attack, but only barely, and he was forced backward.


    As Snowcloud exchanged attacks with the mage, Arran did not intervene. Confident that she would prevail within moments, he focused his attention on finding the remaining deserter.


    The courtyard was empty apart from the slain bandits'' bodies, yet when Arran used his Shadowsight, he was startled to find a figure only a dozen paces behind Snowcloud, approaching her rapidly. He could neither Sense nor see the figure, but there was no time to think about that. If there was a threat, it would not wait for Arran to study it.


    At once, he launched a Battering Force attack at the figure, then followed behind it himself, sword raised.


    The attack hit the figure squarely with ruinous force, and it was sent sprawling to the ground. To Arran''s surprise, there was a slight blur in the air, and a moment later a woman appeared in place of the figure, a sword in her hand and a startled look on her face.


    Arran did not pause to think about what happened. Immediately, he launched a series of powerful sword blows, driving the woman back as she desperately defended herself. Yet despite being taken by surprise, she managed to parry and dodge his attacks, and after a few moments, Arran''s advantage disappeared as she regained her composure.


    Now, it was Arran who found himself on the defense, and he quickly sustained several small injuries. As the woman struck with the sword in her right hand, Arran Sensed a sudden surge of Fire Essence in her left hand. At once, he dodged ¡ª and only narrowly escaped a streak of yellow-white lightning that surged past his face, leaving a painful burn on his cheek.


    He Sensed another swell of Essence in the woman''s hand and was about to raise a Force Shield, but then, the woman was struck by a blast of Wind Essence that nearly took her off her feet. It seemed Snowcloud had finally defeated her opponent and come to Arran''s aid.


    Seeing an opportunity, Arran did not hesitate. In an instant, he rammed his sword through the staggered woman''s chest before she had a chance to recover. A moment later, the Essence in her hand scattered into the air, and her lifeless body slumped to the ground.


    Arran breathed a deep sigh of relief. Once again, the battle had been far closer than he wanted. But they had won, and right now, that was all that mattered.


    When he turned to Snowcloud, there were no tears in her eyes. Instead, her normally pale cheeks were red with exertion, and she had a tired but relieved look on her face.


    "That should be the last of the deserters," Arran said, although he did not dare to let down his guard.


    "I hope so," Snowcloud said, still breathing heavy after the fight. "What do we do now?"


    "Let''s go inside," Arran replied. "We can talk after we clear the fortress."


    Snowcloud nodded, and Arran was reassured when he saw that despite the weary look on her face, her eyes were sharp and focused. It seemed there was hope for her yet.

 Chapter 113 Blood Magic

    Before they entered the keep, Arran gathered up the slain mages'' void bags. Even at a time like this, he wouldn''t risk losing out on any treasures ¡ª whatever dangers still lay ahead in the months to come, he would doubtless find some use for whatever possessions the bags held.


    Snowcloud looked on with a bemused expression, but she didn''t say anything as Arran looted the mages'' bodies. Still, he felt some embarrassment at being watched while he robbed the dead.


    "My grandfather wasn''t a Patriarch," he said, by way of explanation. "I have to make do with what I can take."


    Snowcloud didn''t reply, although her expression turned thoughtful.


    When Arran finished the grim work, he took a look around the courtyard. "You said they''d been taking slaves," he said. "Are you sure about that?"


    So far, the only people he had seen within the fortress walls were armed bandits and the mages who led them. There had been no sign whatsoever of any slaves, servants, or prisoners.


    "I''m sure," Snowcloud replied. "When you were training your Sense, I followed one of their raiding parties to the fortress, and they had several dozens of prisoners with them."


    "I suppose we''ll find them inside," Arran said. "Let''s go."


    They entered the keep cautiously, both of them wary of any sudden attacks. Although the bandit Arran had questioned said there were only five mages, Arran did not put too much faith in the words. The man had hardly been in a calm state of mind, and even if he had been, he still could have lied.


    Conscious of the danger they might still face, Arran kept both his Sense and his Shadowsight primed as they stepped through the keep''s massive doorway. If there was any danger, he would not be taken by surprise.


    Beyond the keep''s doors they found a short hallway, and behind it lay a large dimly lit chamber that held several rows of tables. The tables were filled with fresh food ¡ª the mages'' last meal, Arran guessed. Yet well-used though the chamber seemed, there was no sign of any people here, either.


    They quickly searched the ground floor, and at the back of the keep, they found a small open door that led outside. That explained why there were no bandits in the keep ¡ª they had clearly fled long ago ¡ª but it left open the question of where the prisoners were.


    "We''ll have to check the floors above," Arran said. Perhaps there, they would be able to find at least one or two people who had not yet escaped and knew where they could find the prisoners.


    "Maybe we should split up," Snowcloud said. "It will be faster if we¡ª"


    "No," Arran replied before she could even finish the sentence. "We stay together."


    Once more, he found himself puzzled at Snowcloud''s naivety. It seemed that her sheltered upbringing and her staggering power had together left her almost blind to danger, with a casual confidence that could get them both killed if Arran did not put a halt to it.


    Fortunately, she seemed to be aware of her own inexperience, and she had followed Arran''s lead without objecting. If not for that, Arran thought, he would already have left.


    They found a staircase in a small room to the side of the main chamber and quickly made their way up the stairs.


    The upper floors turned out to hold the mages'' chambers, which were spacious and well-furnished, though not to the point of lavishness. There were several items of interest here ¡ª gold, some scrolls, and a herb collection that caused Snowcloud to cry out in excitement ¡ª but once more, there was no sign of any people whatsoever.


    As they made their way back down to the main chamber, Arran silently wondered where the prisoners were. Although it was possible that they had fled with the bandits, that seemed unlikely ¡ª the bandits had fled in a panic, and they certainly didn''t have the time to escort a group of prisoners out of the fortress.


    "Maybe there''s a dungeon?" Snowcloud offered, her brow furrowed in thought. It was obvious that the absence of any prisoners mystified her as much as it did Arran.


    "We''ve already searched the ground floor," Arran said. "And there was no sign of any dungeon."


    "Give me a moment," Snowcloud replied. For several seconds, she stood motionless, a look of concentration on her face.


    Just as Arran was about to ask what she was doing, she exclaimed, "Found it!" and headed toward one of the small rooms at the side of the main chamber.


    Arran followed behind her, puzzled. They had already searched the room and it was completely empty, without any doors or hatches.


    Yet Snowcloud confidently walked inside, then put her hand against the wall. A moment later, Arran could feel Essence emanating from her hand, and at once, the wall slid to the side, revealing a stone staircase leading downward.


    "How did you know about that?" Arran asked, both surprised and impressed.


    "I saw a similar hidden door in the Valley once," Snowcloud replied. "If you know what to look for and your Sense is strong enough, you can detect the Essence of the mechanism."


    Arran nodded, understanding that her Sense was still far superior to his own.


    "Let''s head down," he said. "If the prisoners are still in the fortress, they''ll be there."


    They headed down the stairs, even more vigilant than before as they descended. While this would be the most likely place to find any remaining prisoners, it was also the most likely place to find any remaining threats.


    The stairway was long, but eventually, they reached a small room at its bottom. The room only had a single door, and behind it, they found a long, wide hallway. The sides of the hallway were lined with large metal cages, each big enough to hold over a dozen people.


    Yet all of the cages were completely empty, and the moment they stepped into the hallway, Arran was hit by a familiar stench ¡ª the stench of death, only far stronger than he had ever encountered it.


    They silently walked through the hallway, neither of them needing words to understand the fate of the prisoners. The only questions that remained now were who had killed them, and why.


    Arran drew his sword as they advanced, gathering Essence in his left hand to attack the moment it was needed. Beside him, Snowcloud did the same.


    Slowly, they moved forward, ready to strike in an instant. Yet no attacks came and no enemies appeared, and they reached the end of the hallway unhindered, finding that it led to a large circular chamber.


    The stench of death was even stronger in the chamber than it had been in the hallway, and Arran immediately saw why: along the side of the chamber lay numerous piles of bones and severed limbs, haphazardly stacked as if they were trash. At a glance, he knew hundreds had died here, if not more.


    Despite the gruesome scene, his attention was instantly drawn to the center of the chamber, where a small altar stood. The altar was round and drenched in blood, but about a pace above it, a bright crimson orb hovered in mid-air.


    "Blood magic," Snowcloud spat the words in a tone that held equal parts anger and disgust.


    "What is that thing?" Arran asked, gesturing at the red orb.


    "A Blood Crystal. Someone sacrificed thousands of people to make this¡­ monstrosity," she replied, her voice shaking with anger.


    "The deserters?" Arran asked.


    Snowcloud shook her head. "They weren''t nearly powerful enough for something like this. This¡­ this requires great strength, and even greater evil."


    "Then we should leave," Arran said. "Now."


    He quickly made his way to the center of the chamber and reached to grab the red orb from above the altar.


    "What are you doing?!" Snowcloud cried out.


    "I''m taking this thing," Arran said. "It''s powerful, right?"


    "You can''t do that," Snowcloud said, voice filled with shock as she seemed to understand his intentions. "It''s evil. Thousands of people were murdered to create it."


    "Leaving it here won''t bring them back," Arran replied. "And I played no part in their deaths."


    "But you did."


    The last words came from a raspy, hissing voice, and the moment Arran heard it, a wave of dread washed over him. It was a feeling of terror so strong it left him almost unable to move, and he instantly recognized it ¡ª he had felt the sensation once before in his life, and it was something he would not lightly forget.


    He did not need to look to know whose voice it was.

 Chapter 114 A Debt Repaid

    The oppressive sense of dread made it hard for Arran to even move, but with some effort, he managed to turn his head toward the origin of the voice.


    When he did, the sight was shocking, but not unexpected. Before him stood a gaunt, pale figure, lacking a nose, and with two black holes where its eyes should be.


    It was the creature Arran had freed from the Academy''s prison over a year ago. At the time, he had hoped he would never see it again, but it seemed his luck had failed him. The creature had somehow made its way across the border, and now, it was here.


    Still, now that he knew what was happening, he found the creature''s aura of terror easier to resist, if only slightly. The fear wasn''t his own, and just knowing that, he could fight it like he would any other attack.


    "Did Panurge send you?" he asked, forcing himself to speak even as the creature''s presence weighed down on him. He feared that if he gave in to the pressure for even a moment, there would be no coming back.


    "The trickster does not command me," the creature answered in its raspy voice.


    "Then why are you here?" Arran asked.


    "There is a debt," the creature said. "Today, it will be repaid."


    "Repaid? How?"


    The creature did not answer, instead silently stretching a bony arm in the direction of the Blood Crystal. At its gesture, the crimson orb floated through the air, moving toward Arran.


    "I don''t want it!" Arran blurted out. He had wanted to take the orb only moments ago, but now that the creature was involved, his desire for the power it held had been well and truly extinguished.


    "The debt will be repaid," the creature hissed.


    Arran tried to move his hands in front of him to stop the orb, but he found himself completely unable to move as the creature''s aura suddenly surged in strength. As the pressure on his mind rose, his consciousness began to slip, and the panic he felt now was all his own.


    "Nourish it well," the creature''s gravelly voice spoke as Arran''s vision turned blurry. "And you will get the power you covet."


    With that, Arran''s consciousness faded entirely.


    When he awoke, he was lying on the ground in the circular chamber. Somehow, the stench of death had disappeared, and the chamber was now completely empty, with both the mutilated body parts and the altar gone.


    Snowcloud was lying on the floor a few paces from Arran, and although she was unconscious, she seemed otherwise unharmed.


    For some moments, Arran stood silently in the chamber. Briefly, he entertained the idea that it had all been a dream or an illusion, but he quickly rejected the thought. Now that he had been reminded of the Academy''s prison, he could see that this dungeon had been created in its semblance ¡ª deep underground, with a long hallway leading to a large circular chamber, the resemblance was too accurate to be a coincidence.


    Yet at the same time, many things about the situation made no sense. If it had all been real, the creature had somehow known Arran would be there long before he arrived, spending weeks or even months creating the Blood Crystal. That would mean it had come here before Arran even crossed the border.


    And then, there was the Blood Crystal itself. Arran did not know what happened after he lost consciousness, but he could feel no difference within himself.


    He knelt by Snowcloud''s side, shaking her a few times until finally, her eyes slowly opened.


    "What happened?" she asked, her expression confused. "Where are we? I remember stepping into the hallway, and then, a horrible sense of dread¡­" Her face turned fearful as she seemed to recall the feeling.


    "I don''t know," Arran lied. "I was unconscious as well."


    If it had all been real, he had unleashed a terrible monster on the world. And worse, the creature had killed thousands of people, apparently to repay a debt it thought it owed Arran. If he told Snowcloud and she believed the story, she might hold him responsible for the deaths or even think he was in league with the creature.


    "There must have been some kind of magical trap," Snowcloud said as she sat up. "It''s a good thing we already killed the mages ¡ª with both of us unconscious, we were completely defenseless."


    Arran nodded in agreement. "Do you have any idea how long we were out?" he asked, in an attempt to steer the conversation away from the source of their stupor.


    Snowcloud hesitated, then said, "It must have been days."


    "Days? Why do you think so?"


    "Your face is completely healed," she answered, looking at Arran.


    When Arran touched his cheek with his hand, he was surprised to find she was right. During the fight against the deserters, the last mage had left a deep burn on the side of his face. Yet now, it was completely gone, not even a scar remaining.


    "We should go," Arran said.


    "What about the prisoners?"


    "Wherever they are, it isn''t here."


    Snowcloud nodded, though her expression remained troubled. Yet she seemed as eager as Arran to leave the dungeon behind, and they quickly made their way up the stairs, then out of the keep.


    It was dark outside, with only a crescent moon lighting the night sky. But even with what little light the moon provided, Arran could see that the bodies in the courtyard were still fresh ¡ª which meant that they had been unconscious for hours, not days.


    Snowcloud did not appear to notice, however. Instead of looking at the bodies that littered the courtyard, she seemed to make an effort to ignore them, and for once, Arran was glad for her squeamishness.


    "Let''s leave," she said in a low voice. "I want to be far away from here. This place feels¡­ wrong."


    They left the fortress under cover of night, using just their Sense to guide the way. For the first hour, neither of them spoke much, both of them still thinking about the things that had happened at the fortress ¡ª though for entirely different reasons.


    It was only after they had put a good few miles between themselves and the fortress that they both relaxed a little, and finally, Arran spoke.


    "That last mage we fought," he said. "She went invisible. How did she do that?"


    "I can''t be sure, but I think she used a spell called Shadowcloak," Snowcloud answered. "It''s one of the Society''s more powerful secrets."


    "Do you know how to do it?" Arran asked.


    Snowcloud shook her head. "I''m neither skilled enough nor strong enough to handle it," she said. "Only novices who are close to becoming adepts can cast it, and even then, only some of them can do it well."


    Arran rubbed his chin, disappointed that Snowcloud would not be able to teach him the spell. A way to turn invisible would certainly come in useful, but if Snowcloud wasn''t able to perform it, then he still had a long way to go before he could even begin to learn it.


    With a thought, he asked, "So does that mean she was stronger than you?"


    "She must have been," Snowcloud said. In a thoughtful voice, she added, "If she had attacked us head-on with the others, we probably would have died."


    "Then it''s a good thing she didn''t," Arran replied, though the thought sent a chill down his spine.


    They kept talking as they walked, both of them growing more comfortable as they traveled farther from the fortress. Nevertheless, Arran could tell Snowcloud was still shaken from the battle. Even if she pretended to be composed, he could hear a slight tremble in her voice whenever the conversation touched on the battle they had fought.


    Meanwhile, Arran''s thoughts kept straying to the events in the dungeon. Although he wanted to believe it had all just been a dream, the events were too vivid in his memory for him to truly believe that. He did not know what had happened after he lost consciousness, but he did not believe the creature had left before it repaid its debt ¡ª whatever that meant.


    It was near dawn when they stopped to make camp, but even so, Arran''s thoughts kept him awake for several more hours. When he finally fell asleep, the sun had already risen.

 Chapter 115 Exchanging Knowledge

    "They only had twelve Essence Crystals between the five of them?"


    Arran looked in disappointment at the void bags in front of him. He had hoped there would be dozens if not hundreds of Essence Crystals among the mages'' belongings, but after half an hour of careful searching, he had found no more than twelve.


    Snowcloud had taken all the herbs and potions the bags contained, but other than that, she seemed to have no real interest in the mages'' belongings ¡ª not even the Essence Crystals, whose quality she had deemed insufficient. That left Arran with a princely sum of gold, as well as a small pile of valuables. And, most importantly, twelve Essence Crystals that looked to be of decent quality, no matter what Snowcloud said.


    "You''re lucky you found even that much," Snowcloud said. "Most novices use Essence Crystals as soon as they create them."


    "You don''t," Arran pointed out, well aware that she carried around a stash of high-quality Essence Crystals.


    "I''m not most novices," she replied with a shrug.


    It was true, of course ¡ª as the granddaughter of the Sixth Valley''s Patriarch, Snowcloud probably had access to resources that Arran could only dream of having.


    "If you''re so wealthy, there''s no need to be so stingy," Arran said, only half-joking. While the deserters'' Essence Crystals would keep him supplied for a few weeks, he knew he would soon run out again. And then, he would once more have to rely on his own limited skill in purifying Essence.


    "I barely have enough for myself to last the year," she said. "But if you want, you can earn one right now."


    "What do I have to do?" Arran asked, his interest immediately sparked at the prospect of earning more of Snowcloud''s high-quality Essence Crystals.


    "At the fortress, you spotted a novice while she used a Shadowcloak," Snowcloud said. "I''ll give you an Essence Crystal if you tell me how you did that. Two, if you can teach me how to do it as well."


    "Deal," Arran replied. The exchange was little more than an act of charity from Snowcloud, he knew. There was no need for her to promise payment for the answer ¡ª if she told him to reveal the secret, he would have little choice but to share it with her. But fortunately, it seemed that she was willing to reward him for teaching her the technique.


    The prospect of two more Essence Crystals in the back of his mind, Arran explained the Shadowsight technique in as much detail as he could, but even so, it didn''t take him much time to cover all of it. The technique was almost comically simple, and some small part of him feared that Snowcloud would laugh at its sheer plainness.


    He quickly discovered that he need not have feared Snowcloud''s reaction, however, because she looked on in wide-eyed wonder as he explained the technique. From the look in her eyes, it was almost as if he was telling her some profound secret.


    "That''s amazing," she said when he finished the explanation. "I''ve never heard of anyone using Shadow Essence like that. And you can use it to make out any solid object?"


    "It works with anything that doesn''t let my Shadow Essence through," Arran confirmed.


    "I can''t believe I''ve never heard of this technique before," she said. "It''s so simple, but it completely counters Shadowcloak."


    "Nobody in the Shadowflame Society has come up with it before?"


    "I don''t know," Snowcloud replied. "But if anyone thought of it before you, they definitely didn''t share it with the rest of the Society."


    "How could so many people miss something so obvious, though?" Arran asked.


    Although he would like to believe he had made some genius invention that thousands of others had overlooked, that seemed too unlikely an explanation to be true.


    "I think it''s because Shadow is one of the most difficult Realms to train," Snowcloud said. "By the time most Shadowflame members'' Shadow Realms are strong enough to use this technique, they''ve already spent years training and relying on their Sense. By then, finding another technique to achieve something similar might not be as obvious."


    "Shadow is difficult to train?" Arran asked. He had never actively tried to train it, so he didn''t know how it compared to other Realms.


    Snowcloud raised an eyebrow at the question. "Don''t you know?" she asked, looking at Arran as if he just told her he didn''t know what bread was.


    "I opened my Realms using Realm Opening Pills," Arran explained. "I never actually spent any time training my Shadow Realm."


    "Pills? More than one?" Snowcloud gave him an intrigued look. "Just how strong is your Shadow Realm?"


    "About the same strength as my Fire Realm, I suppose," Arran answered. He had never given the matter much thought, because he''d had little use for Shadow Essence until recently.


    "That strong?!" Snowcloud gaped in astonishment. "Your Shadow Realm is as strong as your Fire Realm?!"


    "That''s unusual?" Arran asked, startled by Snowcloud''s reaction.


    "Unusual?" She looked at Arran with wide eyes, then shook her head. "It''s completely unheard of."


    "Then what makes it so difficult to train?" Arran asked, understanding that there must be some obstacle that he had skipped over with the help of the pills.


    "It''s a useless Realm," Snowcloud said. "At least, until you become strong enough to use spells like Shadowcloak. You can train Realms like Fire and Wind just by using them during combat practice, but training Shadow requires years of dedicated work before you can do anything even remotely useful with it." She sighed, then added, "You have no idea how lucky you are."


    "Does that mean I''m strong enough to learn the Shadowcloak spell?"


    "A hundred times over," Snowcloud replied, some envy in her eyes. "But you need more than just strength, and your control of Essence isn''t good enough."


    Arran nodded in understanding. That he needed to improve his control was no news to him, but to do so, he needed more Essence Crystals. And right now, Snowcloud was his best source for those, reluctant though she might be to part with them.


    "So can you use the Shadowsight technique?" he asked, wondering if he''d earned the second Essence Crystal.


    Snowcloud didn''t reply immediately. Instead, a look of concentration appeared on her face, and Arran knew she was attempting to use Shadowsight. Yet after only a few moments, a disappointed expression appeared on her face.


    "I''m not strong enough," she said, sounding dejected. "I can use the technique, but I can barely extend my Shadow Essence a pace around me before it becomes too thin to Sense."


    "Do I still get my Essence Crystals?"


    Snowcloud chuckled, then reached for her void bag. "I''ll give you three. The technique is excellent, even if I''m not strong enough to use it yet."


    Arran accepted the crystals eagerly. With these and the ones he''d taken from the deserters, he had enough for several weeks of steady progress, provided he didn''t use them all at once.


    "You''ll be able to get your hands on more of them soon, though," Snowcloud said. "There''s a city about two weeks from here, and that''s where we''re heading next. Once we''re there, you can trade some of your treasures for Essence Crystals."


    "A city? Here?" Arran frowned. To his mind, the lands beyond the border only held a vast and dangerous wilderness, with perhaps a few scattered villages. After everything he''d heard about the dangers that lay beyond the border, he had a hard time imagining an entire city in so hostile a place.


    "You didn''t think the world ended at the border, did you?" Snowcloud gave him an amused look. "There are countless towns and cities on this side, and if you travel farther from the border, you''ll even find kingdoms and empires."

 Chapter 116 Goldhaven

    "Just how much farther is this city of yours?" Arran asked, suppressing a yawn. It was halfway through the morning, and they had broken camp at dawn ¡ª just a few hours before Arran went to sleep after practicing his magic well into the night.


    Well over two weeks had passed since Snowcloud had announced they would visit the city ¡ª Goldhaven, she said it was called ¡ª but although she claimed the journey would only take them a week or two, they still had yet to see any sign of the city.


    "I don''t know," Snowcloud replied. "I''ve only seen it on maps, and good maps are hard to find. But we should be going in the right direction, so we''ll get there sooner or later."


    In truth, Arran wasn''t too concerned with the length of the journey. Between training and absorbing his newly acquired Essence Crystals, he was busy whenever they camped, and the days of travel were a welcome break from practice.


    When they reached Goldhaven, there would be no more days of strolling through the countryside. And that likely meant he would spend most of his time in some inn, practicing his magic until Snowcloud concluded whatever business she had in Goldhaven.


    "You told me I can buy Essence Crystals in Goldhaven," he said. "Who''s selling them?"


    "From what I''ve heard, just about everyone," Snowcloud said. "Novices in need of gold, Shadowflame members who live beyond the border, bandits and rogue mages who caught novices ¡ª Essence Crystals are valuable, and this is one of the few places outside the Valleys where they can be traded, so Goldhaven draws commerce from all over the region."


    "Bandits are selling the loot they took from novices? And nobody kills them for it?" Arran looked at Snowcloud in wonder.


    "The ruler of Goldhaven doesn''t allow open violence in the city," Snowcloud replied. "And he''s known to be an extraordinarily powerful mage, so there are few who would dare violate his laws. But of course, once people leave the city, things are different."


    "But the Shadowflame Society just allows it?" Arran asked, frowning. "A city where bandits can freely sell the things they take from novices they kill?"


    "If the Society wiped out the city, another would just take its place," Snowcloud said with a sigh. "And if Goldhaven''s ruler isn''t exactly an ally of the Society, he''s not an enemy either. On this side of the border, that''s as much as we can ask for."


    Arran nodded, although he could not help but be puzzled by her answer. From what he knew, the Shadowflame Society was immensely powerful, yet Snowcloud spoke as if it held barely any influence in this region.


    Seeing the questioning look on Arran''s face, Snowcloud continued, "You have to understand that we don''t rule these lands. We fight threats to the Empire, but we cannot control everything that happens here."


    "Has the Shadowflame Society ever tried to take over the borderlands?" Arran asked. "I mean, to control them?"


    Snowcloud laughed. "That''s what the Soaring Sun faction thinks we should do. Gather our strength and take the borderlands by force, defeating our enemies before they ever get the chance to move on the Empire."


    "It''s not a bad idea though, is it?" Arran insisted. "The Shadowflame Society should be strong enough to take and hold at least a few hundred miles of land beyond the border."


    "It would mean decades of war," Snowcloud replied. "Many of the different factions and groups here would unite against us. And even if we prevailed, it would only move the border further west ¡ª and beyond the new border, there would be other threats."


    "So you oppose the Soaring Sun faction?"


    "I didn''t say that. The risk of doing what they propose would be enormous, but so is the risk of doing nothing as our enemies grow stronger with each passing year." She shook her head. "I don''t have a solution to the Society''s problems. I don''t even know if there is one."


    Arran was about to ask just how big the Shadowflame Society''s problems were, when suddenly, something in the distance caught his eye. Although it was still miles away, he could vaguely see a vast tower rising above the tree line, like a giant tree rising above a field of grass.


    "Look over there!" he said, pointing at the tower. "What is that?"


    Snowcloud looked in the distance, and her lips curled into a smile when she saw the tower. "That should be Goldhaven," she said. "If I''m right, the tower is part of the ruler''s castle."


    Their goal in sight, they hastened their pace, hurrying toward the tower in the distance. As they advanced, however, Snowcloud seemed to grow tenser with every step, until eventually, she suddenly halted.


    "Be careful," she said in a low voice. "The area around the city is supposed to be dangerous. Once we''re in sight of the walls we''ll be safe, but until then, be prepared for an attack."


    Arran nodded, understanding the situation. If the city held novices, bandits, and rogue mages alike, all trading Essence Crystals, gold, and others treasures, then the region around the city would certainly attract those seeking to take those treasures by force.


    Yet no attack came, and less than half an hour later, Snowcloud sighed in relief when they finally saw the city''s walls appear in the distance. It seemed that today, they had been lucky.


    Arran immediately found himself in awe at the sight of the city ¡ª or rather, its walls, which were so high that they obscured whatever else the city might hold. The walls stood at least a hundred feet tall if not more, with the only thing rising above them the tower, which he now saw stretched several hundreds of feet into the sky.


    From what he could see, the city looked like an impregnable fortress, built to withstand sieges by even the largest armies. No matter how dangerous the borderlands might be, he could not imagine anyone posing even the slightest threat to defenses this formidable.


    "It''s amazing," he said, eyes full of wonder at the massive fortifications.


    "It has to be," Snowcloud said with a laugh. "Otherwise, it wouldn''t have lasted for centuries in the middle of the borderlands."


    As they approached the city, Arran could see a road about half a mile from them, leading up to a massive gate within the city walls. There was some traffic on the road ¡ª merchants and traders, he thought, though each appeared to be escorted by a group of well-armed guards ¡ª but it came to a halt in front of the gate, where a line of people patiently waited to be let into the city.


    Arran and Snowcloud made their way to the back of the line. Before them was a small group of what looked to be mages, although they did not appear to be Shadowflame mages, novices or otherwise. These, he thought, must be rogue mages, and seeing them he almost felt tempted to attack, just to see how much his training over the past months had accomplished.


    The line moved slowly, but after just over half an hour, Arran and Snowcloud finally reached the gate. The mages before them were waved through without delay, yet when it was their turn to enter, one of the guards silently motioned for them to stop, while another hurriedly moved through the gate.


    For several minutes they stood there in silence, and Arran was already beginning to feel worried at the delay when a well-dressed man emerged from the gate.


    "Lady Snowcloud?" the man asked.


    Snowcloud gave him a look of shock at being recognized, which the man seemed to take as confirmation.


    "Please follow me," he said. "Lord Sevaril has requested your presence."

 Chapter 117 Lord Sevaril

    The man led Arran and Snowcloud through the city at a quick pace, but although he seemed both friendly and polite, Arran could not help but notice that a few paces behind them followed half a dozen guards. If they weren''t exactly prisoners, it was clear that they weren''t free to go, either.


    But there was no point in worrying about that. For the time being, all they could do was follow behind the well-dressed man, and hope that he wasn''t leading them to imprisonment ¡ª or worse. Within the city, Arran knew, any attempt to escape would likely end in disaster.


    As they moved through the streets, Arran looked around and found himself impressed by what he saw. Goldhaven was clearly a wealthy city, with wide streets, large stone buildings, and numerous shops and stores.


    The crowds were thick, and although most of the people Arran saw looked to be merchants and traders, he could also see many wearing the armor of mercenaries or bandits, and more than a few who were dressed like mages.


    Their escort led them through the crowds with practiced ease, and Arran was surprised that despite the guards accompanying them, they didn''t draw more than a handful of curious looks. It seemed that in Goldhaven, people being escorted by guards was common enough to not draw any overt attention.


    The city was large, although perhaps not quite as large as Hillfort, but with their escort guiding the way it did not take long before Arran could see that they were nearing the ruler''s castle.


    The sight of it filled him with an even greater sense of awe than the city''s walls had. The castle was enormous, with massive, weathered walls that appeared to be far older than the rest of the city. And although the walls were a good fifty feet high, above them rose a vast keep that was at least twice their height.


    Yet all of that paled in comparison to the tower that rose up from the keep. Even from miles away it had been staggeringly tall, but now that Arran saw it up close, the sheer size of it seemed to border on the impossible. The tower reached so far up into the sky that it almost touched the clouds, and its base was several hundreds of paces across, wide enough that the tower looked almost large enough to hold a sizable town all by itself.


    When they reached the castle gates, the guards there waved them through with a quick look at their escort, but the ones who had accompanied them through the city remained behind, outside the gates. It seemed that within the castle, there was no need for a guard detail.


    They crossed the courtyard, then entered the keep. Arran marveled at its size, but he did not have much time to gawk at the sights, because their escort kept up a rapid pace as they moved through the keep''s halls and hallways. It only took a few minutes before they reached the back of the keep, where the tower stood.


    When they entered the tower, Arran could see that it was far older than the rest of the keep. This caused him some wonder, and he realized that the tower must have been there first, with the castle built around it only centuries later, and the city following later still.


    Within the tower, they ascended a steep staircase, and Arran quickly understood that although he had Sensed nothing unusual from their escort, the man must be a mage or Body Refiner ¡ª no commoner would have been able to scale the stairs so rapidly. Of course, being mages themselves, neither Arran nor Snowcloud had any trouble keeping up with him.


    They climbed the seemingly endless stairs for what seemed like nearly half an hour, passing dozens of floors, each of which held a hallway and a number of closed doors. Finally, however, at what Arran thought should be one of the uppermost floors, their escort stepped into a hallway, then hurriedly walked to the large door at the end of it.


    He gave the door a single soft knock, and a moment later, it swung open. He motioned for Arran and Snowcloud to go inside, but when they did, he did not follow them inside, instead closing the door behind them.


    Inside, they found a large, semicircular chamber, its high walls holding large windows that likely overlooked the city. Arran had no time to give the chamber a closer look, however, because at the center of the chamber stood a tall man, who cast an appraising look at Arran and Snowcloud when they stepped inside.


    This, he knew, must be the ruler of Goldhaven ¡ª Lord Sevaril.


    He had short hair and wore a gray robe, with a smoothly shaved face that showed no signs of old age. Had it not been for his paper-white hair, Arran could easily have mistaken him for someone in his thirties. Yet as Arran looked at him, he saw that there was a wizened look to the man''s eyes, as if they had seen countless centuries pass.


    "Young Lady Snowcloud," the man said. "You took a great risk in coming here."


    "Lord Sevaril," Snowcloud said, offering a slight bow. "I always heard that of all the places in the borderlands, Goldhaven ranks among the safest."


    "For others, that holds true," Lord Sevaril replied. "But for one such as yourself, who has such value to so many, things are different."


    "Value?" Snowcloud asked, her expression uncomfortable. "I''m just a lowly novice. Why would I have value to others?"


    "You''re the granddaughter of the Sixth Valley''s Patriarch," Lord Sevaril said plainly. "And Elder Fang is so concerned with your wellbeing that he has offered a reward for your safe and rapid return ¡ª a sum large enough to catch even my interest. I suspect that even as we speak, there are hundreds of people looking for you."


    "He did what?!" Snowcloud asked, her expression now turning ugly. "He has no right to force me to return!"


    "Perhaps not," Lord Sevaril replied. "But in the face of such rewards, rights matter little. Still, he should be the least of your concerns."


    "The least of my concerns?" Snowcloud gave him a questioning look, some worry in her eyes.


    "There are others who are even more interested in you than Lord Fang," Lord Sevaril said. "And unlike him, they would prefer for you not to return safely."


    Snowcloud remained silent for a moment, but then, to Arran''s surprise, she answered in a sharp voice, "Then let them come. I''ll burn the eyes from their heads."


    At this, Lord Sevaril let out a high-pitched laugh.


    "Your mother''s blood runs strong in you," he said once he finished laughing, his voice now holding a warmth that had been absent earlier. Yet then, his expression grew serious, and he continued, "But you must know where her path led. Are you certain you want to follow in her footsteps?"


    "So you know what I''m looking for," Snowcloud said, ignoring his question. "Can you help me?"


    "Wait," Arran cut in. He now understood that Snowcloud somehow knew Lord Sevaril, but other than that, none of what was said made any sense to him. "What the hell is going on here? What path are you talking about?"

 Chapter 118 The Formula

    Lord Sevaril gave Arran a bemused glance, then turned his attention back to Snowcloud. "You haven''t told your companion about your mission?"


    "He''s my recruit," she answered. Then, some color appearing on her cheeks, she added, "And no, I haven''t yet told him everything."


    "Told me what?" Arran asked. He could tell that the issue was an important one, but he still had no idea what Snowcloud and Lord Sevaril were talking about. Nor, for that matter, how they even knew each other.


    "You should tell him," Lord Sevaril said, his expression serious. "Ill-mannered though he may be, if he is to accompany you, he should know the dangers."


    "What dangers?" Arran obviously knew that even traveling in the region was dangerous, but it was clear that what Lord Sevaril was talking about was something far beyond the normal risks travelers faced. And anything that someone with the power to hold a city in the borderlands feared was something that Arran knew would be cause for concern.


    Snowcloud hesitated for several moments, a look of worry in her eyes. "All right," she said eventually. "I''ll explain."


    Arran looked at her in anticipation, already wondering just what kind of mess he''d gotten himself involved in.


    "My mother was an alchemist," she began. "When Grandfather fell ill, she suspected he had been poisoned, and devised a formula she believed would cure him. But it required a number of extremely rare ingredients, and some of them could only be found across the border. She went to retrieve them, and when she failed to come back even after months had passed, my father set off in search of her. Neither of them ever returned."


    Briefly, she went quiet, and Arran saw a pained look in her eyes. When she spoke again, there was a slight tremble to her voice.


    "I was a child at the time," she continued, "but I started searching through my mother''s notes, trying to find anything that could help me discover where she was. I didn''t find her location, but from her notes, I eventually pieced together the formula for the cure she was working on. That''s why I traveled across the border ¡ª to finish the work my mother started."


    "Is that why you''re so obsessed with herbalism?" Arran asked, finally beginning to understand. "You want to save your grandfather?"


    Snowcloud nodded. "But it''s not just about Grandfather. If my parents are still alive, he''s the only one who can find them."


    "It was almost a decade ago," Lord Sevaril said in a soft voice. "I think you should consider the¡ª"


    "I''m not a child anymore," Snowcloud interrupted him. "I''ve long known that they''re probably dead. But if there''s even the slightest chance, I can''t let it slip away. I''m not strong enough myself, but once Grandfather is cured¡­"


    Her voice trailed off before she finished the sentence, but Arran didn''t need to hear the rest of her words to know what she was thinking. The Patriarch should be a powerful mage, and if he was cured, he could search where she couldn''t. Still, after nearly a decade, Arran could not help but think that any chance of finding her parents alive was long gone.


    "If you have a formula that might save the Patriarch ¡ª your grandfather ¡ª why haven''t you given it to one of the Sixth Valley''s Elders?" he asked. "Surely their chances of finding the ingredients you need would be better than your own."


    "Haven''t you been listening?" There was a sharpness to Snowcloud''s voice as she answered. "My mother believed Grandfather was poisoned, and when she left in search of a cure, both she and my father disappeared. Whoever is behind it must hold a position of power within the Society ¡ª an Elder, or even an entire faction."


    "And they know you''re searching for the cure?"


    "Of course not," Snowcloud replied. "If they even knew I had the formula, I would probably be dead already."


    "So how do you fit into all of this?" Arran asked, looking at Lord Sevaril. The man had barely said a word since Snowcloud started speaking, instead silently observing her and Arran with a thoughtful expression.


    "The Patriarch and I are friends, after a fashion," Lord Sevaril replied. "When his daughter came to me for help, I offered what I could. Now that his granddaughter is here, I shall do the same."


    "But if the Patriarch is your friend, can''t you find the ingredients?" Arran asked. "You''re powerful, aren''t you? Your chances of success must be greater than ours."


    Lord Sevaril let out a mirthless chuckle. "If power was the only obstacle, I could solve the problem easily. But finding rare alchemical ingredients and natural treasures¡­ that requires luck and time more than it does power. And while I like to believe that my luck is good, I cannot leave the city for months, much less years. If I did, there would be only ruins when I returned."


    "But can''t you send some of your men to search for the ingredients?" Arran insisted.


    "I can, and I have," Lord Sevaril replied. "All but a few of the ingredients required are already in my possession."


    At this, Snowcloud''s eyes went wide with joy. "You''ve already gathered most of the ingredients?!"


    "Of course," Lord Sevaril said, a small smile on his lips. "When your mother was here, she gave me a list of the ingredients she required. After she disappeared, I took it upon myself to gather as many of them as I could, hoping that you would appear here one day."


    "So you knew I would come?" Snowcloud asked.


    "I knew you have your mother''s blood," the man replied. "I hoped you would have her strength of will as well. And it seems my hopes were not unfounded."


    "And there are just a few ingredients left now?"


    Snowcloud looked at Lord Sevaril eagerly as she asked the question, and Arran realized that this was the first time he had seen her truly happy, despite them already having traveled together for months. Yet now, he could better understand her previous joyless demeanor ¡ª she had embarked on a journey that had already likely taken the lives of both her parents.


    That last part caused him more than a little worry, of course. Anyone capable of poisoning the Patriarch and killing or capturing Snowcloud''s parents would certainly have terrifying power, and the ruthlessness to match it.


    "I have found all but a handful of the ingredients," Lord Sevaril confirmed. "But finding the final ones will require great luck, and involve even greater danger." He turned to Arran. "Now that you know the truth, are you still willing to continue this journey?"


    For several moments, Arran considered the situation. Even if there was danger ahead, he saw opportunity as well.


    If he accompanied Snowcloud and they succeeded in finding the ingredients needed to cure the Patriarch, there would undoubtedly be many rewards. In one fell swoop, Arran could carve out a position within the Shadowflame Society that should guarantee him all the resources he needed for his training.


    On the other hand, if he turned back now, he would be stranded in the borderlands, without even a novice to accompany him. If he could even make it back to the Sixth Valley by himself, he had no idea if he would be allowed to enter without the novice who recruited him.


    "I''ll stay with Snowcloud," he answered, having made up his mind.


    "Excellent," Lord Sevaril said, smiling broadly. "Then I won''t have to kill you. Now, shall we take a look at the ingredients I have gathered so far?"

 Chapter 119 Ingredients

    Lord Sevaril and Snowcloud descended the stairs, with Arran warily following a few paces behind them. Lord Sevaril''s casual death threat had not come as a complete surprise to Arran ¡ª knowing Snowcloud''s secrets obviously carried risks ¡ª but it had served as yet another reminder of his precarious situation.


    The fact of the matter was that he had no powerful backers or allies. If any one of the powerful mages he encountered decided to kill him, there would be nobody to avenge his death. If he was to rely on anyone to protect him, it would have to be himself, and for that, he needed to become more powerful. But gaining power required time and resources, and right now, he was short on both.


    A few floors below the chamber where they had first met Lord Sevaril, the man left the staircase and stepped into the hallway, coming to a stop before a heavy wooden door at its far end.


    "This is the ingredient storage room," Lord Sevaril said to Snowcloud. "You''ll find that I have made a fair effort to find all you need, and then some."


    He opened the door without ceremony, then stepped inside, Snowcloud and Arran entering behind him.


    When they entered the chamber, Arran was immediately astounded at what he saw. The chamber was vast and full of endless rows of shelves, each carrying a multitude of bottles, jars, flasks, and boxes. If each of these was filled with herbs and other ingredients, then the chamber held a fortune beyond compare.


    Snowcloud''s shock seemed even greater than Arran''s. She stood wide-eyed and open-mouthed at the entrance of the chamber, looking around in silent astonishment.


    "All but a few of the ingredients you need should be here," Lord Sevaril said. "But going through the entire collection will take you a few days."


    His voice held a tone of barely concealed pride, and Arran couldn''t blame him. Gathering such a massive collection of ingredients must have been a monumental task even if the ingredients were common ones, and Arran was certain that many of these would be anything but common ¡ª even if he knew little of herbalism, he could Sense the Natural Essence emanating from the shelves.


    "I''ll get started immediately," Snowcloud replied in a distracted voice.


    Even as she spoke, she kept her eyes focused on the shelves in front of her. It was clear that she had all but forgotten about the world around her, and Arran suspected she did not intend to emerge from the chamber until she had inspected every last ingredient within.


    "I''ll have a room prepared for your companion," Lord Sevaril said, apparently having had the same thought as Arran.


    Snowcloud did not respond, and quietly, Lord Sevaril motioned for Arran to follow him as he stepped out of the chamber. Captivated by the collection of herbs and ingredients, Snowcloud did not appear to notice their departure.


    "Lord Sevaril," Arran said as they entered the hallway, "I''m a bit short on Essence Crystals. Could you perhaps tell me the best place in the city to buy some?"


    Of course, Arran wasn''t just looking for information. Although he did not dare ask directly, having caught a glimpse of Lord Sevaril''s wealth, he secretly hoped that the man would decide to show him some generosity as well.


    "The traders in the city offer good prices," Lord Sevaril answered flatly. "Better than you''ll find in the Valleys."


    Arran frowned slightly when he understood that he would have to buy the Essence Crystals himself. Even if he could not reasonably expect Lord Sevaril to simply hand him valuable treasures, he had hoped that the man''s desire to help Snowcloud would extend to her companion.


    Seeing his dejected look, Lord Sevaril sighed. "I suppose you were hoping for more?" He reached into his robe and produced a small golden badge, which he tossed to Arran. "I own a trading house in the city. It''s called the Golden Hall. If you show this, you''ll be able to buy Essence Crystals at cost price. That''s less than half of what you''d pay in any of the Valleys."


    Arran considered the offer, then asked, "Is there any limit to the number of Essence Crystals I can buy?"


    "Trade as much as you like," Lord Sevaril answered with a shrug. "Now, I have other matters to attend. You should head down to the keep and tell one of my stewards to prepare a room for you."


    Without waiting for a reply, Lord Sevaril turned around and left, taking the stairs back up to his chambers. It was clear that he had no desire to spend any more time on Arran.


    Arran took a look at the badge, and saw that it held a carving shaped like a tower. He took some moments to consider Lord Sevaril''s offer, and as he did, he realized that this might be even better than receiving a few free Essence Crystals.


    Already pondering the opportunity, he headed back down to the keep. There were preparations to make.


    It took him some time to find one of Lord Sevaril''s stewards in the keep''s long hallways, but when he did, the woman wasted no time in arranging a room for him in the guest quarters. Less than half an hour later, Arran was pleased to find that the room she had readied was both large and luxurious.


    Once he was settled in, he spent several hours sorting his belongings, deciding what to trade and what to keep. This was no simple task, since he still owned numerous treasures from the Herald''s stronghold and had picked up even more from the mages he defeated over the years.


    A few items caught his interest now that he could examine them with his Sense, but the vast majority of his possessions, he decided to trade. They currently did little more than take up space in his void bags, and although he had no lack of space, he did have a severe lack of Essence Crystals.


    Apart from the treasures, there were also the wine and food that Panurge had given him. The wine was potent enough that it should be reasonably valuable, and there were several thousands of bottles of it. The food, meanwhile, contained enough Natural Essence to be of at least some value, and he had more of it than he could eat even if he lived a thousand years.


    By the time he finished going through his belongings, night had already fallen. With some regret, Arran decided to wait until the next morning before visiting the trading house. He could spend the night training his magic and studying the seal on his forbidden Realm.


    When morning came, he would finally get all the Essence Crystals he needed ¡ª and then some.

 Chapter 120 The Golden Hall

    Arran got up at first light, already feeling excitement at his plans for the day. If all went well, in just a few hours he would have enough Essence Crystals to last him months, perhaps even years.


    Even so, he did not follow his urge to rush into the city straight away. Instead, he spent several hours going through his belongings once more, depositing everything he was willing to sell in Panurge''s void bag ¡ª the only one he had that was large enough to accommodate it all.


    He went over the mass of items several times, making sure that it contained nothing he might need or want in the future. He also set aside a portion of the gold and jewelry, knowing that it would be foolish to part with all of it.


    Still, when he finished, the bag with goods he hoped to trade held a staggering amount of treasure. With this, he thought, he should be able to get all the Essence Crystals he would need for the foreseeable future.


    When he was finally satisfied that he had sorted out everything as well as he could, he left the keep, asking the guards for directions to the trading houses as he departed.


    The main trade district turned out to be fairly close to the castle, and Arran quickly made his way there, though not without taking the time to examine the city and its many stores, shops, and markets.


    From what he could tell, Goldhaven must be the main center of trade for hundreds if not thousands of miles around, and the people in its streets seemed to come from a wide variety of regions. Just as varied as the people were the wares they sold, and a number of times, Arran found himself standing before storefronts, wondering just what the objects on offer even were.


    There were more familiar wares too, of course ¡ª weapons, armor, books, clothes, and a wide variety of foods both familiar and foreign to him. Yet although some of the goods aroused his interest and many of the foods whetted his appetite, he remained focused on his task for the day: acquiring Essence Crystals.


    Yet tempted though he was to head straight for the Golden Hall, he knew that doing so would be a bad idea. Perhaps the golden badge would prevent him from being cheated by Lord Sevaril''s men, but he would not count on that before making sure himself. With that in mind, he would first check the rates other merchants offered, and only then make his way to the Golden Hall.


    When he reached the main trade district, it was immediately obvious that this was where the bulk of the commerce in the city took place. Numerous large stores lined the wide streets, each more splendid than the last, and a steady flow of people moved to and from the stores, with many of the people wearing the garb of scholars, mages, or wealthy merchants.


    Ignoring the splendor and focusing on the task at hand, Arran visited well over a dozen stores and trading houses across the trade district, soon gaining an understanding of the general price level. Although he did not know the value of most of his treasures, it seemed that just the gold he carried would buy him a least a few dozen Essence Crystals.


    When he was finally confident that he knew the regular prices of Essence Crystals well enough not to be taken advantage of, he headed for the Golden Hall.


    The moment he saw it, he knew that it had to be the foremost trading house of the city. It was considerably larger than the others he had seen, and while the others were ornate, the Golden Hall was something else entirely, with a white marble facade that was covered in designs of what seemed to be genuine gold filigree.


    Arran made his way inside, and as he entered, he could see that if anything, the interior of the building was even more magnificent than the exterior. Yet he did not allow himself to be dazzled by the surroundings ¡ª he was here for a reason, and it wasn''t to be overwhelmed by the trading house''s grandeur.


    He took a quick look around, then approached one of the few sales clerks who weren''t busy with other customers.


    "I''m looking to buy some Essence Crystals," he said when he caught the man''s attention.


    The phrase ''Essence Crystals'' seemed to carry some magical power within the building, because at once, an obsequious smile formed on the man''s face.


    "Then you have certainly chosen the right place," the man said in a sugary voice. "We offer the best prices in the city. Now, if you¡ª"


    "Lord Sevaril sent me," Arran interrupted him, holding up the golden badge.


    Instantly, the man''s expression changed once more, this time to one of slightly fearful respect.


    "Ah," he said. "Please follow me, young master."


    He led Arran to the far end of the store, then guided him to one of the backrooms ¡ª a small but luxurious room with a hard-wooden table and several comfortable chairs. At a guess, Arran thought this room was normally reserved for the store''s more important customers.


    "Please have a seat," the sales clerk said, gesturing to a chair. He waited until Arran sat down, then took a seat himself. "What may I do for you?"


    "I have gold and items I wish to exchange for Essence Crystals," Arran said.


    "Please put them on the table, and I will see what we can offer you," the sales clerk replied.


    Arran pulled out the void bag and put it on the table.


    "If the young master would be so kind as to remove the items from the bag, I would be most grateful," the man said, unable to stop a slight look of annoyance from appearing on his face. "I am not a mage myself," he added by way of explanation.


    "There''s too much to fit on the table," Arran said. "Or this room, for that matter."


    "Then I shall get one of our mages," the sales clerk responded, the look of annoyance disappearing as he appeared to understand the situation. "Please wait for a moment."


    He left the room, then returned a few minutes later, this time with a blue-robed man in tow ¡ª a mage, Arran knew.


    "If you could remove your binding of the void bag, I''ll take a look at what you have," the mage said to Arran, smiling politely.


    Arran did as the man asked, removing the binding ¡ª a simple matter of withdrawing the Essence he had poured into the bag to bind it ¡ª and handing over the bag.


    The mage accepted the bag with a nod, after which a short look of concentration appeared on his face as he bound the bag himself.


    The thought of someone else binding his bag caused Arran some annoyance, but it was the fastest way for the mage to discern its contents. Binding the bag, the mage would instantly know what was inside, and the only alternative was for Arran to empty it himself ¡ª a task that would require several hours and a sizable warehouse.


    "Let''s see what we have here¡­" the mage said, seemingly more to himself than to Arran.


    A moment later, a look of utter shock appeared on his face.


    "You!" he said to the sales clerk. "Get Master Xu! Now!"


    The sharpness of his reaction caused Arran some wonder, but then, he knew that what he carried should be quite a bit more treasure than what the trading house''s customers usually brought.


    That was his plan, after all ¡ª to take full advantage of Lord Sevaril''s badge to get as many Essence Crystals as he could at a steep discount.


    "Is anything wrong?" he asked, feigning a smile.


    "Not at all," the mage replied, an uncomfortable look on his face. "It''s just¡­ it''s so much."


    "Lord Sevaril said I could trade all I wanted," Arran replied. "Surely that won''t be a problem?"


    "I''m sure it isn''t¡­" the mage replied, although, from the sound of his voice, he did not seem convinced of the words himself.


    Some minutes later the sales clerk returned, this time followed by a fat, bald man in ornate black-gold robes.


    The man gave Arran a polite nod, then turned to the mage. "What''s the problem here?"


    "Master Xu¡­ you should see for yourself," the mage said, handing over Arran''s bag.


    Master Xu raised an eyebrow at the response, but he did as the mage said, his eyes going blank for a moment as he bound and inspected the bag. His eyes went wide instantly, and now, Arran was beginning to feel some worry.


    "Send word to Lord Sevaril immediately," Master Xu said to the mage. Then, he turned to Arran, a barely veiled look of shock in his eyes.


    "Lord Sevaril sent you here?" he asked, eying Arran warily.


    "He did," Arran replied, forcing himself to stay calm. "I''m a guest at the keep."


    As he looked at the man''s panicked expression, he began to think that perhaps, he should have been a bit more modest in his quest for Essence Crystals.

 Chapter 121 Troublesome Treasures

    Arran sat in silence as Master Xu kept a suspicious eye on both him and the bag. From his expression, it almost seemed as if he feared that Arran could snatch the bag and run off at any moment.


    If that was indeed what the fat man feared, he was entirely right to worry. The thought of fleeing had crossed Arran''s mind more than once since the man had arrived, and the only thing that kept him from actually doing it was the certainty that he would be caught.


    Perhaps, he thought, things would not be as bad as he feared. Although the bag held what would be a staggering sum of treasure to most people, to someone as wealthy as Lord Sevaril the amount should still not be outrageous.


    But then, Arran also understood that Lord Sevaril''s affection for Snowcloud did not extend to him. And if the man wanted to take Arran''s treasures, it would be a simple matter to have Arran disappear.


    Time passed slowly for Arran as he found himself torn between hope and worry, but the truth was that he simply did not know enough about Lord Sevaril to fully grasp the situation. What mattered now was the man''s character, and of that, he knew nothing.


    Finally, after a good half hour, the door opened once more, and Lord Sevaril stepped inside a moment later.


    "Leave," he said to Master Xu. "And don''t breathe a word of this to anyone."


    Master Xu quickly did as he was told, and as he closed the door behind him, Lord Sevaril turned to Arran.


    "It seems you possess quite the fortune. Why didn''t you come to me directly?"


    "I did," Arran pointed out.


    "I suppose you did, after a fashion," Lord Sevaril responded as his gaze moved to the bag on the table. "I suppose I will have to see for myself what all this commotion is about."


    He picked up the bag, and a moment later, his eyes went wide with surprise.


    "Where did you get the food?" he asked, looking sharply at Arran. As he spoke, there was something to his eyes that made Arran uneasy ¡ª a hint of barely veiled greed.


    "The food?" Arran frowned on hearing the question, with the man''s desirous look only adding to his confusion. Of all his possessions, the food seemed like the least remarkable. Although there was a veritable mountain of it, the Natural Essence it contained was too weak to be of much use for mages.


    "You have the resources to raise an entire army," Lord Sevaril said, giving Arran a probing stare. "Where did you get this?"


    Suddenly, Arran understood the situation, and he nearly wanted to slap himself for not realizing it sooner.


    He had dismissed the food as all but worthless, because the concentration of Natural Essence within it was too weak to be of use to him. But for commoners, it would be different.


    With just a simple Body Refinement technique and some months of eating Panurge''s food, common soldiers could be rushed through their first steps on the path to becoming Body Refiners. And after that, a bottle or two of the wine would allow them to take another leap forward.


    Even if they would still be defenseless against any real mages, they would be far stronger than common soldiers or bandits. And with the ludicrous amount of food and wine the bag held, there would be enough to raise an army of thousands.


    What Panurge had given him, Arran now realized, was enough to raise an army or start a clan. Yet he had no time to consider the intentions behind the gift ¡ª Lord Sevaril was waiting for an answer, and the spark of greed in his eyes had only grown stronger.


    "A close friend gave it to me," Arran replied, doing his best to keep his expression confident. "Part of a small gift, to help my progression."


    He recognized now that Panurge''s gifts were what drew Lord Sevaril''s interest, and there was no doubt in his mind that the man could easily take all he had by force. But if he believed Arran had powerful backers, perhaps he would be reluctant to risk angering them.


    Fortunately, it seemed his ruse worked, because Lord Sevaril''s expression grew pensive at his words.


    "It seems I misjudged you," the white-haired man said in a thoughtful voice. "I believed Snowcloud took you in as an act of charity, but now, it seems I may have gotten it the wrong way around."


    Arran shrugged as if he considered the matter unworthy of discussion. "So are you interested, or not?"


    "I am interested," Lord Sevaril responded. "Very much so. What you offer is both valuable and timely. But I fear I cannot provide a fair price for your merchandise ¡ª the number of Essence Crystals I have at hand is limited."


    Again, Arran saw a flicker of greed in Lord Sevaril''s eyes, and he understood that the man had no intention of letting this prize slip away, whether he could afford it or not.


    "I''m sure we can come to an arrangement," Arran replied quickly, fearing that if he took the bag off the table, Lord Sevaril might decide to take the risk of angering whatever allies he thought Arran could have.


    And it wasn''t a loss altogether ¡ª even if Arran got a few dozen Essence Crystals rather than the few hundred he hoped for, it would still keep him supplied for months to come.


    "I''m glad you''re willing to be reasonable," the man replied with a smile so oily it sent a shiver down Arran''s spine. "I can offer you eighteen hundred high-quality Essence Crystals, with an item of your choice from my personal treasury to make up the difference."


    For a moment, Arran was dumbfounded, and it took all the willpower he could muster just to maintain his composure. The offer was far beyond anything he had dared hope for, enough to keep him supplied with Essence Crystals for years.


    Yet he knew he must hide his shock. If Lord Sevaril saw through the facade and realized that Arran had only his own power to protect him, the idea of saving nearly two thousand Essence Crystals might still prove too tempting to pass up.


    He pretended to think on the matter for some seconds, and finally gave Lord Sevaril a slow nod. "That seems like a reasonable offer. I currently have little use for these goods, while I''m in great need of Essence Crystals."


    The cheerful look on Lord Sevaril''s face made it clear the offer was anything but reasonable, but Arran knew he wasn''t in a position to bargain. Moreover, even if the other man got the better part of the deal, Arran would still receive far more than he had expected ¡ª not to mention that he would walk away with his life.


    "We have a deal, then," Lord Sevaril said. Smiling, he added, "And I owe you a favor."


    "No favors are needed between friends," Arran replied, giving the man a smile that was as warm as it was insincere.


    Lord Sevaril nodded, clearly pleased with the outcome of the trade. "I suggest we return to the keep. It will take my men some time to unload the contents of the bag, and while they do so, you can select something from my treasury. I have several items that might catch your interest."


    As they returned to the keep in Lord Sevaril''s carriage, Arran quietly wondered what Panurge''s intentions with the gifts had been. Had he intended for Arran to raise his own army? And if so, to what purpose?


    Whatever the reason had been, Arran was certain there was more behind it than he currently understood, and he had an uneasy feeling that the day''s events would have far-reaching consequences.

 Chapter 122 The Power of Lies

    Both Arran and Lord Sevaril were quiet during the carriage ride back to the castle, Arran still thinking over the events of the day, and Lord Sevaril engrossed in his own thoughts.


    Now that he thought he understood the true purpose of Panurge''s food, Arran was convinced he had been on the losing end of the deal. He had sold Lord Sevaril what amounted to an army of Body Refiners at a price of less than a quarter Essence Crystal per soldier, and although Arran had little idea of the value of soldiers, he suspected it lay far above what he had received.


    But then, Arran had no use for an army ¡ª he had neither soldiers to train nor lands to conquer, and the thought of leading a band of brigands or mercenaries did not appeal to him in the slightest. His only goal was to increase his own strength, and for that, the Essence Crystals were infinitely more valuable than the food had been.


    And when he considered the matter, he was certain that even if his treasures were worth a higher price, there were few places where he would have been able to sell them. Within the Empire, it would surely have drawn the Academy''s attention, and on this side of the border, he knew no one other than Lord Sevaril who had both the means and the desire to raise an army.


    The more he thought about it, the more satisfied he became with the outcome of the deal. Perhaps things hadn''t exactly gone according to plan, but the result was still a good one.


    When they reached the castle and entered the keep, Lord Sevaril finally spoke again. From his expression, it seemed as if he had sniffed out an opportunity and was intent on fully seizing it.


    "This friend of yours," Lord Sevaril said. "The one who gave you the treasures. Who is he?"


    The question was unwelcome, but not unexpected. Arran knew that Lord Sevaril would want to know more about his mysterious backer, and he had already prepared answers.


    "He carries many names," Arran said with a forced chuckle. "But what I can tell you is that he has interests on both sides of the border, and that he is looking to secure new allies."


    "Allies?" Lord Sevaril replied, his interest obvious. "Then he has ambitions in this region?"


    "His ambitions stretch far beyond the region," Arran replied. "But he has the power to match them."


    "That much is clear," Lord Sevaril answered with a thoughtful nod. "The truth is that I have been looking for allies, as well. I built this city from nothing, and for centuries, I have kept it safe. But the region has grown restless in recent years, and it''s a matter of time before the unrest spreads to Goldhaven."


    "Is that the reason for your help in curing the Sixth Valley''s Patriarch?" Arran asked. He was hoping to shift the conversation away from his lies, but he also found himself curious about the motivations of the man in front of him.


    "It is," Lord Sevaril replied flatly. "Until his sickness, the Patriarch was one of the few allies I had in the region. When he fell ill, it was a great loss."


    "The other factions haven''t approached you?" Arran was surprised that Lord Sevaril was willing to discuss the situation so openly, but he would not pass up the opportunity to learn more.


    "They have, of course," Lord Sevaril said. "But tying my fate to any of them would risk making me an enemy to the others. It would be much better if the Patriarch made a recovery."


    Then, suddenly, his expression changed, as if he had just realized something important.


    "Did your friend tell you to join Snowcloud?" Lord Sevaril asked, an intent look in his eyes.


    "He did," Arran lied. "Though he did not tell me the reason." Whatever theory the man was conjuring up, he thought it best to play along.


    Lord Sevaril smiled at this, a look of smug understanding in his eyes. "It seems the interests of your friend and myself are aligned. He must have sent you to keep her safe on her mission."


    Arran feigned a thoughtful expression. "I suspect you may be right," he said, attempting to look as if he had just realized the same thing.


    "I would very much like to meet this friend of yours," the white-haired man said. "Perhaps you could arrange for that to happen?"


    "I would be glad to do so," Arran replied. "But I don''t know when I will see him again. It might be months or even years. And I don''t expect him to approach me again before I have completed my current task."


    "Of course," Lord Sevaril said dismissively. "A few years hardly makes a difference. But what if some misfortune befalls you on your travels?"


    Arran shrugged. "I''ll just have to make sure that doesn''t happen."


    Whatever happened, he intended to be long gone when Lord Sevaril finally discovered the truth. If the man worried that Arran''s death might interfere with his hoped-for alliance with Arran''s imaginary backer, all the better ¡ª perhaps it would encourage him to provide some additional aid.


    Lord Sevaril did not seem entirely pleased with the answer, but after a moment, he nodded. It seemed he understood that there was little point in pointing out that Arran''s death would be inconvenient to him.


    With a slight frown, he asked, "Does the girl know about any of this?"


    Arran shook his head. "She thinks I''m just a recruit. I would be thankful if you kept my secret."


    "Of course," the man replied, giving Arran a knowing smile. "But we have reached my treasury. Let''s see if I can help ensure your safe return."


    They had passed through the keep and climbed most of the stairs up the tower while talking. Now, they were on what should be one of the uppermost floors of the tower, and they stood in a large hallway at the end of which was a massive steel door ¡ª the entrance to Lord Sevaril''s treasury, presumably.


    Arran breathed a secret sigh of relief when he understood the conversation was at an end. Although he had prepared his story as well as he could, he had not expected to get caught up in so elaborate a web of lies.


    But that was of later concern. Now, Arran would pick one of Lord Sevaril''s treasures, and after that, he would retire to his room to spend some days in training. By then, Snowcloud should have finished going through the ingredients, and she would doubtless want to depart right away to retrieve the few remaining ones.


    With a bit of luck, Arran thought, he would be able to avoid any more discussions with Lord Sevaril, and that would be the end of it.


    As Lord Sevaril opened the door to the treasury, Arran could not help but feel a sense of pride in his handling of the situation. He had narrowly staved off a disaster, and in the process, he had secured enough resources to aid his training for many months to come.

 Chapter 123 Truth Be Told

    Just opening the door to the treasury took Lord Sevaril some time, and Arran could tell that the door was protected by some sort of magical mechanism, though he could not see exactly how it worked.


    That Lord Sevaril bothered with such defenses even here, in his own tower, could only mean one of two things. Either he did not trust his own men, or he had such treasures to protect that doors did not suffice to protect them.


    Arran hoped it was the latter. If so, perhaps there would be something good to be had.


    Of course, he wouldn''t be too greedy. Even if Lord Sevaril had said Arran could pick an item of his choice, he wasn''t so naive as to think he could just take anything.


    As Arran thought about how to best handle the situation, Lord Sevaril finally finished disabling whatever magical defenses protected his treasury, and the massive steel door suddenly swung open.


    "Follow me," Lord Sevaril said in an eager voice. Without waiting for Arran to respond, he stepped through the doorway.


    Arran did as the man said, following him into the large chamber that lay beyond the steel door, and despite his apprehension toward Lord Sevaril, he found himself impressed at what he saw.


    The treasury held no trinkets like gold and jewelry, nor was it filled with numerous pieces of weapons and other gear. Instead, perhaps two dozen items were carefully placed on pedestals along the sides of the wall, each of them given ample space within the chamber.


    At once, Arran understood that this was not a display of mere wealth, but one of power. Even without knowing what the items on display actually did, he understood that each of them would be a precious artifact ¡ª something rare enough for Lord Sevaril to consider a treasure worthy of display.


    "These are the rarest and most powerful treasures I have collected over the past centuries," Lord Sevaril said, pride clear on his face. "Every piece you see is unique and priceless."


    Arran frowned but said nothing. Pointing out that the man had just traded away one of these supposedly priceless pieces seemed unwise.


    "This one might be of interest to you," Lord Sevaril said as he walked to one of the pedestals, upon which lay a rather plain-looking spear. "A mage can steadily pour Essence into it, and then release it all at once in a single attack. With this, even a novice has a chance of defeating a Master."


    Seeing Arran''s covetous expression, Lord Sevaril chuckled. "Of course, it takes time to fill it with Essence, and each use completely drains it. So it''s only useful when you have time to prepare, and against multiple strong opponents, it will do you little good."


    Arran nodded, slightly disappointed. Although it made sense that the spear would work that way, it seemed like an item that would only rarely be useful. In real battles there usually was little time to prepare, after all.


    Lord Sevaril moved on to the next pedestal, which held what looked to be a small jet-black necklace. "This is one of the more unusual items I have," he said. "The user can channel his own Essence into the necklace, and the necklace will transform it into Mind Essence, causing uncontrollable fear in those nearby."


    At once, Arran was reminded of the eyeless creature, and knowing just how powerful the creature''s aura of dread was, he was extremely interested in an item that could achieve the same effect.


    "Could you demonstrate it for me?" he asked.


    "Of course," Lord Sevaril said. He took the necklace in his hands, then put it on while looking expectantly at Arran.


    Several moments passed without anything happening, but then, Arran began to feel a faint sense of fear. Yet that was all it was ¡ª a vaguely uncomfortable feeling. Maybe it was because he had experienced the eyeless creature''s far stronger aura of dread, or maybe it was because he had been terrified ever since Lord Sevaril walked into the Golden Hall, but either way, the effect was negligible.


    "Is that it?" he asked, underwhelmed by the demonstration.


    Lord Sevaril seemed startled for a moment, but then, he let out a laugh as he placed the necklace back on the pedestal. "It seems you have a strong will."


    "What about that one?" Arran asked, gesturing to the next item.


    This time, he knew exactly what it was ¡ª a starmetal sword, much like the one he carried in his bag. Yet although he knew what the item was, he hoped that perhaps Lord Sevaril would be able to tell him more about its uses. So far, all he had discovered about his own was that it was heavy, sturdy, and razor-sharp.


    "Ah! That''s my most recent acquisition," Lord Sevaril said. "It''s a sword made out of the metal of a fallen star. When a mage is struck with this weapon, the sword will siphon some of the Essence in his body, and with each defeated enemy, the weapon will grow stronger."


    With a laugh, he added, "But this one is still young. It will require thousands of enemies to reach its full potential, and I''m afraid I don''t see many battles here in the city."


    Arran nodded thoughtfully. The description matched what Lord Jiang had once told him, that his own starmetal sword would grow more powerful as he used it. So far, he had seen no changes in the weapon, but perhaps it simply required more use.


    "But let''s move on to the next item," Lord Sevaril continued, walking over to another pedestal. On it sat a bone-white rod, which Lord Sevaril carefully picked up, then handed to Arran. "Hold it, and you will soon discover its powers."


    Arran took the rod in his hands and held it for several seconds, but nothing happened. "I don''t feel anything," he finally said.


    "Tell me the sky is red." Lord Sevaril smiled as he spoke, but there was something odd to the smile, as if he was up to something.


    "What?" Arran gave him a puzzled look.


    "Do it," Lord Sevaril said, and this time, the tone of his voice suggested that it wasn''t a request.


    "The sky is¡­" Suddenly, Arran found himself unable to speak. No matter how hard he tried, it was as if his mouth was unable to form the final word of the sentence. He gave Lord Sevaril a panicked stare, and a smile emerged on the man''s face.


    "This artifact has the unique ability to prevent those who hold it from lying," Lord Sevaril said.


    "I don''t think I have much use for¡ª" Arran began, panic rising in him as he finally understood Lord Sevaril''s intentions.


    "The food," Lord Sevaril interrupted, his smile suddenly gone. "Who gave it to you?"


    Arran''s first instinct was to drop the rod and run, but he knew that he had no hope of escape ¡ª not with Lord Sevaril standing right next to him. And from the man''s expression, it was clear that not answering wasn''t an option, either.


    "I don''t know his true name," Arran said after a moment''s hesitation. "But he is powerful beyond compare."


    The words were true, after a fashion. After the many lies Panurge had told him, Arran had little doubt that the name ''Panurge'' wasn''t the self-proclaimed god''s true identity, but his power was beyond question.


    Lord Sevaril raised an eyebrow. "Why did he give it to you?"


    Arran swallowed hard. Then, carefully choosing his words, he said, "He gave it to me after he asked me to join his cause and become his apprentice."


    Even if the rod prevented him from telling lies, it seemed it had no such effect on misleading truths, and Arran only barely managed to stop himself from sighing in relief. It seemed all hope was not yet lost.


    "His apprentice?" Lord Sevaril gave Arran an appraising look. "And this cause of his¡­ what is it?"


    This time, Arran found no way to twist the truth to his advantage. Instead, he decided to attempt to awe Lord Sevaril with a straightforward fact. "He seeks to defeat the Academy."


    "The Academy?" Instantly, a look of shock appeared on Lord Sevaril''s face. "He''s a servant of Chaos?!"


    "I wouldn''t call him a servant," Arran replied, forcing a smile. Although he was surprised that Lord Sevaril knew of Chaos, there was nothing for it now but to push the advantage. "If Chaos has a master in this world, he is it."


    At those words, the shock on Lord Sevaril''s face turned into outright terror. He did not reply, instead grabbing for the rod and ripping it from Arran''s hands.


    Then, to Arran''s astonishment, he bowed deeply.


    "I apologize for my insolence," the white-haired man said in a trembling voice. "Had I known you were¡­" His voice trailed off as he stared at Arran, eyes filled with fear.


    "You will not speak of this to anyone," Arran said. Finally free from the rod, he added, "Or my master will know."


    "I won''t tell anyone," Lord Sevaril replied in a weak voice. "I swear it on my life."


    Arran glanced at the rod in the man''s hands, then slowly nodded. It seemed that at least for the moment, Lord Sevaril had no intention of breaking his word.


    "Now then," Arran said. "I believe you intended to show me the rest of your treasury?"

 Chapter 124 Picking Treasures

    As Lord Sevaril showed Arran the rest of his treasures, the man''s mood soon seemed to improve, and before long he was once more bragging about the items in the treasury. Shocked though he might be by Arran''s revelations, it appeared that boasting about his riches brought him at least some comfort.


    Arran, on the other hand, found himself unimpressed by most of the treasures. Although there were plenty of them, few seemed to have any useful powers.


    There was a staff that could create Force Shields with the user''s Essence, but the shields were weaker than those Arran could produce himself. There was a small green rod that could heal injuries, but when Lord Sevaril bragged that it could heal a broken bone in days, Arran knew his own Body Refinement techniques were more potent.


    Each time he thought he had found something truly useful, soon after there followed an inevitable downside that negated much of the item''s value.


    Most of the items, it seemed, converted all kinds of Essence into a single specific type, and then used that to form a spell without the user having to cast it himself. With this, mages could cast spells they did not know, using kinds of Essence they did not possess.


    Yet impressive though this sounded, the power of the items was disappointing at best. The effects all seemed like weaker versions of real spells, and Arran soon began to suspect that most of the Essence was lost when the items converted it.


    In the end, only two of the items truly caught Arran''s attention.


    The first of these was a black armored coat, which Lord Sevaril said could withstand all but the strongest magical and physical attacks.


    Although Arran suspected this was an exaggeration ¡ª the man seemed incapable of restraining himself from boasting ¡ª he also suspected it wasn''t much of one. Something about the coat emanated an aura of power, even if he could not Sense anything out of the ordinary in it.


    The second item was something that Lord Sevaril called a Duskcloak ¡ª a cloak that would render its wearer invisible if Essence was channeled into it.


    Arran suspected that it created some version of the Shadowcloak spell, albeit with a predictably weaker effect ¡ª where Arran had witnessed a mage use the Shadowcloak spell while moving, the Duskcloak''s effect required its user to stay in place.


    Still, after some thought, Arran decided to pick the Duskcloak. Although the effect was limited, it was the kind of thing that would certainly be useful on his travels ¡ª something that might even save his life if he found himself pursued by more powerful opponents.


    But more importantly, when he tested the cloak for himself, he found that he could vaguely Sense how it used Shadow Essence to form the spell. Although Sensing other mages'' Shadow Essence was impossible, it seemed that the Essence used by the cloak was still bound to him even after it was converted.


    If his suspicion was correct and the Duskcloak created some version of the Shadowcloak spell, then studying the patterns of the Essence would be a perfect way to learn the spell ¡ª far better even than having a spell scroll or a teacher.


    "I''ll take the Duskcloak," Arran said, mind made up.


    "A good choice," Lord Sevaril replied. "Although I noticed that you were interested in the armor, as well."


    "I was," Arran said. "But I prefer the cloak."


    "Then let me offer you the armor as a token of my friendship," Lord Sevaril said. An obsequious smile formed on his face as he spoke, and it was obvious that he was hoping for some sort of favor.


    "What do you want?" Arran asked bluntly, trying to impart his words with the kind of arrogant confidence that would befit the apprentice of a supremely powerful mage.


    The directness of the question left Lord Sevaril visibly startled, but after a moment, he regained his composure. "Earlier, I asked you to arrange a meeting between myself and your master," he said. "But in so grand a conflict, I fear my contributions would be of little value to him."


    The man carefully chose his words to avoid offending Arran''s master, but it was clear that he regretted his earlier request. Now, it seemed, he deeply desired never to meet Arran''s master ¡ª a wise choice, had Arran actually been Panurge''s apprentice.


    "You do not wish to earn my master''s favor?" Arran gave Lord Sevaril a stern gaze, as if the very idea offended him.


    "It''s not that," Lord Sevaril replied hurriedly. "I merely question whether I am worthy of it. My power is limited, and I have little to contribute. For you to ask your master to meet someone as weak as I am¡­ I fear it would be an insult to his power."


    Arran barely suppressed a smirk. It was obvious that Lord Sevaril''s true concern was that in a conflict between Chaos and the Academy, he would be squashed like a bug. A reasonable fear, Arran thought, and one that he himself shared with the man.


    "I understand your concern," Arran responded. "Where bulls fight, ants get trampled."


    Lord Sevaril gave a small nod in response, no longer trying to maintain the pretense now that Arran had seen through it.


    Arran pretended to give the matter some thought before speaking. "Very well," he finally said. "I won''t inform my master of our meeting."


    Lord Sevaril let out a deep sigh. "Thank you for your understanding, young master."


    "Think nothing of it," Arran replied. "It would not do for me to repay your generosity by forcing you to join our cause." After a moment''s pause, he added in a severe tone, "But I think you would do well to rethink your position. In a conflict of this scale, one cannot remain neutral forever."


    Lord Sevaril paled slightly at those last words, but he still managed to make a forced smile appear on his face. "I am in your debt."


    Arran gave him a slight nod. "I believe our business here is concluded. I trust you will have the Essence Crystals delivered to my room promptly."


    Lord Sevaril quickly assured Arran that both the Essence Crystals and Arran''s empty void bag would be brought to him as soon as possible, and relief was clear on his face when Arran finally departed.


    Arran, on the other hand, forced himself to keep calm as he descended the stairs and made his way through the keep. Only when he was finally back in his room did he dare let out a deep sigh of relief.

 Chapter 125 Windfall

    Back in his room, it took Arran some time to calm himself. Although he had spent the past several hours putting on a confident facade, the truth was that he had been absolutely terrified from the moment Lord Sevaril set foot inside the Golden Hall.


    He did not fool himself into thinking that he deserved the credit for the unexpectedly good outcome. He understood well enough that he been on the edge of disaster, and that he avoided it owed more to luck than it did to his own quick thinking.


    Only now that the immediate danger was gone did Arran have time to fully grasp just how close a miss it had been.


    Had Lord Sevaril not decided to put his faith in an artifact rather than his own reasoning, Arran doubted things would have ended so well. And even so, he''d been fortunate that the man already knew of Chaos, or else he might have been more skeptical of Arran''s story, truth-telling artifact or not.


    Arran spent a good half hour thinking over the events of the day, reflecting on his mistakes and considering the many things that could still go wrong.


    Yet there was only so much that brooding would accomplish, and before long, he decided to use his time more fruitfully.


    He began by trying to study the seal on his forbidden Realm, but with his mind still preoccupied with what had happened earlier, he failed to make any progress. Soon, he gave up.


    Instead, he shifted his attention to the Duskcloak. He already knew how to use it, but he was eager to study exactly how it caused its effects.


    This proved more rewarding, and Arran quickly found himself engrossed in studying how the cloak weaved together the numerous strands of Shadow Essence to create what he thought was a Shadowcloak spell.


    He understood well that he currently lacked the control needed to cast a spell that complex himself, and he marveled at how such a simple object could accomplish the feat. It almost made him feel like a commoner seeing a mage at work.


    But he wasn''t a commoner, he reminded himself. He was a mage, and one who had a Memory Amulet full of enchanting techniques sitting in one of his void bags.


    The Memory Amulet was the first magical item he had owned, but for years, his Sense had been too weak to use it. And when he finally developed his Sense enough to study its contents, he''d been too focused on other things to pay it much attention.


    But now, he decided he would start studying the enchanting techniques it contained in earnest. If enchanters could make objects perform magic, he wanted to know exactly how they did it.


    Yet there was no time to delve into the matter any deeper just now, because at that moment, there was a knock on his door.


    Arran opened the door cautiously, part of him still afraid that his ruse hadn''t truly fooled Lord Sevaril. When he opened the door, however, he found one of the keep''s stewards standing in front of him, carrying the void bag that had contained the food and wine.


    "Young master," the man said with a bow. "My lord asked me to deliver this to you, and to express his hope that the contents are to your satisfaction." The steward handed the bag to Arran, and after another bow, he left.


    Arran quickly bound the bag to himself and inspected its contents. When he did, he was surprised to find that it held close to three thousand high-quality Essence Crystals ¡ª far more than the eighteen hundred he had expected.


    The joy he felt at this unexpected windfall lasted only moments, and worry quickly took its place.


    That Lord Sevaril went this far in trying to appease Arran could only mean that the man was utterly terrified. And not just of some distant danger, but of something closer ¡ª something he had already encountered, and probably more than once.


    With a start, Arran realized that if Lord Sevaril''s fear was this urgent, it meant that the forces of Chaos must already have a strong foothold in the region ¡ª perhaps even in the city itself.


    The latter thought, disconcerting though it was, would go a long way in explaining Lord Sevaril''s actions.


    Even if the man feared Arran''s master, he should have little to fear from Arran himself. And besides, having Arran disappear in Goldhaven should still be a small matter for the city''s ruler.


    But if Lord Sevaril believed he was already being watched, things were different. Then, he had good reason to be overly cautious.


    While this might have been what saved Arran, the thought of it brought him little comfort.


    Panurge himself would likely laugh if he knew the situation, but Arran had no interest in finding out if the local servants of Chaos shared his sense of humor. And although his deception had worked on Lord Sevaril, he was under no illusion that it would fool the forces of Chaos.


    Briefly, he considered leaving the city right then. Even if the region around the city was dangerous, it could scarcely be worse than the dangers in the city itself.


    After a moment of thought, he rejected the idea.


    Outside the city, Snowcloud''s company would still keep him safer than he would be otherwise, and in the long term, only joining the Shadowflame Society could offer him the safety he needed.


    Besides, he doubted Lord Sevaril would willingly discuss the matter with others. Not because the man had vowed to remain silent while holding the rod ¡ª Arran had little faith in either the man or the artifact ¡ª but because fear should keep him quiet, at least for a time.


    For now, there was nothing Arran could do but wait. Snowcloud should be finished with the ingredients in the storage room within a few days, and after that, Arran knew she would want to depart as soon as possible.


    Troubling though the situation was, Arran forced himself to set the matter aside. Worrying would do him little good, and with several more days of waiting ahead, his best option was to make good use of the time.


    And with his newly acquired treasures, it was obvious what the best use of his time would be.


    He took one of the Essence Crystals, then began to absorb the Purified Essence it contained. It took him a quarter hour to absorb most of it, but before he even finished, he grabbed another one.


    He had enough Essence Crystals to advance his power to a new level. Now, all he needed was to absorb them, and he would waste no time in doing so.

 Chapter 126 Rapid Training

    Arran worked through the night, then into the next day, foregoing breaks and sleep as he absorbed Essence Crystals one after the other. With each new Essence Crystal, he could feel his affinity to Essence growing stronger ¡ª more and more, it felt like his Essence was part of him, rather than some alien substance he could only barely manipulate.


    After just a day, Arran had finished absorbing the Purified Essence of close to a hundred Essence Crystals, and the effect left him marveling at how much his control of Essence had improved.


    Previously, it had been like writing a letter while holding the pen with only his elbows, and looking back now, he was almost amazed that he had managed to succeed in casting spells at all.


    But now, things were completely different. He could feel that the Essence was truly his to control, to be used however he wanted, and the awkward clumsiness he had always felt while wielding magic was rapidly melting away.


    He finally began to understand the real difference between the Shadowflame mages and Academy mages he had met. If other Shadowflame mages had this kind of control, then Academy mages would be like cripples compared to them.


    He felt that even more progress lay at his fingertips, and excited with the prospect, he continued to work his way through the Essence Crystals. He continued until he could go no more, stopping the work only because his weariness finally began to interfere with his concentration.


    Then, he paused to sleep, though not for more than a few hours. And within minutes after he awoke, he set to work again.


    He spent the second day much like the first, continuously absorbing Purified Essence and slowly transforming his body into something more suitable for wielding magic.


    Yet where the first day had seen him advance by leaps and bounds, the second day''s gains came far slower. By now, each new Essence Crystal only barely brought him any noticeable gains, and it seemed that it took him half a dozen crystals just to get the progress he gained from a single one on the first day.


    Still, he did not let up. He continued to advance, albeit more slowly, and by the end of the second day he had burned through another hundred Essence Crystals.


    Again, he slept only when he became too tired to continue, and he began his work anew the moment he woke up.


    The third day saw his progress slow even further. Now, he needed a full dozen Essence Crystals just to make any discernible progress, but he persevered nonetheless ¡ª even at this slower pace, he was still achieving in hours what would have taken years otherwise.


    Only after he had rested again, on the fourth day, did he finally stop.


    So far, he had worked his way through more than three hundred Essence Crystals, and he knew that any further progress would take both time and numerous crystals ¡ª although that did not stop him from wanting to continue.


    But first, he wanted to see the results of his work.


    He started off by trying out his Shadowsight, and soon found that his Sense seemed to have improved along with his control, if nowhere near as much. Yet although he could now spread the mist of Shadow Essence a good thirty paces around him before it became too thin to Sense, the improvement was somewhat of a disappointment.


    With a thought, he tried to move the mist, and immediately, he felt excitement at the result. It seemed that while he could still not expand the mist much further, his control had increased to the point where he could manipulate it without much effort.


    Curious to see how far this control would go, he opened the door of his room and sent an invisible cloud of Shadow Essence into the hallway. Soon, a smile appeared on his face as he discovered that he could both control and Sense the cloud even at nearly two hundred paces away.


    Even if this wouldn''t let him instantly know everything that happened around him, it would allow him to search a sizable area without having to move, and far faster than he would be able to otherwise.


    Encouraged by the result, he quickly moved on to trying a spell, but here, his options were limited. Of the spells he knew, only Force Shield could be used at full power without doing serious damage to the keep. But that was good enough ¡ª if his control of that spell had improved, then the same would doubtless hold true for the others.


    Eager to see the results of his labor, he quickly created a Force Shield, and at once, he was astounded at the change in his abilities.


    If the improvement in his Shadowsight had left him smiling, the improvement in his Force Shield brought a wide grin to his face, and he was only barely able to keep himself from shouting in excitement.


    It had previously taken him a moment to form a Force Shield, but now, he could do so almost instantly. And not just that, he could tell that the Shield was denser than before, which meant that it would be stronger as well.


    That alone would have been enough to be worth the Essence Crystals he had used up, but with his newfound control, he discovered that he was also able to move and maneuver the Shield with ease.


    Previously, using the spell was like creating an immobile barrier, but now, he found that he could use much it like an actual shield. In a real fight, that meant he would be able to move it to meet different attacks.


    It almost seemed too good to be true. In a few days, his power had leaped ahead, progressing far more than he could have foreseen. If his other spells had improved just as much ¡ª and he was almost certain they had ¡ª then defeating his past self from just days ago would now be a trivial matter.


    His progress left him stunned for some moments, but then, he decided to set to work again. He knew there was more progress to be had, and even if it wouldn''t be as fast as it had been before, each step brought him closer to his goal.


    He took another Essence Crystal from the void bag, but he had only barely begun to absorb its contents when several loud knocks sounded on his door.


    "Enter!" he called out, unwilling to interrupt his work.


    The door opened a moment later, and Arran was unsurprised to see that it was Snowcloud. He had known the work of sorting through the ingredients would only take her a few days, and it seemed she had finally finished it.


    From the weary look of her face, he doubted that she had slept more than a few hours since arriving in Goldhaven, yet there was something eager in her expression, as if she was on the verge of completing a difficult task.


    It seemed Lord Sevaril had not lied when he said he found all but a handful of the ingredients she needed to cure the Sixth Valley''s Patriarch.


    "You got your hands on some Essence Crystals?" she asked, recognizing what Arran was doing.


    "I did," he replied. Right now, he saw no need to inform Snowcloud of the full extent of his newly acquired treasures.


    "Good," she said. "You''ll need every bit of power you can get where we''re going."

 Chapter 127 Leaving Goldhaven

    "I take it you found most of the ingredients you need?" Arran asked, continuing to absorb Purified Essence as he spoke.


    "I did," Snowcloud replied. "Only the final five ingredients remain. Finding three of those will rely on luck, but for the other two, I know where to look."


    "So where are we going?" Arran asked. With how little he understood of alchemy and herbalism, there was no point in asking what the remaining ingredients were. He knew that even if Snowcloud told him, the names would mean absolutely nothing to him.


    "The remains of the Eidaran Empire," Snowcloud answered. "About two months'' travel northwest from here."


    "The Eidaran Empire?" Arran had never heard the name before, and the thought of there being other empires still felt odd to him. To his mind, there was only one true Empire.


    "Until a few decades ago, it was one of the largest and most prosperous powers west of the border region," Snowcloud said. "Then, one day, it collapsed into civil war. All that''s left now is chaos and destruction."


    "What happened to it?" Arran asked.


    "I don''t know," Snowcloud said. "And it doesn''t matter. What matters is that the lands it once held are now rife with conflict, with different groups warring to control what little is left. And for us, that means the region will be dangerous."


    "What about the people who are after you?" Arran asked, remembering what Lord Sevaril had told them when they first arrived in Goldhaven.


    "Few people from the Society ever venture that far from the border," Snowcloud replied. "We should be safe from them, at least."


    "So when do we leave?"


    "As soon as you finish with that crystal."


    Arran turned his attention back to absorbing the remaining Purified Essence, finishing a short while later.


    "I suppose we''ll have to say our goodbyes to Lord Sevaril?" he asked after he finished. He didn''t look forward to meeting the man again, but if that was the price for being rid of him for good, he would gladly pay it.


    To Arran''s surprise, Snowcloud shook her head.


    "His stewards told me he''s secluded himself in meditation and cannot be interrupted," she said with a shrug. "It doesn''t matter. I have what I need from him, so we''re leaving right now."


    Although Arran was happy to hear that he wouldn''t have to come face to face with Lord Sevaril again ¡ª and face the risks that entailed ¡ª he couldn''t help but wonder why the old man had locked himself away in his tower. If it was just fear of Arran''s master there was little to worry about, but he worried there was more to it.


    With a sigh, he put the thought aside. Whatever Lord Sevaril''s reasons, Arran would soon be rid of the man and his city.


    They were already making their way through the city less than half an hour later. At each turn, Arran felt some fear that someone would still stop them, but it seemed his worries were unfounded, and they soon reached the city gate.


    The guards at the gate waved them through without issue, and Arran felt a surge of relief once they were outside the city. Although he knew well that many dangers still lay ahead, he felt more confident in facing them in the wild than in the confines of the city ¡ª at least here, he could flee if needed.


    The further they left the city behind, the more comfortable Arran began to feel, and after several hours, his curiosity about their destination finally won out over the worries he still felt.


    "So this Eidaran Empire, what''s so dangerous about it?" he asked, wondering what threats lay at the end of the journey ahead.


    "I already told you," Snowcloud replied flatly. "It''s filled with groups fighting for power, and any one of those groups could be a threat to us."


    "But you''re a Shadowflame mage," Arran said. "You follow the True Path. Won''t any mages they have be far weaker than you?"


    Having witnessed the effects of Purified Essence himself, he no longer had any doubts about the power of Shadowflame mages.


    Snowcloud laughed. "Despite its grand name, the True Path is just one of many ways to gain power. And without the Academy to stifle magic users, mages here have discovered all sorts of methods to grow more powerful. Don''t underestimate them."


    Arran was about to ask another question when he noticed that a few hundred paces ahead, a small group of people had stepped onto the road. From the look of it, there were just over half a dozen, and they seemed to be wearing mages'' robes.


    Noticing the same, Snowcloud said in a low voice, "I think there''s trouble ahead. Be ready."


    Arran nodded, then sent out his Shadowsight. After a moment, he said softly, "There''s more of them hiding in the brush next to the road. To the left."


    Snowcloud nodded silently, not questioning how Arran had discovered the hidden threat. Instead, a hard expression appeared on her face, and Arran knew that, like him, she was preparing for battle.


    They slowed their pace as they approached the group ahead, but they did not turn to run. There was no point in doing so ¡ª if an attack came, facing it head-on would be their best chance of survival.


    At about a hundred paces, Arran''s eyes went wide when he recognized one of the men among the group ¡ª the sales clerk from the Golden Hall. It seemed the man recognized him at the same time, because he suddenly stretched out his arm and pointed at Arran.


    There was no time to give the matter any thought, because just a moment later, the man next to the sales clerk raised his hand, and Arran could Sense that he was gathering Wind Essence for an attack.


    At once, Arran created a Force Shield, and a split second later he could Sense an attack hurtling toward him. Yet although the attack hit the Force Shield with a loud crash, it did not break through, and Arran retaliated at once, sending a Wind Blade toward the men.


    Both the sales clerk and the man to his side died in an instant, Arran''s Wind Blade cleaving through their bodies like a sword slicing paper. At the same time, two streaks of white fire surged forth from Snowcloud''s hands, and another two of their enemies died before they could even launch attacks of their own.


    But even as the group ahead was all but wiped out in a moment, Arran''s Shadowsight let him know that half a dozen arrows came flying toward him from the brush aside the road.


    He quickly moved the Force Shield to protect him, but a moment too late ¡ª one of the arrows struck his shoulder, with another glancing his arm.


    Ignoring the pain, Arran ripped the arrow from his shoulder, then drew his sword and rushed toward the hidden opponents, the Force Shield in front of him. Snowcloud would have to deal with what remained of the group on the road.


    In the few seconds it took Arran to reach his foes, several more arrows came his way, but these harmlessly glanced off his Force Shield.


    When Arran reached the brush, he could see several men within it, drawing their swords as they braced for Arran''s attack. Now, he could Sense that they were Body Refiners, albeit much weaker than Arran himself.


    He did not pause or hesitate in his attack, instantly ramming his sword through the chest of the nearest man, while at the same time slamming his Force Shield into another.


    Perhaps it was the excitement of the sudden battle, or perhaps an unforeseen effect of the Essence Crystals, but Arran now felt a strength and bloodlust that was new to him, his sword tearing through his opponents with ease as he butchered them.


    In a matter of seconds, all his opponents were dead, their bodies ripped apart by Arran''s furious attacks. Even if they were Body Refiners, their Essence-strengthened bodies had offered them no protection from Arran''s rage.


    The last of his opponents defeated, Arran turned around, and he was surprised to see Snowcloud sitting on the road, grasping her leg. While there were no enemies left standing on the road, Arran understood that she had been injured in the fray.


    He quickly made his way back to her, and when he reached her, he saw an arrow sticking from her leg ¡ª it seemed he wasn''t the only one who had been hit.


    "You''re wounded," he said worriedly, kneeling beside her to inspect the wound.


    Instead of groaning in pain as he expected, she gave him a calm but questioning look.


    "Just how many Essence Crystals did you use?"

 Chapter 128 Injuries

    "We''ll talk about the Essence Crystals later," Arran said. "First, let me take a look at that wound."


    Snowcloud nodded, wincing as she gazed down at the arrow sticking from her leg.


    As Arran inspected the wound, he saw that although the arrowhead was embedded deeply in Snowcloud''s thigh, it did not look like it had struck the bone.


    "I''m going to pull out the arrow," Arran said. "Are you ready?"


    "Do it," she said, clenching her jaw.


    Carefully, Arran took the arrow firmly in his hand. Then, with a single quick movement, he pulled it from Snowcloud''s leg.


    She cried out in pain for a moment, gasping as the sharp arrowhead sliced through her flesh once more on its way out.


    "All done," Arran said. Then, he took a bottle of water from his void bag and carefully cleaned the wound. With the arrow gone, it didn''t look nearly as bad ¡ª though it was deep and oozed blood, it seemed like a clean cut that should heal well enough.


    "I''ll take it from here," Snowcloud said, taking out a small flask from which she poured a thick liquid over her injury. She groaned as she rubbed the liquid into the wound, but whatever the liquid was, it stopped the bleeding.


    While Snowcloud bandaged her leg, Arran reached for his shoulder to check the damage he himself had sustained. Yet to his surprise, he found only a shallow cut in his shoulder, and the gash on his arm seemed to have healed already.


    This gave him some pause.


    Even if his injuries had been less severe than Snowcloud''s, they had certainly been worse than they were now. And while years of Body Refinement had caused his body to heal rapidly, it had never recovered anywhere near as fast as this.


    For a moment, he considered the possibility that the Essence Crystals had something to do with it, but he quickly rejected the thought. Powerful though they might be, there was no reason to think they would have such an effect.


    Then, an uncomfortable realization set in, as he remembered his encounter with the eyeless creature.


    After the events at the fortress, the burn on his face had healed far more quickly than it should have. He had not given it much thought at the time, but now, he suspected the creature had done something that made a lasting change to his body.


    Though the power was welcome, its source caused him concern. From what he had seen of the creature, he doubted anything it could impart would be benign. And if it had given him some kind of new power, he doubted it came without a cost.


    "Hey!" Snowcloud''s voice interrupted his thoughts.


    "What is it?" Arran asked, pulling his thoughts back to the present.


    "I asked if you have any injuries," she said, holding up the small flask she had used to treat her own wounds.


    "Nothing worth mentioning," Arran said. "Let me just get the loot, and we can be on our way. I''ll tell you about the Essence Crystals once we''re out of here."


    Snowcloud looked on with a somewhat disapproving gaze as he looted the bodies, but Arran ignored her expression. Even if she would rather pass up treasures than rob the dead, he had no such compunctions. Treasure was treasure, and the dead did not need it ¡ª dead enemies least of all.


    He was disappointed to find that none of the mages seemed to carry much of value. There were a few low-quality Essence Crystals and several scrolls, but other than that, he found nothing of interest.


    "I wonder why they attacked us," Snowcloud said as she looked on, a frown on her face.


    "No need to wonder," Arran replied. "One of them was at the trading house where I bought my Essence Crystals. He must have informed the others that I was carrying treasure."


    It was the only explanation that made sense. Although both Snowcloud and Arran himself had plenty of enemies, none would be foolish enough to attack them with so little strength.


    "How many Essence Crystals did you manage to buy in the city?" Snowcloud asked, a curious look on her face.


    "Hundreds," Arran replied, although he did not say just how many hundreds of the crystals he actually had. After the events with Lord Sevaril, he had decided he would not speak freely of his possessions anymore ¡ª not even to friends and allies.


    Still, Snowcloud''s eyes went wide in surprise at his answer, but then she chuckled. Arran was relieved to see that she wasn''t upset, even if his lack of discretion had resulted in her being wounded.


    "No wonder you drew their attention," she said, shaking her head. "And I take it you''ve already used most of the crystals?"


    "I''ve used a few hundred," Arran said, understanding that there was no point in hiding that. "But I still have a decent number left to train further."


    "Using those right now won''t do you much good," Snowcloud said. "I''m sure you''ve already discovered that the more crystals you consume, the weaker their effect becomes. And with what you''ve taken already, control won''t be your bottleneck for at least the next few years."


    "My bottleneck?"


    "You already had a strong body and powerful Realms when I met you," Snowcloud said. "And now, you also have the control you lacked earlier. But your Sense is still weak, and your skill at using magic is downright poor. Those are the things you''ll need to improve to grow stronger."


    The explanation made sense, and Arran nodded thoughtfully. "Then how do I do that?"


    "You''ll develop your Sense by using it, and by purifying Essence," she said. "Even if you don''t need the crystals, purifying Essence is one of the best ways to train your Sense. As for your skill¡­ that will require practice and training, and lots of it."


    "What kind of training?" Arran asked.


    "Spellcasting and sparring," Snowcloud replied instantly. "Only by actually using magic can you become better at it. It''s like playing the lute ¡ª a good instrument and nimble fingers will only get you so far. At some point, you''ll have to start putting in actual work to progress."


    Arran sighed at her answer. Although he knew she was right, he much preferred shortcuts over having to spend endless hours in training. But it seemed that he had finally run out of shortcuts.


    "So when do we start?" he asked. If work was the only way forward, he might as well get started as soon as possible.


    "When we''re a few days from the city," Snowcloud said. Then, with a look at her leg, she added, "And when this is healed."


    After that, they continued on their way, leaving the dead bodies of their would-be robbers behind.


    Snowcloud limped as they walked, but she refused Arran''s offer to carry her, giving him a cold stare for even suggesting it. At this, Arran shrugged ¡ª if she wanted to suffer needlessly, that was her business.


    When evening finally fell, Goldhaven had already faded far into the distance. Yet still, Arran did not feel entirely safe. The botched robbery had reminded him that even small mistakes could come back to haunt him, and there was no lack of mistakes and indiscretions in his past.

 Chapter 129 Smooth Travels

    In the weeks following their departure from Goldhaven, Arran quickly discovered that training with Snowcloud was far more arduous than he had anticipated.


    Although they had done some training together before they visited Goldhaven, after the progress Arran had made with the Essence Crystals, it seemed that Snowcloud now thought he was ready for more rigorous instruction.


    They spent most of their days traveling, but even as they walked, Snowcloud made Arran practice his spellcasting with a constant slow barrage of attacks at whatever happened to be on the side of the road.


    Occasionally she would give him tips and pointers, but more often, she would scold him if he paused his practice for more than a few minutes.


    And sometimes, she would launch sudden attacks, giving Arran only a moment to defend himself with a Force Shield. The attacks were never strong enough to cause serious harm, but the burns and bruises they left were sufficiently painful to motivate him to learn quickly.


    The constant spellcasting left Arran exhausted, but he could not deny the results. Within days, his skill at casting spells began to show small signs of improvement, and even if it wasn''t much yet, he could tell that he was making progress.


    Moreover, with both his Sense and his control stronger than before, he found that the training also helped improve his understanding of magic.


    Previously, he had slavishly followed his spell scrolls'' instructions, weaving strands of Essence together in as close a copy of the originals as he could manage. Yet while simple imitation had allowed him to cast functional spells, it also limited his powers.


    Now, however, he started to gain a vague understanding of the principles behind magic, and he began to discover how changing minor parts of his spells could drastically change their effects.


    He was still far from reaching any real understanding of how magic worked or altering his spells in any useful ways, but he could feel that he was finally on the right track.


    Even if further progress would be slow in coming, he was certain that if he continued his training, it would come eventually.


    After several days of Arran practicing by himself, Snowcloud decided her leg had healed enough, and from that moment on, they spent several hours each night sparring against each other.


    While they had sparred before, Arran found that their mock battles were now wholly different from before. He understood that Snowcloud previously held back, but it quickly became clear that she had restrained herself far more than he had imagined.


    In each new fight, she would combine various spells and techniques in different ways, each time driving Arran to his limit, and then swiftly moving well beyond it.


    Sometimes, she would attack with overwhelming power, forcing him to defend with all the strength he could muster. Other times, she would rely on tricks, binding his feet with chains of Air as he rushed toward her, or goading him into launching attacks that she reflected right back at him.


    Whatever strategy she used, each time the result was the same, with Arran being defeated again and again.


    The endless losses might have hurt his confidence, had it not been for the steady progress he was making.


    With each new loss his attacks grew faster and his defenses stronger, and if actually defeating Snowcloud in a fair fight was still well beyond his reach, every day he found himself lasting slightly longer in their exchanges.


    "How do I compare to other novices?" Arran asked after the first week of training.


    At the question, a thoughtful expression appeared on Snowcloud''s face, and she took some moments in answering.


    "You aren''t skilled enough to be a novice yet," she finally said. "But with your power, you could easily defeat most of the weaker novices."


    "What about the stronger ones?" Arran asked.


    Snowcloud shook her head resolutely. "You would lose. They have been training like this since childhood, and with access to all the resources they needed."


    Arran sighed. Although the answer disappointed him, he had suspected as much. But then, a thought occurred to him.


    "You said I wasn''t skilled enough to be a novice," he said after a moment''s thought. "But I thought becoming a novice only required learning a single spell?"


    "Perhaps in the Empire," Snowcloud replied with a dismissive smile. "In the Society, there are a handful of spells that qualify an initiate to become a novice, and each of those requires a level of skill that is currently beyond you."


    Arran frowned, unhappy with the answer. "But you said I can defeat the weaker novices."


    "Advancement in the Society is based on skill, not power," Snowcloud explained. "Just having a wealthy family or good fortune can give someone the resources to grow strong. But skill relies on your own work and talent ¡ª and those are the things that allow mages to grow truly powerful."


    With a laugh, she added, "Of course, having proper trainers still helps."


    Although Arran himself had relied mostly on fortune rather than training to reach his current strength, he had to admit that what she said made sense.


    With Realm Opening Pills, Natural Treasures, and Essence Crystals, even the least talented mage could grow strong, but without effort and talent, all that strength would go to waste.


    He did not know how his talent compared to others, but he decided that if he was to fail, he could make sure it wouldn''t be for lack of effort. The work he put in was something he could control, and he resolved to give it his all.


    After that, he increased his training, working even harder than before. Where Snowcloud previously had to scold him to keep up the work, now, he scolded himself when he slacked off ¡ª the idea that he lacked the skill to match even the least skilled novices was something he simply could not tolerate.


    Yet despite Arran''s newfound fervor, training was not all they did as they traveled.


    Three of the ingredients Snowcloud still required would rely on luck to find, and she had given him extensive descriptions of what these looked like ¡ª even if the chance of Arran stumbling upon even one of them was small, it wasn''t a chance she was willing to pass up.


    Unfortunately, although Arran''s talent for magic was still in question, his talent for herbalism certainly wasn''t ¡ª it was entirely clear that he had none of that whatsoever.


    Several times each day, he would spot some herb that he believed resembled one of the ingredients they needed, and each time, Snowcloud would briefly inspect it, then spend a quarter hour explaining the many ways in which it was wholly different from what she sought.


    Arran meekly endured her explanations, but they had little effect. Inevitably, within a few days, he would make the same mistake again, and receive yet another lecture on the same herbs.


    While the lectures had little effect, Arran didn''t mind them too much. With most of his time spent practicing magic, even listening to Snowcloud expound the differences between redleaf flower and orange blossomleaf was a welcome distraction.


    And then, there were the villages.


    At first, Arran had expected that Snowcloud would want to avoid villages, but it soon turned out that he couldn''t have been further from the truth.


    Whenever they passed a village along the road, Snowcloud made it a point to stop and visit the local herbalists and healers, asking whether they had any knowledge of the ingredients she sought, and what herbs could be found in the area.


    The conversations often lasted for hours, and after having suffered through several of them, Arran decided that from then on, he would wait in the local inn or tavern instead.


    Even if being a Body Refiner meant that drinking a few mugs of ale had little effect on him, it was better than spending hours listening to discussions on the intricacies of herbalism.


    On the whole, their journey proved uneventful, even if Snowcloud''s search for herbs and Arran''s training meant they moved considerably slower than they had planned.


    Only rarely did they run into bandits, and when they did, a quick display of magic was usually enough to scare off their would-be assailants. Those few bandits who weren''t as quick on the uptake, meanwhile, proved little challenge.


    Nearly three weeks passed like this, with Arran and Snowcloud slowly advancing toward their destination, and Arran improving his spellcasting skills with each passing day.


    But then, one morning, as they headed for yet another small village along the road, Arran noticed smoke rising in the distance. At once, he knew that the days of quiet travel and training were over ¡ª there would be trouble ahead.

 Chapter 130 A Familiar Face

    "We could just go around the village," Arran said, looking at the smoke floating up into the sky. "Whatever happened to the village is long over, but those who did it might still be there."


    Even if he was curious to see what had happened to the village, perhaps the wiser choice would be to just avoid it altogether. It wasn''t his first instinct, but then, his instincts rarely led him away from danger.


    "We can''t," Snowcloud replied with a small shake of her head. "If the village was attacked, we can get a sense of who''s responsible." In a softer voice, she added, "And there might be people still alive."


    "All right," Arran said, not needing much convincing. "We can take a look, but give me a few moments to prepare first."


    Wary of going into danger unprepared, he changed into the black armored coat he got from Lord Sevaril and belted on his starmetal sword. With his Duskcloak within reach as well, he figured he would have a good chance of escaping even if there were a dozen strong mages in the village.


    When he finished his preparations, Snowcloud gave him an inquisitive look. "New equipment?"


    "I picked up the coat in Goldhaven," Arran replied. "The sword I''ve had for a while."


    "You really are full of surprises, aren''t you?"


    From Snowcloud''s expression, Arran could tell she recognized both the coat and the sword as being anything but ordinary, but it couldn''t be helped. There was no point in having treasures if he could not use them when facing danger.


    "Let''s go," he said. "I suggest we leave the road, and approach from the woods. If anyone''s there, they won''t see us coming as easily."


    Snowcloud replied with a nod, and soon, they were moving through the thick woods surrounding the village, slowly making their way through the dense underbrush as they headed in the direction of the smoke.


    When they reached the village a quarter hour later, Arran immediately saw that his suspicion had been correct ¡ª whatever happened was long over. Most of the buildings in the village had already burned to the ground, and what few of them still stood were little more than smoldering husks.


    Yet although the village had been destroyed, he was surprised to see that there were no bodies anywhere. Nor, for that matter, could he smell the familiar scent of charred flesh ¡ª the only thing he could make out was the smell of burned wood.


    "I think the villagers fled before this happened," he said in a low voice. "Either that or they''ve been taken away."


    "Let''s have a look," Snowcloud whispered back. "But be careful."


    Arran had no intention of being careless regardless of her warning, and as they stealthily prowled into the ruined village, he continuously swept the area with his Shadowsight, heedful of any possible threats.


    He almost concluded the village was abandoned entirely, but then, behind one of the half-collapsed buildings, he detected three shapes ¡ª adult figures, holding weapons.


    "There!" he yelled, pointing toward the trio''s location. Drawing his sword, he rushed forward, bounding toward the building behind which the three were hiding, Snowcloud following some steps behind him.


    He reached the three hidden men only a moment later, before they had a chance to flee or react, and their terrified looks made it clear he had taken them by surprise.


    Yet when he saw them, he immediately knew that they weren''t responsible for what had happened to the village ¡ª their faces were gaunt to the point of being emaciated, and although it looked like they had seen battle not too long ago, it was clear that they had been on the losing end of it.


    "What happened here?" he asked, sheathing his sword as he realized they were no threat. "Who burned down the village?"


    Seeing Arran put away his sword, the three men relaxed visibly, though they still looked at him and Snowcloud with wary eyes.


    For a moment, none of them spoke, but then one of them took a hesitant step forward. It was a young man, barely out of boyhood, with a slender build that almost looked feminine. Yet despite his unimpressive physique, he seemed less fearful than his comrades.


    "A raiding party attacked the village," the young man said ¡ª or rather, the young woman, because on hearing the voice, Arran understood that this was no man, despite the short hair and lack of curves.


    "Whose raiding party was it?" Snowcloud cut in. "And where are the villagers?"


    "Our master led the villagers to safety before the attack," the young woman answered. "As for the raiding party, it belongs to a local warlord ¡ª a powerful mage, according to our master. We''ve faced his men a number of times already."


    Arran did not need to ask how those confrontations had ended. From the look of the young woman and her companions, it was clear that their side had been the losing one.


    "This master of yours, who is he?" he asked.


    "He''s a member of the Shadowflame Society," the young woman said, pride in her voice despite her pitiable state. "We''re his recruits."


    "The Shadowflame Society?" Snowcloud said, her voice sharp. "Lead us to him immediately."


    The young woman''s eyes went wide. "I can''t¡ª"


    "I''m a Shadowflame novice," Snowcloud interrupted her. "And if we meant you harm, you would be dead already."


    "You''re a Shadowflame mage?!" The young woman was clearly startled at the revelation, yet a moment later, a glimmer of hope appeared in her face. "Then you can help us!"


    "We''ll see," Snowcloud replied flatly. "First, take us to this master of yours."


    Leaving the ruined village behind, the young woman and her companions led them into the woods, and soon, Arran found himself impressed at the ease with which they navigated the dense forest.


    Perhaps they weren''t imposing warriors, but at least it seemed they were good scouts. And in this region, he thought, that counted for a lot.


    They journeyed through the thick woods for close to two hours, but finally, they reached what looked like a small valley, barely visible among the trees.


    The valley stretched for nearly half a mile, and as they passed through it, Arran was wary of an ambush, constantly sweeping the area with his Shadowsight. Yet no ambush came, and eventually, the valley widened into a large clearing.


    The clearing held a sizable if disorderly camp, with what appeared to be nearly a hundred people, sitting huddled around some small campfires.


    Around half of the people in the camp looked healthy and well-fed, but among them, Arran saw small children and even several infants. These, he thought, must be the villagers.


    The other half looked considerably worse, their bodies gaunt and their clothes torn and dirty. Yet unkempt though their appearance might be, they seemed well-armed and alert, their eyes immediately turning toward Arran and the others when they entered the clearing.


    "Lord Stoneheart!" the young woman called out. "I brought visitors!"


    A moment later, a tall figure rose from the camp and turned toward them.


    "Stoneheart?"


    There was some doubt in Snowcloud''s voice as she looked at the man, and Arran shared her disbelief. Although the man had Stoneheart''s ridiculous height, he looked completely different from the confident, domineering warrior Arran had met near Hillfort.


    The man''s eyes were sunken, with dark circles around them, and his beard and hair looked ragged. There were several fresh scars on his face, and although he was muscular, he lacked Stoneheart''s bulk, instead looking as if he had barely eaten in weeks, or even months.


    Yet even in the man''s current state, as he began to walk toward the newcomers, Arran could see that it was indeed Stoneheart ¡ª gaunt and weary though his face might be, and despite the fresh scars he bore.


    Stoneheart stopped before Snowcloud, giving her a small bow. "Lady Snowcloud," he said, in a respectful but tired voice.


    Then, he turned to Arran, and there was a hint of surprise in his eyes. "So that''s where you disappeared to," he said. He gave Arran another look, then added, "You''ve grown stronger."


    "You''ve grown thinner," Arran replied.


    Stoneheart let out a weary chuckle. "I suppose I have, at that."


    Snowcloud was silent for a moment, casting an examining look at Stoneheart. "What happened to you?" she finally asked, concern in her voice.


    "A lot," Stoneheart replied. "Misfortune, stupidity ¡ª probably both. But come, join us. We don''t have much in the way of food or drink, but we do have some logs to sit on."

 Chapter 131 Stonehearts Misfortune

    They walked toward one of the small fires and sat down around it, the young woman taking a seat next to Stoneheart.


    "How did you end up in such a state?" Snowcloud asked. "And where are your other recruits?"


    Stoneheart let out a pained sigh. "It all began after we left the Valley. Just a few days from the border, that venomous bitch Amaya¡ª" He paused and shot a look at Snowcloud, seemingly worried that he had offended her.


    "She deserves the title," Snowcloud said. "Continue."


    "She ambushed us when we had only barely left the Valley," Stoneheart said, his expression somber. "We didn''t have a chance."


    Snowcloud raised an eyebrow. "You were defeated by Amaya? For all her cunning, I never figured her for much of a fighter. How did she manage that?"


    "She wasn''t alone," Stoneheart replied. "There were two other novices with her, both Waning Moon scum, along with their recruits. Against three mages and near a thousand skilled fighters, it was a miracle that any of us managed to escape."


    "You seem to have managed it better than your recruits," Arran said, a hint of bitterness in his voice. He still remembered Stoneheart''s ragtag army, and it seemed his misgivings about the destiny of those recruits had come to pass.


    "I delayed Amaya and the other two novices as long as I could, to give my recruits a chance to escape. But I failed." Stoneheart shook his head. "I nearly died, and even so, almost half of them lost their lives in that battle."


    "Seems like you lost a lot more than that," Arran said, glancing at the disheveled group of men and women in the camp.


    When he first met Stoneheart in Hillfort, the giant novice''s army had counted thousands of recruits. If these few dozen were all that was left, it meant Stoneheart''s army had been wiped out almost completely.


    "Amaya was only the start of our problems," Stoneheart replied, his voice grave. "After the battle, we fled west for several weeks, until we finally lost them. But when we thought we were safe¡­" He let out a sigh, his expression pained. "Things only got worse from there."


    "Amaya attacked again?" Snowcloud asked.


    Stoneheart shook his head. "Not Amaya. Some local warlord. Calls himself the Lord of Bones. He''s already killed several novices in the region. He commands an army of bandits and mercenaries, thousands of them."


    "You fought him?" Snowcloud asked with a frown. "Even after your encounter with Amaya?"


    "We didn''t have a choice," Stoneheart said. "He took us by surprise, and we were forced to make a stand. The man himself isn''t that strong ¡ª I think I could take him, if it was just him against me. But his army¡­ they''re Body Refiners, all of them. None too strong, but against so many¡­"


    "Body Refiners? Thousands of them?" Arran''s heart almost skipped a beat when he heard this. He knew that there hadn''t been time for Lord Sevaril to raise an army of Body Refiners with the food Arran sold to him, but even so, he knew of only one person with the means to hand out the means to raise such an army.


    Stoneheart nodded. "More than I thought possible. Most of the recruits I had left fell in that fight before we made our escape. We''ve avoided their main force since then, but we''ve encountered several of their raiding parties. And each time we face them, more of us fall."


    "What about the villagers?" Snowcloud asked. "How did they get tangled up in all this?"


    "My scouts found one of the raiding parties headed toward their village," Stoneheart said. "We couldn''t fight them without losing even more people, so I took the villagers along. Better that their houses burn without them inside."


    "What are you going to do now?" Snowcloud asked.


    "We were planning to travel north," Stoneheart said, though there was some doubt in his voice. "My uncle has taken an old fortress there, and if we reached him, we''d be safe."


    "The Dragon is nearby?" Snowcloud asked, a thoughtful look in her eyes.


    "His fortress a few hundred miles north of here," Stoneheart said. "But the warlord''s army lies between us, and his raiding parties roam the lands for tens of miles around. You''re lucky you haven''t run into them yet."


    The answer didn''t seem to satisfy Snowcloud, and she gave Stoneheart a cold stare. "Why is the Dragon in the region?"


    As she spoke, Arran thought he could hear a hint of danger in her voice. Although he did not know who this ''Dragon'' was, Snowcloud was clearly far more concerned about him than the warlord who had killed most of Stoneheart''s recruits.


    Stoneheart sighed. "I suppose there''s no point in hiding the truth," he said after only a moment''s hesitation. "The Soaring Sun is gathering its strength in the region, and all our novices are supposed to take their recruits to my uncle''s fortress."


    "He''s an Elder," Snowcloud said, her voice sharp. "If he gets involved in the novices'' conflicts, it could mean open war within the Society."


    "Open war?" Stoneheart asked bitterly. "What do you think we have now? Waning Moon mages are forming armies to kill those within the Soaring Sun faction, and you think we still have peace?"


    Anger was now clear in his tone, and with his eyes fixed on Snowcloud, he continued, "A warlord with an impossible army appeared right on the road to our gathering place, hunting down our novices. You think that''s a coincidence?"


    At this, Snowcloud''s expression turned shocked. "You think the Waning Moon sent him?"


    Stoneheart laughed bitterly. "What other explanation is there? I''ve sent my scouts through the region to look for survivors, and all they found were a scattered few recruits who barely escaped when their novices were ambushed."


    "If you''re right, then the Waning Moon has crossed a line," Snowcloud said with a sigh. "But then, if Soaring Sun novices are gathering under the protection of an Elder, so have you." She shook her head. "I have to speak with the Dragon."


    "You''re welcome to join us," Stoneheart said. "Perhaps with your help, we''ll actually make it there. If we do, you can speak with the Dragon all you want."


    Snowcloud looked as if she was about to reply, but then, a muffled call sounded through the camp.


    "Lord Stoneheart!"


    A moment later, a gaunt man in ragged clothes emerged from the treeline, running toward them.


    "Lord Stoneheart!" the man called again, before coming to a stop a few paces from their small group, panting with exhaustion. "There''s a raiding party!" he said.


    "How many?" Stoneheart asked at once. "And how long before they get here?"


    "Several hundred," the man replied, his breathing ragged as his legs seemed to give out and he collapsed to his knees. But even as his strength failed him, he managed to add, "A quarter hour."


    "Kara, have someone take care of him," Stoneheart said to the young woman aside him. Then, he turned to Snowcloud, a pleading look in his eyes. "Will you help?"


    She only took a moment in answering. "We will," she said. "It doesn''t seem like we have much of a choice, anyway."


    A look of relief appeared on Stoneheart''s face at her answer. "Thank you," he said. "Now, what we should do is¡ª"


    "Shut up," Snowcloud interrupted him. "You''ve already gotten your recruits killed. You''re not in command here."


    For a moment, both she and Stoneheart stared at each other in silence, until finally, Stoneheart cast down his gaze.


    Turning away from Stoneheart, Snowcloud looked at Arran.


    "Ghostblade, what should we do?"

 Chapter 132 Preparing for Battle

    Arran felt a moment of apprehension when Snowcloud asked him what to do. He was anything but a strategic genius or a seasoned commander, and he felt a moment of doubt at his ability.


    Yet after the series of disasters Stoneheart''s group had suffered, it was clear that they could not be trusted to lead ¡ª perhaps they had learned from their defeats, but Arran wasn''t willing to take that risk. Not when his life was at stake.


    Snowcloud, meanwhile, knew even less of tactics than Arran did. For all her power, she lacked experience in real battles. And, seemingly aware of her limitations, she had now put the burden on Arran.


    Arran clenched his teeth, suppressing his anxiety. Of all of them, he was probably the best choice to come up with a strategy ¡ª something that did not bode well for their chances.


    "The clearing," he said, turning to Stoneheart. "Does it have any exits other than the valley?"


    Stoneheart shook his head. "The surrounding hills are too steep, and the woods too dense. Perhaps a small group could make it out, but¡­" He didn''t finish the sentence, instead casting a gaze at the dozens of recruits and villagers in the camp.


    "Right," Arran said, silently cursing Stoneheart for placing his camp in a natural trap. "So we must fight. Snowcloud, take a position at the back of the clearing, along with any archers among the recruits. The moment our foes emerge from the valley, hit them as hard as you can, and kill before they''re able to reach you."


    "That won''t work," Stoneheart cut in. "There are too many of them. We''ll be overwhelmed in moments."


    "We''re not joining her," Arran said. "You and I will take up positions ahead, along the side of the valley. As the raiding party passes us, we''ll flank them and attack from the side. Those in the middle and the back won''t make it to the clearing ¡ª and if they do, it won''t be fast enough to make a difference."


    "That''s suicide!" Stoneheart objected loudly. "The two of us can''t take on all of them by ourselves!"


    Arran groaned. "The valley is narrow," he said, controlling the anger he was beginning to feel. "And dense with trees. They''ll have to spread out to get through, and we''ll hit them just as the first few reach the clearing. There should be too much chaos for most of them to even find us."


    "Then wouldn''t it be better if we attacked from a distance?" Stoneheart asked. "Get up on the hills on the side of the valley, and attack them from range?"


    "No," Arran replied curtly.


    "Why not?" Stoneheart insisted.


    "Because they''re Body Refiners, you granite-headed moron," Arran snapped. "If you stand on a hill and pelt them with fireballs, one of them will eventually get the right idea and put an arrow through your thick skull."


    Arran''s sudden outburst caused Stoneheart''s recruits to look at him in shock, and even Snowcloud appeared startled.


    Stoneheart himself, however, was merely silent for a moment, then nodded. "You''re right. So what do we do?"


    "We charge into their midst," Arran said. "As long as we create enough chaos and confusion, they won''t be able to group up and overwhelm us, and they''ll get in each other''s way when they attack us. Those who make it to the clearing will be killed by Snowcloud, while we take care of the rest."


    Stoneheart was quiet for several moments. "It will be dangerous," he finally said, a thoughtful look on his face.


    "There are several hundreds of Body Refiners coming to kill us, and we''re trapped in here." Arran let out a sigh. "Of course it''ll be dangerous. If any of you can come up with something that isn''t dangerous, I''d be glad to hear it."


    He looked at Stoneheart and the recruits surrounding them. Although they looked uncomfortable, none of them spoke, and after a few moments of silence, Arran turned to Snowcloud.


    "You''ll be the meat grinder at the end of our trap," he said. "You''ll have to hit them with a barrage of attacks until the attack breaks or they''re all dead. Can you handle that?"


    She nodded. "I just have to attack any who make it to the clearing, right?"


    "Right," Arran said. "But you can''t let up for even a moment. The entrance to the clearing needs to be a massacre ¡ª if they get a chance to gather their wits, they''ll group up, or attack you from range."


    He knew well what an arrow fired by a Body Refiner could do to a mage, and Snowcloud would be their most obvious target. Yet hers was the most important role, and while Arran himself was too weak to handle it, he didn''t trust Stoneheart enough for the task.


    "I understand," she said, resolute despite the anxiety in her voice. "But what about you? I know you''re strong, but you''ll be right in the middle of it."


    Arran shrugged. "I have my sword and my armor. As long as I only face a few at a time, I should be fine."


    That wasn''t the entire truth, of course. Although he thought he had a good chance of surviving in the middle of a group of panicked Body Refiners, he knew that a single mistake or even a bit of bad luck could cost him his life ¡ª and if both he and Stoneheart fell, the battle would be lost.


    But there was nothing for it now but to fight with all the fury he could muster, and he pushed aside any doubts and hesitation he still felt. Right now, distractions like those would not serve him well.


    "Do you have armor?" he said, turning to Stoneheart. The tall man was dressed in ragged robes that would do him little good in battle.


    "I don''t," Stoneheart replied. In a soft voice, he added, "I lost my void bag in the first battle."


    Rather than punching the man as he wanted to, Arran reached for his own bags, then took out the robe Jiang Fei had given him long ago. Although it wasn''t the strongest armor he had, it was the only piece that would fit Stoneheart.


    "Wear this," he said. "It''s enchanted, and it will offer you at least some protection."


    Stoneheart did as Arran said, putting on the robe. Although it was wide enough to fit him, on the tall man''s frame it looked comically short, barely reaching his knees. Still, it would be better than nothing.


    Snowcloud had already put on an armored coat of her own when they first headed to the burned village ¡ª a bulky brown thing that did not seem to fit her particularly well.


    "Ready?" Arran asked, looking at Snowcloud and Stoneheart.


    Snowcloud nodded, and Stoneheart did the same a moment later.


    "Snowcloud, you attack the moment you see the first enemy. Stoneheart, you attack when you hear either me or Snowcloud attack. And whatever you do, keep moving, and cause as much damage as you can ¡ª don''t give them a chance to group up."


    "I guess this is it," Snowcloud said.


    "Good luck," Arran replied. Then, he gestured to Stoneheart. "Let''s go. We''ve already wasted too much time talking ¡ª it won''t be long before they arrive."


    They set off at a run, Stoneheart following closely behind Arran.


    "Are you strong enough?" Stoneheart asked as they neared the entrance to the clearing.


    "I suppose we''ll find out soon enough," Arran said. If he wasn''t, they would all be in trouble.

 Chapter 133 Bloodlus

    Arran led Stoneheart several hundreds of paces into the valley, where he found a spot for the oversized novice to hide in. Within the dense thicket, the raiders shouldn''t notice him even if they passed within a few feet.


    "Remember," Arran said. "Don''t attack until you hear the sounds of battle."


    He had already said it earlier, but repeating the command couldn''t hurt. If Stoneheart attacked too soon, the whole plan would fall apart.


    "Got it," Stoneheart said. "And good luck."


    "Same to you," Arran replied.


    He quickly headed back, seeking out a hidden position halfway between Stoneheart and the clearing at the end of the valley. Here, he would be able to see if the raiders paused to gather their numbers before they entered the clearing.


    If that happened, it would be a disaster. His only choice would be to wait for the entire group to begin their assault, then attack them from behind. There might still be a chance of victory even then, but he knew it would come at a heavy cost.


    As he waited for the raiders to arrive, a strange calm came over Arran. Despite his fears and worries about the upcoming battle, the strategy had been decided, and his path set. Like an arrow in flight, all that was left for him was to strike his enemies.


    Several minutes passed in silence, with only the sounds of distant birds and rustling trees to be heard in the valley. A few times, he thought he heard someone approach, but each time, it was only the wind.


    Then, finally, he heard it ¡ª a rustle among the trees close to his hiding spot. It quickly grew louder, and after some moments, he could hear whispering voices sounding just a few paces from his position.


    "¡­you think we¡­ when we¡­ ready¡­"


    The voices were too soft for Arran to make out more than a few disjointed words, but he knew this was the vanguard of the raiding party. Now, all he could do was wait, and trust that the spot he chose gave enough cover to hide him as they passed.


    "Quiet!" a voice hissed, and the whispers ceased a moment later.


    By now, Arran could hear the men''s footsteps as they walked past him, and he remained motionless, barely even daring to breathe for fear of giving himself away.


    Soon, however, more voices sounded, and these men seemed less concerned about being heard than the first few had been.


    "Captain said there''s a purse of gold if you kill the giant," one of the men said, only barely lowering his voice.


    "I''m not going near that monster," another replied. "He already killed¡­"


    The voices faded away as the men passed Arran, being replaced with others as the group moved along the valley.


    That the group lacked even the discipline to remain quiet was a good sign, Arran thought. It likely meant the raiders would struggle to regroup when the attack came, and that meant Arran''s plan might succeed.


    Yet as more and more men passed him, he slowly began to feel some worry. Even at their slow pace, he thought, they should already have reached the clearing. If they hadn''t, they might be gathering their forces before entering.


    But then, it came. From the direction of the clearing, a sudden loud blast sounded, quickly followed by screams of shock and pain.


    Arran did not pause to see if the sounds would continue. At once, he rushed forward, sword drawn as he crashed through the brush.


    The first raider Arran faced did not even have the time to look surprised as Arran reached him, the starmetal sword''s edge cleaving through his neck as soon as he turned toward the sound.


    The second fared no better, dying with his sword half-drawn and his face twisted in shock. By then, the few others around them had drawn their weapons, but it brought them little help. While they were Body Refiners, they could not match Arran''s strength and speed, and in their startled state they fell within seconds.


    After a few moments, all the raiders near Arran were dead or dying, while those farther away seemed stunned by the sudden attack.


    Arran used this brief pause in the battle to throw the strongest Battering Force attack he could muster through the valley toward the clearing, its force tearing through men and trees alike. He followed it up with several large fireballs, leaving the raiders ahead of him in chaos.


    He turned around and instantly rushed toward the enemies who were now ahead of him. His sword ripped through any who came within reach of his blade, while those beyond it were struck by a barrage of magic attacks.


    Yet while he had taken the first few raiders by surprise, many still remained, and after their initial shock, they had begun to defend themselves.


    As Arran slaughtered his way through their ranks, some of their attacks now struck him. His armor protected him from most attacks, but even so, he quickly sustained a series of small injuries ¡ª a shallow gash along his neck, a slash across the exposed part of his arm, a cut to his face, and others not worth mentioning.


    Yet he only barely noticed the injuries as he fought, the same excitement and strength he had felt during the ambush outside Goldhaven once more surging through him.


    The feeling was much stronger now than it had been then, and with each new enemy he slew, it seemed to grow stronger still.


    He felt like a starved wolf set loose on a horde of rats, wildly killing all those around him, leaving a wake of mangled bodies in his path. And the more raiders died, the greater both his fury and strength grew.


    After some minutes, he ran out of Essence, but it did not matter ¡ª by now, the rage of battle had fully taken hold, and he eagerly charged his enemies with just his sword, yearning to see them fall before him.


    The more he fought, the stronger his furious desire for battle grew, and after some minutes, the only thing he felt was a raging desire to see his enemies'' bodies torn, rent, and ripped apart, their blood to flow like a river through the valley.


    If there was a reason he fought them, he had forgotten what it was ¡ª he fought only to kill, to slaughter even more of them, to cleave their bodies with his sword, feel their flesh ripped apart by his rage.


    A distant laugh sounded as he fought ¡ª a crazed, maniacal sound ¡ª and he only vaguely recognized the voice as his own. It did not matter. The only thing that mattered was that there were more enemies to kill, more sacrifices for his sword.


    While his enemies had earlier at least tried to fight him, now, they merely fled or begged for mercy. But he allowed none to flee, and his rage left no room for mercy.


    He massacred any of them he encountered, their screams silenced when his blade found them. In his wake, he left a trail of torn and broken bodies.


    Soon, none of them remained that he could see, only maimed corpses surrounding him.


    This angered him. His bloodlust was nowhere near sated, and his rage nowhere near ended. He screamed in frustration, then rushed further down the valley, where sounds of battle could still be heard.


    The enemies he encountered as he went through the valley were fewer than before, and they ran in panic when they saw him. It did not matter ¡ª whether they fought or not, their deaths were needed to quench Arran''s frenzied thirst.


    For several hundreds of paces, he slaughtered his way through the panicked and fleeing raiders, each new death further fueling his strength and rage. None could stand before him, and none remained alive where he passed.


    Finally, he saw a single tall figure a few dozen paces ahead, set upon by a group of two dozen enemies.


    The figure looked to be on the verge of falling, yet Arran''s eyes were on the men surrounding him. A wide grin appeared on his face as he rushed toward them, eager to collect these new offerings.


    Arran''s attack took them by surprise, and for briefly, he reveled in the massacre he unleashed upon them, cleaving and tearing through their defenseless bodies, flesh and armor both like paper before his sword.


    After several moments, the last of them fell, and once more he felt frustrated that there were no more enemies to be slaughtered.


    Only the tall figure remained, but although Arran felt a desire to take this life as well, a vague sense of familiarity kept him from doing so ¡ª something deep inside told him not to tear out the figure''s heart, no matter how strong his urge to do so.


    Then, he saw a movement in the corner of his eye ¡ª a wounded enemy trying to escape. Quickly, he bounded away in pursuit, catching up with a few long steps before bringing down his sword on the screaming man.


    There were more ahead, Arran could now hear ¡ª others trying to escape the valley, fleeing from his blade. They would not get away.

 Chapter 134 Control

    The fury of battle still coursing through his veins, Arran rushed through the valley, chasing the remaining raiders with an insatiable thirst for blood. Where he found them, they died, and each death further fed his rage.


    The bloodlust grew stronger with every kill, and the stronger it grew, the more eagerly he killed. Even with an army of a hundred thousand before him, he would have attacked without hesitation.


    Yet here, the enemy numbers were limited. And with each enemy he killed, it took him longer to find the next one. The search frustrated him, and he ran faster, killed more quickly, fearful of losing even a single one of his prey.


    When he reached the mouth of the valley, he could see tracks leading in all directions. Impatient to continue the massacre, he chose one at random, then rushed forward with the boundless strength that surged through his body.


    He caught the man who left the tracks within moments, then cut him down in seconds. When he heard muffled voices in the distance, he immediately set off again, blood-soaked blade already raised in anticipation of the next kill.


    The enemy force was long since broken and the woods were filled with the fleeing remnants. Arran bounded between them with hurried steps, chasing down the enemy fighters even as they retreated.


    Some fought back, while others fled. It mattered not. Wherever he found them, they fell, their deaths further adding to his strength and bloodlust.


    For hours, he rampaged through the woods, the hunt consuming his mind until he lost all sense of time or place.


    But when evening fell, there were no more raiders to be found. They had fled in all directions as he chased them through the woods, and now, none could still be seen or heard.


    The lack of enemies infuriated him, and he frantically continued his search, looking for someone ¡ª anyone ¡ª to fight. It was no use. If any of the raiders still lived they were long gone, and within the dense woods, finding them was a near-impossible task.


    Still, he did not let up. Although starved of fuel, his rage was nowhere near extinguished, and he scoured the woods relentlessly.


    As the night grew darker, however, his bloodlust finally began to weaken. And now, he could feel that there was something that mattered other than killing ¡ª something important, a reason to kill.


    He stopped in his tracks, deep within the forest.


    For a time, he stood motionless, trying to gather his thoughts and suppress the yearning for more blood and slaughter. As he did, he felt something at the corner of his consciousness, as if a thought was trying to break through.


    Then, with a start, he remembered it ¡ª the battle, Snowcloud, Stoneheart. The very reason he had fought in the first place.


    It was as if a veil was suddenly lifted from his mind. Though the bloodlust was still there, reason now forcefully subdued it, seizing back the control it had lost during the battle.


    Now, he remembered his plan to defeat the raiders, and the bloody battle that followed.


    He recalled being wounded in the battle, but when he checked, he found no injuries on his body. And even after what must have been hours of battle, he felt no exhaustion ¡ª if anything, he was stronger than before.


    But then, he felt a surge of panic when he realized that in his rage, he had left the battleground behind. Taken with bloodlust, he had rushed into the woods in search of more enemies, abandoning both the valley and his allies.


    He set off at once, back to the valley, desperately hoping that his absence had not caused a disaster. Although he had slain hundreds of raiders, his memories of the battle were hazy, and he did not know how many more there had been.


    Finding his way back to the valley was difficult, but the bodies that littered the forest floor formed a rough trail that he followed using his Shadowsight.


    Even so, it took him several hours before he neared the valley again. It seemed that in his rage, he had ventured many miles into the forest, pursuing the raiders long after they fled the battle.


    When he finally arrived at the mouth of the valley, the first light of dawn was already starting to appear on the horizon.


    Here, the aftermath of the battle was much clearer than in the forest. Dozens of bodies were scattered across the ground, and even many of the trees were torn and broken.


    Yet amid the devastation, a single lone figure stood. Short and thin, unmoving, a calm expression on her pale face. It was Snowcloud.


    When she saw him, her eyes went wide instantly, and she rushed over to him at once.


    "You''re still alive," she said when she reached him, relief in her voice. After giving him an examining look, she added, "And unharmed, from the looks of it."


    Arran nodded in response. "I''m fine. But what happened here? Did you suffer any losses?"


    Snowcloud shook her head. "Only a few dozen ever made it to the clearing. Stoneheart suffered some injuries, but he''ll recover in a few days. But¡­" She hesitated before continuing, giving Arran a troubled look. "He said that when you saved him, he didn''t know whether you were there to rescue him or kill him."


    "I don''t think I knew, either," Arran replied. "Something came over me during the battle, an uncontrollable rage. When I fought the raiders, it was like my mind was taken over by bloodlust, and all I could do was slaughter as many of them as I could find."


    "You killed them," Snowcloud said, her eyes briefly resting on the bodies around them. "But you saved us."


    Arran gave her a short nod, though, in truth, he didn''t need the reassurance.


    The death of the raiders didn''t bother him, nor the manner in which they died. The raiding party had come to kill, and that they had fallen so easily was something he felt no guilt about. If anything, the easier they fell, the better it was.


    Rather, what troubled him was how he had lost control of himself.


    The bloodlust had completely enveloped his mind, leaving him barely able to even distinguish friend from enemy. And not just that ¡ª hazy though his memories of the battle were, he knew that in his rage, he was unable to recognize threats or traps, much less avoid them.


    Had the raiders been prepared, they could have easily goaded him like a wild bull, leading him into a trap and then skewering him with a barrage of arrows.


    While he would have welcomed the power itself, the loss of control was too large a price to pay. Against a clearheaded enemy, the strength it brought could easily be turned into a fatal weakness.


    Only if he found a way to command it would it be a boon rather than a burden. And without even knowing what it was, there was no way for him to do that.


    "There''s something I need to tell you about," Arran said after a moment. "Something that happened at the deserters'' fortress."

 Chapter 135 Trus

    "Let''s go," Snowcloud said. "The others have set up a new camp, about an hour from here. While we walk, you can finally tell me what happened." She gave him a calm glance, then added, "It certainly took you long enough."


    "You knew?" Arran asked, startled.


    Snowcloud let out a weak laugh. "We''ve been training together for weeks. You think I failed to notice how your injuries healed in hours?" She shook her head. "Of course I knew something happened. I just didn''t know what."


    "Why didn''t you say something before?"


    "I trusted that you would tell me if it became necessary," Snowcloud replied flatly. "And it seems I was right."


    It was not an answer Arran expected, and briefly, he found himself at a loss for words.


    For years, he had anxiously guarded his secrets from all those he met, learning to always have lies at the ready for those questions he could not answer. But now, Snowcloud had simply said that she trusted him enough not to pry into his affairs.


    He did not completely understand why she put such faith in him, but the show of trust left him feeling both glad and slightly uncomfortable.


    "All right," he began after a moment. "When we entered the dungeon¡­"


    As Snowcloud guided the way, Arran told her what had really happened at the fortress. There wasn''t much to tell ¡ª like Snowcloud, he had been unconscious for most of it ¡ª but what little he remembered was thoroughly unpleasant.


    When he finished speaking, Snowcloud remained silent for a while, her brow knitted in thought as she considered his words.


    "The creature," she said finally. "It said it had a debt to repay. What was it?"


    Although Snowcloud''s show of trust had put him somewhat at ease, Arran did not want to tell her everything that had happened in the Empire. Not yet, at least. And even if he did, he suspected she would have trouble believing the events involving Panurge.


    "Back in the Empire, I escaped from an Academy prison," he said after a moment''s thought. "When I did, I also set free the other prisoners. The creature was among them, although I didn''t know it was there until I opened its cell."


    Snowcloud gave him an intent stare, and he knew she was wondering how he had ended up in an Academy prison. Yet she seemed to understand that he didn''t want to discuss the matter, and to his relief, she didn''t ask about it.


    Finally, she let out a sigh. "You couldn''t have known about the creature," she said, although there was a hint of a question in the statement.


    "I couldn''t, and didn''t," Arran replied. "If I''d know about that thing, I never would have freed it."


    "Then you aren''t to blame for its actions," Snowcloud responded.


    Arran felt some relief at her answer. He had worried that she would hold him responsible for the creature''s actions. Unwittingly or not, he was the one who had unleashed it upon the world.


    "Do you know what happened to me?" he asked. "What caused the bloodlust?"


    "Blood magic," Snowcloud answered immediately. "It has to be. The Blood Crystal in the fortress, it''s something I''ve heard about before, though never in detail. Supposedly, it gives great strength, but at a terrible cost."


    "What kind of cost?" Arran asked worriedly.


    Snowcloud took some moments in responding, and her expression turned troubled.


    "I don''t know," she finally said, voice filled with doubt. "In the Society, I''ve only ever heard it talked about in whispered rumors. It''s supposed to be among the darkest kinds of magic, sacrificing lives to gain power. But other than that¡­ I have no idea."


    "So you don''t know how to control it, either," Arran said, holding back a sigh when he understood she wouldn''t be able to help him.


    "I don''t," Snowcloud said, "but Stoneheart''s uncle might. He''s an Elder of the Sixth Valley, with centuries of experience across the border. Whatever the creature did to you, he will know what it is."


    "But the Blood Magic¡­" Arran began. "When he finds out, won''t there be repercussions?"


    Although he didn''t say it outright, he worried that if he was found to be involved in Blood Magic, whether by choice or not, he would be imprisoned ¡ª maybe even executed.


    When the Academy discovered his forbidden Realm, it had set in motion a chain of events that had nearly cost him his life. And now, it seemed, he had stumbled upon yet another kind of forbidden magic.


    Snowcloud resolutely shook her head. "It''s not your fault," she said. "And even if it was¡­ the Dragon values strength above all else. If anything, he''ll view this as a gift, not a curse. Something to strengthen the Society."


    Arran frowned at the answer, not entirely convinced. Yet for the moment, there were more pressing concerns. He had not forgotten that between them and Stoneheart''s uncle lay an entire army of Body Refiners.


    "Either way, we''ll have to reach him first."


    "I have some ideas about that," Snowcloud said. "But we''ll discuss that when we reach the camp."


    They walked through the forest for the better part of an hour, Snowcloud guiding the way as they slowly advanced through the dense woods. Arran now understood that she had been to the camp already, and had returned to the valley only for his sake.


    After some time, she suddenly stopped in her tracks and raised an arm. When Arran sent out his Shadowsight, he found a well-hidden figure in the brush, about a hundred paces ahead of them.


    A moment later, the figure emerged from its hiding place, and Arran could now see that it was a young man. The man gave them a short wave, then promptly disappeared again.


    "One of the scouts," Snowcloud explained. "The camp is just a bit further ahead."


    They began to move forward again, and it wasn''t long before Arran could hear muffled voices in the distance. It seemed they had reached their destination.


    When they reached the camp, Arran was relieved to see that this time, Stoneheart ¡ª or perhaps Snowcloud ¡ª had chosen a better location. Although it was not as well-hidden as the clearing in the valley had been, here, there were plenty of routes for escape should the need arise.


    As they approached, Arran saw Stoneheart rise from a small group of recruits who were seated at the center of the camp. The tall novice raised his arm in greeting, then began to walk toward them, motioning for the recruits to remain where they were.


    Stoneheart walked with a visible limp, and as they neared him, Arran could see that there were several bloody bandages on his body. Yet for all his wounds, his expression seemed cheerful.


    "Good to see you both made it back," he said. He turned to Arran, then looked him over appraisingly. "You seem to be back to your old self."


    "I''m sorry," Arran said, remembering how he had almost killed the man. "Something happened to me. I¡ª"


    "Nonsense," Stoneheart interrupted him. "You saved my life." He sighed, then added, "I just wish I''d recruited you back in Hillfort. Perhaps then, the battle against Amaya would''ve ended differently."


    "There are more important things to discuss," Snowcloud cut in. "We need to leave, and soon. If this Lord of Bones you talked about has an entire army of Body Refiners, it won''t be long before they attack again."


    At this, the cheerful look on Stoneheart''s face vanished. "I hope you have any ideas," he said. "With an entire army after us, I don''t see how we can escape."


    "I do," Snowcloud replied curtly. "Now sit down and listen."

 Chapter 136 Forced March

    "So what''s the plan?" Stoneheart asked.


    They were sitting at the edge of the camp, far enough from the others that they could talk in private. Even so, Arran could see the recruits and villagers occasionally shooting nervous looks at him, and he understood that they had seen the aftermath of the massacre.


    "We can''t fight them," Snowcloud said. "The main force will receive word of what happened soon enough, and when that happens, it won''t just be a single raiding party that comes after us." Brow furrowed, she shook her head. "The only way for us to find safety is with your uncle."


    Stoneheart''s face fell, and he sighed deeply, whatever hopes he had for Snowcloud''s plan clearly gone. "He''s over a hundred miles north of here, with thousands of enemies in between. There''s no way for a group this large to pass unnoticed."


    "That''s why I''m going alone," Snowcloud said. "By myself, I have a good chance of slipping past them, and I should be able to get there in a day or two."


    "You''re leaving us behind?" On hearing the words, Stoneheart''s eyes went wide with shock.


    "I''m getting help," she said. "While I seek out your uncle, you will travel northeast. With the army to the northwest, that will keep some distance between you until I return."


    Arran thought on it for some moments. The plan wasn''t a bad one, all considering. With the villagers and recruits in tow, there was no way to shake off their pursuers, but they might be able to buy a few days ¡ª enough for Snowcloud to get help, if she succeeded.


    "You want me to stay with the group?" he asked her.


    She nodded, though he could see barely concealed worry in her eyes. "If they catch up, you''re the only one with a chance to hold them back."


    Stoneheart did not pick up on her worried tone, and the tall novice let out a sigh of relief. "If he''s with us, we can take them."


    Snowcloud shook her head. "He can''t fight an entire army by himself. And even if he could¡­" She shot a look at Arran. "Can I tell him?"


    Uncomfortable though he felt at his secrets being shared, Arran understood that if they were to travel together, Stoneheart should know the truth. After a brief moment of hesitation, he gave Snowcloud a nod.


    "Someone used Blood magic on Ghostblade," she explained. "That''s why he was able to defeat so many of them. But the battle caused him to go into an uncontrollable rage, and if it happens again, I worry the rage might not pass so easily."


    She had reason to worry, Arran knew. Even now, he could still feel a distant yearning for battle within himself. If he fed it again, he had little doubt that the bloodlust would both be stronger and faster in coming.


    Perhaps it would win him the battle, but whether he would still be himself afterward, he did not know. Moreover, the blind rage would cause him to forget about the danger, and this time, their enemies would be better prepared.


    Still, he would use the power if there was no other choice. But if he did, he knew that none around him would be safe ¡ª friend or ally.


    "Blood magic?" Stoneheart''s expression briefly became concerned, but after a moment, he shrugged. "Strength is strength. Let''s hope you won''t have to use it again."


    "I will leave immediately," Snowcloud said. "And you should do the same. Remember, head northeast."


    She turned to Arran, and in a softer voice, she said, "Don''t fight unless you have no other choice."


    Arran nodded. Although the warning was unnecessary, he knew Snowcloud was more concerned than she dared to show.


    "Before you leave¡­" He retrieved his Duskcloak, then handed it to her. "Take this. It''s a Duskcloak. If you channel Essence into it, it will hide you, as long as you don''t move."


    "Won''t you need it?" Snowcloud asked, furrowing her brow as she examined the garment.


    Arran shook his head. "I won''t."


    If their group was attacked, he would not hide while the others were slaughtered. And once his bloodlust was unleashed, the only way the battle would end was if either he died or his enemies did. Whatever the case, there would be no chance to hide.


    Snowcloud accepted the cloak without further argument, then repeated the plan once more for Stoneheart''s benefit. Finally, she stood up and said her goodbyes before departing, leaving Arran and Stoneheart behind.


    Arran watched her as she left, and for a short while, he sat in silence. The days to come would be filled with danger, and he knew that their only hope was a distant one ¡ª though Snowcloud had put on a confident facade, her journey would be even more perilous than theirs. And if she failed, so would they.


    "I suppose we should be on our way as well," Stoneheart said, interrupting his thoughts.


    "Not yet," Arran replied. He looked at the others in their camp. "Have they eaten yet?"


    "Barely," the tall novice said. "Snowcloud shared some food with us earlier, but with a group this large¡­"


    Arran reached for his void bag and retrieved some of Panurge''s food, then handed it to Stoneheart. "Eat this. I''ll make sure the others are fed."


    Stoneheart looked at the dried meat and fruits as if he had just been handed a sumptuous feast, yet despite his obvious hunger, he looked up at Arran and asked, "Is there enough for everyone?"


    "More than enough."


    Arran had sold most of the food he had to Lord Sevaril, but even so, what he had stashed away was enough that feeding this entire group for a few days would barely make a dent.


    The recruits and villagers lacked the Body Refinement techniques they needed to properly use the Natural Essence in the food, but it would still nourish them, and in the march to come, they would need every bit of their strength.


    As he made his way through the camp and handed out food, he received grateful words and looks. Whatever worries the others might feel over his actions in the valley, it was clear that their hunger was stronger than their fear.


    They broke camp barely a quarter hour later, and when they did, the group''s spirits had noticeably improved ¡ª whatever dangers lay ahead, at least they wouldn''t have to face their deaths on empty stomachs.


    Arran headed the group as they traveled, while Stoneheart guarded the rear. Every so often the tall novice would send out scouts, but although none returned with any word of their enemies, one of them failed to return altogether. Hopefully, Arran thought, the man had fled.


    They paused once during that first day, and then only to eat a quick meal before continuing. Even the villagers'' children seemed to sense the danger, and driven by fear, their pace was better than Arran had expected.


    Still, he knew it wasn''t enough.


    With a group this large, their tracks were impossible to cover, and they were being pursued by Body Refiners. Whatever distance there was between them and their enemies would grow shorter with each passing hour, and eventually, they would be caught.


    The only questions were how long it would take the raiders to catch up and whether Snowheart would succeed in bringing help before that. If she was late in coming, or if she was captured by the enemy, they would not escape.


    They walked well into the evening, only stopping to make camp when it became too dark to navigate the forest''s treacherous terrain.


    Arran briefly considered lighting the way with Fire Essence and continuing through the night, but after some thought, he decided against it. The day''s march had already left the villagers exhausted, and without rest, they would be unable to continue in the days to come.


    That night, he barely slept, and he awoke well before dawn.


    As he waited for first light to appear, he thought about Snowcloud. If she had evaded capture, she should now have covered half the way to Stoneheart''s uncle ¡ª their salvation.


    But if she had failed, she could be dead already. And then, the rest of the group would soon meet the same fate.

 Chapter 137 Contac

    "Can''t sleep either?"


    Stoneheart''s voice was weary as he sat down next to Arran, and from the way he moved, it was obvious that his injuries were hindering him.


    Arran shrugged. "We''ll be departing soon enough, anyway," he said. "How are your injuries?"


    "Not too bad," Stoneheart replied, picking at one of his bandages. "That food of yours helped, too. How did you get so much food with Natural Essence, anyway?"


    "Just a bit of luck," Arran said, unwilling to elaborate.


    "You seem to have a lot of that." As Stoneheart spoke, Arran thought he could hear some bitterness in the tall novice''s voice.


    "I''ve had my share of luck," Arran agreed, "both good and bad."


    "I could do with some of the former," Stoneheart said dejectedly. "Ever since I crossed the border, it''s been one disaster after another. I never thought it would be like this."


    Finally, Arran couldn''t take it anymore. When he first met Stoneheart, the novice had been annoyingly confident and boastful, speaking in grand terms about the part he expected to play in the struggle between the Sixth Valley''s factions.


    Now, after a few disastrous months, it almost seemed like his spirit had been broken, and the boasts were long gone. Yet although Arran didn''t mind seeing the arrogance go, it now seemed to have been replaced with self-pity.


    Between Arran''s worries about Snowcloud, their group''s dire situation, and the bloodlust he still felt simmering within himself, the tall novice''s complaints were something he could not bear.


    "You think you haven''t been lucky?" he asked, keeping his voice calm.


    "Look at me," Stoneheart replied flatly. "Look at what happened these past few months. Do you see any luck in that?"


    Arran spoke softly, but even so, he wasn''t able to fully keep the anger from his voice. "You were trained in magic since childhood, given all the resources you ever needed to grow strong, and never wanted for mages to spar against." He gave Stoneheart a cold stare. "You think you''re unlucky?"


    "Maybe I had a good start," Stoneheart said, raising his voice, "but my luck over the past months has more than made up for that."


    Arran glanced at him, then shook his head. "You created your own bad luck."


    "I couldn''t have known things would go this way," Stoneheart said, looking flustered.


    "You could have." Arran no longer tried to spare the novice''s feelings. "You knew the region was chaotic, and you knew there was conflict between the factions. Yet you chose to cross the border with an entire army of commoners, believing you were strong enough to protect them."


    Stoneheart listened to Arran wordlessly, his forehead creased in thought as he took in the words.


    "With so many, you never had the chance to choose your battles," Arran continued. "Anyone who wanted to could easily find you, and for a fight on their terms. Amaya knew she couldn''t defeat you alone, but you made sure she wouldn''t have to, because you thought it wise to carry around the biggest damn target in the entire bloody region.


    "How could it have gone any other way? Did you think your enemies would just sit around and wait for you to face them one by one? Did you think they would happily offer themselves up to further your glory? You could have known, and you should have known."


    When Arran finished speaking, Stoneheart remained silent for a time, a troubled expression on his face.


    Finally, he spoke again, his voice soft and unsteady. "You''re right," he said. "I was one of the strongest novices in the Valley ¡ª not a monster like Snowcloud, but far stronger than most. I thought real battles would be like the duels back in the Valley."


    "You''d never been in a real fight before?" Arran asked, finally beginning to understand something he should have realized long ago.


    Stoneheart shook his head. "Not one with death on the line. The closest I''d experienced were duels, and I''ve always been good at those. I thought my skill there would help me here." He laughed cheerlessly. "You can see how well that went."


    Arran sighed, his anger at Stoneheart now gone.


    For all his talk and bluster back in Hillfort, the tall novice had crossed the border with less experience than Arran had when he traveled to Fulai City. Small wonder all his plans had turned to disaster.


    "The only way forward is to learn from your mistakes," Arran said. "I''ve made plenty myself, these past few years, but maybe I''m slightly less of an idiot now than I was when I left home."


    The tension broken, Stoneheart chuckled, though without much conviction. "I suppose I have plenty of learning material, then."


    "Don''t we all," Arran replied. "But maybe you''ll have a chance to learn yet."


    Unless, of course, Snowcloud had been captured. Or the raiders caught up with them before she returned. But Arran didn''t say that out loud ¡ª there was no point in further bringing down Stoneheart''s confidence.


    They broke camp when the first light of day appeared, setting off after a brief meal.


    From the very first step, it was clear that this day''s march would be slower than the previous day''s. Even if none of them complained about the pace, the villagers were obviously weary and sore from the day before, and the recruits weren''t much better off.


    The thickest part of the forest was now behind them, it seemed, with the undergrowth in the area less dense and the trees sparser. Yet while this made walking easier, it also meant there was less shade to be had, and with the sun bearing down on them, the group moved sluggishly.


    Even the wind seemed to have turned against them. Early in the morning, a strong northeastern gale had appeared, and throughout the day, it blew against them as they walked, not letting up for even a moment.


    Had it been a cool breeze, they might have welcomed it, but the wind was anything but refreshing. Hot and thick, like air being blown from a furnace, it only added to the heat from the sun. Arran himself had little trouble withstanding it, but his companions visibly suffered with every step.


    Still, they had no choice but to continue, and they marched in silence through the day. Several times, they briefly paused to drink and rest, but even so, there were many in the group who struggled to keep up.


    When they made camp late that evening, Arran could see the exhaustion in his companions'' every movement. Villagers and recruits alike, they all seemed at their limit. Although the children had the worst of it, the adults weren''t much better off.


    Yet they would have to continue their journey the next day, and Arran already knew their pace would be slower still. With their pursuers being Body Refiners, that meant any lead they held would be short-lived.


    As they prepared to rest, Stoneheart approached Arran, a worried look in his eyes. "Kara hasn''t returned," he said. "She left this morning, but she still hasn''t come back."


    It took Arran a moment to recall the name, but then he remembered it was the young female recruit he and Snowcloud had encountered in the village. It seemed there was something between Stoneheart and her, though Arran did not know what exactly ¡ª he could hardly see the tall novice falling for the boyish recruit. Either way, it did not matter now.


    "Maybe she''s fled," he said. "Figured her chances of escaping were better by herself."


    Although he didn''t really believe it, it wasn''t impossible. Given their current situation, a lone scout would have a better chance of escape than the entire group. If she''d fled, he couldn''t blame her.


    Stoneheart shook his head. "She wouldn''t. Not her."


    Despite the certainty in his voice, Arran could see doubt in his eyes. But there was no point in discussing it ¡ª they would sleep for some hours, then set off again.


    The next morning, Arran found himself disheartened at the state of their group. Tired as the others were, even after a night of rest, they would have trouble getting through the day ahead, much less what lay beyond.


    Yet there was nothing for it but to walk, even if the sun shone more fiercely than the day before and the wind had only grown stronger. The further they went, the better their chances would be.


    It was almost midday when one of the scouts returned, and Arran was surprised to see that it was Kara ¡ª the recruit Stoneheart was so worried about. It seemed she hadn''t abandoned them after all.


    As she neared the group, Arran saw that there was a shallow wound on her shoulder, and her expression was both weary and fearful.


    He quickly approached her, reaching her at the same time as Stoneheart.


    "You''re okay!" Stoneheart began, relief and worry both clear on his face.


    "No time for that," she said, breathing heavily. "I found them. There are two raiding parties about three hours behind us, each several hundred strong."


    Arran cursed loudly at the news. Even if Snowcloud had succeeded in reaching Stoneheart''s uncle, it would be at least another day before help arrived. With two raiding parties only a few hours behind them, they wouldn''t get that.


    "We need to delay them," he said.


    If the raiding party was just hours behind them, a few hours'' delay might mean the raiding party wouldn''t catch up until the next day. Body Refiners or not, they wouldn''t be able to travel at night ¡ª not without half the party getting lost, at least.


    "I''ll stay behind," Stoneheart said, his expression grave. "I can''t stop them, but I can hold them back for a time."


    "You can''t¡ª" Kara began.


    "It won''t work," Arran cut in. "Even if you don''t get overwhelmed immediately, you''ll run out of Essence in less than a quarter hour. After that, you''ll be overrun. You might kill a hundred of them before falling, but you won''t buy us enough time to make a difference."


    Stoneheart''s face fell, but he didn''t question Arran''s assessment, knowing full well that it was true. Any heroic last stand he wanted to make would be a futile gesture at best.


    "I have an idea," Arran said. He turned to Kara. "Can you tell me exactly where you last saw them?"


    As she began to speak, Arran could feel the bloodlust within him stirring.

 Chapter 138 Danger Illustrated

    Arran ran until his lungs felt like they would explode, sprinting with all the speed he had in him. There would only be a single chance to get this right, and he would not let it go to waste.


    Along the way, he encountered a lone raider scout. The man died as soon Arran caught sight of him, body bisected by a Windblade.


    He briefly felt another stir of bloodlust as the scout fell, but with a ranged attack, the effect seemed weaker. Either way, he could not give into it ¡ª not now, with a far more devastating attack at the tips of his fingers.


    When he finally thought he had gone far enough, he paused for some moments to catch his breath. The wind was still strong ¡ª that was good. It would play an important role in the battle to come.


    If it worked, it would be a massacre that no sword could match. And if they were particularly lucky, it wouldn''t just be the closest raiding parties that died. But either way, the attack would buy them days, not hours.


    Arran took a look around and soon found a dried spot of brush. He flicked his hand, and a small stream of Fire shot toward it, setting the brush alight instantly.


    With the wind feeding the flames, it only took seconds before the fire turned to a blaze, and when it did, it began to spread eagerly, rapidly moving downwind as if filled with a desire for more fuel.


    He did not pause to watch. Instead, he searched for another shrub or piece of brush to set ablaze, and quickly found one.


    Another flick of his hand, and another fire was started. Then another, and another still. Only traces of Essence were needed to set the dried shrubs and trees aflame, with the hot, dry weather having done most of the work already.


    Then, he began to trace his steps back the way he came, this time leaving a long trail of fire in his wake. It wasn''t long before thick clouds of smoke wafted upward behind Arran.


    He did not hurry as he moved, taking care that the fire took hold everywhere. While the fire would spread as the wind drove it southwest, he did not want to risk even the smallest chance of leaving any gaps for the enemy to flee through.


    As he moved forward, he looked in the distance before him, then cursed when he saw that there was still no sign of smoke ahead.


    Although he had known that Stoneheart''s injuries meant the novice would be slower in starting his task, he now began to feel some concern. Injuries or not, if Stoneheart was too slow, the entire thing might yet go awry.


    Still, he continued onward undeterred. Stoneheart''s actions were out of his hands, and the better the pace he made, the smaller the distance Stoneheart would have to cover.


    By now, the clouds of smoke behind him were thick enough that the raiders would have noticed them even from miles away, and once they realized what was happening, they were bound to increase their pace.


    He had already covered half the way back when he saw smoke rising far in the distance. Stoneheart had not failed.


    Although Arran was relieved, he did not let himself get distracted. Even with miles of land already turned into a seething inferno behind him, there was still plenty of ground to cover.


    The work took time, but finally, he reached the tracks their group had left earlier, and he turned to head for Stoneheart, with the smoke ahead of him guiding the way, and the trail of fire still growing behind him.


    As he walked, he kept his eyes open for any sign of the raiders. While they should still be over half an hour away, any groups that were ahead of the rest might have noticed their route of escape closing and rushed forward to escape.


    But no raiders came, and with Stoneheart and Arran now moving toward each other, the distance between them shrank rapidly.


    Then, at last, he saw Stoneheart approach him. Quickly, they crossed the remaining distance, closing the last part of the wall of fire that now stretched well over a dozen miles across.


    "All done," Stoneheart said when they met. "Although I still don''t see why we couldn''t have started from the center."


    There hadn''t been enough time for Arran to fully explain the plan before they set off, but now that it was finished, they finally had time to talk.


    "If we''d started at the center, they could have gone around the fire," Arran said. "But the way we did it, the fire will already have flanked them by the time they realize their path ahead is cut off."


    "Can they outrun it?" Stoneheart asked, his expression pensive.


    "No," Arran replied. "With these winds, the fire will go faster than they can run. There''s no way for them to escape."


    "So they will¡­?"


    "They will burn to death," Arran confirmed. "And if the main force is behind them, or if there are any other raiding parties, there''s a good chance we''ll get those as well."


    "Huh." Stoneheart''s forehead was creased in thought, as if he had just made some startling realization.


    "What?"


    "We killed hundreds of men? Just like that?" Stoneheart looked as if he could scarcely believe it.


    "We did," Arran said. "They might still draw breath, but they''re dead men walking ¡ª or running, I suppose."


    When he glanced at the raging fire a few hundred paces downwind from him and Stoneheart, he knew that the raiders would already be running for their lives, but also that they would not escape the inferno.


    "A few months ago, I would have called you a dishonorable coward," Stoneheart said.


    "And now?" Arran asked.


    "Now¡­" Stoneheart sighed, then let out a weak laugh. "Now, I think this was my best battle so far, and to hell with honor and bravery."


    Arran did not disagree. Battle was an ugly thing at the best of times, and destroying an enemy force without ever having to face it was a great outcome by any reasonable standard.


    Yet somewhere inside him, there was a part that was not at all reasonable ¡ª the bloodlust, which filled him with disappointment at missing an opportunity for battle.


    With a start, Arran realized that it was urging him to run toward the fire and brave the flames, to catch and kill the raiders before the fire took them. The urge was a mad one, yet insane though it was, it would not go away. All he could do was suppress it.


    Despite the heat of the blazing fire just a few hundred paces away, a chill ran down Arran''s spine. If the rage of battle were to take control right now, he knew he would not be able to stop himself from rushing toward the raiders, fire or not.


    Any doubts he still had about whether the bloodlust was a curse or a blessing instantly disappeared. It was a curse, and unless he found a way to handle it, his life would be a short one.


    "Let''s return to the others," he said to Stoneheart.


    As they made their way back to the group, they did not hurry. With their nearest pursuers eliminated, there was no need. If any others came, it would take them days to catch up, and even then, the risk of falling into the same trap would prevent them from taking a direct approach.


    At least for the time being, their group would be safe.


    Even without hurrying, it didn''t take Stoneheart and Arran long to find the group''s tracks, and after that, they soon caught up ¡ª which came as a surprise, since they had instructed Kara and the others to keep marching while they burned the enemy.


    Yet as they approached, Arran could see that the group had come to a standstill, with most of the recruits and villagers sitting on the ground. Something had happened, he realized.


    He didn''t have to wonder about the cause of the standstill for long, because when they came closer, he saw a tall figure standing at the center of the group, surrounded by a handful of recruits.


    After a moment, he corrected himself. The figure wasn''t just tall. If Stoneheart was a giant, this was a veritable titan, standing at least eight feet tall ¡ª and then some.


    His surprise only increased when they came closer and he saw that the figure was a woman.

 Chapter 139 Titan

    Arran''s hand immediately shot to his sword when he saw the giant woman at the center of the makeshift camp. Although it didn''t look like there was trouble, appearances could be deceiving, and a stranger showing up so suddenly was cause for concern.


    Yet as Arran moved to draw his blade, Stoneheart stopped him.


    "No need," the novice said, voice at ease. "That''s my cousin. If she''s here, it means my uncle must have sent her."


    At once, Arran relaxed. Not just because the woman wasn''t an enemy, but also because if Stoneheart''s uncle had sent her, then Snowcloud would have made it to the castle.


    As they approached, Arran got a better look at the woman, and only found himself growing more startled at her appearance.


    She looked to be in her late twenties, and although she was thickly muscled, other than her size she was well-proportioned, with long black hair that flowed down her shoulders like a waterfall and a face that was quite beautiful.


    Yet her size¡­ that was enough to make his eyes go wide with astonishment.


    Everything about the woman seemed oversized. She towered above the recruits around her, her shoulders dwarfed even Stoneheart''s, her legs were like marble pillars, and her breasts¡ª


    "If you keep staring like that, I''m going to expect a ring," the woman said, some amusement in her voice.


    The blood drained from Arran''s face as he tore his eyes away. "I''m sorry," he stammered. "It''s just¡­ you''re so¡­" Realizing he wasn''t making things any better, he quickly shut his mouth.


    Stoneheart coughed softly. "Ghostblade, this is Tuya Naran. She''s an adept, and my cousin."


    "I apologize, Adept Naran," Arran began. "I didn''t¡ª"


    "Tuya," she corrected him. "I take it you''re the one who started that little wildfire in the distance?"


    She pointed behind them, and when Arran turned to look, he was surprised to see dark clouds of smoke filling the sky. Even if he had known the fire would be large, he had not expected it to grow so vast it would darken the sky itself.


    "I am," Arran said, but even as he spoke, his thoughts had already moved on to other matters. "What about Snowcloud? Is she all right?"


    "Lady Snowcloud is fine," Tuya replied. "But Father sent me to retrieve you without delay, and on that note, we will be leaving now."


    With two giant strides, she was next to Stoneheart, then slapped him on the shoulder so hard his knees nearly buckled. "Good to see you, cousin. When you reach the castle, we''ll share a drink or two."


    "Wait!" Stoneheart said, sudden shock in his voice. "You''re leaving us behind?!"


    Tuya frowned, then gestured back to the group of recruits, where Arran now saw two middle-aged men standing. He had been so distracted by the giant woman that he had entirely failed to notice them.


    "Two adepts should be enough to keep you safe," Tuya said to Stoneheart. Then, she turned to Arran. "Ghostblade, let''s go!"


    Without waiting for a reply, she dashed off into the woods, crashing through several small trees without seeming to notice.


    Arran shot a dumbfounded look at Stoneheart, but as he did, a loud voice sounded in the distance. "Stop dawdling!"


    Stoneheart shrugged. "Go. She doesn''t like to wait."


    With a final nod to Stoneheart, Arran rushed off in pursuit of the giant woman. Dumbstruck though he was by the sudden turn of events, he was comforted with the knowledge that both the group and Snowcloud were safe.


    It took him some effort to catch up with Tuya, her massive strides carrying her forward with a speed he could only barely match. When he finally reached her, she tossed him a glance.


    "So," she said, her voice calm despite the thunderous sound of her footsteps. "The Blood magic. What''s it like?"


    Between his shock at hearing her speak of Blood magic so openly and the effort of keeping up with her, it took Arran a few moments to think of what to say.


    "Glorious," he finally replied. "Terrifying. It''s like your blood is on fire, and all that matters in the world is killing. Everything else becomes meaningless in comparison ¡ª even your own life."


    Tuya didn''t respond, but when Arran looked at her, he could see that her expression was contemplative, as if she was trying to make sense of his words.


    "Have you encountered Blood magic before?" he asked.


    "Several times," she said. "Father has long tried to study it, but those affected aren''t usually interested in talk ¡ª if they''re even capable of it."


    "He wants to study me?" At once, Arran began to wonder just what it was that Tuya''s father had in store for him.


    "Of course," the giantess replied. She stopped talking for a moment as she smashed a tree out of her path, then continued, "But he''ll also try to save your life."


    "Save my life?" Arran already understood his life was in danger, but it seemed that Tuya knew more of the ultimate outcome of Blood magic. "What happens if I don''t get help?"


    "Without his help, you''ll become a blood-crazed demon," she replied. "Every time you kill the rage will strengthen, and the further it strengthens, the more you will want to kill. Eventually, someone will step up and put a stop to it."


    She gave him a brief glance, then added, "From what I''ve heard, you''ve seen a fair amount of battle already."


    Arran swallowed hard at those words. What she said was true, he knew. Even with the battle at the valley days behind him, the bloodlust was still there. He could still control it, but if it grew any stronger, he had little doubt that it would overpower his reason.


    "Can your father help me?"


    "No idea." Tuya''s voice was unconcerned as she spoke. "He''ll try, and in this region, that''s as much as you can hope for. Many others would just kill you and be done with it."


    Although the answer did little to reassure Arran, right now, his problems were many and his options few.


    If she was right about the eventual effect of the Blood magic ¡ª as he knew she was ¡ª he didn''t have the time to search for other solutions. And even if he did, he wouldn''t know where to start looking.


    Still, this was exactly the sort of situation he dreaded ¡ª one where he wasn''t in control of his own destiny, where the choices of others would decide what happened to him.


    He much preferred the heat of battle, bloodlust or not. At least there, he could determine his own fate, sword in hand, standing or falling by his own actions.


    But that was all idle musing ¡ª right now, he needed help, and he knew of no others who could give it.


    For several hours, they ran in silence, Arran struggling to keep up as Tuya effortlessly charged through the woods.


    With both of them being mages, there was no need to rest or stop as they ran, and they traveled a distance in hours that would take the group of recruits and villagers days to cover.


    When evening fell they had already left the woods behind, with their surroundings gradually changing into a landscape of rolling, grassy hills, speckled with the occasional copse of trees and ¡ª to Arran''s surprise ¡ª quite a few farms and cottages.


    The light was beginning to fade when suddenly, as they were scaling a steep hillside, Tuya spoke up.


    "We''ve arrived," she said, not even a trace of weariness in her voice.


    Arran looked around for some moments but found nothing.


    "I don''t see¡ª" he began, but the words died in his mouth as they topped the hill.


    Now, he could see a large, shallow vale stretching out ahead of them. At its center stood a large walled castle, and nearby lay what looked to be a large village or small town.


    Yet that was not what caused him to go silent. Rather, it was the vast camp that stretched out around the castle, covering miles of land, with numerous campfires already visible under the darkening sky.


    At a glance, he thought the camp should hold tens of thousands of tents, if not more. It was an army, he knew at once. An army of Shadowflame novices and recruits.

 Chapter 140 The Dragon

    "Just how many people are here?" Arran asked, his eyes wandering around the camp while Tuya guided him to the castle.


    As they passed through the camp, it seemed even larger than it had from a distance, spreading out in all directions like a city built out of tents. There were recruits everywhere, many of them wearing swords and carrying spears, and once more Arran thought it looked more like an army than anything else.


    Tuya''s giant figure drew many looks from the recruits they passed, yet Arran saw reverence rather than surprise in their eyes ¡ª they were clearly already familiar with her, which meant the camp wasn''t a new one.


    "There are several hundreds of novices," Tuya said. "Each with a few hundred recruits."


    "But why are they here?" Arran asked. "And why so many?"


    "The conflict between the factions has made the borderlands too dangerous for lone novices," Tuya said. "The Waning Moon faction has already attacked dozens of novices, killing many of them. Here, our novices are under my father''s protection."


    As she spoke, Arran suspected she wasn''t telling the whole story.


    Perhaps it was true that the novices had come here for protection, yet if protection was all they needed, simply forming small groups would have been enough ¡ª there certainly was no need for a vast army like this.


    With so many armed men and women around, there had to be something they were waiting for. And although Arran knew little about the conflict between the Soaring Sun and Waning Moon factions, the impression he got from the camp was that they were preparing for a grand battle.


    If they were, it would be something beyond anything he had seen before ¡ª hundreds of mages and thousands of warriors facing each other, endless masses tearing into each other with sharp swords and powerful magic. Rivers of blood would flow, and devastation would fill the lands for miles around.


    In fact, even now, there were enough recruits for a large battle. If he slew just a few, the bloodlust would quickly fill him with strength, and with such numbers to feed it further, he would quickly become powerful enough to¡ª


    "We should hurry," he said with a start, realizing that he had been on the verge of attacking the camp.


    Tuya gave him a sideways glance. "You''re feeling the rage?"


    Arran nodded. "It seems to be growing stronger."


    "Or your control is slipping," Tuya replied, her forehead creased in a frown. "Either way, we''re almost there."


    Indeed, when Arran looked ahead, he could see that they were nearing the castle. Large and austere, it loomed over the rest of the camp like a mountain amid a meadow.


    There were several dozens of guards at the gate, but they let Tuya and Arran pass without a word, Tuya''s stature being all the proof they needed of her identity.


    Within the courtyard, Arran saw several dozens of men and women sparring against each other. They were dressed like mages, but he didn''t need to see their clothes to know what they were ¡ª even if they used no magic, they fought with a strength and speed that no commoner would have been able to match.


    Several of the mages cast interested looks at Tuya and Arran as they passed, but seeing the firm look on Tuya''s face as they made their way to the castle proper, none approached them.


    "We''ll head to my father immediately," Tuya said when they entered.


    "Can I see Snowcloud first?" Arran asked.


    Tuya shook her head. "Father told me to retrieve you without delay. You can speak with her later."


    Arran frowned, unhappy with the answer. He had wanted to talk to Snowcloud first, to find out whether she knew what Tuya''s father had planned for him. But from Tuya''s expression, it was clear that she would not be swayed, so he had no choice but to go in blind and hope for the best.


    The giant woman quickly led him through the castle''s maze-like halls, eventually coming to a stop before a large wooden door. She opened it without knocking and stepped through the doorway, with Arran following behind her.


    Inside, Arran found himself speechless. There was a large wooden desk, with an even larger wooden chair behind it, and in the chair sat a man so vast he barely even looked human.


    This was Tuya''s father, Arran instantly knew, and just the sight of the man left him dumbfounded. Dark-haired and square-jawed, the man had shoulders so thick with muscle they resembled barrels, and even sitting down he towered over Arran.


    Arran no longer wondered why the man was nicknamed ''the Dragon'' ¡ª his sheer size was enough to make him resemble one.


    As they entered, the giant looked up from a book he was holding, which in his massive hand looked comically small.


    "Father," Tuya said, giving the man a polite nod. "I''ve brought you the recruit."


    "So I see," the man replied, his voice calm and friendly. He looked at Arran, then added, "And it seems you reached him before the madness took hold. Ghostblade, was it?"


    "Yes, Elder Naran," Arran said, guessing at how to properly address the man. No correction came, and he was relieved that he seemed to have chosen correctly ¡ª offending the giant Elder seemed like a bad idea.


    "Tuya, could you go and get Snowcloud?" Elder Naran said. "I think she will want to be present when we discuss our next steps."


    Tuya stepped out of the room, and Elder Naran gestured at one of the chairs. "Please, take a seat."


    Arran did as the man said, suppressing his surprise at finding that despite his size and fearsome nickname, the man spoke more like a scholar than a warrior.


    "Now then," Elder Naran said. "I will explain how I hope to aid you after Tuya returns with Snowcloud, but perhaps you would like to hear what is actually affecting you?"


    "I would," Arran replied instantly.


    Elder Naran gave him an approving smile, then began to speak.


    "Blood magic is one of the more curious types of magic that exist. It neither relies on Realms nor on the Natural Essence that imbues the world, instead directly consuming life force for its power."


    "It consumes my life force?!" Arran''s eyes went wide, and he feared things might be even worse than he thought.


    "Not yours," Elder Naran corrected him calmly. "A Blood Crystal is created by draining the life force from thousands of people, then twisting and condensing it into a single spark of power. When someone absorbs it, that power merges with their body and mind, becoming part of them."


    Arran frowned. While that might explain why he healed so quickly, it did nothing to explain the bloodlust or the strength he felt during battle. "But what about the effects? Why does it make me stronger and fill me with bloodlust?"


    "A good question," Elder Naran said, nodding. "When people die around you, whether in battle or otherwise, the Blood magic draws in their severed life force. Only a small part of it is absorbed while the rest is ultimately wasted, but before the excess escapes you, you can briefly draw on its power."


    The giant man scraped his throat, then continued, "The rage you feel is like hunger or thirst ¡ª a primal instinct that is now part of you. And the stronger it grows, the harder it will become to resist. The effects will weaken after battle, but each time you kill, the Blood magic will grow more powerful within you."


    For several moments, Arran was silent.


    "Can you remove it?" he finally asked.


    "I can''t," Elder Naran replied. "It''s a part of you now, and to remove it would kill you. But I might be able to help you control it, and if I succeed, it will be a blessing to you."


    The man''s eyes shone with enthusiasm at those last words, yet Arran''s mind was on what came before. From what Elder Naran said, he wasn''t confident he could help.


    At that moment, the door opened and Tuya stepped inside, Snowcloud a step behind her.


    Arran nodded at Snowcloud, and she gave him a smile in response. But then, as she turned to Elder Naran, her face turned hard.


    "Have you figured out yet how to help him?" she asked, her voice severe.


    "I have," the Elder replied. "There is some risk involved, but I think there is a good chance of saving him."


    "What are you planning to do?" Snowcloud asked.


    "The Tempering," Elder Naran said.


    Arran took it as a bad sign when Tuya gasped in shock.

 Chapter 141 The Tempering

    "Have you gone mad?" The anger in Snowcloud''s tone was matched by her expression. "He''s a recruit, and you want him to go through the Tempering?"


    "Lady Snowcloud, novices aren''t supposed to know about the Tempering," Elder Naran said, frowning at her.


    "Recruits aren''t supposed to undergo it," Snowcloud retorted sharply.


    "He''s hardly a usual recruit," Elder Naran said. "Even without the Blood magic, his raw strength is enough to match a powerful novice."


    "But the Tempering kills even adepts," Snowcloud said.


    "Some die," Elder Naran agreed. "But most survive, and grow stronger."


    "What are the two of you talking about?" Arran cut in. He had absolutely no idea what the Tempering was, but from Snowcloud''s reaction, it was clear it was dangerous. "What is this ''Tempering''?"


    "The Tempering is one of the steps of the True Path," Elder Naran replied. "It purifies the body and mind, reforging you into something stronger. And right now, it is the only thing that might solve your predicament."


    "He wants to burn you," Snowcloud said, anger still clear in her voice.


    "Burn me?" Arran asked, looking at Elder Naran suspiciously.


    Elder Naran scraped his throat. "I suppose it could be described that way. The Tempering involves using magic to slowly burn the impurities from your body, remaking you in the process. But it''s something that all adepts undergo, and ultimately, it strengthens those who go through it."


    "Only those who survive," Snowcloud interjected. "And none of them are recruits."


    "He has a better chance than you might think," Elder Naran said. "The Blood magic will help his body regenerate, and combined with his strength, that should be enough." He looked at Arran. "But of course, there are risks, and ultimately, the choice is yours."


    Arran frowned at the words.


    While the Tempering sounded terrifying, Elder Naran seemed to believe he had a good chance of surviving it. And although that hardly filled Arran with confidence, it would be better than waiting for the bloodlust to grow until he couldn''t control it anymore.


    "Will this cure me?" he finally asked. "Burn away the Blood magic?"


    "It won''t," Elder Naran said. "As I said earlier, the Blood magic is now part of you."


    "Then what good is it?" Arran asked.


    "The Tempering will not just purify your body," Elder Naran said. "As you reform your body, you will also acquire true control over it. If all goes well, once the Tempering is over you will fully command your body and its instincts ¡ª hopefully including those created by the Blood magic."


    The giant Elder gave Arran an encouraging look, then continued, "You''re quite lucky. Had you been afflicted with Blood magic after going through the Tempering, it would be impossible to bring it under your control this way."


    As Elder Naran finished speaking, Arran gave the matter some thought. Elder Naran''s encouragement and optimism notwithstanding, it sounded like this Tempering was a dangerous and painful affair, and even then, it wasn''t guaranteed to help him.


    If it was his only option he would go through with it, but not before making sure that there really wasn''t any other path.


    He turned to Snowcloud. "Do you have any other ideas?"


    She hesitated before speaking. "We could return to the Sixth Valley," she finally said, though her voice was filled with doubt. "There are many mages in the Valley, and one of them might know a true cure." After a glare at Elder Naran, she added, "One that doesn''t involve burning you alive."


    Arran frowned at the answer. If they returned to the Sixth Valley, Snowcloud would fall into the hands of Elder Fang, and would not be allowed to leave again. That meant she would be unable to finish the cure for the Patriarch.


    While he was surprised that she would do that for his sake, he knew it was too large a sacrifice to ask of her. Yet before he could say so, Elder Naran spoke up.


    "They won''t help him," the giant Elder said. "He''s not even a full member of the Society yet."


    "I could¡ª" Snowcloud began.


    "Using your position to force the issue won''t work," Elder Naran interrupted her. "Your influence has already fallen too far. If it hadn''t, do you think Elder Fang would have dared to order your capture?"


    "Then what about you?" Snowcloud asked, though she sounded uncertain. "If he has the backing of an Elder, won''t they help him?"


    Elder Naran laughed bitterly. "If I speak for him, the Waning Sun and Iron Mountain will oppose me without even knowing the issue. At best, he will be sent away. At worst, they will try to have him executed."


    "Then we can seek help elsewhere," Snowcloud said, not ready to give up. "I can ask Lord Sevaril¡ª"


    "No!" Arran interrupted her sharply. Ignoring Snowcloud''s confused look, he turned his eyes to Elder Naran. "What if I search by myself? How long do I have?"


    "If you don''t kill again, you might be able to withstand the Blood magic for months, perhaps even years ¡ª if your will is strong enough." Elder Naran paused before continuing, his gaze fixed on Arran. "But do you think you will be able to avoid battle as you search for a cure?"


    Arran sighed. Even without the bloodlust, avoiding battle while searching for a cure would be difficult. And with the bloodlust, it was plainly impossible. A simple threat or challenge would be enough to break his control, possibly for good.


    "So the Tempering is my only option."


    "It''s also an opportunity," Elder Naran said. "Assuming you survive, you will gain the benefits of both the Tempering and Blood magic. While neither will help you control magic, your strength in physical combat will be terrifying ¡ª far beyond anything normal novices could hope to achieve."


    Arran could see excitement in the Elder''s eyes, and he understood that the man considered the situation an opportunity rather than a threat. While that did little to take away his own worries, he could not deny that the idea of surpassing other novices was tempting.


    "All right," he finally said. "When do we start?"


    When he looked at Snowcloud, her expression was dejected, but she didn''t object to his decision ¡ª even if she disapproved, he knew she had no better options to offer.


    "There is no point in delaying," Elder Naran said. "We will start right away. The process will take several weeks, and the sooner we start, the sooner you can move forward."


    Without waiting for a reply, Elder Naran stood up and left the room, Arran and the others following behind him. They passed through several hallways and descended a number of stairs, finally arriving in a large circular chamber with bare stone walls.


    To Arran''s eyes, it looked like it had once been a dungeon ¡ª or perhaps a torture chamber. But now, it was completely empty, lacking even a single piece of furniture.


    "Take off your clothes and set your belongings aside," Elder Naran said. "Then sit down in the middle of the chamber."


    "My clothes?" Arran asked with a frown.


    "The Tempering will disintegrate them," the Elder explained. "As well as anything else you carry on you. Hurry now, this is no time for modesty."


    Arran did as the man said, trying his best to ignore Snowcloud and Tuya as he disrobed and put his belongings in a little pile on the side of the chamber.


    It didn''t help that Tuya gave him an approving grin as he undressed, or that Snowcloud''s normally pale face had turned scarlet. Quickly, he reminded himself that he was about to face an ordeal that might kill him.


    When he finally finished and sat down at the center of the chamber, he covered himself as best he could with his hands.


    "Now what?" he asked.


    "Now, we begin," Elder Naran said.


    Without waiting for a response from Arran, the Elder raised his hands, and a moment later Arran felt a painful heat flooding over him, as if he was lowered into a scalding bath.


    To his surprise, he could Sense no Fire Essence coming from the Elder, nor could he see any flames. Whatever magic Elder Naran used, it was invisible to both his Sense and his eyes.


    Gradually, the feeling of heat intensified. Where it had first been merely uncomfortable, it now began to hurt, causing a pain that seeped through his entire body. There was nothing for it but to clench his jaw and endure ¡ª he already knew it would get far worse.


    Yet suddenly, the heat vanished, and when Arran looked up, he saw a shocked expression on Elder Naran''s face.


    At once, the Elder turned to Snowcloud and Tuya.


    "Leave!"


    "What''s the¡ª" Snowcloud began


    "Out! Now!" the Elder yelled. "And don''t return until we emerge from the chamber!"


    He roared the words, and although he had earlier treated Snowcloud almost as an equal, it was clear that this was a command that could not be disobeyed. After a moment''s hesitation, the two women did as the Elder said, and Arran could see concern fill Snowcloud''s face.


    "What''s going on?" he asked fearfully.


    Elder Naran did not reply, instead making some gestures at the door and walls ¡ª creating seals, Arran thought, though he did not know for what purpose.


    Only after he finished did the man turn to face Arran, who was now on the brink of panic. Yet when Arran saw the Elder''s expression, it held no threat ¡ª only surprise and excitement, in equal parts, as if he had just made a great discovery.


    "Why didn''t you tell me?", the giant Elder said, his voice trembling with enthusiasm.


    "Tell you what?" Arran asked, dumbfounded by the sudden turn of events.


    "That you have a Destruction Realm!"

 Chapter 142 Destruction Realm

    "I have a what?"


    Arran knew Elder Naran must be talking about his forbidden Realm, but he was startled to finally hear it identified. For years, he had wondered what kind of Realm it was, and now that he had an answer, he found himself dumbstruck.


    Moreover, he had no idea how Elder Naran had discovered it ¡ª despite Arran''s efforts, Master Zhao''s seal was still firmly in place. Yet in just a few moments, the giant Elder had not only seen that he had a hidden Realm, but also what type of Realm it was.


    "A Destruction Realm!" Elder Naran repeated, the excitement in his eyes undiminished. "Don''t tell me you don''t know about it ¡ª I am not a fool."


    "I have a forbidden Realm," Arran said hesitantly, understanding that there was no way it hide it now. "But it''s sealed off."


    "Someone sealed it?" A frown appeared on Elder Naran''s face. "What kind of Essence was used for the seal?"


    "Shadow," Arran said, wondering just what the man was getting at.


    "I suppose that could work¡­" Elder Naran said, although it seemed like he was talking more to himself than to Arran. For several moments, he remained silent, forehead creased in thought.


    Finally, he spoke again, "Who placed the seal?"


    "A mage I met in the Empire," Arran said. "He was the one who first told me that I had a forbidden Realm, and he helped me escape the Academy."


    "A mage with the skill to create a shadow seal strong enough to seal off a Destruction Realm? It must have been a Shadowflame member." The giant Elder nodded to himself, then gave Arran a studious look. "Tell me what happened since you first discovered you had the Realm."


    The Elder spoke forcefully, and Arran understood that this was a command, not a request. Although the Elder made no threats, it was entirely clear that refusing was not an option.


    Briefly, Arran considered lying. He hardly knew anything about Elder Naran, and he had no desire whatsoever to share his secrets with the man.


    But then, his most important secret had already been found out, and given the ease with which Elder Naran had identified his forbidden Realm, Arran had little faith in his ability to deceive him.


    Realizing there was nothing for it but to tell the truth, he took a deep breath.


    "It started when I tried to join the Academy¡­"


    The story was a long one, but Arran told it in detail. As he spoke, Elder Naran would sometimes ask questions, but for most of the tale, he merely listened intently, with the occasional nod or frown.


    There was one part of the truth that Arran did not tell ¡ª the events involving Panurge. Instead, he invented a story of being caught by the Academy and being imprisoned. Nervous though he felt at lying to Elder Naran, he did not dare risk being seen as an agent of Chaos ¡ª unwilling or not.


    To his relief, Elder Naran did not seem to pick up on the lie, or if he did, he let it pass without question. Relieved, Arran quickly continued telling the rest of the story, happy to draw the Elder''s attention away from the lie.


    When Arran finished speaking, Elder Naran was silent for a time, his brow furrowed as he considered what Arran had told him.


    Hungry for answers, Arran grew impatient with the silence, and finally asked, "How do you know it''s a Destruction Realm? And does it actually do anything?"


    "You''re asking if it does anything?" The giant Elder let out a laugh that rumbled like thunder. "It saved your life many times over, and you''re still asking if it does anything?!"


    Arran gave him a blank stare. "It saved my life?" He had used the Realm exactly once, and that was to open his Wind Realm. Other than that, he could not recall it ever helping him, much less saving his life.


    "Let me explain," the Elder said. "Perhaps then, you will understand how lucky you have been."


    Arran listened anxiously as Elder Naran began to speak, eager to learn more.


    "Even before a Realm is opened," the Elder began, "some trace amount of Essence passes through it. For most types of Essence, the effects of this are negligible ¡ª the Essence dissipates long before it has any effect. But with something so powerful and violent as Destruction Essence, even that small bit is enough to affect your body."


    He paused for a moment, then continued, "Without knowing, you have constantly resisted its influence since before you were even born, conditioning your body to withstand its harmful effects. That has strengthened your resistance to magic far beyond what would otherwise be possible."


    "So just having the Realm strengthened me?" Arran asked, somewhat confused. He could not recall ever having heard of a Realm affecting someone before being opened.


    The Elder nodded. "That''s how I knew that yours is a Destruction Realm. When I started the Tempering, I could immediately tell that you''re far more resistant to Essence than a novice or even an adept should be."


    "But I''ve been injured by magic attacks before," Arran said.


    "You''re not immune to magic," Elder Naran replied. "But anything strong enough to seriously injure you would kill most novices and adepts."


    A sudden realization made Arran''s eyes go wide with shock. "So when I took the Realm Opening Pills¡­"


    "It should have killed you," Elder Naran confirmed. "Likewise with the battles you fought in the Empire. Academy mages might be weak, but not so weak that they cannot kill a fresh initiate. That you survived at all is because of the Destruction Realm."


    A shiver went down Arran''s spine when he realized that both his luck and his mistakes had been far greater than he had known. It took him some moments to fully comprehend his fortune, and when he finally did, he could not help but sigh in relief.


    Seeing Arran''s expression, Elder Naran chuckled. "So now you know the truth of it."


    "But what should I do now?" Arran asked. The Destruction Realm was still sealed, and he had no idea how he could use it when he finally broke the seal.


    "First, you have to undergo the Tempering," Elder Naran said. "Destruction Realm or not, the Blood magic is still a threat to you, and only the Tempering can save you from it."


    "And after that?"


    "After that¡­" Elder Naran sighed, and his expression turned grave. "After that, you face great danger."

 Chapter 143 The Tempering, Take Two

    "What kind of danger?" Arran asked.


    The mention of danger was hardly enough to faze him. By now, he had already faced many threats, and he knew he would face many more before he even made it back to the Valley.


    "You have great potential," Elder Naran said, giving Arran a studious look.


    Although it didn''t answer Arran''s question, he remained silent, curious to hear what the Elder had to say about his possible future achievements.


    "The Blood magic alone is enough to place you among the more promising novices in the Shadowflame Society," Elder Naran continued. "Once you learn to control it, it will allow you to withstand injuries that would kill others, and as you develop it further, the advantage it gives you will only grow stronger."


    "What about my Destruction Realm?" Arran asked. He already had a rough idea of how the Blood magic could help him in the future, but he was anxious to hear more about what the Destruction Realm could do.


    "That will benefit you even more," the giant Elder said. "After you unseal it, you will be able to draw on its power in your training and further increase your resistance to magic. With enough time, even powerful mages might find it difficult to harm you."


    "But you said I would face grave danger," Arran reminded him. "So far, all you''ve told me is how the Destruction Realm and Blood magic benefit me."


    "By themselves, each of these things would ensure that you have a bright future in the Society," Elder Naran said. "But together¡­" He sighed, then shook his head. "It''s too much. If you successfully develop both, mages of your own level will struggle just to injure you. And if you advance to become a Master or Grandmaster, you will be a monster among mages."


    Suddenly, Arran understood. "Not everyone would allow me to advance that far."


    The Elder nodded. "Even within the Sixth Valley, there are some who would see you as a threat to be squashed before it could fully develop. And for all your potential, right now, you are still too weak to protect yourself."


    "But won''t the Destruction Realm protect me?" Arran asked.


    "No," Elder Naran answered plainly. "While even Grandmasters might fear your potential, as it stands, any skilled novice can kill you. You may be able to survive one or two of their strongest attacks, but with you lacking the strength to defeat them, they can simply launch a dozen more."


    Arran furrowed his brow in thought. Unhappy though he was with the idea, he realized it was probably true. In his sparring matches against Snowcloud, she had often been able to disable him before he could even reach her. In a real battle, she would be able to kill him even if he survived her first few attacks.


    "So what should I do?" he asked, his earlier excitement quickly fading.


    "You should tell no one of these things," Elder Naran said. "Nobody must know about your Destruction Realm, and no others should learn of the Blood magic. Only when you''re strong enough to defend yourself can you reveal your powers ¡ª and even then, hiding them would still be wise."


    "Then how do I become strong enough to defend myself?"


    "The same way other recruits do," Elder Naran replied. "After you return to the Sixth Valley, you will become an initiate. As you train with the other initiates, you will become stronger ¡ª and at the same time, you will grow your other powers in secret."


    Arran nodded thoughtfully. It was not the answer he had hoped for ¡ª some part of him still longed to find a shortcut to power ¡ª but he understood that strength required training, and if Elder Naran told the truth, his rewards would be far greater than what other mages received for their efforts.


    "There is another matter, however," Elder Naran said, a serious expression on his face.


    "What is it?" Arran asked, already fearing the worst. After the giant Elder''s initial enthusiastic words about his potential, it seemed that every new word made his situation worse.


    "While the Blood magic will aid you in withstanding the Tempering, your Destruction Realm means that performing it will require far more power than I anticipated."


    "But you''re still strong enough to do it, right?" Arran asked.


    "My power isn''t the issue," Elder Naran replied. "I could turn you to ash with a thought, if I so wished. But the more power I use in the Tempering, the stronger its negative effects will be."


    "You mean it will be more dangerous?"


    "No," Elder Naran said. "No more so than it would be otherwise. But the toll it takes on your body will be greater, and you will lose some of your strength in the process. You will be able to regain it eventually, but it will take time."


    "How long will it take?" Arran asked, now feeling some worry.


    "Months," the Elder answered. "Maybe years. I will do my best to find a way to help you recover faster, but even so, you cannot expect to regain your full strength immediately."


    Arran remained silent for some moments. When he had heard about his supposed potential, he had been filled with excitement, anxious to discover just how strong he could grow once he unsealed his Destruction Realm and mastered the Blood magic within his body.


    Yet now, it seemed like he would have to suffer through weakness first. That would be enough to dampen his spirits at the best of times, but beyond the border, he needed his strength to remain alive. All the potential in the world would not help him if he died before even returning to the Sixth Valley.


    Still, his strength wouldn''t help him if he wasn''t alive, and without being able to control the bloodlust, he knew he wouldn''t last long.


    Finally, he shrugged. "There is no other choice, is there?"


    "There isn''t," Elder Naran replied.


    "Then let''s get on with it."


    There was no point in lamenting whatever strength he was about to lose. With no other options available, all he could do was bear it and hope he could regain it quickly.


    Elder Naran nodded. "I suppose there''s no reason to delay any further." The man raised his hands, palms pointing toward Arran.


    At once, Arran could feel a painful heat washing over him once again. Yet where the feeling had been gradual and mild the first time, this time it felt as if he was being lowered into a bath of molten iron.


    It didn''t stop at his skin, either ¡ª it was as if every fiber of his body was set on fire all at once, and briefly, the shock left him unable to even think.


    After a few moments the initial shock wore off, and although the pain still filled most of his mind, he could now tell that the feeling vaguely resembled what he had felt after taking multiple Realm Opening Pills.


    Only where the pain of the Realm Opening Pills had been unbearable, this was something far beyond that. He tried to scream, but he found that the agony left him unable to do even that, the pain so overwhelming it left him paralyzed.


    And still, it grew worse. Where it had first felt like his body was on fire, now, it intensified to the point that he thought it was disintegrating.


    The small part of his mind that still held some semblance of reason was struck with horror when he realized that was exactly what was happening. What he felt was his body slowly being torn apart in a thousand places at once, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

 Chapter 144 Tempered

    Arran tried to move and found that his body responded slowly and sluggishly, as if it had been drained of all its power. He could tell that he was lying down ¡ª in a bed, he thought ¡ª but he had no idea where he was.


    "Finally awake, are you?"


    Arran opened his eyes and saw Tuya sitting next to his bed, enthusiastically eating what looked to be a roasted leg of meat.


    His memories were vague and blurry, but he could recall suffering intense pain, feeling as if his body was being burned to ashes and thinking he was going to die.


    "What happened?" he asked, just saying the words costing him a great deal of effort.


    He sat up, and at once he could tell that his body felt frail and feeble, different from how it was supposed to feel ¡ª wrong somehow.


    "And why do I feel so weak?"


    "It seems your Tempering was unusually harsh," Tuya said, finishing the leg of meat and picking up another one from a table at the side of the room. "You should consider yourself lucky."


    The Tempering. As Tuya mentioned it, he began to remember what had happened. He had spoken with Elder Naran about his Destruction Realm, and then¡­ pain. Endless, overwhelming pain.


    "Why are you here?" he asked.


    "Father said to tell him when you awoke," Tuya replied. "He also had some food prepared for you." She gestured at some half-empty plates on the table, and Arran surmised that she''d already eaten most of it herself.


    As he thought about the food, Arran realized he was hungry, but somehow, the normal feeling of hunger was missing. Instead, he was merely aware that his body desperately needed food. Unwilling to wait, he got out of the bed and headed for the table.


    "You might want to put on some clothes," Tuya said, an amused smirk on her face.


    Arran shrugged. He had a vague sense that he was supposed to feel embarrassed, but it seemed unimportant. Right now, he needed food, so he sat down at the table and began to eat.


    Tuya laughed. "It seems your Tempering was a strong one indeed."


    Arran nodded absentmindedly, not concerned with Tuya''s presence. He could tell that the food was rich in Natural Essence, and he ate it greedily, anxious to be rid of the feeling of weakness that filled him.


    When Tuya left the room a moment later, he barely noticed her departure.


    He finished the food quickly, and although it did little to drive away the feeling of weakness, he could feel his mind grow clearer as his hunger was sated.


    His thoughts returned to the Tempering, and now, he began to recall the events more clearly. He remembered feeling his body continuously being shattered and torn apart by Essence, but at a slow enough rate that it had time to heal even as it was broken down, destruction and regrowth in an endless cycle.


    As he was sunken in thought, he heard the door open, and when he looked up, he was surprised to see that it was Snowcloud rather than Elder Naran who had entered.


    Her face turned red as she saw Arran, and this time, he did feel some embarrassment. After a glance at the room, he spotted his belongings next to the bed and quickly grabbed a robe.


    Snowcloud waited until he was dressed, eyes turned away. When he finished, she asked, "Are you all right?"


    "I think so," he replied. "Although I feel weak."


    "No wonder," she said. "Your Tempering took four weeks, and you''ve been unconscious for another two."


    "Has it been that long?" Arran asked, his eyes going wide with surprise.


    "I feared something had gone wrong," she said. "Elder Naran sealed the room after we left, and when the two of you remained locked away for so long¡­ I thought some disaster had happened." Her expression troubled, she added, "It''s only supposed to last a week or two."


    Arran frowned. From what he could remember of the Tempering, he did not recall it lasting days, much less weeks.


    He was about to ask Snowcloud more about it when the door opened once more, this time revealing Elder Naran.


    "Lady Snowcloud," the man said as he stepped inside. "I thought you were still busy plundering my ingredient stockroom."


    Snowcloud glared at him. "You should have let me know he had woken up."


    "I only just received word myself," Elder Naran replied. "And now that I''m here, you should return to pestering my alchemists. There are matters I have to discuss with Ghostblade."


    Snowcloud protested the unceremonious dismissal, but to no avail. When it became clear that Elder Naran would brook no objections, she left, scowling at the Elder as she closed the door.


    "Now then," Elder Naran said, giving Arran an examining look. "I''m glad to see you''re back on your feet. Your Tempering was an unusual one, and I had some worries that you might not recover easily. But it seems my worries were unfounded."


    "How was it unusual?" Arran asked, still not fully remembering what had happened.


    "Between your Destruction Realm and the Blood magic in your body, performing the Tempering proved more challenging than I anticipated," the Elder answered. "In the end, I had to use quite a bit more power and time than I intended. But it seems you weathered it well enough."


    "My body¡­" Arran said. "It feels weak."


    "That''s to be expected," the man replied, seeming unconcerned. "You haven''t eaten in weeks, and your Tempering was a brutal one. But tell me, do you still feel the effects of the Blood magic?"


    Arran gave it some thought, then nodded. "I can feel it, but it''s a distant urge now. I have no problem controlling it."


    "Good," the Elder said, nodding thoughtfully. "It seems my conjecture was correct. It will grow stronger as you recover from your Tempering, but it should remain well within your control."


    "But what about my strength?" Arran asked, unable to fully keep the frustration from his voice. "You said you would try to help me regain it more quickly. Have you found a way to do that?"


    "We will discuss that matter when you''re fully recovered," Elder Naran replied. "For the time being, you should focus on recuperating. What you need most right now is rest."


    The giant Elder left shortly after that, seeming quite content with the outcome even as Arran was filled with worries about his current state of weakness.


    But what was done was done, and all he could do now was to follow Elder Naran''s advice and focus on recovering.


    The first few days gave him some hope. He spent his time eating and absorbing Natural Essence, and he could feel his body rapidly strengthening in response, with the initial feebleness all but gone in less than a week. It seemed Elder Naran had been right about his need to recuperate, at least.


    Occasionally, Snowcloud and Tuya would visit him, but he paid them little mind. What he needed was to regain his lost strength, and they could not help him with that.


    Yet despite his efforts, his progress soon slowed, and he was shocked to find just how much of his strength appeared to be truly lost. Right now, his body was only barely stronger than it had been when he left Lord Jiang''s estate.


    Elder Naran had told him the Tempering would take some of his strength, but this was beyond anything he had feared. From what he could tell, he had lost years of progress.


    Unwilling to accept it, he redoubled his efforts in Body Refinement, spending every waking moment eating any food he had that contained Natural Essence, then diligently absorbing every last shred of it.


    Still, although his progress was faster than it had been in the past, he knew that it would take him many months to get back to his old level.


    The loss soon began to weigh on his mind, and he stopped leaving his room, unwilling to waste time that could be used regaining his strength. When Tuya or Snowcloud visited, he was curt to the point of rudeness, their company an unwelcome distraction from his labor.


    He had already spent several weeks like that, training Body Refinement to the point of obsession, when Tuya visited him again.


    "All right," she said as she stepped into his room. "You''ve spent enough time moping. Come with me."


    "I''m training," Arran replied with a glare.


    "You can follow me, or I''m dragging you," she said. "Either way, you''re coming with me."


    Understanding that there was no way to avoid it, Arran sighed, then got up to follow her. "What''s this about?" he asked as they walked.


    "You''ll see soon enough," she replied.


    She led him to the courtyard, where he could see some two dozen novices training their swordplay and sparring against each other.


    "Novices!" Tuya called out as they approached the group, her voice rumbling through the courtyard like a thunderclap. "Get over here!"


    Hearing her voice, the novices instantly turned toward the pair, then quickly did as she said.


    Once the novices had gathered around them, she gave them a pleasant smile. "This recruit is a master swordsman from the Eastern part of the Empire. If any of you manage to defeat him in single combat, you will be rewarded with a high-quality Essence Crystal."


    Arran''s eyes went wide with shock. Whatever he had expected, this wasn''t it. Clearly, the woman had gone mad ¡ª he was nowhere near a master swordsman, and even before he lost most of his strength, he would have struggled to defeat any of the novices in a duel.


    The novices looked as surprised as Arran felt, and for several moments, none responded. But then, one of them stepped forward ¡ª a young man with long dark hair and a confident smirk.


    "He''s really a recruit?" the novice asked, eying Arran suspiciously.


    Tuya gave the novice an annoyed glare. "Did I stutter?"


    "Then I''ll fight him," the novice said, drawing his sword as he approached Arran.


    From the look on his face, it seemed he expected an easy fight ¡ª and in his current state, Arran knew that was exactly what the novice would get. Still, he had no choice but to draw his own sword as well. It was clear that Tuya would not allow him to refuse.


    He faced the novice, sword at the ready, though he could not stop some worry from showing in his face. When the young man noticed Arran''s uncomfortable expression, his smirk turned into an eager grin ¡ª he clearly didn''t think much of Arran''s chances, either.


    "No magic, and no killing or crippling moves," Tuya said. "Now fight!"

 Chapter 145 Weakness

    The novice attacked at once, but the blow he struck was so slow and clumsy that even with Arran''s diminished strength, he easily deflected it. A moment later, Arran''s blade came to a stop against the novice''s throat.


    Arran was stunned. He had defeated his opponent in a single attack, and with such ease that it almost seemed impossible.


    The novice looked no less stunned than Arran. "How did you¡­"


    "Pathetic," Tuya said. Then, she extended her hand toward the novice. "Pay up. One Essence Crystal."


    "Pay up? But I thought¡­"


    As the novice fruitlessly tried to escape Tuya''s extortion, Arran found himself bewildered at what just happened. By all rights, he should have been defeated easily ¡ª even if the novice was slow and clumsy, he was still far stronger than Arran.


    Yet somehow, Arran''s every movement had been frighteningly accurate, with a level of control that was completely new to him.


    "Who''s next?" Tuya said, her loud voice putting a stop to Arran''s musings. She pointed at one of the novices, a young woman with short hair. "You! You''ll be the next volunteer."


    The young woman paled, but she stepped forward nonetheless, doubtless understanding that Tuya would not let her off the hook.


    As she drew her sword and faced Arran, she clenched her jaw in determination ¡ª it was clear that she did not intend to grant him an easy victory.


    "Fight!" Tuya''s voice sounded again.


    Unlike the first novice, this one fought cautiously, using measured strikes and blows as she tried to get past Arran''s defenses. Yet for all her caution, Arran found that compared to him, she was as clumsy as a toddler swinging a stick.


    They exchanged blows for several minutes. Although Arran could have finished the fight sooner, he was anxious to find out just what had changed. The answer quickly became apparent: his control over his body had increased dramatically, giving him staggering speed and precision.


    He finally ended the fight with a quick thrust to the young woman''s chest that struck before she had a chance to parry. The novice acknowledged her defeat with a nod at Arran, then regretfully handed Tuya an Essence Crystal.


    "Next!"


    This time, Tuya picked a tall man with broad shoulders and a scarred face as Arran''s opponent. The man seemed to understand that skill and speed would not help him, and instead, he attacked forcefully, attempting to overpower Arran in much the same way that Arran had attempted with Snowcloud when they sparred.


    Yet for all his strength, the man''s attacks were crude and imprecise, and while Arran lacked the strength to block them, dodging and deflecting them was easy enough. He easily scored a number of blows on the novice that would have crippled him in a real fight, and after some moments, the man lowered his sword.


    "You win," he said, then handed Tuya an Essence Crystal.


    Another half dozen fights followed, and Arran won each of them. Although some of his opponents proved more challenging than the first three, as he got more used to his newfound control over his body, each fight left him stronger, if only slightly.


    The tenth fight, however, was different.


    Here, his opponent was a young, gaunt man with a hateful expression, and unlike the previous novices, this one fought as if the fight was to the death ¡ª using vicious and dangerous attacks that could have injured or even killed if they struck true, and combining ferocity with practiced skill as he attacked.


    Still, it wasn''t enough. While the novice was Arran''s better in both skill and strength, he lacked the precision and speed to make good on the threat.


    After several minutes of fierce combat, Arran sidestepped a rushed attack, then hit the novice across the back with the flat of his blade, sending him sprawling to the ground.


    As the novice struggled to get back on his feet, Arran could feel it. Essence. The novice was gathering a mass of Fire Essence in his hand, preparing an attack powerful enough to kill him.


    Immediately, he prepared to strike before the novice could attack, but there was no need ¡ª Tuya instantly appeared in between them, hitting the novice with a backhanded slap across the face so hard it sent him flying a dozen paces.


    "What the hell are you thinking?! Using magic against a recruit, in a sparring match?! Are you out of your mind?!" Tuya''s voice thundered across the courtyard, such fury in her voice that even Arran could not help but step back.


    The novice got back to his feet, grasping his bloodied face. "You can''t¡ª"


    "Get out of here!" Tuya raged. "Back to the camp, now! You''re banned from the castle! If I see you here again, it won''t just be your nose I break!"


    The young man looked toward the other novices for support, but he was met with a wall of disgusted looks. He gave Arran a final hateful stare, then ran toward the gate.


    Tuya turned toward the other novices, and to Arran''s surprise, the fury in her eyes had disappeared as quickly as it had come. "Our practice is over," she said, her voice calm. "Tomorrow, Ghostblade here will join your training. For now, remember that no matter how talented you are, there are still mere recruits who can best you. If you train hard, that might change."


    With that, she walked off, gesturing for Arran to follow her.


    "I think I could have taken him," Arran said after they had left the novices behind.


    "Perhaps," Tuya said, though she sounded unconvinced. "But my goal today was to show you your power, not to bury novices ¡ª or overconfident recruits."


    "I don''t understand it, though," Arran said. "Elder Naran ¡ª your father ¡ª he said the Tempering would make me weaker."


    "And it did," Tuya said. "From what I can tell, you lost quite a bit of strength."


    "But I thought¡­"


    "You thought adepts went through the Tempering just for the fun of it?" She made an ugly face. "Worst pain I ever felt, and I''ve wrestled a Fire Demon. We do it because it''s worth it."


    "Why didn''t you just tell me?" he asked.


    "I did," Tuya replied. "Several times. But you were too busy trying to regain your strength to listen."


    Arran sighed when he realized it was probably true. He''d been so focused on training that he had mostly ignored both Tuya and Snowcloud when they visited him, only listening with half an ear when they spoke.


    "But I didn''t notice it before," Arran said. "It''s been weeks, and until now, I had no idea something had changed."


    As he thought about it, however, he realized that wasn''t actually true. Ever since the Tempering, he had felt more aware of his body, but all that had done was make it even more painfully obvious how much strength he had lost.


    "You were sitting in your room, mourning the pebble you lost while ignoring the diamond in your hands." Tuya shrugged. "You can''t understand your abilities if you don''t try to use them."


    "I suppose not," Arran admitted, now beginning to feel somewhat foolish. "So the Tempering actually made me stronger?"


    "Not exactly," Tuya replied. "Your body is still weaker, and until you recover your strength, you will be injured more easily." With a soft laugh, she added, "But avoiding injury should be a great deal easier now."


    "So, me training with the novices¡­ were you serious about that?"


    Tuya looked at him, eyebrow raised. "Do you think I''d have said it otherwise?"


    "But my strength¡­" Arran began. Even with this newfound control, he found it difficult to let go of the idea that he must restore his strength no matter what.


    "Right now, getting used to the effects of your Tempering will be more useful," Tuya said, her tone confident. "You will regain your strength eventually."


    "You''re right," Arran said, though not before taking a moment''s pause to think it over. Yet there was no getting around it ¡ª no matter how much he wanted to regain what he lost, right now, he would benefit more from training what he had.


    "Of course I''m right," she replied. "So get some rest, then practice tomorrow."


    "I will."


    But first, he knew, he would have to pay Snowcloud a visit. There were things they had to discuss ¡ª things he had ignored while he had obsessed over his training.

 Chapter 146 At The Castle

    Arran didn''t find Snowcloud in her room, but this hardly surprised him.


    There were three places where she could be, and of those, her room was the least likely. When he didn''t find her at the ingredient stockroom either, he quickly headed to the alchemists'' quarters, knowing she would be there.


    His assumption proved correct, because before he even entered the alchemists'' quarters, he could already hear shouting in the distance.


    An unfamiliar voice called out, "Do you have any idea how rare it is!"


    Another responded, "I don''t care how rare it is! I need it!"


    The second voice belonged to Snowcloud, and when Arran opened the door, he found her facing one of the alchemists, a short middle-aged woman with a bookish face.


    Both of their faces were red with anger, and they ignored Arran as he stepped inside, the argument taking all of their attention.


    "I can''t have all my herbalists chasing a single ingredient!" The alchemist seemed on the verge of a breakdown, her voice trembling as she yelled.


    "You can, and you will," Snowcloud replied bluntly. "Elder Naran promised your full cooperation, and I will have it."


    "But I''m running out of ingredients!" Some desperation now sounded in the alchemist''s voice. "If this continues, I won''t even be able to create wound salves anymore!"


    "Then use the recruits," Snowcloud said. "There are thousands of them, and you hardly need trained skilled herbalists to gather bloodflower root and saint''s grace leaves."


    It took the alchemist a moment to come up with a response, and before she could do so, Snowcloud used the chance to break off the conversation and turn to Arran.


    "So you''ve finally decided to emerge from your lair?" she asked, walking toward him. He could see there were still some traces of red in her cheeks, but her voice was calm.


    "Tuya had me practice with the novices," he replied.


    Snowcloud stepped out of the alchemists'' quarters, seeming anxious to be rid of the alchemist, and Arran followed behind her.


    "So I take it you''ve discovered the benefits of the Tempering?" she asked as they walked into the hallway.


    "I have," he said. "And I owe you an apology for not listening to you. When you said it would increase my control, I didn''t think the effect would be quite as large."


    She shrugged in response. "I''ve been keeping busy with other things. Elder Naran had one of the ingredients I needed in his stockpile, and I''ve sent his herbalists off in search of another. With a bit of luck, I''ll have that within a few weeks."


    "Do they know about¡­" Arran began, speaking in a low voice.


    "Wait," Snowcloud said. "Let''s go to the herb garden. It''s usually empty, so we can speak freely there."


    She led Arran through a few hallways, and a short while later they emerged in a small walled garden at the back of the castle.


    It was easy to see why it was usually empty ¡ª it looked like all the herbs had been plundered some time ago, and the only things left now were grass and weeds, growing wildly across the beds of earth that had once held herbs.


    They sat down on a small bench in the middle of the garden, and although the area looked to be empty, Arran still sent out his Shadowsight. Only when he was sure there was nobody nearby did he relax.


    "So do they know?" he asked again. "That you''re looking for a cure for the Patriarch?"


    "Only Elder Naran," Snowcloud said. "But he thinks I''m trying to invent a cure myself. He doesn''t know I have my mother''s recipe. That he''s helping is because he wants to win my support for the Soaring Sun, not because he thinks I have any chance of success."


    "You don''t trust him?"


    She hesitated in answering, and when she spoke, it was in an uncertain tone. "I trust Elder Naran, but he''s not the only member of the Soaring Sun. There are others who would be less pleased with the idea of curing Grandfather."


    Arran frowned. "So you think your enemies are in the Soaring Sun faction?"


    Snowcloud shook her head. "I have enemies in all factions, and if my goal was widely known, I would have more. What I don''t know is who among them would act against me ¡ª and who''s responsible for poisoning Grandfather."


    "It has to be someone from the Soaring Sun or Waning Moon factions, right?"


    Arran still remembered that these were the factions trying to bring change to the Sixth Valley, while the third ¡ª the Iron Mountain ¡ª comprised the Patriarch''s old allies.


    "I don''t know," Snowcloud replied. "I was just a small child when it happened. But whoever is behind it, the fewer people who know what I''m doing, the better."


    For a few minutes, they sat in silence, Arran considering the situation and once more realizing just how little he understood of the intrigue within the Sixth Valley.


    "You should be wary of Elder Naran," Snowcloud said eventually, her expression thoughtful as she spoke.


    Arran gave her a puzzled look. "Didn''t you just say you trusted him?"


    "I trust him not to betray me," Snowcloud said. "But I also know that he truly believes in the Soaring Sun''s cause. He''s trying to win me to their side, and if he thinks you''re valuable, he will try the same with you. "


    At once, Arran understood what she was getting at.


    "If I tie myself to the Soaring Sun, the other factions will become my enemies."


    "Exactly. And you can''t allow yourself to be roped into the conflict between the factions. If you do, you will make enemies far beyond your current strength."


    "I''ll do my best not to get involved," Arran said, meaning every word of it.


    He was well aware that he barely knew what the different sides were fighting for, much less which of them was right ¡ª or which had the best chance of emerging victorious. Aligning himself with any of them would be sheer idiocy.


    Their conversation continued for some time, Snowcloud repeatedly impressing upon Arran the importance of staying out of the conflict, as well as asking questions about his Tempering.


    When he finally returned to his room, evening had already fallen, but he still spent several hours on Body Refinement, then another few studying the seal on his Destruction Realm.


    The next day, and the ones after that, he used every morning to train his swordsmanship with the novices.


    They were happy to spar against him, eager to learn from what they believed was a master swordsman. Yet the truth was that they were more skilled than Arran was, and while his control allowed him to defeat them, he was the one who learned most from their exchanges.


    After the Tempering, the control he had over his body made it shockingly easy to copy his opponents'' techniques. He only needed to watch a novice use a sword technique a single time to perform it himself, and usually better than the person he''d copied it from.


    With barely two weeks of this, his swordsmanship improved more than it had in all his years before that, and he soon found himself able to give the novices genuine advice ¡ª correcting their postures and techniques, with his understanding of his own body letting him know how they should be performed.


    Occasionally, Tuya would come over, sometimes just watching their training and sometimes stepping in to give lessons or tips.


    While her lessons were invaluable, Arran soon learned that her help came at a price. Whenever she intervened, both he and the other novices would soon find themselves an Essence Crystal or two poorer, with the giant adept appearing not at all ashamed of extorting her students.


    Still, it was a price worth paying ¡ª especially to Arran, who had an abundance of Essence Crystals.


    "Where is Stoneheart?" he asked her one day after he finished his daily practice. "Wasn''t he supposed to come to the castle?"


    Tuya''s expression turned serious at the question. "He lost most of his novices after crossing the border," she said. "Because of that, he lacks the standing to enter the castle. Right now, he''s in the camp, and he will remain there until he redeems himself."


    Arran nodded thoughtfully. Although he felt some sympathy for Stoneheart, it wasn''t much ¡ª the tall novice''s foolishness had cost the lives of thousands of recruits, and his inexperience would not excuse that.


    Moreover, Arran had other things to worry about.


    Aside from his daily sword practice, he also spent hours each day on Body Refinement, and then hours more studying the seal on his Destruction Realm and practicing his skill with magic.


    Even during this period of peace and quiet, he unexpectedly found himself short on time, struggling to perform all his duties. Yet he knew he could not slack on any of them, so he sought time wherever he could, rising well before dawn and only sleeping after midnight.


    It was on one of these busy nights, while he was studying the shadow seal, that he was called to Elder Naran''s quarters.


    Snowcloud''s words still fresh in his mind, he was immediately worried, all the more so because he hadn''t seen a sign of Elder Naran in weeks. But as a guest at the castle, he had no choice but to go.


    When he arrived at the Elder''s quarters, he was surprised to find that Stoneheart was there.


    "Good, you''ve arrived," Elder Naran said when he saw Arran. "Take a seat. There are things we must discuss, and there isn''t much time."


    "What kind of things?" Arran asked as he sat down on an overly large wooden chair.


    "I''ve found a way for you to regain your strength," Elder Naran said. Then, he turned his eyes to Stoneheart, and added, "And a way for my nephew to regain his honor."

 Chapter 147 The Dragons Proposal

    "What do I have to do?" Stoneheart asked, his eyes shining with eagerness at the chance to redeem himself.


    Arran did not share the tall novice''s enthusiasm. Although he was still anxious to regain his strength, the benefits of the Tempering made his need less pressing, and he still remembered that Snowcloud had told him Elder Naran might try to entice him to ally himself with the Soaring Sun.


    Elder Naran glanced at Arran, seemingly waiting for the same kind of response Stoneheart had shown. When it didn''t come, he eventually scraped his throat, then spoke.


    "Some weeks ago, the two of you faced an army of Body Refiners. That army still exists. Although they lost many of their numbers to the fire, and more to the adepts I sent to drive them off, thousands still remain, and their leader still lives."


    He paused briefly, then added, "I am offering you a chance to correct that."


    "You want us to lead an army to defeat them?" There was a hint of excitement in Stoneheart''s voice as he spoke.


    "No," Elder Naran said. "I want the two of you to defeat them."


    Stoneheart''s eyes went wide with shock. "You want us to fight an entire army?!"For a moment, he was silent, appearing at a loss for words. When he finally spoke again, his tone was one of resignation. "If you give the command, we will do as you say, but¡­"


    He didn''t finish the sentence, but his expression made it clear that he thought it was a mission they would not survive.


    "He doesn''t want you to fight the army," Arran said flatly. "He intends for me to kill the army, and for you to kill its leader."


    Although Elder Naran hadn''t said it outright, it was easy enough to understand the man''s plan. With the Blood magic, every enemy Arran killed would fuel his strength, and against an entire army of weak Body Refiners, he would have a near-unlimited fount of power to draw upon.


    Most of that power would dissipate within hours after the battle, but even then, the permanent strength he would gain should easily make up for whatever he had lost to the Tempering.


    Stoneheart gave Arran a worried look. "Can you do it? I mean, even with Blood magic¡­ it''s an entire army."


    Arran scrunched his brow in thought, then nodded. "I think so."


    Mad though the idea sounded, he knew it should be possible. As long as he managed to control the bloodlust, their enemies'' numbers would be a weakness rather than a strength.


    Still, the plan wasn''t without danger. If Stoneheart failed to defeat the mage who led the army, Arran doubted mere strength would save him from being taken down by magic attacks. And if he failed to control the bloodlust, the result would obviously be disastrous.


    "What strategy you choose is between the two of you," Elder Naran interrupted them. "I''m offering you the task because I believe you can handle it. If you accept, the rest is up to you."


    "I accept," Stoneheart replied immediately. Clearly, he was desperate for a chance to reclaim his honor, even if he believed it could cost him his life.


    Arran, on the other hand, wasn''t convinced as easily. Although he wanted the strength the battle would give him, he had little desire to get caught up in the Valley''s factional warfare, and even less to be bound to any one of the factions.


    "The army," he asked with a thought. "Are they allied with any of the other factions? The Waning Moon or the Iron Mountain?"


    "Not that I know of," Elder Naran replied. Casting a knowing glance at Arran, he added, "And even if they were, nobody could blame you for killing an army that''s been hunting novices."


    Despite the words, Arran remained doubtful. He was well aware of how little he understood of the Valley''s factions, and if Elder Naran intended to deceive him, it would be easy to do so.


    "I''ll need to discuss it with Snowcloud," he said. He expected the Elder to object, which would give him a good reason to refuse the offer.


    To his surprise, however, the man merely nodded in agreement.


    "Of course," Elder Naran said. "But remember that she is not allowed to join in this task. My nephew must earn back my trust, and he cannot do so if others do his work for him."


    "I won''t fail you," Stoneheart said, voice soft but determined.


    Elder Naran paused briefly, then said, "I expect you not to." Next, he turned to Arran. "Let me know your decision in the morning."


    They left the Elder''s quarters shortly after, but almost as soon as they were in the hallway, Stoneheart stopped Arran, his expression concerned.


    "What will you do if Snowcloud tells you not to go?" he asked.


    "Then I won''t go," Arran answered honestly. If Snowcloud thought that attacking the army would bind him to the Soaring Sun, then he would not do it. He had enough enemies as it was, and he had no interest in adding two of the most powerful factions in the Sixth Valley to the list.


    It clearly wasn''t the answer Stoneheart was hoping for, and the tall novice sighed deeply. "If you don''t go, I''ll have to go by myself."


    "Don''t be an idiot," Arran replied, slightly annoyed at the novice''s dramatics. "You''d just get yourself killed, and no honor is worth your life."


    "You don''t understand," Stoneheart began, his expression troubled.


    Arran interrupted him before he could continue. "I do understand. Back in the Valley, you were a scion of one of the most powerful families, respected and feared by the other novices. And now that your fortunes have changed, you think it''s the end of the world."


    Stoneheart shook his head. "This isn''t about my pride. In the Society, your standing decides what resources and training you get. If I don''t redeem myself, I will fall behind the others, and the further I fall behind, the harder it will be to survive the Society''s tests and challenges."


    For some seconds, Arran was silent, realizing that he had underestimated Stoneheart. He had thought the tall novice was only concerned with honor and pride, but now, it seemed he was fighting his own battle for survival ¡ª one that Arran knew little about.


    "It''s still a dumb idea to throw away your life," he finally said, though his tone was milder than before. "All the training and resources in the world can''t help you if you''re dead."


    "You''re right," Stoneheart replied, "and I know I can''t go up against an army by myself. But I need to find some way to redeem myself, or things will only get worse."


    "But what about your family?" Arran asked. "Won''t they help you?"


    Stoneheart laughed cheerlessly. "My family cares about strength, and little else. Blood is worthless if you lack the power to defend the Society and the Valley. Right now, my uncle probably values you more than me."


    Arran frowned. "But I''m not even part of the Soaring Sun."


    "It doesn''t matter," Stoneheart replied. "The Soaring Sun seeks to strengthen the Society, not itself. That''s what separates us from the other two factions: they fight for their own power, while we fight for the Society."


    Although Stoneheart spoke the words with conviction, Arran doubted the members of the other factions would see things the same way. But then, he could hardly expect Stoneheart to be impartial.


    "Either way," Arran said after a moment''s thought, "I will speak to Snowcloud before I decide whether I will accept Elder Naran''s task."


    Stoneheart nodded reluctantly. "I hope to see you in the morning, then."


    Arran said his goodbyes to Stoneheart, then hurried to Snowcloud''s quarters. There was much to discuss, and they had little time.


    He knocked on her door several times without an answer, and he was about to go check the alchemists'' quarters when the door finally opened. Behind it stood Snowcloud, her eyes half-shut and her hair tousled.


    She gave Arran a confused look. "It''s the middle of the night. Why are you here?"


    "Elder Naran wants me to fight an army."

 Chapter 148 A Decision

    "What did he say, exactly?" Snowcloud looked at Arran intently as she asked the question.


    They were sitting in her quarters, which Arran could not help but notice were far nicer than his own. While he had a single room with just a bed and a desk, Snowcloud had three full rooms to herself, including a bedroom, a small library, and the well-furnished sitting room they were currently using. Not that he was jealous, of course ¡ª although a bit more space would be nice.


    Arran quickly told Snowcloud about his meeting with Elder Naran and Stoneheart, and the offer Elder Naran had made them.


    When he finished speaking, Snowcloud frowned, seeming taken aback by the idea. "He wants the two of you to face an entire army together?"


    "I assume he wants me to defeat the army, and Stoneheart to defeat their leader," Arran explained. "With the Blood magic, the soldiers'' numbers won''t make much of a difference to me."


    "But it''s an entire army," Snowcloud objected. "With thousands of soldiers."


    Arran shook his head. "It doesn''t matter. Blood magic isn''t like Essence. My power won''t run out as I''m fighting ¡ª with every enemy I kill, I''ll grow stronger. And although I don''t fully understand it yet, I think the Blood magic was originally created to kill armies."


    Snowcloud raised an eyebrow. "What makes you think so?"


    Arran hesitated before continuing, trying to find words for the thoughts he''d had since his Tempering.


    After some moments, he spoke, his voice less confident than before. "Most of the power it gives is temporary, and the bloodlust drives you to fight without fear of death." He sighed, then shook his head. "I don''t think it''s meant to be survived. I think it''s meant to allow a single person to destroy an army, and then themselves."


    "But you control it now, right?" There was some doubt in Snowcloud''s voice, and she gave him a worried look.


    "I do," Arran replied.


    "I don''t think you should do it," Snowcloud said, her brow furrowed. "You might lose control again, and even with the Blood magic¡­ it''s an entire army. And if Stoneheart fails to¡ª"


    "I''m not worried about those things," Arran interrupted her.


    Snowcloud gave him a puzzled look. "Are you that confident in the Blood magic?"


    "I''m confident I can take the army," Arran said. "But I also know that Elder Naran will intervene if things go wrong."


    "Elder Naran? But I thought he said only you and Stoneheart would fight the army?"


    "He lied," Arran replied. "What he really wants is to see the Blood magic in action, and he won''t let it be lost if something unexpected happens."


    He had only figured it out after his visit to the Elder, but the moment he had pieced it together, he knew it was true.


    When Tuya first came for him, she had told him that her father had long tried to study Blood magic. Knowing that, it was a fair assumption that the man had studied him extensively while he was unconscious after his Tempering. And now, what remained was to see how he would be affected by the battle.


    That was why the Elder had not let his adepts destroy the army, and that was why he wanted to send Arran and Stoneheart by themselves. It was a simple experiment, and although the battle wouldn''t be without risk entirely, Arran was certain that the outcome was already determined.


    Snowcloud looked startled for a moment, but then, a thoughtful expression came over her face. "Does Stoneheart know about this?"


    Arran shook his head. "He doesn''t, and he shouldn''t. He needs this battle to regain his confidence, and for that, he needs to believe he''s responsible for his own redemption."


    "If you''ve got it all figured out, why come to me for advice?" Snowcloud asked, now sounding slightly annoyed.


    "I''m not worried about the battle," Arran said, "but I am worried about the Sixth Valley. I don''t understand the conflict well enough to know if this will bind me to the Soaring Sun, or earn me enemies among the other factions."


    At once, understanding dawned on Snowcloud''s face, and for several minutes she went silent as she considered the matter.


    "It won''t," she said eventually. "Not unless you get directly involved in the conflict. Outsiders who attack Society members are enemies to all, and killing them won''t be seen as allying yourself with a faction."


    "What if one of the other factions sent the army?" Arran asked, finally getting to his most important question.


    "Then they''re traitors to the Society," Snowcloud said, almost seeming angry at the suggestion. "And they''re your enemies regardless of faction." She shook her head, then continued in a softer tone, "But I don''t believe any of them would go that far. Fighting each other is one thing, but helping outsiders kill Society members is something else entirely."


    She spoke with a confidence that Arran did not share, but it seemed clear that at least superficially, battling the army wouldn''t put him in the Soaring Sun camp. While that was less certainty than he wanted, it would have to do.


    If anyone within the Sixth Valley was behind it, it would be a well-kept secret, even to their own faction. And if he put an end to the army, it could not be considered an attack on any of the factions.


    "Then I''ll fight," he said.


    Snowcloud''s face fell as she realized that she had convinced Arran to go through with the plan. "Are you sure? You can get your strength back with a few months of Body Refinement¡­ you don''t need to do this."


    Arran nodded. "I''ve decided."


    Snowcloud spent some more time trying to change his mind, but her efforts were in vain.


    In truth, he wanted the power the battle would bring him, and the only thing that held him back was the possibility that it would be seen as a declaration for the Soaring Sun faction. Now that he knew that wasn''t the case, his mind was made up.


    After he left Snowcloud, he headed for Tuya''s quarters. There was one more issue he needed to take care of ¡ª an important one.


    When Tuya opened her door, Arran was momentarily left speechless. While her sleepy face suggested he had interrupted her rest, his eyes were immediately drawn to her body, which was only barely covered by an outrageously small set of underwear.


    "Not the midnight visit I was expecting," she said as she waved him inside, sounding amused at his embarrassment. "But I suppose I could do worse."


    "I need armor," Arran said, trying his hardest to ignore her attempts to tease him. He was only partly successful, and he could feel his cheeks flushing.


    "Do I look like a blacksmith?" she asked in a bemused tone, making no attempt to cover her body.


    "I''ll pay," he replied, trying very hard to keep his eyes on her face. "In Essence Crystals."


    At the mention of Essence Crystals, her eyes instantly lit up. "I suppose I could find something," she said. "Although I doubt I can get anything better than that black coat of yours."


    "I''m not looking to replace that," Arran said. "What I need are gauntlets, a helmet, a gorget, greaves¡­" It took him some time to list everything he needed, and by the time he finished, Tuya was the one whose eyes were wide with astonishment.


    "Where the hell am I supposed to find all that?!" she asked, looking at Arran as if he had gone mad.


    "I don''t know," Arran replied with a shrug. "But if you can find all of it by morning, I''ll give you a hundred Essence Crystals."


    "A hundred?" She narrowed her eyes, then nodded slowly. "I suppose I might be able to find something¡­"

 Chapter 149 The Eve of Battle

    "I think we''re getting close," Stoneheart said, looking at the six dead men on the ground in front of them.


    They had already spent the better part of two weeks in search of the army, and although they had come across several scouting parties, there was little sign of the main force.


    The region was hilly and densely forested, and the terrain made it far harder to find the army than they had anticipated. In such an environment, they could have easily passed within a mile of their enemies without ever noticing.


    Initially, they had thought they could simply capture a few scouts and wring information from those, but the scouts fought with an almost religious fervor, choosing death over capture. And when they finally caught one alive, the man bit off his tongue before they could make him speak.


    After that, they had stopped trying to capture their enemies alive.


    Still, even if the scouts they found would not talk, they knew they were getting closer. Just in the past two days, they had encountered three scouting parties, and come across the tracks of several others.


    Arran took a few moments to search the dead scouts'' belongings, and soon, a smile formed on his face.


    "We''ve got them," he said.


    Stoneheart gave him a puzzled look. "What makes you say so?"


    Arran triumphantly held up a piece of fresh flatbread.


    At once, Stoneheart''s eyes went wide with excitement. "So they''re less than a day away! We''ve got them!"


    Arran gave the tall novice a satisfied nod. Until now, all the scouts they''d killed had carried only stale supplies. That these new ones had fresh supplies meant they had only just left their camp ¡ª probably earlier that morning.


    "So what do we do now?" Stoneheart asked. "Try to follow their tracks back to the camp?"


    "That won''t work. Neither of us is any good at tracking," Arran said with a shake of his head. "Give me a moment."


    He quickly spotted what looked to be the tallest tree near them, then clambered up it, the climb posing little challenge to his unnaturally strong and dexterous body.


    Near the top of the tree, he could see over most of the canopy, and he soon spotted what he needed: a tall hill in the distance.


    He made his way down again, then turned to Stoneheart. "Follow me. I know how to find them."


    In the dense forest it took them well over an hour just to reach the hill, and then another one to reach its peak. Arran didn''t mind ¡ª he already knew that their enemy could no longer escape them.


    "Now what?" Stoneheart asked when they finally were atop the hill, hidden among the brush at its peak.


    While they could see for miles around from the position, all that was visible was the thick canopy of the surrounding forest. Of the army, there was no sign.


    "Now we wait," Arran replied. "They''ll make camp when evening begins to fall, and when they do, we''ll be able to spot the smoke of their campfires."


    He was reasonably confident that the plan should work. An army of thousands would move slowly, and from what he had seen of their enemies so far, he thought they would not have the discipline to hide their fires.


    The wait took several hours, and as evening began to fall, Arran started to feel some worry. Despite his prediction, there had still not been any sign of smoke anywhere in the distance, and it wouldn''t be long before dusk fell and the sky became too dark.


    "There!" Stoneheart said, just as Arran was starting to think he had made a mistake. "Look!"


    Arran did as the novice said, and with some effort, he could make out a thin plume of smoke about ten miles from their position. Although he wasn''t certain the smoke came from the army, another small plume of smoke soon appeared, and then another.


    They had found the army.


    Stoneheart gave Arran a glance. "Think we should go take a look?"


    Arran nodded. "We''ll have to scout the terrain and find out their numbers before we take action. Only one way to do that."


    They set off immediately, making use of the light that remained to make their way toward their enemies as quickly as they could. Excited from finally finding their enemies, their progress was rapid, and they traversed most of the distance in less than an hour.


    As they came closer to the camp, they were forced to move more carefully. There were guards posted in the area surrounding the camp, and neither of them had any great skill at stealth. Still, with the darkness concealing them and Arran''s Shadowsight revealing any nearby guards, they managed to pass unnoticed.


    Finally, they reached a spot on a thickly forested hillside that overlooked their enemies'' camp, just a few hundred paces away from it.


    Although Arran had known their enemies numbered in the thousands, now that he could actually see them he still felt some shock. The camp was filled with hundreds of small fires, each surrounded by at least a dozen soldiers, with many more soldiers walking between them.


    Suddenly, Arran began to feel some doubt about his ability to take them on. Even if his reason told him the numbers would make no difference, his eyes had trouble believing it.


    "There''s so many of them," Stoneheart whispered, mirroring Arran''s thoughts.


    "Have you spotted their leader yet?" Arran asked in a low voice, suppressing any anxiety he felt.


    "No," Stoneheart replied. "But look, something seems to be happening at the center of the camp."


    With a look, Arran saw that Stoneheart was right. At the center of the camp, on a small mound of earth, a group of soldiers was stacking wood for what looked to be a pyre.


    "Let''s wait and see what happens," Arran said.


    They waited patiently, watching as most of the soldiers ate while the others continued to build the pyre. When they finally finished, they set fire to it, and within moments the fire spread completely through the heap of wood, blazing dozens of feet into the sky.


    A few moments later, the soldiers abandoned their campfires, gathering in a wide circle around the fire. It was clear that something was about to happen, though Arran had no idea what.


    After a few minutes, a tall, bald man with paper-white skin stepped through the mass of soldiers, the crowd parting widely as he passed. Finally, he came to a stop in front of the fire, then turned to face the others.


    "That''s him!" Stoneheart hissed. "The mage!"


    Arran nodded, already having figured out that this would be the army''s leader - the so-called ''Lord of Bones.''


    The bald man spread his arms wide, then spoke.


    "The Blood God has blessed us with strength!"


    The man''s deep voice sounded through the camp like a thunderclap, and Arran knew he must be using some kind of magic to amplify it.


    "The Blood God has blessed us, but we have squandered his blessing!" the mage continued. "Tonight, we will present offerings in penance, and ask him to renew his blessing!"


    Arran had a sinking feeling, as he knew what was about to happen.


    "Bring forth the offerings!"


    A group of soldiers appeared, dragging a dozen prisoners with them, bound and blindfolded. At once, Arran''s hand shot toward Stoneheart''s shoulder, preventing the novice from attacking right then.


    "We can''t let them do it!" Stoneheart said, his voice louder than it should be. "They''re going to burn them!"


    "We can''t attack now," Arran replied. "If we do, we''ll both die. Now come with me."


    If they attacked the army head-on, the soldiers would overwhelm Stoneheart, while the mage would be free to attack Arran. To win, they needed to split the mage from his soldiers, then have Stoneheart occupy the leader while Arran slaughtered the men.


    Stoneheart let Arran guide him away, albeit reluctantly. As they moved through the woods, screams sounded in the distance, and they knew their enemies'' offerings had begun.


    When they were half a mile away from the camp Arran stopped, then turned to face Stoneheart.


    "Listen," he said as he began to take his armor from his void bags. "We''ll only get one chance at this, and we need to move quickly."


    "What do we do?" Stoneheart asked, a coldly murderous look on his face.


    "Take this," Arran said, handing Stoneheart his Duskcloak. "There''s a hill about a mile back. I want you to hide up there. The enemy mage will go there not long after the battle begins, and when he does, I want you to burn his face off. But don''t reveal yourself before he gets involved, no matter what."


    Stoneheart frowned. "How do you know he''ll be there?"


    "Leave that to me." Arran did not bother to explain. There simply wasn''t enough time to detail the plan that was forming in his mind.


    "All right," Stoneheart said after a brief pause. Then, he took a look at the stack of armor Arran had taken from his bag. "What''s with the armor?"


    It was a question Arran had expected. He knew mages normally eschewed armor, preferring the speed and mobility that would normally be more useful against other mages. Yet this was not a normal battle, and if all went well, Arran would not be facing mages.


    "I''m fighting an army," Arran replied. "I don''t want some lucky asshole shooting an arrow through my throat while I kill those bastards."


    It was the truth, but not the entire truth. The armor would help protect him, but it would also hide his identity. And despite Snowcloud''s words, Arran still feared that one of the other factions was involved.


    "Now hurry," he said. "I want to attack while they''re all gathered together."


    Stoneheart gave him a nod. "Good luck," he said, then quickly set off, his tall figure soon fading in the shadows of the forest.


    As Arran began to put on his armor, a cold determination took hold of him. Whatever Blood God his enemies had wanted to appease, tonight, no gods could save them.

 Chapter 150 Bai

    Arran put on the armor as quickly as he could, but it still took him more time than he would have liked. Between his coat, the helmet, the gauntlets, the gorget, the greaves, the cuisses, and all the other parts, suiting up was a slow affair, and that was hardly the only downside of wearing full armor.


    The quality of the armor was impressive, all the more so because Tuya had managed to find in just a few hours during the dead of night. All of it was enchanted, and it fit him better than he had any right to expect.


    Even so, wearing it made him slower and affected his balance, and when he put on the helmet, it immediately restricted his vision. To any other mage, the sacrifice would be far too large for a little added protection.


    But Arran wasn''t like other mages. The control he had gained from the Tempering easily compensated for the bulk and weight of the armor, and in the dark of night, his Shadowsight would be far more useful than his eyes.


    When he finished suiting up, whatever parts of his body weren''t protected by his armored coat were covered in steel. Against Body Refiners the protection would still be far from impenetrable, but then, he didn''t intend to let his enemies come close enough to do serious damage. Not alive, at any rate.


    Wasting no time, he immediately began to scout out the nearest guards'' locations. Although both the screams in the distance and the bloodlust within him urged him to attack at once, he ignored them ¡ª haste would not serve him well.


    He took care in finding all the scouts that had been posted on the side of the camp that was nearest to him, making sure not to miss any of them.


    When he finally finished, he took some moments to decide his path of attack. Then, he took a deep breath, and behind the visor of his helmet, a grin appeared on his face.


    It was time to kill.


    He approached the first pair of guards at a jog, not bothering to hide his approach. Still, in the darkness, they only noticed him when he was already upon them, and they barely had time to draw their weapons before he attacked.


    One of the guards died instantly, Arran''s first slash ripping through his neck, blood spouting from his body as it collapsed to the ground.


    The other stumbled backward, fear in his eyes as he held his sword before him. He began to shout, "We''re under¡ª"


    He died before he could finish the words, Arran''s starmetal sword finding his heart with a single thrust.


    Arran did not pause to look at the bodies. Immediately, he dashed toward the next pair of guards, bounding through the trees with powerful strides.


    "Attackers!" one of the guards shouted when he saw Arran approach, with the other brandishing his weapon as he prepared to face the attacker.


    A second later, their dead bodies were sprawled across the ground, one missing the top half of his head and the other cleaved in two at the waist.


    Again, Arran dashed off.


    His next opponent was a single guard, who froze with fright the moment Arran appeared. For several moments, Arran waited, but the man neither drew his weapon nor screamed. Finally, he sighed, then stabbed the man in the throat.


    As the guard''s body slumped to the ground, Arran screamed, "Help! Attackers!"


    His impression of a panicked soldier was clumsy, but by now, calls and shouts of alarm were coming from the camp. With his Shadowsight, he could tell that the first reinforcements were already heading for the guards.


    He struck two more guard positions in quick succession, each time making sure the soldiers had time to call for help before they died.


    By now, he was starting to feel the first stirrings of the Blood magic in his body, and although the effect was still weak, he could already feel his strength and speed increase. The bloodlust also grew in strength, but he had no trouble controlling it.


    He ran off into the forest, away from the camp. At this point, dozens of soldiers had already reached the dead guards, and hundreds more were heading to join them. As they began to search the forest, Arran could hear them shout in anger.


    A hundred paces into the woods, he abruptly turned around, then headed toward the group of soldiers near the first two guards he killed.


    There were about two dozen of them, and he took them by surprise, killing three and wounding another in a single breath''s time. Between their surprise and the darkness around them, they barely even had time to respond before Arran vanished into the trees again.


    "Catch him!" he heard one of the men shout. He grinned, knowing they took the bait.


    Once more, he ran into the forest, easily shaking off his pursuers. He stopped before the soldiers were out of range of his Shadowsight, then paused for some moments to inspect the area.


    When he found that there were only half a dozen soldiers near the last guard post he had attacked, he immediately rushed toward the small group. As he reached them, he unleashed a series of furious attacks that they had no chance of resisting.


    Even under normal circumstances, weak Body Refiners like these would pose little threat to him, and now, he not only had the advantage of his Shadowsight, but also the power of the Blood magic that was rapidly growing stronger.


    When the last of them died, Arran paused for a moment to catch his breath, then shouted at the top of his lungs. "They''re fleeing! Catch them!"


    Again, he retreated into the woods before heading back and striking another group, killing and wounding just a few of them. Then, he made a quick retreat, the group unable to catch up with him in the darkness.


    Several more times he attacked, each time choosing a different place and only killing a few enemies before fleeing again.


    To the soldiers, it would be like fighting a small force of scouts or raiders, with Arran''s speed and Shadowsight allowing him to attack and retreat effortlessly.


    While he could have easily done far more damage, that wasn''t his plan.


    If he stood and fought, his enemies would soon discover that they only faced a single opponent, and then, the mage who led them could attack from a distance while his men kept Arran occupied.


    What he needed was for the soldiers to grow confident, believing that they were driving off the enemy with their superior numbers. He would draw them into the woods, then lead them to a battle they could not win.


    Yet although the soldiers advanced, it was slower than Arran wanted. They were cautious and restrained, and even now, only a few hundred had entered the woods, with the rest still holding in the camp.


    Still, there was nothing for it but to continue, and so he did.


    Each of his attacks was a needle stab to the enemy force, a pair of soldiers dying in one place, then a handful in another. The attacks barely dented the soldiers'' numbers, but they caused enough confusion and chaos to keep them from realizing they only faced a single opponent.


    Moreover, even if the enemy did not take the bait, every exchange left Arran stronger. By now, the Blood magic was filling his veins with power, with every soldier he slew further adding to his strength.


    The bloodlust was growing stronger, too, but he could still easily control it. Rather than an overwhelming urge to slaughter his enemies, it now more resembled a polite suggestion to kill ¡ª a suggestion he gladly followed, but which he could resist with ease should he want to.


    The battle in the woods continued for some time, Arran continuing to harass the enemy soldiers with small but deadly attacks, slowly drawing them further into the woods.


    Then, finally, he heard the words he was waiting for, thundering through the woods in the mage''s amplified voice.


    "Kill the attackers! Let none escape!"


    Arran grinned in relief. The mage had taken the bait.


    Against another enemy, his plan would likely have failed. Had the enemy commander been a commoner or just a Body Refiner, he would have withdrawn and massed his forces, wary of a trap.


    But this was a mage, and Arran knew well that mages had a habit of underestimating those without magic. The man might not be so foolish as to take the lead in driving off the attackers, but he wouldn''t see a small force without magic users as much of a threat, either.


    After all, the way Arran''s enemy would see it, mages stronger than himself would simply have struck the camp with devastating force, while weaker ones would have needed magic just to hold off the soldiers.


    It had been a gamble, but fortunately, it seemed things were working out the way Arran intended.


    The first of his traps had been sprung. Now, it was time for the second one.

 Chapter 151 Fighting an Army

    The mage''s thunderous words immediately set the entire camp in motion, and within moments, Arran''s Shadowsight told him that hundreds of soldiers were beginning to move into the woods, with many more following behind them.


    It was exactly what he had hoped would happen, and he could not help but feel excited at seeing his enemies fall into the trap so easily. While he had prepared for the possibility that they would see through the ruse ¡ª it was hardly subtle, after all ¡ª it looked like everything would go according to plan.


    His spirits rose further when he realized that his enemies'' advance was chaotic, lacking any sort of organization. Rather than progressing in tight ranks, as he imagined a real army would, they moved forward in a disorderly mass.


    Their sloppy advance allowed Arran to continue attacking in much the same way as he had before, striking quickly and furiously, then disappearing into the woods again before they could respond.


    Several of the soldiers had the presence of mind to bring torches, and Arran rewarded their good sense by killing them first. The darkness was his ally in this battle, and he would protect it as best he could, slaughtering all those who threatened it.


    Between the darkness and Arran''s constant attacks, the soldiers advanced slowly, losing men with every few paces they progressed. Yet strangely, their morale seemed high ¡ª from their cries and calls, it was clear they believed they were winning the battle.


    But then, they wore no uniforms, and they had no way to know that the bodies they stumbled over were all their own. They advanced as they fought, and that seemed enough to convince them they had the upper hand.


    Several times, Arran witnessed groups of soldiers attack each other, unable to tell friend from foe in the dark. These fights further added to the enemies'' impression that they were facing an enemy force, and naturally, he did not interfere with them.


    As the chaotic battle continued, Arran steadily lured his enemies further and further into the woods, slowly guiding them toward the hill where Stoneheart was hiding. The hill was barely a mile away from the camp, but the glacial pace at which the front line moved meant crossing the short distance took the better part of half an hour.


    Far from being impatient, Arran welcomed the army''s slow advance.


    Even if the real battle had yet to start, hundreds of enemy soldiers had already fallen, with every death feeding Arran''s Blood magic. And the more of them fell, the stronger Arran would be when he attacked in earnest.


    Despite the darkness and chaos, occasionally a soldier near the front would get the right idea, calling for a retreat or screaming that there was only one enemy.


    Each time this happened, Arran would rush over immediately, butchering the quick-witted soldier and all those around him, preventing the calls from taking hold among the other soldiers.


    The same fate awaited those few soldiers who tried to bring some shred of order to their jumbled ranks. Arran wanted his enemies confused and disoriented, and he would not brook any interference with his plans.


    The culling was successful, and with every pace the army advanced, their ranks grew more disorderly. None at the front knew what was happening in the darkness around them, and none in the back heard what was happening at the front.


    With the soldiers in complete disarray, Arran easily led them to the hill. But he did not stop there. Instead, he guided them further, several hundreds of paces along the side of the hill.


    He finally came to a stop some three hundred paces from the hill''s peak, where he knew Stoneheart would be hiding.


    This was where he would make his stand, and this was where the army would meet its end.


    Briefly, he stood still and closed his eyes, allowing the full strength of the Blood magic to fill him. Earlier, he had restrained it, careful not to reveal his power to the enemies. But now, the time had come to unleash all of it.


    With a sudden movement, Arran rushed forward, two bounding leaps carrying him two dozen paces into the soldiers'' ranks. At once, he began to attack savagely, no longer restraining himself.


    The slaughter had begun.


    Arran''s starmetal sword was heavy and razor-sharp, and he swung it with the strength of a mad titan, cleaving his enemies'' bodies with terrifying ease. In seconds, dozens of enemy soldiers had already died, the blade cutting through them like a scythe through grass.


    Every blow he struck was fatal, often cutting through several enemies at once. Most had no time to scream or flee ¡ª the moment they came within range of Arran''s blade, their bodies were torn asunder, the life ripped from them before they even hit the ground.


    In the darkness, only those closest to the reaping had an inkling of what was happening. Yet there was no escape for them, as the mass of soldiers behind them mindlessly pressed forward, driving them to their deaths.


    The sudden massacre filled Arran with a new avalanche of power, and as the Blood magic raged inside him, the bloodlust grew from an ember to a blaze.


    Yet for all its strength, the bloodlust didn''t cause his control to waver. The Tempering had done its work, and now, Arran found himself able to command both the strength and the bloodlust he had gained from the Blood magic.


    When he had defeated the raiding party, he had fought in a blind rage, his strength overwhelming but his senses dulled. Now, he was in full control of both his senses and his strength, and the combination proved frightfully effective.


    Even as he fought, Arran felt some surprise at his own power. He had expected that the Blood magic would be more effective with his mind intact, but he had underestimated just how big the difference would be.


    He waded through the battlefield like a god of death, ending the lives of all who came within reach, ruthlessly efficient in commanding his power. He fought with a controlled fury, and every attack he made was chosen for maximum damage.


    For several minutes, the slaughter continued, and in those minutes, hundreds of soldiers fell to Arran''s blade.


    Soon, however, the army began to falter. Even if the soldiers further back did not know exactly what was happening, the screams of terror and pain from the vanguard made it clear that it was nothing good.


    Then, abruptly, the army''s push forward ended entirely.


    Driven mad with panic, some of the soldiers closest to Arran had turned their weapons against their allies, desperate to cut a path to safety. Others followed, and soon dozens of small fights had broken out along the front lines.


    Even if the army hadn''t been routed just yet, Arran knew that it was now only a matter of minutes before the charge was broken completely.


    He redoubled his attacks at once, eager to drive off his enemies. If he managed to rout the army before its leader had a chance to intervene, Arran could join forces with Stoneheart to defeat the mage, and their victory would be certain.


    But just then, as the enemy forces teetered on the brink of collapse, Arran Sensed it. A sudden, massive swell of Essence atop the hill.


    He dashed off without hesitation, barreling through a group of fighting soldiers.


    A moment later, a white fireball soared toward the center of the battle, where Arran had stood just moments before. It impacted with a thunderous crash, then quickly expanded into a large cluster of fire so hot Arran could feel it burn him even from several dozens of paces away.


    While the Blood magic healed the burns almost as quickly as they appeared, Arran wondered whether he could withstand a direct hit, and quickly decided he had no interest in finding out.


    Stoneheart had better hurry, he thought, or the entire battle might yet turn into a disaster.


    At the same time, some cheers sounded from the army. Although the attack had killed dozens of their own, the soldiers clearly knew that help had arrived, and the army that had been on the verge of being routed now seemed to rediscover its resolve.


    Arran continued to fight, his sword tearing through the newly inspired soldiers. Enemy mage or not, his task was to break the army, and he would not allow himself to fail.


    Another fireball came, and this time it struck even closer to Arran. At this rate, he knew, it wouldn''t be long before he would be forced to test the limits of the Blood magic''s healing ability.


    But then, he felt a massive surge of Essence, and a second later a deafening thunderclap sounded from the hilltop, so loud it seemed the skies themselves were being split apart.


    The soldiers came to an immediate stop, while Arran had to force himself to continue fighting. He understood that Stoneheart had finally confronted the mage, and from the force he had just Sensed, it seemed the battle had been decided in a single attack.


    For several moments, nothing happened. Then, there was another surge of Essence, and a massive fireball came flying from the hilltop. Yet unlike the previous ones, this one was aimed squarely at the army, and it struck with devastating effect. Then, another came, again aimed at the army.


    It was too much. Their last hope shattered, the soldiers'' courage failed, and the army broke.


    Within moments, the thousands of soldiers who still lived were running, panic sending them fleeing in all directions.


    But before Arran had the chance to feel any relief, he suddenly Sensed two mages gathering vast amounts of Essence. One of these would be Stoneheart, but the other could only be an enemy.


    Arran immediately rushed toward the hilltop, but he already knew he would be too late to make a difference.


    As Arran ran, the hilltop was briefly engulfed in a tempest of fire and lightning. Moments later, it died down, the battle already over.


    Arran increased his pace, approaching the hilltop in a mad dash. With the Blood magic strengthening his body, he crossed the distance in seconds, and soon, he saw Stoneheart appear in the distance.


    The tall novice was surrounded by the burning wreckage of trees and brush, and when he saw Arran approach, he raised his hand in greeting.


    "No need to worry! I got them both!" Stoneheart called out, some pride in his voice.


    Arran did not stop. He raised his sword as he shot forward, and when he launched a devastating Battering Force attack straight at Stoneheart, the novice''s eyes went wide with shock.

 Chapter 152 Novices

    Stoneheart braced himself for Arran''s Battering Force attack, throwing up what seemed to be a shield of Wind Essence.


    Before the attack could hit him, however, it smashed into its actual target ¡ª the Shadowcloaked mage who was heading toward Stoneheart with a raised sword in his hands.


    The attack hit the mage squarely in the back, sending the man flying into Stoneheart''s shield. Stoneheart staggering back from the force of the impact, while the mage crashed heavily to the ground.


    The force of the attack proved enough to break the mage''s concentration, causing his Shadowcloak to fail. With a brief flicker of light in the air, the short, fat man suddenly became visible to the eye.


    Despite taking a direct hit that should have incapacitated him, the mage got to his feet immediately, and without even a second''s hesitation, he turned to Arran and shot a stream of white, lightning-like fire from his hands. It hit Arran in the leg, burning straight through his armor and leaving a fist-sized hole in his thigh.


    Before the mage could follow up on the attack, Stoneheart''s massive sword cut through his neck from behind, killing the man instantly.


    As the mage''s headless body slumped to the ground, Stoneheart rushed toward Arran, his face filled with concern. "He hit you! Are you alright?"


    "I''m fine," Arran said, getting back to his feet. "My armor took the brunt of it."


    In truth, the armor had been completely useless against the attack, and the wound had been grave. But drawing upon the power of a thousand fresh deaths, the Blood magic had healed it in seconds.


    He felt some small guilt at lying to his companion, but although Stoneheart already knew about the Blood magic, Arran wanted to keep the full extent of its powers hidden as well as possible.


    "I thought you''d gone mad again," Stoneheart said, barely veiled concern in his eyes as he looked at Arran.


    "Not this time," Arran replied simply.


    Stoneheart nodded, seeming relieved that Arran was behaving as normally as could be expected given the situation.


    But then, his eyes shifted to the dead body on the ground. "He used a Shadowcloak," Stoneheart said. "That means he must have been a Shadowflame novice. How did you detect him?"


    "I used a little technique I picked up a while ago," Arran said with a dismissive shrug. He gave the body a kick with the leg he almost lost, then added, "Maybe he was a deserter?"


    "Maybe," the tall novice said, though he didn''t seem convinced. "There was another one, too, earlier. We''ll have to take their void bags to my uncle. Maybe he can figure out who they were."


    "What happened to the bald guy?" Arran asked, remembering their original enemy.


    "I hit him in the back with all the power I had," Stoneheart said, seeming slightly embarrassed. "I don''t imagine there''s much left of him. How did you know he would be here, anyway?"


    "From you," Arran said. Seeing Stoneheart''s puzzled expression, he continued, "When we fought the raiding party, you wanted to find higher ground, then attack them from range. I figured other mages would think the same way, so I found an area with only a single spot that fit the bill."


    "Are we really that predictable?" Stoneheart''s expression turned thoughtful, if slightly troubled.


    "I could have been wrong," Arran said with a shrug. "But you should go to the camp and see if any of the prisoners are still alive, then head back to the castle. I imagine your uncle wants to hear about the novices."


    "You''re not coming with me?"


    "I''m going to spend some time hunting down the remaining soldiers," Arran replied. "Even though they''re scattered and leaderless, they could still easily wipe out a few dozen villages."


    That, and he didn''t want to pass up the power that he would get from killing them. Even if most of it would dissipate quickly, what little would remain was still invaluable to him.


    "Then I''ll make sure there''s a hero''s welcome for you when you return," Stoneheart said, a grin forming on his face.


    Arran shook his head. "Don''t tell anyone about what I did. I don''t want word of the Blood magic to spread, and a recruit fighting an entire army would draw far too much attention. The honor for this battle is all yours."


    Stoneheart looked as if the very idea of it offended him. "I can''t do that!" he said, a hint of anger in his voice. "I can''t take credit for your actions ¡ª and besides, nobody will believe I defeated an army."


    "You deserve the honor," Arran replied. "You killed three mages. As for how you did it, just say you killed the leader with a surprise attack, and that the army fell apart after that. That''s more or less what happened, anyway."


    Although Stoneheart still didn''t look happy with the idea, he finally let out a resigned sigh. "Very well. But don''t think I''ll forget the favors I owe you."


    "If you do, I''ll be sure to remind you," Arran said. "Now go. "


    Arran watched as Stoneheart set off toward the camp. Although there might be some enemy soldiers left in the area, the tall novice had already proved he could handle himself, and a few weak Body Refiners should not be a problem.


    He waited until Stoneheart had disappeared into the night and left the range of his Shadowsight. Then, he turned around.


    "You can show yourself now."


    "You could sense my presence?" Elder Naran asked as his giant shape became visible. There was a hint of surprise in his tone.


    "Not yours. Theirs." Arran pointed toward the three dead mages at the Elder''s feet. "Novices?"


    Although Elder Naran had been invisible even to his Shadowsight, the same wasn''t true for the bodies on the ground, which Arran suspected belonged to mages who would have killed Stoneheart had it not been for a timely intervention by the giant Elder.


    "Almost certainly, yes," Elder Naran replied, though he did not further elaborate on the subject.


    "I''m surprised you intervened. Stoneheart told me the Naran family only cares about strength."


    "The boy is young and inexperienced, but he has great potential," Elder Naran said flatly, but the tone of his voice told Arran that had not been his only reason for taking action.


    "So did you learn what you needed?" Arran asked, not bothering with subtlety. Both of them knew the true reason the Elder had arranged the battle, and there was little point in pretending otherwise.


    "Some," Elder Naran said. "The Blood magic is even stronger than I expected, and I suspect there is much more to discover once we return to the Sixth Valley. I am especially intrigued by how rapidly you recovered from that wound."


    Surprised, Arran asked, "You''re not planning to study me back at the castle?" He had already prepared himself for having to spend at least several weeks as Elder Naran''s research subject when he returned. But now, it seemed the Elder had other plans.


    "Interesting though your condition is, there are more pressing concerns that require my attention," Elder Naran said.


    He paused for a moment, then continued in a slightly annoyed tone, "I should also mention that last week, one of my herbalists found the ingredient young lady Snowcloud required. I suspect that when you return from your hunt, she will insist on departing immediately."


    Arran nodded. "I suppose I should get going then."


    He set off shortly afterward. With Snowcloud waiting for him, he could not afford to spend too much time hunting for the remnants of the defeated army, but he would at least give it a week. That should be plenty of time to catch most of his prey, but even so, he would not waste any of it.

 Chapter 153 Hunting the Survivors

    In the days after the battle, Arran hunted the escaped soldiers with grim determination. Deadly though the battle had been, many survivors had managed to flee, and thousands of them now filled the woods surrounding the camp.


    After just three days, he had already killed more soldiers in his hunt than he had killed during the battle, and even if most of the temporary strength of the Blood magic dissipated quickly, he could feel that there were permanent benefits, as well.


    Perhaps he wouldn''t be able to shrug off major wounds the way he had right after the battle, but any small wounds he sustained healed easily, and his strength had more than doubled.


    Several times, groups of soldiers tried to ambush him. They did not live to regret the mistake. Arran''s Shadowsight allowed him to see through their ambushes easily, and even if most of the strength of the initial battle had dissipated, Arran was strong enough to crush them effortlessly.


    More troublesome were the ones who neither fought nor fled, choosing to beg for their lives instead.


    While Arran felt no remorse for killing enemies in battle, killing defenseless soldiers who pleaded for mercy was another matter. And although they had followed a monstrous leader, he could not be certain that they had taken part in the man''s crimes.


    In the end, he decided to spare them. It might be a mistake, but he could not bring himself to simply execute them in cold blood.


    Before he released them, however, he questioned them. There were many things he wished to know about how the mage had gathered such a vast army of Body Refiners.


    The answers they gave not only surprised him, but also caused him more than a little worry.


    From what the soldiers told him, the now-dead mage had begun to gather his army half a decade earlier. He had lured bandits and mercenaries with promises of power, then made good on those promises by teaching them basic Body Refinement techniques and feeding them food with Natural Essence.


    Rather than telling his soldiers that they were learning Body Refinement, however, the mage had said the power was a gift from some deity he called the God of Blood, and had described the Body Refinement techniques as prayers.


    This, Arran knew, would cause problems for the region far beyond anything the army had already done.


    A religion whose ''prayers'' brought actual power would surely spread like wildfire, and there would be at least some true believers among the escaped soldiers, even after their disastrous defeat.


    Worse, from what the soldiers told Arran, the religion the mage had created was as cruel as it was false, with its followers believing that their so-called Blood God demanded numerous sacrifices in exchange for his favors.


    Yet as much as Arran wanted to scour the cult from the face of the earth, he knew he was unable to do so. He did not have the time to spend months chasing down all the survivors, and even if he did, hundreds would still manage to escape. There were just too many of them for a single man to hunt down.


    Without any better options, he did his best to explain the truth to those who surrendered, telling them that they were actually practicing Body Refinement and that their ''prayers'' were merely training techniques.


    Perhaps, he hoped, the truth would stop the new religion from spreading, or at least slow it down. If the soldiers found out that there was a simple explanation for their power, maybe they wouldn''t be so eager to believe the lies the mage had told them.


    Most of the soldiers who surrendered to Arran were convinced easily. To their eyes, Arran was far more powerful than their old leader had been, and his words carried more weight than those of a dead prophet.


    Others responded differently, seeming to accept Arran''s words but looking at him with an almost religious fervor, some even vowing to hunt the followers of the Blood God in Arran''s name. While it made him uncomfortable, he still released them ¡ª if nothing else, they would at least hinder the spread of the mage''s cult.


    Finally, a few rejected what he said, insisting on clinging to the mage''s lies. These, Arran killed without hesitation. Defenseless or not, they would continue to be a danger to the region.


    After learning about the mage''s cult, Arran hunted with renewed determination. The fewer soldiers remained when he left, the harder it would be for this new religion to spread.


    His determination further grew on the fourth day, when he came across the ruins of a village that had been attacked by a group of surviving soldiers.


    Most of the buildings had been burned to the ground, and with them, most of the villagers'' bodies. Yet the few bodies that remained intact bore signs of violence, torture, and other atrocities.


    After that, Arran no longer spared any of the soldiers he found.


    Over a week passed as Arran mercilessly hunted down any survivors he could find, but although he wanted to continue, he knew it was time to return to the castle. Just the journey back would take him well over a week, and already, he suspected Snowcloud would be less than pleased with his prolonged absence.


    Moreover, the survivors he found grew sparser by the day, and Arran was far from an expert tracker. During the first few days after the battle, the woods had been filled with prey, but now, any soldiers who had survived both the battle and Arran''s hunt had fled far and wide.


    Despite his misgivings about the many soldiers who had escaped with their lives, he set off toward the castle. There was no point in delaying any further ¡ª even if he hunted for another week, he doubted he would catch more than a few dozen enemies.


    Yet he only had barely started the journey back when he came upon the tracks of a large party of soldiers ¡ª at least a hundred, from what he could tell.


    With barely a moment''s thought, he set off in pursuit of them. He would not let a group this large escape, no matter how angry Snowcloud would be when he returned.


    The large group''s tracks were easy to follow, and Arran pursued them at speed, his unnaturally strong body allowing him to run without pause. Even so, it took him the better part of a day to catch up with them, and when he did, he found them attacking a large village.


    For a moment, he looked on in confusion. While the attacking group was over a hundred strong, at least two dozen escaped soldiers fought on the side of the defenders.


    And Arran was certain that they were escaped soldiers ¡ª he could Sense the Natural Essence in their bodies, and there was no reason why a random village would hold two dozen Body Refiners whose strength matched that of the soldiers.


    He did not pause to consider the matter any further. Whatever the explanation, there would be time to figure it out after he dealt with the attackers.


    The villagers had been fighting a losing battle, but Arran''s arrival quickly reversed the situation.


    He cut down a dozen soldiers before they even realized they were under attack, his blade tearing through his enemies effortlessly. Then, filled with the strength of the Blood magic, he began to attack in earnest.


    What had been a battle quickly turned into a massacre, Arran''s opponents panicking when they realized they were facing the man who had singlehandedly broken their army. Some tried to escape while others begged for mercy, but none were spared Arran''s wrath.


    He knew what the villagers'' fate would have been without him, and by comparison, the quick deaths he gave the soldiers were already more mercy than they deserved.


    The last of the attackers fell within minutes, and after Arran wiped the blood off his sword, he turned toward the defending villagers and soldiers, who were looking at him in wide-eyed astonishment.


    "Who''s in charge here?" he asked, his voice calm but forceful.


    One of the villagers stepped forward, a short woman with a bloodied sword in her hand. She approached Arran, then fell to her knees.


    "Thank you, lord knight," she said, her expression holding a mixture of relief, fear, and awe. "If not for you, Riverbend would have fallen."


    Arran raised an eyebrow. "Riverbend?"

 Chapter 154 Riverbend

    "Our town is called Riverbend," the woman said, her voice anxious. "I am the mayor."


    Arran spent some moments in thought. While the village ¡ª it was far too small to be called a town ¡ª shared a name with his old hometown, the two places were thousands of miles apart, and other than being next to a river, they seemed to have little in common.


    Still, the name reminded him of the life he had left behind. Even if he did not regret his decision to become a mage, he wondered what things would have been like had he stayed in the real Riverbend. Calmer, probably, and certainly less bloody.


    Arran shook himself from his thoughts. He had more important matters to handle.


    "What about them," he said, gesturing at the soldiers. "What are they doing here?"


    Before the woman could respond, one of the soldiers stepped forward, a stocky, middle-aged man with dark skin and several old scars on his face.


    "You gonna kill us?" Although the man''s expression was cautious, there was no fear in his eyes. It seemed he had already resigned himself to the fact that he might die.


    A panicked look appeared on the mayor''s face when she realized that the battle might not be over yet, but Arran silenced her with a gesture.


    "Maybe," he replied. "Why did you defend the villagers?"


    "They took us in when we came here, gave us food and shelter. Didn''t seem right to just let the others kill ''em." The man shrugged. "A few of our group joined the attack, but you took care of those."


    Arran gave the matter some thought. "If I let you live," he finally said, "you have to vow to defend the village for at least the next year."


    He had no real desire to kill these soldiers. They had risked their lives to defend the villagers, and, more importantly, the village would still need their protection.


    Although Arran had already killed thousands of soldiers, many hundreds still remained in the region. And while they posed little threat to Arran, they were all Body Refiners, each of them strong enough to face half a dozen commoners with ease.


    Even if the Blood God''s cult did not spread any further, plenty of them would still turn to banditry. And if it did, the entire region might be plunged into chaos. Either way, it would be years before the area was safe again, perhaps even decades.


    "Fair enough," the soldier said with a relieved nod. "Got nowhere else to go, anyway."


    "Wait," the mayor cut in. "You want them to defend us? But the attackers are dead ¡ª it''s safe now, isn''t it?"


    "There are others," Arran said. "Many of them. It''ll be a long time before this region is safe again."


    The mayor''s expression became pained, but she did not object any further. After Arran''s earlier display, it seemed she knew to take his words seriously.


    They spent the next few hours disposing of the bodies that littered the ground.


    Despite Arran''s help, over a dozen villagers had fallen in the battle ¡ª a heavy blow, even for a large village. The fallen villagers were buried in the graveyard next to the village, their bodies lowered into the ground amid the cries and sobs of their families.


    After the villagers were buried, they gathered the fallen attackers in a large heap, which Arran burned using Fire Essence. He used quite a bit more power than needed for the sake of the defending soldiers, as a reminder of the consequences that breaking their oath would have.


    Yet as Arran disposed of the bodies, he began to worry that the soldiers'' protection would not be enough to keep the village safe.


    Quickly, he came to a decision. Snowcloud would have to wait a little longer.


    After the bodies were burned, Arran approached the soldiers, then told them about the lies their former leader had told them. He explained that their power came from Natural Essence, not the Blood God, and that the so-called prayers they had been practicing were actually Body Refinement techniques.


    The soldiers took it in stride, none seeming particularly surprised that the mage had been a fraud. Clearly, Arran thought, these were smarter than most of the others had been.


    "I figured as much," the dark-skinned man said after Arran finished his explanation. "No way a god would choose that bald bastard as his messenger."


    Arran nodded in agreement, then said, "Now that you know the truth, I have an offer for you. I can teach all of you a better Body Refinement technique. It will allow all of you to grow stronger than before, but once you master it, you will have to teach it to the villagers."


    Most of the soldiers seemed eager to accept the offer, but the scarred man merely frowned. "If you have a better technique, why not teach them yourself?"


    "I don''t have the time," Arran replied. "With what you already know, I can teach you in a few days. Teaching the villagers, however, will take weeks."


    The soldier hesitated, but then, he nodded. "All right."


    It soon turned out that Arran''s estimate had been overly optimistic. Rather than a few days, it took him a full week to teach the soldiers better Body Refinement techniques. And even then, he only taught them enough to figure out the rest through practice.


    Part of the reason for this was that his own experience made it hard to see the difficulty, but another part was that the techniques he taught them were new ¡ª he had combined elements of Lord Jiang''s teachings, Darkfire''s technique, and the soldiers'' own techniques, forging them together into an entirely new set of techniques.


    While it was somewhat weaker than the Shadowflame technique he had learned from Darkfire, this one was easier to learn, and sharing it would not break his promise to Darkfire.


    "You sure you know what you''re doing?" the scarred soldier asked Arran near the end of the week.


    "I''m certain the technique will work," Arran replied. "And much better than anything you and your men have been using so far."


    "I''m not talking about that," the man said, shaking his head. "I know you''re strong and all. But the way the villagers look at you, some of them already think you''re half a god, if not a whole one. Even some of my own men¡­" He sighed. "Once they learn these techniques of yours, I don''t see it stopping here."


    Arran frowned. In truth, he had tried to stay away from the villagers as much as possible. Their reverent stares made him uncomfortable, and their gifts even more so. They had tried to lavish him with all sorts of offerings, some offering gold, weapons, and herbs, while others went so far as to offer their daughters'' hands in marriage.


    The only things he had accepted were the herbs, and only because Snowcloud might want them. Still, after he accepted the first offering, many like it soon followed, and by now Arran had an apothecary''s worth of herbs in his void bags.


    All considered, he knew the soldier was right. He was dangerously close to forming a cult of the sort the dead mage had started, and the villagers hadn''t even begun to learn Body Refinement yet.


    "I''ll be gone in a few days," he finally said. "And unless you have a better way to keep the village safe, I don''t see any other choices."


    The soldier''s expression became thoughtful. "Don''t suppose I do," he finally admitted. "Whole thing makes me uncomfortable, though."


    "You and me both," Arran replied truthfully.


    By the end of the week, most of the soldiers understood enough of his Body Refinement technique to learn the rest through practice, and Arran knew it was time for him to leave.


    Before he left, he paid the mayor a visit. The woman looked on in awe as he filled her cellar with food from his void bags, all rich in Natural Essence, and listened attentively when he instructed her to have the villagers use it once they learned the basics of Body Refinement.


    He also shared some basic knowledge about Body Refinement and Natural Essence, explaining that it gathered in plants and animals, and that it would be possible to find more strengthening foods in the forest.


    Even as he spoke, he knew his actions would have consequences. In the span of a week, he had shared enough knowledge for the village to grow in both size and strength, perhaps eventually becoming a regional power.


    Still, there was no other way to ensure the safety of the village, and Arran knew that in a way, he bore responsibility for the danger it faced. Without him, the mage''s followers would not have been scattered through the region.


    While he could not protect the village from these threats himself, perhaps his help would be enough to give it a chance to survive.


    When Arran finally left the village, he did so silently, slipping away in the dead of night. Anything else would have the villagers pleading for him to stay, or offering even more gifts in gratitude. And while Arran would gladly face armies, reverent villagers were another matter.


    He set off toward the castle in a hurry.


    Snowcloud would have expected him to return at least a week earlier, and he still had a long way to go. Though he did not look forward to her response when he returned, the longer he waited, the worse it would be.

 Chapter 155 The Next Mission

    "You idiot!" Snowcloud looked at Arran with tear-filled eyes. "I thought you had died!"


    Arran didn''t respond. She had repeated variations on the same words at least a dozen times in just the past half hour, and by now, he understood there was nothing he could say that would make a difference.


    When he returned to the castle, he had expected her to be angry, even furious. What he had not expected was for her to hug him while nearly crying her eyes out.


    In Arran''s view, this was considerably worse than anything he''d been prepared for. Her anger, he could weather. But this, he had no idea how to handle. It was clear his absence had hurt her, and that she had spent the weeks he was gone in worry, fretting that he had died or been captured.


    He had apologized, of course, but it seemed an apology wasn''t what she wanted. As for what she did want, Arran had no idea.


    Part of him blamed Stoneheart for the situation. The novice had followed Arran''s instructions to the letter, not telling anyone about Arran''s involvement in the battle ¡ª not even Snowcloud. Instead, he had merely told her that Arran had another task to fulfill and that he did not know when Arran would return.


    This was not at all what Arran had intended. Snowcloud was one of the few people who already knew about his Blood magic, and he had expected Stoneheart to understand that there was no harm in informing her about the battle.


    But it seemed the tall novice wasn''t big on independent thought ¡ª or maybe he just feared messing up again.


    Elder Naran hadn''t been of use in soothing Snowcloud''s worries, either. The man had disappeared not long after Arran and Stoneheart departed, and when he finally returned, he had locked himself away in his quarters, not allowing anyone to disturb him.


    That left Tuya, and she had been worse than useless.


    Rather than comforting Snowcloud, Tuya had mused about all the glorious and dangerous battles Arran must be fighting while he was gone. Arran''s prolonged absence, she had said, could only mean he had been sent after a particularly formidable foe.


    All told, Snowcloud had been convinced Arran was in mortal danger, and now that he was back, her reaction was a forceful one.


    "You should have let me know," she said after a time. By now, she had calmed down, and although her eyes were still red, she was no longer crying.


    Arran nodded, knowing that she wasn''t wrong. He should have instructed Stoneheart to inform Snowcloud that he would be delayed, but only because he was hunting the remnants of the defeated army.


    But he hadn''t, and there was nothing he could do to change that now.


    For a few moments Snowcloud was silent, and Arran seized the opportunity to change the subject.


    "I brought you something," he said, handing Snowcloud a void bag that the herbs he''d received in the village.


    Snowcloud accepted the bag with a curious frown, then took a few moments to inspect its contents. As she did, her eyes went wide with surprise. "Where did you get this?"


    "I saved a village from some attackers," Arran said. "The villagers gave me the herbs in thanks. Is there anything you need among them?"


    Snowcloud nodded, looking slightly puzzled. "This has one of the few ingredients I still needed," she said, knitting her brow. Then, she looked up at Arran. "You saved a village? From what?"


    "It was attacked by a group of soldiers," he replied. "I stopped the attack."


    A deep frown appeared on Snowcloud''s face. "Tell me what happened." With a thoughtful look, she added, "From the start."


    Arran did as she asked, telling her about the battle and everything that followed. He didn''t bother to hide anything ¡ª Snowcloud was his only real ally in the Shadowflame Society, after all.


    He had expected her to be surprised when he got to the novices'' involvement, but she merely gave him a pensive nod, then told him to continue. From what he could tell, it seemed like she''d already considered the possibility.


    Finally, he got to the events at the village. At this, her eyes finally went wide with shock as she listened.


    "You did what?!" She looked at Arran in astonishment.


    "I gave them some Body Refinement techniques," he repeated. Hurriedly he added, "But only ones I created myself. I didn''t give them the Shadowflame techniques."


    She shook her head. "Don''t tell anyone about this."


    "What I did, was it forbidden?" Arran asked, an uneasy feeling now rising in him. He had little knowledge of the Shadowflame Society''s rules, and even less of what would happen if he broke them.


    "Not forbidden, exactly," Snowcloud replied, her expression complex. "But most villages and towns here can go centuries without ever seeing even a single mage. With an entire village learning Body Refinement, the balance of power in the region will change completely."


    "It changed the moment the army was scattered," Arran replied. "The soldiers who escaped will make sure of that. I just gave the villagers a chance to survive."


    He already understood that his actions would have consequences, but even so, he did not regret his decision. Perhaps he had been more eager to help Riverbend because it shared a name with his hometown, but the fact of the matter was that after the army''s defeat, the region would see many more Body Refiners arise. And the more of them that didn''t follow the Blood God''s cult, the better.


    "I suppose we''ll see the results in a few years," Snowcloud said with a sigh. "But right now, there are other matters to worry about. After what you brought me, I only need two more ingredients, and getting them will require some travel."


    "Two?" Arran frowned, somewhat disappointed. He had hoped Snowcloud already had all the ingredients she needed. "What are they?"


    "I still need dragon blood and a spirit crystal," Snowcloud replied. "And both of these things will be difficult to acquire, even if we have luck on our side."


    "Dragon blood?" Instantly, Arran''s eyes went wide.


    "And a spirit crystal," Snowcloud confirmed.


    "Dragons exist?!" Arran looked at Snowcloud in wonder. "Actual dragons?!"


    While he had a dragonbone bow, he had learned that dragonbone was just a kind of wood. And although Elder Naran was called ''the Dragon,'' that was obviously just a nickname. That actual dragons like those in the stories from his childhood really existed came as a shock to him.


    "They exist," Snowcloud said with a nod. "And we''re going to kill one. But first, we will have to travel to the remains of the Eidaran Empire, to find a spirit crystal."


    "How are we going to kill a dragon?" Arran ignored what Snowcloud said about the spirit crystal, more interested in learning about dragons. "Are they as strong as the stories say?"


    "They''re strong," Snowcloud said, her voice calm, "and killing one will not be easy. But for the moment, we should focus on the spirit crystal. Finding one will be difficult and dangerous, perhaps even more so than killing a dragon."


    Arran nodded absentmindedly, his thoughts still filled with the idea of seeing actual dragons. The spirit crystal, by comparison, seemed uninteresting ¡ª just another ingredient for Snowcloud to collect.


    "When do we leave?" he asked, suddenly eager to depart. Although he had only just arrived at the castle, he was now anxious to continue the journey, knowing that there would be dragons at the end of it.


    "Tomorrow," Snowcloud replied. "We leave at dawn."

 Chapter 156 Leaving the Castle

    True to Snowcloud''s word, she had them leave the castle at dawn.


    Stoneheart and Tuya saw them off as they departed, offering them wishes of good fortune on their travels, along with several small gifts.


    Tuya gave Arran fifty Essence Crystals, which she said was a token of gratitude for his help in disposing of the army. Arran accepted it gracefully, not bothering to point out that she''d taken twice as much for the armor he''d used. Tuya, he suspected, would have been able to easily handle the matter herself had she wanted to.


    Stoneheart, on the other hand, had little to offer but his gratitude. The tall novice had last his own void bag in battle months earlier, and it appeared that Elder Naran had confiscated all the belongings of the novices they''d defeated in battle.


    The giant Elder himself, finally, did not appear. From what Snowcloud said, he''d locked himself away weeks earlier, and it seemed that the departure of Arran and Snowcloud wasn''t enough for him to break his seclusion.


    Arran couldn''t help but be surprised by this. He had expected that Elder Naran would at least want to see the results of the hunt on his Blood magic. And the results were worth studying, Arran thought ¡ª after all was said and done, he was at least three times as strong as he had been before the Tempering.


    Moreover, there was an unexpected benefit, and a major one at that. While the Blood magic had made Arran much stronger, he could tell that although the effect was similar to that of Body Refinement, the two things weren''t the same, and existed independent of each other.


    Although Arran hadn''t had the time to carefully study it yet, he knew he could still strengthen his Body Refinement separately from the Blood magic, and that the two things would both strengthen him in subtly different ways. This meant he would be able to benefit from both, and would likely be able to advance much faster than he could otherwise.


    All considered, there was much to investigate, but it seemed Elder Naran had even more important things to handle. Still, Arran suspected that the Elder would not pass up the opportunity to study him the next time they met.


    While Arran didn''t mind being let off easily this time, a small part of him was disappointed ¡ª there was another matter he had wanted to ask the Elder about.


    Ever since the battle, he had noticed a subtle change in his starmetal sword. While it had always been an excellent weapon, it seemed that after taking thousands of lives, it had somehow improved.


    It had grown sharper and heavier, and at times Arran thought he could sense a subtle but vicious aura coming from the weapon, as if it had absorbed some small part of the violence of battle.


    He had asked Snowcloud about this, of course, but although her expression grew thoughtful when he told her, she eventually sighed and told him that she didn''t know enough about enchanted weapons to explain what had happened.


    The first few days of their journey were smooth, and it wasn''t long before they had left behind the castle and the large valley that surrounded it. Soon, the farms and small villages that dotted the countryside grew sparser, until finally, they disappeared entirely.


    Arran found himself wondering what the reason for this was. The land here looked just as fertile, if not more so, and any farmer should be glad to have it.


    The only explanation he could think of was that they had moved outside the area protected by the castle and that here, the region was too dangerous for most farmers and villagers.


    When he asked Snowcloud, she couldn''t answer the question either, but she didn''t seem to think it important. Right now, Arran could tell, her mind was fully focused on the remaining two ingredients.


    As they traveled, Arran continuously used his Shadowsight to observe the area around them. Whatever dangers the region held, he would not be caught unawares or allow them to be ambushed.


    On the fourth day after they left the castle, he suddenly found a group of four people several hundreds of paces behind them. While the group wasn''t moving in a hurry, it wouldn''t be long before they caught up with Arran and Snowcloud.


    "We''re being followed," he said quickly. "Four people, just a few hundred paces back. Should we run?"


    Snowcloud shook her head. "I expected this," she said. "Just wait, and follow my lead."


    There was no time for Arran to ask for further explanation, and he responded with a nod.


    After they stopped, it only took a few moments for the other group to appear. When they approached, Arran saw that the four were dressed like mages. At their head was a handsome young man with wavy brown hair and a slightly arrogant countenance.


    "Why are you following us?" Snowcloud called out, a commanding tone in her voice.


    "Lady Snowcloud," the young man said, giving her a nod that was slightly too small to be polite. "We saw you leave the Soaring Sun camp, so naturally, we followed you."


    "I am not involved in your conflict," Snowcloud replied. "As you well know, I support neither the Soaring Sun nor the Waning Moon. Since you know this, why are you following us?"


    The young man smiled. "Of course I''m aware of your unique situation," he said. "But with you spending time at the Soaring Sun camp, it would not be unreasonable to think that you may have decided to pick a side." His face hardened somewhat, and there was a hint of a threat in his voice now. "Why did you visit them?"


    "I haven''t joined the Soaring Sun," Snowcloud said, her voice icy. "And my business is my own."


    "Regretfully, I cannot accept that," the young man said, sounding not at all regretful. "If it was my decision, I would not interfere with your journey. But when it comes to our conflict with the Soaring Sun, my orders are strict. However, if you follow us back to the Waning Moon camp, I''m certain the Elders will clear the issue up quickly."


    "This camp of yours, how far is it?" Snowcloud asked, her expression pensive.


    "Just under three weeks of travel," the young man replied. "But once you''ve explained your visit to the Soaring Sun camp to our Elders, I''m confident they will lend their aid in resolving whatever matters brought you here." With a meaningful look at Snowcloud, he added, "And surely, you know that we can offer more than our enemies."


    Snowcloud hesitated for several moments, a thoughtful look on her face. Finally, in a softer voice, she said, "Very well. We''ll come with you."


    She began to walk toward the group of novices, gesturing for Arran to follow her.


    The young man gave her a charming smile. "I''m glad you decided to be reason¡ª"


    Before he could finish the words, four streaks of white fire suddenly shot out from Snowcloud''s hand, one toward each of the novices. The surprise attack, while not powerful, was fast enough to cause them to stagger backward.


    Arran rushed forward, his sword drawn in an instant. He had been wary from the start, and the moment Snowcloud attacked, he was ready.


    It only took the novices a moment to recover from Snowcloud''s attack, but by then, Arran''s blade had already taken one of them through the throat. He swung his blade at a second one, and the young woman quickly threw up a Wind shield to block it.


    Yet as the novice defended from Arran''s attack, another white stream shot from Snowcloud''s hand, piercing through the woman''s head. Her body collapsed to the ground at once.


    In less than a moment, two novices already lay dead, but the remaining two seemed to have recovered from the initial shock. The handsome young man threw a spell at Snowcloud that she only barely dodged, while the final one ¡ª a square-jawed man who looked to be in his late twenties ¡ª focused on Arran.


    Arran ignored Snowcloud and the handsome young man, focusing his attention on his own opponent. He rushed forward, sword in his right hand while he threw a Battering Force attack with the left.


    The man blocked the attack easily, then countered with a white-hot fireball as he drew his own sword. Arran used a Force Shield to block the attack, but it was stronger than he expected, and he was pushed back several paces.


    Before he could rush his opponent, the man launched another attack ¡ª Wind, this time ¡ª and Arran was sent back further, his Force Shield now brought to the brink of collapse.


    The situation was bad, Arran knew. If he could reach his opponent, killing the man would be easy. But in a ranged fight, he was easily outmatched.


    With no other options, he threw a barrage of magic attacks at the man while dashing toward him ¡ª a Battering Force attack, then a Windblade, then several fireballs. Yet the man easily blocked the attacks, and a vicious look appeared in his eyes as he formed a blazing fireball in his hand.


    Yet right at that moment, a massive ball of Wind struck the man from the side, staggering him and causing the fireball in his hand to dissipate.


    Arran did not hesitate. Before the man could recover, Arran''s blade came flashing toward him. Even so, he managed to deflect the first blow, but the second took off his arm, and the third his head.


    With a breath of relief, Arran turned to Snowcloud, who was standing next to the handsome young man''s charred corpse. She had finished off her opponent quickly, it seemed, and had intervened just in time to save Arran.


    Although he was relieved at surviving the short but brutal battle, he gave Snowcloud a questioning look. "Care to explain why we just killed four novices?" he asked, looking at the dead bodies that surrounded them.

 Chapter 157 Hiding the Evidence

    Snowcloud sighed as she looked at the corpses. "They were members of the Waning Moon faction, probably sent to keep an eye on the area around the Soaring Sun camp. That they saw us and recognized me was just bad luck."


    Arran gave her a questioning look. "How do you know they weren''t sent after you?"


    "Because the Waning Moon wouldn''t be foolish enough to send weaklings like these after me," she replied. She pointed at the charred body of the young man, then continued, "And that was Saman Tir, a member of the Tir family''s younger generation. His father would never send him to confront me ¡ª not without five times the backup, at least."


    "One of Amaya''s cousins?" Arran asked. He still remembered that the Tir family was the main force behind the Waning Moon faction, and that Amaya was one of the family''s scions.


    "A distant cousin," Amaya confirmed. "I imagine the Tir family won''t be happy about this, and his father even less so."


    Arran frowned, worried at the thought of making a group of powerful new enemies. "Then why did we kill him?"


    "They would have taken us to the Waning Moon camp," Snowcloud replied. "If anyone there was involved in Grandfather''s poisoning, or if they suspected I had chosen to cast my lot with the Soaring Sun faction, they would have killed us."


    "But what about this?" Arran gestured at the bodies littering the grass. "When they find out, won''t they come after us?"


    Snowcloud shook her head, showing no signs of worry. "It will take them weeks just to discover that these four are dead, and when they do, they''ll assume the Soaring Sun faction is responsible."


    "Alright," Arran said, somewhat relieved. "Then let''s get their belongings, burn the corpses, and move on."


    They began to gather the novices'' belongings, but after only a moment, Snowcloud cursed loudly. When Arran looked at her, he saw that her expression had suddenly turned anxious.


    "We have a problem," she said, holding up what looked to be a golden amulet. "Saman was carrying a Lifesense Amulet."


    "What does it do, exactly?" Arran asked. A feeling of foreboding weighing down on him, he added, "And how much trouble are we in?"


    Snowcloud hesitated in answering, her brow furrowed as she thought. "This amulet is part of a pair," she finally said. "The moment he died, the person who owns its twin knew about it. And that would be his father, Ardesh Tir ¡ª one of the Elders of the Sixth Valley."


    For a moment, Arran closed his eyes, cursing under his breath. "I suppose it gets worse?" he said finally, suppressing a sigh.


    Snowcloud nodded slowly. "The owner of the other amulet can sense where this one is. At a large distance, it will only give a rough direction, but the smaller the distance, the more accurate it becomes."


    "Is there a way to block it?"


    "Putting it in a void bag will block it," Snowcloud said. "But he already has the direction."


    At once, Arran snatched the amulet from Snowcloud''s hands and threw it into the square-jawed man''s void bag. He quickly added the other void bags as well, and then, without hesitating, he began to stuff the corpses into it.


    "We''re not burning them?" Snowcloud raised an eyebrow as she saw what Arran was doing.


    "The less evidence we leave, the better." Arran frowned. "How long will it take the Elder to get here from the Waning Moon camp?"


    "A week, at most," Snowcloud said. "He''ll travel much faster than we can."


    "No problem." A decisive look had appeared in Arran''s eyes. "If all he has is a rough direction, it will be nearly impossible for him to find this exact location. And even if he does, we''ll be long gone."


    "What about that?" Snowcloud pointed at the void bag in Arran''s hands. "Will we leave it here?"


    "No," Arran said, shaking his head. "We''re traveling to the Eidaran Empire, right? We''ll dump it there, in some place where it won''t be found for the next few centuries."


    "But if we carry it with us¡­" Snowcloud glanced uncomfortably at the void bag that held the terrible danger.


    "If someone finds out what''s inside, we''re screwed," Arran agreed. "But if other people are searching our void bags, we''re probably dead already. The best thing to do now is erase all traces of the fight, and then leave as quickly as we can."


    He knew that leaving the void bag behind wasn''t an option. If the Waning Moon Elder somehow found it, the man would immediately know that his son hadn''t been killed by Soaring Sun novices, who would surely have taken all their loot back to the castle.


    Taking the bag along was a risk, but Arran saw no other option. He would dispose of it the moment he discovered a place where it would not easily be found, but no sooner than that.


    Snowcloud looked doubtful, but after some more convincing on Arran''s part, she finally agreed, albeit reluctantly.


    Before they left, they spent the better part of an hour cleaning up the scene of the fight, taking care to remove anything that suggested there had been a battle. By the time they finished, the area looked as if they had never even passed through.


    Of course, an Elder might still be able to find things they had overlooked, but not without searching carefully. And since the Elder whose son they killed had only a rough direction to go by, he would have to search dozens if not hundreds of miles.


    Whether he found the scene of the battle or not, the search would take him weeks. And by then, Arran hoped, he and Snowcloud would be over a thousand miles away.


    They finally left as hurriedly as they could while still concealing their tracks, anxious to be far away from the battleground ¡ª and the Elder they knew was coming their way.


    In the weeks that followed they traveled every moment they could, barely taking the time to sleep, and even then only when they were overcome with exhaustion.


    Arran had it easier than Snowcloud. Although she was the stronger mage, Arran''s body was now substantially stronger than hers, and while the lack of sleep still left him exhausted, the travel itself was easy ¡ª even if they spent most of their days and nights running.


    Yet while Arran''s body held up well, the real burden was a mental one. With every step he took, he felt as if the void bag with the corpses was weighing down on his shoulders. Every sound he heard left him startled, and there wasn''t a single moment where he let his guard down.


    If the Elder had somehow found a way to track them, every moment could be his last one, and there was nothing he could do about it. Not yet, at least.


    After nearly a month of wretched travel, they began to encounter the abandoned ruins of towns and villages. At first, the ruins were rare, but as they continued onward, the sight of broken buildings became increasingly common.


    But although they saw many buildings, the area seemed completely devoid of human habitation, and in hundreds of miles of travel, they did not encounter a single person.


    This, Arran understood, was what remained of the Eidaran Empire ¡ª an endless landscape of wreckage and ruins, with the population completely swept away by whatever it was that had caused the empire to collapse.


    At any other time, the sight would have disturbed him. Now, however, his mind was focused only on the powerful mage who might be following them. Once more, he felt a strong urge to rid himself of the void bag that held the corpses and the amulet as soon as possible.


    They traveled inside the old borders of the Eidaran Empire for several weeks, passing through ever-larger abandoned towns, with the many roads and empty farms suggesting that the region had once been densely populated.


    Then, finally, they came upon a city. The sight of it left Arran speechless ¡ª the city was far larger than any he had ever seen before, and even in its current state, it filled him with awe.


    Yet for all its glory, even from a mile away Arran could see the city was thoroughly ruined, with large parts of it turned to rubble, the once-grand city walls now mostly collapsed, and no sign whatsoever of the people who had once inhabited it.


    "Let''s take a look," Snowcloud said. From her voice, Arran could tell that she felt the same sense of awe as he did.


    "All right," he said quietly, still staring at the city. As he looked, he could not help but feel dread at the thought of such a majestic city falling. Whatever had happened here, it must have been a catastrophe that exceeded anything he could imagine.

 Chapter 158 Eidaran Ruins

    "Do you know what this place is?" Arran asked, his eyes fixed on the shattered city before them.


    "I do," Snowcloud said. "This is Uvar, one of the largest cities of the Eidaran Empire ¡ª or at least, it used to be. It was home to millions before it fell." A wry smile appeared on her face. "I knew it had fallen, but I never expected this."


    Arran could hear some shock in her voice, and he understood well how she felt. Although he had never heard of the city before today, just the sight of a city so grand being destroyed and abandoned was almost incomprehensible.


    The crumbling city walls looked like they had once been dozens of feet tall, and beyond them, Arran could see towers rising up from the city, continuing for miles in the distance. Yet the towers, too, were broken and crumbling ¡ª giant remnants of what must once have been colossal palaces and castles.


    Briefly, Arran felt a sense of sadness at not being able to see the city before it was destroyed. Even in its current ruined state, he could see that it would once have been a breathtaking sight, rather than the shocking scene of devastation that now lay in front of him.


    They approached the city slowly. Even if it looked abandoned, the sheer size of the ruins emanated danger, almost as if some sliver of the terrifying power that had ruined the city was still present.


    About half a mile from the city, Arran suddenly stopped in his tracks.


    "Can you feel that?" he asked, frowning in bafflement. "It''s as if the city is completely devoid of Natural Essence. I can''t Sense anything from it."


    Natural Essence was present in everything, and ever since he had learned to use his Sense, he had found that he could feel it wherever he went, like a soft but ever-present buzz in the background.


    Yet here, he unexpectedly felt like there was a complete absence of Natural Essence in the direction of the city, as if the city somehow resembled a giant void in the world.


    "I began to feel something a few miles ago," Snowcloud said, a troubled look on her face. "But I didn''t realize what it was. This¡­ I don''t know what could have caused it."


    "Should we continue?"


    The absence of Natural Essence was strange enough that it worried Arran, even if he didn''t know what was responsible. And although he saw no obvious signs of danger, that didn''t mean there wasn''t any.


    "We have to," Snowcloud said. "This city is one of the places where I hoped we might find spirit crystals. At the center of the city, there should be a temple, where the Eidaran priests kept spirit crystals and other magical items. If we search it, we might be fortunate enough to find one they left behind."


    She paused to think for a moment, then continued, "We could travel to one of the other cities, but I have no idea what happened to those. Searching these ruins may well be the least dangerous choice we have."


    After a moment, Arran nodded in agreement. While the ruined city filled him with a sense of foreboding, the fact that it seemed to be completely abandoned should make things easier.


    Once more, they started toward the city, approaching it slowly and cautiously. Even if there were no obvious signs of enemies, the crumbling ruins were enough to inspire a feeling of danger in both of them.


    Then, about a hundred paces from the city walls, something suddenly struck Arran ¡ª an attack that instantly flooded his Sense, filling it with a wild maelstrom of chaotic Essence so strong it not only blinded his Sense but overpowered his other senses as well.


    The attack hit him before he could respond, and the moment it touched him, he was completely overwhelmed.


    It was like being tossed into a spinning room filled with blinding lights and thundering sounds, and the chaos almost left him unable to think. He fell to his knees as he tried to resist it, desperate to regain his senses as he feared the attack would soon be followed by a second more deadly one.


    Yet although Arran failed to regain control, no second attack came. Instead, the cacophony of Essence merely continued to assault him relentlessly, not letting up even the slightest bit as it battered both his mind and his senses.


    It was beyond anything he thought a mage should be able to produce ¡ª an attack this powerful should drain even a strong mage''s Essence rapidly. Yet somehow, the onslaught continued unabated, neither increasing nor decreasing in power.


    Whoever his attacker was, it had to be an astonishingly powerful mage who was not concerned with defeating Arran, instead choosing to torture him endlessly for some reason Arran did not understand.


    After what seemed like hours, however, he slowly began to regain some semblance of clarity.


    The assault on his mind did not grow any weaker as time went on, but his ability to resist it gradually grew stronger. Even if he could not turn off his Sense, he was slowly becoming accustomed to the torrent of chaos that was bearing down on him, barely succeeding in tuning it out.


    Finally, he opened his eyes, then slowly got to his feet and balanced himself. Even that took a massive amount of effort, but when he did, he did not see the enemy he expected to find. Instead, he was still standing in the grass a hundred paces from the city walls, with nobody there but Arran and Snowcloud.


    He took a glance at Snowcloud, and saw that she was lying on the ground, her body stiff and unmoving. He grabbed her arm, then quickly moved backward as he dragged her along, away from the city.


    In just a few steps, the chaos assaulting his Sense vanished as suddenly as it had appeared. It was as if a veil of chaos had been lifted from him, and it took him some moments to process the sudden silence around him.


    Snowcloud, meanwhile, had begun to groan in discomfort, her body now moving again even if she had not fully regained consciousness just yet. Although he wanted to help her, there was nothing he could do but wait, so he sat down on the ground beside her.


    After a few minutes, Snowcloud opened her eyes, and Arran breathed a sigh of relief. It seemed she had not been permanently affected.


    She was silent for a few moments, then finally said, "That was terrible."


    "It was," Arran agreed. "But do you have any idea what it was?"


    "I do, but¡­ give me a moment." Snowcloud slowly sat up, and for several minutes, she sat still, recovering from the ordeal.


    Finally, after a deep breath, she spoke again. "There''s a formation around the city. When we crossed it, we were exposed to that storm of Essence."


    "A formation did this?" Arran asked, astounded at the idea of a formation having such a devastating effect.


    Snowcloud shook her head. "The Essence we felt inside¡­ I think it''s the residue of the battle that destroyed the city. Unless I''m mistaken, a formation was placed around the city to contain it."


    Understanding dawned in Arran''s eyes. "That''s why we couldn''t feel any Natural Essence coming from the city?"


    "I think so," she replied. "When we crossed the formation, we were suddenly exposed to the full force of the battle''s backlash."


    "But it looks like you were affected even more than I was," Arran said. "Any idea why?"


    A thoughtful expression appeared on Snowcloud''s face. "It might be because my Sense is stronger than yours, and I''ve had it far longer, so I rely on it more than you do."


    Arran scratched his chin, several ideas already forming in his head. "So it affects stronger mages more than weaker ones?"


    "I think so," Snowcloud said.


    "Then I''ll have to go back inside."


    "What?!" Snowcloud looked at Arran as if he''d gone insane.

 Chapter 159 Parting Ways

    "It''s the perfect place to hide the void bag," Arran said, a grin on his face. "Even if the Elder can go inside, there''s no way he''ll ever be able to find it."


    He still carried the void bag with the remains of the novices and was eager to get rid of it. However, although he''d been tempted to bury it somewhere deep in the woods, he had decided against doing so.


    While mages couldn''t Sense the contents of void bags, the bags themselves were magical treasures as well, and Arran worried that mages as powerful as Elders would be able to Sense void bags if they came near them.


    Snowcloud had been doubtful about the possibility, but she wasn''t certain that it was impossible, so Arran had decided not to take the risk. He wanted to hide the void bag in a place where it would be all but impossible to find, and now, it seemed he had found such a spot.


    "That should work," Snowcloud said, nodding thoughtfully. "I doubt anyone could Sense his own Essence in there, much less a void bag." She frowned, then looked at Arran. "But it will be dangerous to go inside the city."


    "How so?" Arran asked.


    With the city''s effect on a mage''s Sense, it would all but impossible for strong mages to go inside. And if any did it anyway, they would be uncoordinated and distracted, and would struggle to use their magic without being able to properly Sense their own Essence.


    By comparison, Arran wasn''t affected anywhere near as much. While he wouldn''t be able to use magic either, he mostly relied on his physical strength anyway. In the city, he thought he should have a good chance even if going up against far stronger mages.


    If anything, he thought, the city should be safer for him than the outside world.


    "What we felt inside, that came from Essence residues in the city," Snowcloud explained. "But if just Sensing it has an effect like this, imagine the power of what''s causing it ¡ª the Essence deeper inside the city."


    At once, Arran understood. He had focused on the effect the city had on his Sense, but he had forgotten about the cause. And the cause, in this case, would be the remnants of terrible magics that still lingered in the city ¡ª ones that might pose a threat to anyone who ventured into the city.


    Rather than being discouraged, however, Arran grew excited at the thought. If the city was filled with a vast amount of violent unbound Essence, it might benefit him greatly.


    "I may be able to get your spirit crystals from the city," he said eagerly. "But it will take time."


    Snowcloud gave him a puzzled look. "What makes you think you can get them?"


    "I can''t tell you," Arran replied, shaking his head. "Elder Naran told me not to let anyone know about it."


    What he hoped was that the combination of the Blood magic and his Destruction Realm would allow him to withstand the Essence within the city, and that he could use it to further strengthen himself against magic.


    Yet he couldn''t tell Snowcloud that ¡ª as much as he trusted her, he did not want to share the secret of his Destruction Realm with anyone else.


    At the mention of Elder Naran, Snowcloud''s eyes widened in surprise, but she did not ask any further questions about what he had in mind. "How long do you need?" she asked flatly.


    "Three months." What Arran had planned would take plenty of time ¡ª assuming it worked at all ¡ª but he thought three months would be the absolute limit of what Snowcloud would be willing to accept. Whether that would be enough, he did not know.


    "That long?" Snowcloud scowled. "You can forget about that. I can''t wait for three months without even knowing if you''ll succeed."


    Arran took a deep breath before he replied, knowing that what he was about to suggest would shock Snowcloud.


    "Then we''ll split up," he finally said. "You''ll look elsewhere, and I''ll try my luck in the city. That way, we double our chances of finding spirit crystals."


    It wasn''t Arran''s preferred option, but he was unwilling to pass up the benefits he expected to get in the city. Moreover, if Snowcloud waited for him and he failed, they would have wasted months they could have spent searching for the final two ingredients.


    Splitting up was more dangerous, but it would make it more likely that at least one of them would succeed. And although Arran was worried about Snowcloud, he knew she could handle herself in a fight ¡ª probably better than Arran himself. Unless, of course, she somehow ran into another army of Body Refiners, but that seemed beyond improbable.


    She didn''t respond immediately, though from her expression, he could tell that his proposal came as an unwelcome surprise.


    After some hesitation, she finally said, "Are you sure?" There was a slight tremble in her voice, and Arran knew the answer she hoped to get wasn''t the one he would give her.


    "I am," he said, trying his best to ignore the look in her eyes.


    She nodded slowly. "Then we''ll meet here in three months."


    They took some time to say their goodbyes, and as they did, Arran could not help but feel uncomfortable. While he would not go back on his decision, he knew that to Snowcloud, it felt like he was abandoning her.


    Still, it was necessary. For all his physical strength, strong mages could easily defeat him in a fair fight. Even in the fight against the novices, he would have been killed had it not been for Snowcloud''s help.


    The weakness would grow smaller as his skill at using magic improved, but by now, Arran understood that it would take him years before he could hope to match the magical skill of Shadowflame novices. And at the moment, what he needed was something to keep him safe before he reached that point.


    With some luck, the Essence in the city would give him just that ¡ª a way to face novices without having to rely on luck to survive.


    Before Snowcloud left, Arran handed her his Duskcloak. He did not expect to encounter any people in the city, and she would likely have more use for it than he would.


    "Be careful out there," he said, his voice soft. "And don''t take any big risks in getting spirit crystals. Even if we both fail now, in three months, we can find some together."


    "I''ll be careful," she replied. "And you, don''t go charging into a sea of Fire Essence. I expect you to be alive and well when I return ¡ª you''re my only recruit, so you''re not allowed to die."


    She gave him a final forced smile, then turned around and began to head back toward the woods, away from the city. Arran stood silently as he watched her leave, and briefly, he felt the urge to give up on his plan and run after her.


    Nevertheless, he resisted the urge. Right or wrong, he had made his choice, and he would see it through no matter what his heart told him. Besides, if his guess was correct, far worse pain lay ahead for him in the next three months.


    When he could no longer see Snowcloud, he clenched his jaw and turned back toward the city. For some moments, he prepared himself for what was to come, steeling his mind for the assault it would face.


    Then, he stepped forward.

 Chapter 160 Into the Ruins

    The moment Arran came within a hundred paces of the city, a raging torrent of sensation fell upon him, immediately hammering his Sense and muddling his mind. It was like being screamed at by thousands of giants or staring into a million suns at once.


    Yet this time, he was prepared for the onslaught.


    He now knew that what he Sensed was a city full of uncontrolled and violent Essence, the residue of terrifyingly powerful magics that had been used in a devastating battle.


    As soon as he felt his Sense being assaulted by the violent aura of the Essence in the city, he sat down on the ground and closed his eyes, then braced himself for the onslaught.


    Now that he knew what to expect, maintaining control despite the pressure he felt was much easier than it had been the first time, and it wasn''t long before he recovered from the initial shock.


    Still, he didn''t get up. He expected the pressure to grow stronger as he got closer to the city, and here, where it was weakest, he would have the best chance of adjusting to it.


    A day passed as he slowly adjusted, then another. Although he was impatient to venture into the city, he knew that hurrying would do him no good. Within the city, he would need to maintain control over his mind despite the storm of Essence, and for that, he needed to train himself to resist it.


    The task would have been impossible had he not already undergone the Tempering, and even now, it was hard to retain control over his thoughts and senses while feeling a cacophony of sensations flooding in through his Sense.


    But while it was difficult, he still made steady improvements. It was impossible to block the pressure on his Sense, but as he grew more accustomed to it, it became easier to tune it out. That left him unable to use his Sense or any magic, but at least the pressure no longer interfered with his ability to think.


    On the third day, he finally stood up.


    At this point, he could ignore the assault on his Sense almost entirely if he kept his attention focused. Perhaps, with more practice, he could learn how to use his Sense even in this environment, but that would take far more time than he had.


    What mattered now was that he could enter the city without being overwhelmed by his Sense.


    He took a few moments to recover from his days of training, then began to head toward the crumbling walls. The distance was only a short one, but by the time he reached the city, he could feel the pressure on his Sense increasing. And this was only the edge of the city ¡ª deeper inside, the effect would be far stronger.


    Fortunately, the increased pressure had little effect on Arran. It seemed that beyond a certain point, his already overloaded Sense was unable to produce an even stronger reaction.


    When Arran climbed over the shattered walls, he was immediately struck by the sight that lay before him. From a higher vantage point, he could see that the city was even vaster than he had expected, but also that the destruction was beyond anything he could have imagined.


    For miles on end, the ground was filled with debris and rubble, and the few buildings that still stood were all heavily damaged. A city that must once have held millions had been wiped out almost completely, as if a vengeful god had stomped it into nothingness, not content until every last shred of the city was obliterated.


    Only far in the distance could Arran still see some buildings that remained more or less intact. These appeared to be palaces, temples, and other seats of power, but even these had broken towers and fallen walls.


    Arran stared at the scene for several minutes, but then, he turned his attention back to his immediate surroundings. With luck, he would reach the city center eventually, but right now what mattered was what lay directly ahead of him.


    He set off at a slow but steady pace, keeping his eyes fixed on the area around him as he advanced. Even if he did not expect there to be any enemies in the city, he would not be careless.


    As he made his way through the ruins, he saw that among the rubble lay numerous bones ¡ª the city''s previous inhabitants. It was clear that they had not managed to escape the city before it fell, and Arran realized with some dread that he was standing amid the graves of millions.


    While the idea made him uneasy, a small part of him wondered just how strong his Blood magic would have grown had he been there when the city fell. With the deaths of millions to feed it, he imagined its power would have been overwhelming.


    He quickly abandoned the thought, though he could not help but feel some shock at how he had changed since leaving his hometown. Once, the idea of death on such a scale would have filled him with horror. Yet now, he found himself wondering how such a disaster could benefit him.


    It was not a change he welcomed.


    With a regretful sigh, he began to walk again, slowly and carefully. He knew that any moment now, he could encounter the Essence that still lingered in the city, and without his Sense, he would only know it when it affected him physically.


    About half a mile into the ruined city, he suddenly felt it ¡ª a light burning feeling on his skin, as if he was being attacked by an initiate who had just opened his first Realm. As he held up his hand, he could see that his skin was turning red and that there were traces of smoke coming off it.


    While he could easily bear the pain, the situation still made him uncomfortable. Without his Sense, he could not see the Essence as it affected him, making it almost as if his body was spontaneously starting to burn.


    This, he thought, was what experiencing magic must be like to commoners. They could only see ¡ª and feel ¡ª the effects, without being able to see what was actually happening. To them, facing mages in battle would be absolutely terrifying.


    Ignoring the pain, he sat down on the ground, then closed his eyes. Now, the unpleasant part would begin.


    With his Sense blinded, he could only rely on his techniques and experience to draw the Essence around him into his body, and that proved more difficult than he expected. For several hours he sat in silence, trying various techniques to absorb the Essence that surrounded him.


    He knew he had succeeded when he felt a surge of pain within his body ¡ª the destructive Essence that lingered in the city. At once, he began to circulate it through his body, using the pain it caused to guide it, while at the same time taking in more of it.


    He kept going for some time, until finally, the pain became too strong for him to bear. Then, he stood up and walked back a few dozen paces, until he was out of the area where the Essence lingered. He ate and rested until he had recovered, then immediately went back to continue his training.


    Many times he repeated this, absorbing and circulating the violent Essence through his body until he could no longer stand it, then briefly resting before starting all over again.


    His hope was that by doing this, he would achieve an effect similar to the one Elder Naran said the Destruction Realm had on him ¡ª strengthening his body against the harmful effects of Essence. Except now, he hoped that the regeneration from the Blood magic would allow him to progress much faster.


    Yet after three days, when he still didn''t see any effects, he began to worry that perhaps his plan would not work. Maybe only Essence from his Destruction Realm had the effect he wanted to achieve, or maybe it would only work with his own Essence.


    Despite his worries, he continued the training ¡ª there was no other way to find out whether it worked, after all.


    Finally, after the first week, he began to see some small improvements in his ability to withstand the Essence. He gradually managed to circulate the Essence in his body longer and longer, with the pain taking more time to become unbearable.


    At first, he thought that he might just have grown accustomed to the pain, taking more damage before he couldn''t take it any longer. Yet it didn''t take him any longer to recover from each trip into the Essence, and soon, he realized that his training was working.


    Another week passed with slow but steady progress, but then, his rate of improvement began to slow down. He had expected this to happen, and he already knew what to do ¡ª go deeper into the city, where the Essence would be denser.


    Each time he ventured into the Essence, he would take a step more, gradually making his way farther into the city and subjecting his body to ever-stronger punishment.


    When he retreated to recover, however, he still had to leave the sea of Essence entirely ¡ª he had found that when he took food from his void bag while in the area with the lingering Essence, it disintegrated before he could take even a single bite.


    As the weeks passed, Arran moved deeper into the city with each passing day, his resistance to the Essence in the city steadily improving.


    His improvement became obvious when, a month into his training, the enchanted robe he wore began to fall apart when he made his way farther into the city. He quickly took it off and put it in his void bag. It seemed that from now, he would have to train naked.


    Yet that was not all that was affected.


    After another week of steady advances, at the end of a training session, he found that his hair had disintegrated. As far as he could tell, not a single hair remaining anywhere on his body. It seemed that while his body was growing stronger, the effect did not fully extend to his hair.


    He took this in stride, although he fervently hoped it would grow back. While his father had gone bald in his youth, Arran himself hoped to avoid that fate.


    With each passing day, he could see the remaining buildings at the center of the city grow closer, and the sight inspired him to train even harder. By now, he was confident that he could make it all the way to the city center and search for the spirit crystals Snowcloud needed.


    Two months passed like this, and he had already traversed two thirds of the distance to the heart of the city. He decided to hide the novices'' here, buried beneath the charred rubble of a random building that might once have been a small shop.


    He memorized the location, and before he buried the void bag, he removed the bodies from it. As he expected, they disintegrated in moments, unable to withstand the destructive Essence that filled the area.


    Relieved to finally be rid of the void bag, he quickly returned to his training ¡ª time was beginning to run short.


    He had already gone much of the way to the city center, but there was only a month left to cover the rest. While he thought that should be enough, the lingering Essence would be densest at the heart of the city, and the final part of his training would be the most difficult.

 Chapter 161 A Long Wai

    Just as Arran expected, the strength of the Essence that lingered in the city grew stronger as he came closer to its center. Yet although he was prepared for the increase, he hadn''t expected its sheer magnitude.


    At about a mile from the heart of the city, the violent pressure of the Essence had grown so strong that even the ruins and rubble seemed to have disintegrated. Instead, the ground was covered in a smooth layer of a material that resembled dark, cloudy glass.


    Arran made several attempts to gather some of the material, but without any success. Neither his fists nor the starmetal sword ¡ª his only weapon that could withstand the Essence in the area ¡ª left even the slightest scratch on it, no matter how hard he tried.


    Eventually, he gave up on acquiring the glassy material, but instead decided to leave his sword out in the open while he trained. It didn''t seem to be negatively affected by the hostile environment, and perhaps it would benefit in some way.


    Now that there were no more ruins obstructing Arran''s view, he saw that the large buildings that rose from the center of the city stood among what looked like a sea of glass. Everything else had been obliterated completely, but these few buildings had weathered the cataclysm mostly intact ¡ª even though they had been at the very center of it.


    That could only mean they were protected in some way, and that gave Arran hope that they might still hold treasures.


    Yet if Arran''s hopes of treasures at the heart of the city increased, his hopes of actually reaching it grew dimmer with each passing day.


    Each day, he would spend hours sitting amid the invisible but violent Essence that filled the city, absorbing it and using it to strengthen his body, like a blacksmith''s hammer hardening steel. But however effective the training might be, the strength of the Essence that surrounded him seemed to grow exponentially stronger as he came closer to reaching the city center.


    The lake of glass stretched a mile from the heart of the city, and just crossing a quarter of it took Arran two weeks, with the second of those only yielding a hundred paces of progress.


    That left him with just two more weeks to cross the remaining distance, which was plainly impossible ¡ª if his instincts were correct, the final stretch would take him far longer than everything that came before it.


    He gave the matter some thought, but no matter how much he pondered it, he could not think of a way to increase his resistance to Essence any faster. And without increasing his resistance, there was no way he could make it all the way ¡ª not without being heavily injured, or even dying.


    Discouraged, he headed out of the city for the first time in months.


    Although there were still two weeks left, Snowcloud might already have returned, and if she had, Arran would not delay her any longer. While further training in the city would definitely benefit him, it wasn''t worth making her wait if he could not achieve his goal.


    Leaving the city only took him a few minutes. He already went to the edge of the city several times a day to recover in between his training sessions, and from there, it was only a short distance to the outer edge of the formation.


    When Arran arrived outside the city, he was unsurprised to find that Snowcloud wasn''t there. There were still two weeks to go before they were supposed to meet, and her task was far from an easy one.


    What did surprise him ¡ª and unpleasantly at that ¡ª was that his Sense was much weaker than it had been before he entered the city. After months enduring the screams of pressure within the city, he found that he now had trouble observing the world of whispers that existed outside it.


    Still, he was confident that once he left the city for good, his Sense would rapidly recover. There were no signs of permanent damage, so it should be a simple matter of becoming accustomed to the outside world again.


    But first, he would continue his training ¡ª at least until Snowcloud was back.


    The remaining two weeks went by quickly, with Arran making some slight progress in the city each day, while also regularly checking outside the city to see if Snowcloud had returned.


    Yet after the initial three months had passed, there was still no sign of her, and by now Arran began to feel worried. Although it was likely that she was simply delayed in her task, he could not help but think of everything that could have happened to her.


    Despite his worries, he continued his training. Even if he felt the urge to set off in search of Snowcloud, he wouldn''t know where to start looking, and if she returned while he was searching for her it could be months before they found each other.


    Nevertheless, the worries caused his progress to slow down greatly. When he trained he found himself distracted more often than not, and after the first week, he began to check outside the city several times a day.


    Another two weeks passed like this, with Arran spending much of his time outside the city, and barely getting results in those few hours he had left for training each day.


    That alone would have been enough to bring his progress toward the heart of the city to a near-complete halt, but even as Arran''s training slowed, the difficulty of advancing further increased with leaps and bounds. By now, it was as if the density of lingering Essence within the city doubled with each additional step, and in two weeks, he barely advanced a dozen paces.


    Finally, he gave up.


    There was no way he could make it to the city center in any reasonable amount of time, and his worries about Snowcloud had grown to the point where his training suffered too much to still be useful. Continuing like this would be an exercise in futility, he knew.


    While he was loath to admit that he had failed, there was nothing for it but to accept defeat ¡ª at least temporarily. He would return to the city in a few years, and by then, he should be able to make it all the way inside to find whatever treasures lay at the heart of the city.


    Right now, he would spend a few more weeks waiting for Snowcloud outside the city, while giving his Sense time to recover.


    If Snowcloud still hadn''t returned by then, he would set off to search for her ¡ª and at that task, he would not fail. No matter where she was or how long it took, he would find her, and if anyone got in his way¡­


    Just the thought of it caused a cold feeling of rage to rise up in Arran, and it took him some time to calm himself.

 Chapter 162 Enemies

    Arran''s Sense recovered quickly once he left the city. While the pressure of Essence inside the city had temporarily desensitized him, the effect began to subside within a day after he left the formation, and within a week, his Sense was completely restored.


    Worried as he was about Snowcloud, the fast recovery brought him little comfort. It had already been nearly a month since she was supposed to return, and still, there was no sign of her.


    Several times, he was on the verge of setting off in search of her. If nothing else, it might relieve the feeling of helplessness that weighed on him as he waited outside the city walls.


    That had also been his original plan ¡ª to go off in search of Snowcloud the moment his Sense had recovered, doing whatever was needed to track her down and find her.


    Yet after he gave it more thought, he reluctantly decided against it.


    He hardly knew anything about the region, and he had foolishly neglected to ask Snowcloud where she planned to search for the spirit crystals. Without so much as a direction to guide him, searching for her might take months or years, if he found her at all.


    As much as he hated it, his best choice was to remain outside the city and wait, hoping that she would return on her own. Even if it made him feel useless, it was far more likely to see them reunited than leaving on a blind chase.


    With nothing to do but wait, Arran spent his days studying the seal on his Destruction Realm. Training in the city had given him a small taste of how he could strengthen his resistance to magic, and if Elder Naran was right, once he unsealed his Destruction Realm he could strengthen himself further.


    Eventually, the Elder had told him, even powerful mages would find it difficult to injure him, and even Grandmasters would fear his potential. While he was still far removed from that point, his experience in the city made him think the Elder''s words might actually be true.


    But to benefit from his Destruction Realm, he would first need to unseal it. And although he had made some small progress in understanding the seal, he was still far away from being able to break it.


    Several weeks passed as Arran remained outside the city, divided his time between working on the seal and anxiously looking to see if there was any sign of Snowcloud.


    His work on the seal got some small results. It was clear that breaking it would take him months of dedicated work, but he knew that he was steadily getting closer to understanding it. All he needed was a place to quietly work on it for several months, and he thought he should be able to unravel it.


    Yet Arran''s main concern was Snowcloud, and of her, there was still no sign.


    With each day that passed, his hope that she would return grew weaker, and his urge to leave in search of her grew stronger. The only thing that still held him back was the knowledge that if he left, she might return to find him gone, and it could be many months before they found each other.


    Still, as time went by, Arran grew increasingly certain that something had gone terribly wrong. Finally, he could bear no more, and he resolved to leave the city and scour the region for Snowcloud. No matter how long it took, he would find her. And if someone had harmed her¡­


    He quickly abandoned the thought, afraid that just thinking it might make it true. For now, he would not abandon his hopes of finding her unharmed.


    But then, the day before Arran was planning to leave, he saw a robed figure emerge from the tree line.


    For a moment, he stood unmoving, half expecting the figure to be some stranger. He had already come close to giving up hope that Snowcloud would return, and now, he had trouble believing it was really her.


    Yet he recognized both the robe and the figure, and when the shock wore off, he realized that it was really her. She had returned.


    He rushed over immediately, his heart thumping in his chest as he crossed the distance between them with bounding strides. As she saw him approach, her pace quickened as well, and just moments later they were in each other''s arms, their bodies entwined in a tight hug.


    For several moments they stood silently, relief flooding Arran to the point that it left him speechless. Briefly, the control he had so carefully built up was gone, and it was all he could do to hold her in his arms as tightly as he could.


    Snowcloud was the first to break their embrace, and when she did, Arran took a closer look at her. The sight instantly filled him with worry. She looked tired to the point of exhaustion, and he could see a trace of panic in her expression.


    Moreover, he now saw that her face bore several new scars. There was a fully healed scar across her eyebrow, and a newer one across her cheek, fresh enough to still be red. It seemed she had faced serious danger while he had been training in the city.


    Before Arran could say anything, Snowcloud spoke.


    "You have to leave," she said, a tremble in her voice. "They will be here soon, and you have to go before they arrive."


    "They? Who are you talking about?" Arran asked, concern now replacing the relief he had felt moments earlier. "And what happened to you? Are you all right?"


    She shook her head. "There''s no time to explain. I''m being chased by a group of mages, several dozens at least, and they''ll be here soon." A pained expression came over her face. "I shouldn''t have come here, but I wanted to see you one last¡ª"


    "Those mages, how strong are they?" Arran interrupted her. He understood there was trouble, and the first thing they would have to do was solve it. After that, there would be time to talk.


    "Their strength isn''t the problem," she replied, resignation in her voice. "Although they''re only barely as strong as the weaker Shadowflame novices, there are far too many for us to fight." She cast a fearful look at the tree line, as if she expected her pursuers to appear at any moment. "You should leave right now. There''s still time for you to escape."


    Despite Snowcloud''s fearful state, Arran breathed a sigh of relief at her words. He had feared Snowcloud''s enemies might be adepts, or even more powerful. Had that been the case, he would have struggled to find a way out of the situation.


    But if their enemies were only barely on par with novices, there was nothing to worry about.


    "We don''t need to escape," he said, a confident smile forming on his face as he spoke.


    Snowcloud gave him a questioning look. "You have a plan?"


    Arran nodded. "I do. And a good one, at that."


    A glimmer of hope appeared in Snowcloud''s tired eyes. "What is it?"


    "We''ll wait until they get here, and then I''ll kill them all."

 Chapter 163 Fear

    Snowcloud looked at Arran as if he''d gone insane.


    "You want to fight them?!"


    Arran shook his head. "I want to kill them."


    "You can''t¡­" Snowcloud''s voice trailed off, and she cast a glance at the city. "You found something in the temple?"


    "I failed to reach it," Arran replied, then added, "But I gained some benefits from trying."


    "But there are¡ª" Snowcloud began, but suddenly, her eyes went wide and her expression turned panicked. "They''re here," she said in a soft voice.


    When Arran looked, he saw that a large group of people had emerged from the tree line. There seemed to be at least thirty, and they were just a few hundred paces removed from him and Snowcloud.


    Despite his earlier confidence, Arran could not help but feel some apprehension when he saw the group. Aside from being more numerous than he had expected, they seemed almost eerily calm, moving with a fluid certitude as they approached.


    Earlier, Snowcloud''s uncharacteristic fearfulness had confused him, but now, he began to understand why her pursuers had frightened her so much.


    There was an aura of inescapable power around them, almost as if they were fated to be victorious. Their approach had an air of inevitability, and Arran''s confidence began to falter. Against enemies like these, there could be no¡ª


    Suddenly, a smile appeared on his face.


    "Those crafty bastards," he muttered as the feeling of panic faded away almost instantly.


    The sense of dread had briefly affected him, but then, he realized that the feeling was a familiar one ¡ª it was the same sensation he felt when he encountered the eyeless creature in the Academy prison and at the deserters'' fortress. Only this time, it was far weaker. Whatever magic caused it, Snowcloud''s pursuers were clearly less skilled at using it than the creature was.


    Just knowing what it was helped Arran resist it, but he was further aided by the effects of his Tempering. With the increased physical and mental control the Tempering had given him, resisting this attack barely took him any effort at all.


    Snowcloud, on the other hand, was visibly affected. While she had already looked panicked earlier, now, she seemed almost frozen with fear.


    After a moment of thought, Arran began to head for the group of mages, leaving Snowcloud behind him. The quickest way to defeat the mind-affecting magic would be to kill those who wielded it, and until they were dead, the further she was from the battle, the safer she would be.


    He approached the group at a relaxed pace, walking toward them almost casually. Rushing them would be pointless ¡ª they would immediately understand what was happening and attack. Better to close the distance first.


    As he came closer, he saw that the mages were all attired identically, each of them wearing simple gray robes, with both the men and women having shaved heads like monks. Only the man at the head of the group was clothed differently, with his gray robe featuring red fringes.


    Arran''s plan seemed to work, because although he could Sense that the mages in the group were gathering Essence, they had not attacked him yet.


    "You do not fear us?" the group''s leader called out, a hint of concern in his voice.


    "Should I?" Arran responded, continuing to approach them at a casual pace. By now, the distance between them had shrunk to just thirty paces, and with each moment that passed, he came closer.


    The group of mages, meanwhile, had come to a halt. As Arran had hoped, his calm approach had left the mages unsure of what to do ¡ª anyone who would so casually approach them could only be either a frighteningly powerful mage or a madman, and if it was the former, they might be heading toward a battle they could not win.


    "Step aside," the man replied, a worried look on his face. "Our conflict is with the girl. We have no wish to fight you." When he saw that Arran showed no signs of stopping, he added hurriedly, "Hold your distance!"


    "Why?" Arran said. Fewer than a dozen paces now separated him from the group, and still he moved forward at a casual pace. "Do you fear me?" He grinned broadly as his hand moved his sword.


    At that, the mages finally understood what was happening, but it was already too late.


    Arran shot forward like a bolt of lightning, drawing his sword as he rushed the group of mages. A few magic attacks still hit him before he crossed the distance, but these were barely enough to injure him, and nowhere near enough to slow him down.


    The leader was the first to die, his face twisted in shock as Arran''s sword tore through his chest. Another three died in the second that followed, the starmetal sword effortlessly ripping through robes, flesh, and bone.


    By then, the other mages had launched their first attacks, but Arran was already in the middle of the group. Only a few of the mages managed to hit him, while the sudden chaos caused several others to hit their comrades instead. And while Arran shrugged off the injuries, the mages who got hit weren''t as lucky, with the barrage instantly killing half a dozen of them.


    Even before their bodies hit the ground, Arran took advantage of the chaos to kill half a dozen more, his blade striking before they had a chance to defend themselves.


    The sudden slaughter left the mages panicked, and their fear was further fueled when they saw that their attacks had no visible effect on Arran. And as they wasted precious seconds on impotent magics, Arran tore through them like a blood-crazed demon, his blade cutting them down like rats.


    Half the group already lay dead by the time the first mages thought to draw their swords. But if their magic had been useless, their weapons proved little better, as Arran''s strength and speed far exceeded theirs.


    With every breath, more of the mages died, and it wasn''t long before the first of them fled in a panic, his courage broken from facing an enemy he had no way to defend against. Moments later, the other remaining mages followed his example, desperately trying to escape with their lives.


    Arran, however, had no intention of letting any of them live to send word to their allies. Even as the mages tried to flee, he ran them down, cutting them down without either mercy or hesitation.


    As the last of the mages died, barely two minutes after the fight began, Arran turned around and made his way back to Snowcloud.


    When he reached her, he saw that the fear she had in her eyes before was now gone, and he understood that it had indeed been her pursuers'' magic that affected her earlier.


    Yet although she no longer looked fearful, she didn''t seem relieved, either. Instead, as she faced Arran, her expression was one of worry.


    "How did you do that?" she asked, her brow furrowed. "And what happened to you in the city?"


    For a moment, Arran hesitated, but then he gave her a short nod.


    "I''ll tell you," he said, "if you tell me who I just killed, and why they were after you."

 Chapter 164 Spirit Crystals

    Snowcloud turned her eyes to the thirty or so bodies that lay scattered across the grass, as if to confirm that they were really dead. After a moment, she looked up and faced Arran.


    "They''re Eidaran priests," she said. "They were pursuing me because I took a spirit crystal."


    "Priests?" Arran frowned. "The mages in this region are priests?"


    "Not all of them," Snowcloud replied, "and not all priests are mages. But from what I learned, the core of the Eidaran priesthood consists of mages, and the priests are the ones who control most magic. Or, at least, they did until the empire fell."


    "So how do the spirits crystals fit into that?"


    "Spirit crystals are how the Eidaran priesthood uses magic. While normal mages open their own Realms, Eidaran priests are given a spirit crystal when they are deemed worthy, and the spirit crystal is what allows them to use magic, growing in strength as they use it. When they die, the spirit crystal gets passed on to another priest."


    At once, Arran''s eyes shot toward the dead priests. "Can we use their spirit crystals?" he asked, immediately considering the possibilities.


    Snowcloud shook her head in response. "Not without years of preparation, and even then, you wouldn''t want to. The priests use spirit crystals to quickly reach the level of their forebears, but after that, further progress is nearly impossible. It''s a terrible approach to magic."


    Arran made an ugly face. "Then why use them at all?"


    "Tradition, I suppose." Snowcloud shrugged. "And before the fall of their empire, they had plenty of powerful spirit crystals. But the strongest priests perished in the civil war, and their spirit crystals were destroyed with them. When you killed the ones who were after me, you may have snuffed out the Eidaran priesthood''s last hope of survival."


    Arran glanced at the bodies. Once more, it seemed his actions might have far-reaching consequences. "Why were they after you?"


    Snowcloud let out a sigh. "I promised to teach them how to gain and open Realms in exchange for a spirit crystal. That''s why I was gone so long ¡ª I spent months teaching them the basics of magic."


    "I take it the deal didn''t work out?"


    Snowcloud gave him a wry smile. "When I realized they had no intention of keeping their side of the bargain and giving me a spirit crystal, I took one from their tombs and fled." She sighed once more. "I didn''t expect the entire monastery to come after me."


    "You should have," Arran said, a thoughtful look on his face. "From their perspective, you robbed them of many generations of future priests."


    She nodded. "I know. But I was desperate, and I thought they wouldn''t send more than a handful of priests after me."


    "I guess it all worked out in the end," Arran replied simply.


    Although he wanted to chastise Snowcloud for her recklessness, he knew he was hardly in a position to do so. Just minutes earlier, he had attacked dozens of mages based only on an untested belief that their magic wasn''t strong enough to seriously harm him.


    "I''ve told you my part, now it''s your turn," Snowcloud said. "I want to hear just what happened to you in the city that allowed you to do¡­ this." She gestured at the bodies that were sprawled across the ground.


    "It''s a long story¡­" Arran began.


    He had already decided to tell Snowcloud about his Destruction Realm, and he told her the story calmly, not omitting anything other than his encounters with Panurge. He explained how he had a forbidden Realm, how Elder Naran had told him it was a Destruction Realm and what it was supposed to do, and how he had trained in the city to increase his resistance to magic.


    As he spoke, surprise appeared on Snowcloud''s face, which soon turned into shock. By the time he finished telling her the details of his Destruction Realm and his training in the city, she looked at him with undisguised astonishment.


    "So you''re resistant to magic?" She looked at him intently as she asked the question. "How much can you withstand?"


    "I am," Arran confirmed. "As for the amount of magic I can resist¡­ I should be able to take at least several full strength attacks from you without being hurt too badly. Anything stronger than that, however, would probably still cause me serious injuries."


    Snowcloud nodded as she listened, excitement in her eyes. As Arran finished speaking, she replied immediately. "When we return to the Sixth Valley, the first thing you need to do is unseal your Destruction Realm. No matter how long it takes, and before you do anything else. This¡­" She gave him a beaming smile. "This is amazing!"


    Arran was surprised at her reaction. Although he knew his Destruction Realm gave him an advantage that any mage would envy, Snowcloud''s enthusiasm still seemed excessive.


    Seeing Arran''s confused expression, Snowcloud shook her head. "You don''t understand what this means. If you can develop it further, and if you find a way to create Destruction Realm Scrolls¡­" Her eyes glistened with excitement. "The Shadowflame Society would no longer have to fear the Academy! With just a few Grandmasters with a Destruction Realm, we could take them on! When Grandfather hears of this, he''ll¡ª"


    "You can''t tell him," Arran interrupted her hurriedly. "No one else can know of this."


    Snowcloud looked at him for a moment, slightly confused, but then, understanding dawned in her eyes.


    "You''re right," she said, worry now replacing her earlier enthusiasm. "If you develop this further, you''ll become a natural counter to mages. And the stronger you get, the more reason others will have to fear you. If others find out about this¡­" She gave Arran a concerned look. "Why did you tell me?"


    "I trust you to keep the secret," Arran said in a serious tone. "We''ve already placed our lives in each other''s hands many times, and I expect we''ll do it again many times more. But if I lie to you about this, how can I expect you to have confidence in me?"


    Snowcloud nodded thoughtfully. "I understand," she said after a moment. "And I won''t betray your trust. Still, when you think the time is right, you should tell Grandfather. This matter affects not just us, but the entire Shadowflame Society."


    "Before I can tell him anything, you''ll first need to cure him," Arran replied. "And now that you have spirit crystals, there''s only one ingredient that remains, right?"


    "Dragon blood," Snowcloud confirmed. "I have a good idea of where we might find dragons, but getting their blood¡­ that won''t be easy."


    "Then let''s collect the priests'' belongings and leave," Arran said. "Once we''re on our way, you can tell me what the plan is."


    They quickly set to work collecting the priests'' spirit crystals and whatever other belongings they carried.


    Removing the spirit crystals was bloody work ¡ª apparently, the crystals were located in their chests ¡ª and Arran was disappointed to find that they owned no void bags, carrying only some meager possessions in their packs and pockets.


    Still, none of it was enough to sour his mood.


    He was finally reunited with Snowcloud again, and despite the hardships she had suffered, she wasn''t seriously injured. That alone would be enough to leave him in a joyful mood, but with the spirit crystals taken care of, they would soon depart in search of dragons.


    Just the thought of it caused Arran to feel excited. In his youth, he had heard many stories about heroes slaying mighty dragons, and some even taming and riding them. Although he did not dare say it out loud for fear of looking foolish, he found himself wondering whether it would perhaps be possible to capture a dragon.


    Already, he could picture himself riding a fierce dragon through the skies, raining down fire on his enemies.


    They left not long after collecting the priests'' possessions, and as they did, Arran took a final look at the city as it faded in the distance. While he had failed to reach its center this time, he knew he would return in the future ¡ª and when he did, he would definitely find whatever secrets and treasures it held.


    "Now, about the dragons¡­" Snowcloud began.

 Chapter 165 About Dragons

    "The first thing you should know about dragons," Snowcloud said, "is that they are vile beasts. Giant, vicious, and cannibalistic monsters, with the disposition of rabid dogs and half the intelligence."


    Arran frowned somewhat sourly. "But the stories say they''re intelligent, and have magical powers," he finally said, once more remembering the tales of dragons he had heard as a young boy. And while those were just stories, he still found himself reluctant to simply abandon them.


    "The stories are wrong," Snowcloud replied flatly. "Or mostly wrong, at least."


    "Then what''s the truth?" Arran asked, unwilling to let go of his childhood dreams so easily.


    A thoughtful expression appeared on Snowcloud''s face. "I suppose I should explain how dragons grow up. That should give you a better idea of the kind of creatures we''re after."


    She took a deep breath, then began to speak, with Arran listening intently.


    "Dragons are born from eggs," she said, "and the females lay hundreds at a time, then promptly abandon the nest. Once the whelps hatch, they kill their siblings, fighting until only one remains, and feeding on the bodies.


    "The lone survivor ¡ª the size of a horse, by then ¡ª will hunt in the surrounding area, killing and eating whatever it finds. Animals, people, other dragons ¡ª they''ll eat anything that moves, and they''re strong enough that even adepts will struggle to kill them."


    Arran didn''t interrupt Snowcloud as she spoke, but his expression slowly turned ugly. From Snowcloud''s description, dragons more resembled vicious beasts than the magical creatures he''d heard about in his childhood stories.


    "After about a century of constant hunting and feeding," she continued, "a dragon will be the size of a house. When it approaches maturity, it will grow wings, allowing it to hunt across an even larger area. By then, it will be able to easily match Masters in combat, with a thick hide that resists both magic and weapons. The longer it lives, the larger and stronger it gets ¡ª but as strong and vicious as dragons are, they''re simple creatures. Their entire life consists of hunting, eating, and sleeping."


    "So dragons aren''t intelligent?" Arran asked, now feeling somewhat dejected. "What about magic? I thought they could use that?"


    "Dragons aren''t naturally intelligent," Snowcloud replied. "But as they spend centuries eating any living thing they encounter, they steadily absorb vast amounts of Natural Essence. If they live long enough, that eventually allows them to gain some intelligence ¡ª enough to practice magic, in very rare cases."


    Arran sighed in disappointment, then asked, "What kind of dragon do we need?"


    "A young adult," Snowcloud replied. "A few centuries old, but no more than that."


    "A few centuries old? But didn''t you say that a century-old dragon is already strong enough to match a Master?"


    While Arran was growing more confident in his abilities, he knew he was still far from being able to match an adept, much less a Master. Against an even more formidable enemy, the two of them wouldn''t stand a chance.


    If Snowcloud''s plan required them to defeat such a foe, there was no point in even trying ¡ª they might as well turn back now, because even with all the luck in the world, there was no chance of success.


    However, Snowcloud merely nodded in response, her expression confident, and Arran understood that she must have something in mind that would give them at least a chance succeeding.


    "We''re not going to fight it," she said. "We''re going to poison it."


    "Poison it?"


    "With the ingredients we''ve collected, I can recreate the poison that was used on Grandfather." There was some pride in Snowcloud''s eyes. "That''s what we will use on the dragon."


    Arran breathed a sigh of relief. "So we wait for the poison to kill the dragon, and then we collect its blood?"


    "Not exactly," Snowcloud replied. "Dragons are highly resistant to poison, and although this poison should be strong enough to make it fall ill, it will eventually recover. Once it does, its blood will be an antidote to the poison."


    Arran frowned. "But how can we kill the dragon if we allow it to recover?"


    "That''s the difficult part," Snowcloud said, her expression turning somewhat troubled. "We have to strike right when the effects of the poison begin to wear off, but while it''s still too weak to fight. If we''re too late, we cannot defeat the dragon. And if we attack too soon, the dragon''s blood will kill me."


    "The blood will kill you?" Arran asked, confused. "Isn''t the blood intended for your grandfather?"


    Snowcloud took a deep breath, then gave Arran a hesitant look. "The antidote in the dragon''s blood will only keep for a few days after it dies," she said. "But if I take it myself, the immunity will be passed on to me, and I can use some of my own blood to cure Grandfather." With a small sigh, she added, "At least, that''s how it''s supposed to work."


    For several moments, Arran remained silent, looking at Snowcloud in astonishment. When he finally spoke, he could not keep the disbelief from his voice.


    "So your plan is to find a dragon as strong as a Master, somehow manage to poison it, let it recover before fighting it, and then drink its blood while hoping it doesn''t kill you?" He gave Snowcloud a flat stare. "And you think that''s going to work?"


    By now, any enthusiasm he felt about fighting a dragon was long gone. Snowcloud''s plan ¡ª if it could even be called that ¡ª sounded like suicide. He had no idea of how they''d even poison the dragon, and that was just the first step. Everything that came after was pure insanity.


    "I know it sounds like madness," she replied. "But I don''t know of any other way to cure Grandfather. And if he doesn''t recover, it won''t just affect me ¡ª without him, the conflict in the Sixth Valley can only descend into war." She looked at Arran dejectedly. "If you don''t want to come with me, I understand. But I cannot turn back from this."


    Arran didn''t reply immediately, taking his time to consider the situation. By any reasonable standard, Snowcloud''s plan was utterly insane. Thousands of things could go wrong, and the chances of it working seemed almost non-existent. And yet¡­


    He shrugged. "I''ve followed you this far. I might as well see it through."


    The plan was pure madness, but then, it was hardly crazier than facing an entire army or fighting dozens of mages by himself.


    Moreover, if it was dangerous for the both of them together, it would be all but impossible for Snowcloud to succeed without his help ¡ª and it was clear that she had no intention of turning back, no matter the danger.


    "Then I''ll be glad to have you with me," Snowcloud said, relief visible in her eyes. Determined though she might be, it was clear that she understood how little chance she had of succeeding by herself.


    "There''s one thing you should know," Arran said.


    "What is it?" Snowcloud asked.


    "If we die, I''m blaming you."

 Chapter 166 Journey to the Dragon Lands

    "I think your map might be off," Arran said, not fully succeeding at keeping the exasperation from his voice.


    "But the mountains should be here," Snowcloud replied. She took yet another look at her map, as if to confirm that their eyes weren''t lying.


    Arran gestured at the vast, flat grasslands that surrounded them. "I think we can agree that wherever the mountains are, it isn''t here."


    Not so much as an anthill could be seen in the area, much less the mountain range that Snowcloud thought would offer their best chance of finding dragons.


    It had been well over a month since they left the city of Uvar behind, and so far, the journey had been smoother than they had any right to expect. Not only had they seen no sign of Shadowflame mages or vengeful priests; they hadn''t even encountered any bandits.


    Instead, all they found were endless grasslands, speckled with the occasional farm or village.


    The region was an unusually calm one, but unlike the ruins of the Eidaran Empire, it wasn''t abandoned. Rather, it seemed that the area had somehow avoided the turmoil that had spread through the surrounding lands, remaining quiet and peaceful.


    Yet safe and pleasant though their travels were, their goal remained elusive.


    Snowcloud had one map that showed the region with some detail, and according to that, they should be standing right in the middle of a vast mountain range. But instead of mountains, all they could see where endless grasslands, so flat it seemed as if the earth itself was mocking Snowcloud''s map.


    The locals weren''t much help, either. Among the ones they''d spoken to, few had ever ventured more than a day''s travel from their own village, and none had gone beyond the next village. Perhaps that was why the region was so calm, Arran thought ¡ª its inhabitants had all the curiosity and ambition of rocks.


    Then again, perhaps theirs was the better way of life. Unlike Arran, at least they wouldn''t be facing dragons in the foreseeable future.


    For several days, Arran and Snowcloud continued northward, following small dirt roads through the seemingly unending meadows. But no matter how many miles of grassland they crossed, there was no sign of any mountains on the horizon, and despite the peaceful surroundings, with every day that passed, they found themselves more frustrated.


    On yet another bright, sunny morning, they passed yet another small farm ¡ª one of many they''d already encountered.


    "Let''s try asking for directions," Snowcloud said.


    "Again?" Arran asked. By now, they''d already tried asking dozens of farmers and villagers, but every time, the only responses they got were questioning looks and blank stares.


    "I have a good feeling about this one," Snowcloud replied simply.


    Arran shrugged. "I suppose we can try."


    To his eyes, the farm looked no different from the dozens they had already encountered, but it wouldn''t hurt to try again. Still, he didn''t have much hope for success. As far as he could tell, their best hope was finding a town or encountering a traveling merchant ¡ª someone who hadn''t spent a lifetime without venturing more than a dozen miles from his home.


    They crossed the short path that led from the road to the farm, then knocked on the thick wooden door. For several moments, no answer came, but then the door slowly opened, revealing an old man with a grizzled face.


    The farmer gave them an appraising look. "You travelers?"


    Snowcloud smiled at the man. "We are," she said. "We were hoping you could give us some directions."


    "Don''t see many travelers ''round here," the farmer replied, casting a wary look at the swords Arran and Snowcloud carried at their sides. "Where you headin''?"


    "We''re looking for the Redpeak Mountains," Snowcloud said.


    "You don''t wanna go there," the man said, shaking his head. "Them''s dragonlands. Nothing good to be found there."


    At once, a beaming smile appeared on Snowcloud''s face, and she shot Arran a quick triumphant look before turning back to the farmer. "Still, we would be grateful if you could tell us where to go."


    The man sighed, disapproval in his eyes. "There''s a town at the foot of the mountains, Relgard. You''ll find it a week or two to the northeast. Go any farther than that, and you''ll be risking your lives."


    "Thank you," Snowcloud said, reaching out to give the man a few gold coins.


    The farmer went wide-eyed when he saw the gold, and he barely managed to stammer a few shocked words of thanks.


    When they were on their way again ¡ª in a different direction, this time ¡ª Arran gave Snowcloud a look. "That''s probably the first time he''s seen gold in his life," he said.


    "He deserved it," Snowcloud replied. She sighed, then added, "Without him, we could''ve spent months traveling in the wrong direction."


    "You might not have done him a favor," Arran said. "That kind of wealth, in a place like this¡­ it''s a fortune that could easily turn into a curse."


    While a few gold coins were a pittance to a mage, to a farmer it was a fortune beyond compare. Enough to buy several herds of cows, another farm ¡ª even a small village. Enough to cause jealousy in the hearts of many.


    Snowcloud cast a worried look back in the direction of the farm. "I could¡ª"


    "It''s too late for that now," Arran said. "Let''s just hope he knows how to keep a secret."


    Now that they knew where to go, they finally made good distance, and after a good two weeks of travel, they reached the foothills before the Redpeak Mountains. A few days after that, they found the town called Relgard.


    It was the only settlement in the region to be called a town, and somewhat to Arran''s surprise, it actually looked the part. With thick stone walls and what seemed like several thousands of houses, it could almost be considered a small city.


    Even so, travelers were uncommon enough that Arran and Snowcloud drew quite a few stares and glances as they passed, and the town counted only two inns. They chose one of these at random, shelling out some silver for the two largest rooms. The innkeeper looked at them suspiciously, but seeing that they carried plenty of coin, he gave them a polite if somewhat reluctant welcome.


    "So what do we do next?" Arran asked once they were settled in.


    "It''s probably best if I prepare the poison now," Snowcloud said. "It will take me a week or two, and after that, we can head into the mountains and find a dragon."


    Arran gave it a moment''s thought, then shook his head. Although he wouldn''t mind having a few weeks to work on unsealing his Destruction Realm, he suspected that actually finding dragons might take quite a while. And the longer they spent here, the longer it would be before they could return to the Sixth Valley.


    "It''s better if I scout ahead while you make the poison," he said. "That will save us time, and the sooner all of this is done, the better."


    "All right," Snowcloud replied, though she didn''t seem thrilled with the idea. "Just be careful. If you find a dragon, stay far away from it."


    Arran headed back to the common room, ignoring the other guests'' curious looks as he approached the innkeeper.


    "I''m looking to explore the mountains," he said. "Do you know of any good guides who are familiar with the area?"


    "The mountains?" The innkeeper made an ugly face. "You don''t want to go there. There''s dragons there."


    "I know," Arran replied. "But I would like to find a guide all the same."


    "Only a madman would guide you into the mountains." The innkeeper glanced at the silver coin Arran had just slipped him, then shrugged, apparently deciding that the stranger''s safety wasn''t his concern. "I suppose you''ll want old Crassus then. You can find him at the tavern down the street."

 Chapter 167 Chasing Dragons

    The tavern was filled with a thick air of stale beer, and although it was the middle of the day, the interior was almost completely dark, with the few windows the building had small and covered in yellow-brown grime.


    Inside were slightly over a dozen locals, most already inebriated despite the early hour. A few of them cast glances at Arran as he entered the tavern, but they soon turned their attention back to the drinks in front of them.


    Arran looked around the room, then walked up to the tavern keeper. "I''ll take a mug of ale and a bottle of brandy," he said, putting down a small silver coin on the counter.


    "You a traveler?" the man asked, giving Arran a curious look.


    Arran responded with a nod. "I''m looking for someone named Crassus."


    The tavern keeper put down a mug of ale and a dirty-looking bottle, then gave Arran an inquisitive look. "Who''s asking?"


    "Someone with little patience for nosy strangers," Arran replied bluntly.


    The man frowned, but after a quick glance at Arran''s sword, his frown faded. "He''s over there," he said, pointing at a small table in the corner of the tavern.


    At the table sat a ruddy-faced man in his middle years, with a portly build and hair that was more gray than black.


    Arran approached the table, then asked, "You''re Crassus?"


    "That''s me," the portly man replied. He greedily eyed the bottle in Arran''s hand. "You going to share that?"


    "It''s all yours." Arran set the bottle down on the table. "I just need to ask you a few questions."


    Crassus opened the bottle and took a swig. Then, he gave Arran an appraising look. "What do you want?"


    "I''m looking for a guide," Arran replied. "Someone who knows the mountains."


    "The mountains?" Crassus snorted, then took another swig from the bottle. "You don''t want to go there. The mountains are filled with dragons."


    "I know," Arran said. "I''m looking for someone who knows where to find them."


    At this, the man narrowed his eyes. For several moments, he remained silent, before finally saying, "I can do that, but it''ll cost you."


    "How much?"


    "It''ll be dangerous¡­" Crassus looked at Arran pensively, trying to figure out how much he could ask. "Maybe a dozen silvers?"


    Arran put a gold coin on the table. "That should be enough, then."


    Crassus snatched up the gold coin in an instant, his hand moving with a speed that surprised Arran. After a brief look at the coin, it disappeared into his coat.


    Then, he gave Arran a troubled look. "Of course, that''s enough for me, but my poor family¡­ my wife said she''d leave me if I went into the mountains again."


    Arran very much doubted the man even had a family, but he put another gold coin on the table. He had no interest in wasting time on haggling over gold.


    "That''s enough to buy yourself a new family," he said. "And I''ll give you another ten if we''re successful."


    The man quickly snatched up the second gold coin, then gave Arran a distrustful look. "How do I know you''ll pay me when we return?"


    "I could''ve haggled you down to half a dozen pieces of silver and another bottle of drink," Arran said, his patience starting to wear thin. "Now, are you in or not?"


    Crassus considered Arran''s words for a moment, then nodded. "Fair enough." He took the bottle in his hand, appearing to gauge how much was left inside. "We''ll leave at dawn. Meet me at the eastern gate."


    Although Arran had planned to leave immediately, it was obvious that his guide wouldn''t want to depart before emptying the bottle. And once the bottle was empty, Arran very much doubted the man would be in any state to travel.


    Instead, he returned to the inn, then explained to Snowcloud what his plans were, albeit without telling her too much about the guide he''d found ¡ª he didn''t want to cause her too much worry, even if it was warranted.


    When morning came, he headed for the town''s eastern gate, where he found Crassus already waiting. There was a pale tinge to the man''s ruddy face, Arran saw, and he surmised that Crassus had drunk more than just the one bottle the previous day.


    Still, the man''s spirits seemed good ¡ª doubtless he was already excited at the prospect of earning the fortune Arran had promised him if they were successful.


    As Arran approached, he could see that Crassus held what looked to be a bundle of blankets in his arms.


    "Take this," the man said, then handed Arran one of the blankets.


    The blanket was gray and musty, and Arran looked at it with some confusion. "What''s this?" he asked, wondering just why the portly man thought he needed a worn blanket.


    "It''s a blanket," Crassus said.


    Arran had gathered that much, and he gave the man a puzzled look. "But what''s it for?"


    "It''s for hiding," the man explained. "Dragons are vicious beasts, but they''re dumb as bricks. If you see one, hide under the blanket, and it''ll think you''re a rock. Keep it handy, and you have a decent chance of surviving if we run into a dragon."


    "That works?" Arran asked doubtfully.


    The man nodded emphatically. "Saved my life more than a few times."


    Although Arran had more faith in his duskcloak, he did not argue with the man. Between the two of them, only Crassus had ever seen a dragon, and Arran would defer to his judgment.


    They left at once, Arran as eager to find dragons as Crassus was to earn his gold, and it barely took them a day to travel from the foothills into the mountains proper.


    To Arran''s relief, his guide seemed to be intimately familiar with the area, confidently leading them through hidden paths and passes as they ventured deeper into the mountains. Although Arran had been doubtful about the man''s capabilities, it was clear that Crassus had traveled the area many times.


    As they traveled, they regularly came across small valleys that held long-abandoned villages. It seemed that at some point in the distant past, the mountains had been filled with small communities, though only ruins now remained.


    "The people moved away when the dragons came," Crassus explained. "Legend has it that''s why Relgard''s so big ¡ª when the mountain folk left their homes, they settled right outside the mountains, hoping the dragons would eventually leave."


    They steadily moved deeper into the mountains, and the farther they went, the less confident Crassus became. Before the first week was over, their speed had already dropped by half, with Crassus insisting they scouted all paths carefully before advancing, to avoid running into any dragons.


    The slow pace caused Arran some slight frustration, but he did not complain. If his guide said it was necessary, all he could do was accept it ¡ª the man knew far more about the region than he did, after all.


    Near the end of the first week, they scaled yet another steep path up an even steeper cliff. At the end of it, Arran discovered, lay a small valley that held what looked to be a sizable abandoned village.


    Before Arran could venture forth, Crassus hissed at him, "Wait! Last time I was here, there was a dragon. We need to see if the coast is clear before going any further."


    At the man''s insistence, they spent over an hour waiting, looking at the ruined village from behind some large rocks for any sign of movement. Yet they saw nothingm, and eventually, Crassus breathed a sigh of relief.


    "You wait here," he said to Arran. "I''ll just have a quick look around."


    By now, this was very familiar to Arran. Whenever they encountered villages, Crassus would insist on taking some time to search for any valuables that remained in the ruins.


    This, Arran had discovered, was the reason Crassus was so familiar with the region: he often ventured into the mountains to search the abandoned villages for valuables.


    Arran sat down on a rock, watching as Crassus headed for the village. Yet after a moment, his eyes went wide when he saw movement ¡ª a large rust-brown creature twice the size of a horse, with a powerful build and sharp-looking scales. A dragon.


    But while Arran saw the dragon, Crassus was completely unaware of what lay ahead. Several ruined houses stood between him and the dragon, and every step he took brought him closer to the creature.


    For a moment, the shock left Arran speechless, but then, he called out, "Dragon!" Shocked though he was, he couldn''t just let his guide walk toward certain death without warning.


    His fat man responded instantly, falling to the ground and wrapping himself in his blanket, turning into something that only very vaguely resembled a large rock.


    Yet at the same time, the massive creature turned its head toward Arran. It opened its mouth, revealing rows of dagger-like teeth, and let out a bone-chilling screech.


    Then, it rushed toward Arran.

 Chapter 168 Dumber Than Rocks

    For a moment, Arran stood frozen as the dragon hurtled toward him. The beast was utterly terrifying, a giant mass of muscles covered in sharp scales, with long, thick legs that ended in claws like pick-axes. Despite its size, it moved with catlike grace and astounding speed, crossing half the distance between it and Arran in a matter of seconds.


    Worse, Arran had nowhere to run. The valley''s rocky land was almost completely open for a hundred paces on either side of him, and behind him lay the steep cliff they had just scaled ¡ª a four hundred foot chasm with nothing but sharp rocks at the bottom.


    As the dragon approached him, Arran quickly moved backward, until he reached the edge of the cliff. It was a terrible plan, but he had no other choice. All he could do now was hope that the creature was indeed as dumb as Crassus and Snowcloud said.


    The creature was almost upon him just a moment later, baring its foot-long teeth in anticipation of the kill. Up close, it was even more frightful than it had been from a distance, with its mass almost making it like an avalanche that was hurtling toward Arran.


    Despite his fear, Arran did not try to run. Instead, he waited until the very last moment, holding his ground even as every fiber of his body screamed at him to flee.


    Then, using every shred of strength his body held, he leaped aside.


    The creature swiped at Arran with its claws as it barreled past him, only barely missing. But then, it reached the cliff''s edge. Seeing the abyss before it, it briefly struggled to come to a halt, but it was no use ¡ª between its vast mass and its staggering speed, its momentum was all but unstoppable.


    A deafening screech sounded as the dragon slid past the steep cliff''s edge and plummeted into the chasm. A few seconds later, it smashed into the rocks below with a thunderous crash.


    Arran immediately looked over the cliff''s edge, only letting out a deep sigh of relief when he saw the creature lying motionless at the bottom of the cliff.


    Even in the few short moments the dragon had been near him, he had been astounded by the aura of power that surrounded it. It wasn''t just the physical strength of a barn-sized monster, he knew ¡ª when the creature neared him, he had Sensed that it held a staggering amount of Natural Essence.


    "Should''ve used your blanket," a voice sounded behind Arran.


    When Arran turned around, he saw Crassus standing there, the man''s face pale and his brow covered in sweat. Calm though he sounded, it was clear that the encounter had shaken him.


    "It was too late for that," Arran said. "It had already seen me."


    "Doesn''t matter," Crassus replied, wiping the sweat from his face with his blanket. "They''re dumb as rocks, especially the young ones. You can hide while they''re watching, and they still won''t know where you went." He peered over the cliff, then said, "We should get moving."


    "Not yet," Arran said. "I want to take a look at the body first."


    "The body?" Crassus chuckled. "It''s not dead. Hurt, maybe, but give it a few hours and it''ll be back up on its feet, vicious as ever."


    Arran looked at the man with some disbelief. "You''re telling me it survived a fall like this?"


    Crassus simply nodded. "Dumb as the things are, they''d have died out long ago if they couldn''t take a hit or two. We should get out of here before it recovers. Fall like that, it should be at least some hours before¡­ hey, where are you going?!"


    Even before Crassus finished talking, Arran hurried down the narrow path along the cliff. If the dragon would soon recover, he couldn''t afford to wait ¡ª there was just a brief window where the creature would still be dazed from its injuries, and he couldn''t let that opportunity go to waste.


    In just a few weeks or months, he and Snowcloud would have to face a far larger dragon, and although it would be poisoned, Arran had no doubt that it would still put up a fight.


    But now, he had the chance to kill a heavily wounded dragon, and from its corpse, he could learn what the creatures'' weak spots were. And while fighting a gravely injured dragon would still be dangerous, the knowledge he could gain now would help him face an even greater danger.


    He reached the bottom of the cliff barely a minute later, his Essence-enhanced body allowing him to move far faster than a commoner could. Then, immediately, he headed for the injured dragon, drawing his sword as he approached.


    As he drew closer to the dragon, he could see that even if it wasn''t dead, its injuries were grievous. Two of its legs seemed to have shattered, and bone could be seen sticking from one of them.


    But for all the dragon''s injuries, Arran quickly realized that Crassus had been right ¡ª the monster wasn''t dead yet. A loud, grating sound could be heard as it breathed, and although its eyes were closed, Arran saw that its chest moved with every breath it took.


    He did not hesitate in attacking. At once, he rushed toward the creature, swinging his starmetal sword at its neck with every bit of strength he could muster ¡ª a force strong enough to tear through stone or steel with ease.


    Yet although he struck with devastating power, he was astonished to see that his blade only barely cut an inch into the creature''s neck, its thick scales easily resisting the brunt of the blow.


    Arran readied himself for another blow, but before he could strike, the creature''s uninjured front leg suddenly lashed out at him. Arran had been ready for this, and he dodged backward the instant he saw the creature move.


    Still, the dragon moved with such speed that its razor-sharp claws grazed Arran even as he dodged, leaving behind three half-inch-deep wounds on his chest. Ignoring the pain, he hurriedly took another few steps backward, moving out of range of the creature''s claws.


    He took a moment to regain his bearings, his mind racing as he tried to think of a way to kill a creature that seemed nearly impervious to damage.


    Just then, the creature opened its dark-yellow eyes. For a second, it stared at Arran with a hungry look, and then it began to move forward, seeming unbothered by the buckling of its shattered legs as it moved.


    In its crippled state, the creature moved far slower than before, and Arran knew he could still make an escape if he ran. Yet although he was tempted to flee, he knew an opportunity like this would not come again.


    Instead, he waited until the dragon put its weight on its uninjured front leg, and then he dashed forward like an arrow, moving with all the speed he had as he rammed his sword into the dragon''s opened eye.


    This time, there was barely any resistance, and before the creature had a chance to respond, the blade was buried to the hilt in its head, with several feet of starmetal piercing its brain.


    That should be enough to kill the creature, but by now, Arran was wary enough of its toughness that he immediately ripped out the sword and darted backward again. And it was a good thing that he did, because an instant later the razor-sharp claws lashed out again, this time only hitting air.


    Arran quickly backed up further, by now thoroughly astonished at the dragon''s ability to withstand punishment. By any reasonable standard, the creature should be long dead, but somehow, it still moved forward.


    Yet just as he began to plan his retreat, the dragon faltered. It took another two steps, its remaining eye still focused on Arran, but then it suddenly collapsed like a puppet with its strings cut, its strength finally exhausted.


    Even so, Arran did not dare to be relieved yet. Quickly, he rushed at the dragon, then rammed his sword all the way into its remaining eye, following up with another handful of violet stabs.


    Only when he was sure that the dragon''s brain was thoroughly destroyed did he finally breathe a sigh of relief. And even so, he took several dozen steps away from the giant creature''s corpse before he dared to relax.


    For several minutes, he sat there in silence, staring at the giant creature in front of him.


    The sight did not bring him any comfort or confidence ¡ª if even a juvenile was this hard to kill, then killing an adult would be all but impossible. And yet, that was what he and Snowcloud planned to do.

 Chapter 169 Unexpected News

    As Arran looked at the dead dragon in front of him, he could not help but feel worried about the prospect of facing an adult specimen.


    From what he knew, this should be a juvenile, barely a decade or two old. And yet, it had already been nearly impossible to kill, with hideous strength and astonishing toughness.


    Even though the fight had been deceptively short, Arran had no illusions about how he would have fared in a direct confrontation. The damage the young dragon had sustained in its fall was well beyond anything Arran could inflict with either sword or magic, and even that had not been enough to kill the creature outright.


    With just his own strength, there was no possible way to win a battle like that ¡ª not unless he could somehow convince the beast to let him freely stab its eyes with his sword, at least.


    A few minutes after Arran slew the dragon, Crassus began to make his way down the cliff.


    The man had waited until he was certain the creature was dead before joining Arran, which Arran thought was only reasonable. Now that he had some idea of just how strong dragons were, he wouldn''t be eager to come near a living one, either.


    When Crassus finally reached the bottom of the cliff, he approached the dragon corpse that was splayed across the rocks, though he wisely kept a few dozen paces between himself and the body.


    "Now that was something," the portly man said, some awe in his voice.


    Arran nodded silently, his eyes still fixed on the corpse.


    "Only the second time I''ve ever seen someone kill a dragon," Crassus continued. "''Course, the other mage brought half a mountain down on the damn thing. That killed it right quick."


    At once, Arran''s eyes shot toward Crassus. "The other mage?" he asked, suddenly looking at the other man intently.


    "Well, I figure you''re a mage," the man said with a shrug. "Normal folk can''t just do what¡ª"


    "What other mage?" Arran sharply interrupted him. "And when was this?"


    A studious look appeared on Crassus''s ruddy face. "About a decade ago, give or take a few years," he said after some thought. "It was a young woman, and a pretty one, too. Asked me to guide her to a dragon lair ¡ª wanted one of the big winged beasts, just like you. Paid a pretty sum for it, as well." He made an ugly face. "I''d have been set for life if my luck at cards was any better."


    Hearing the words, Arran stared at the man in astonishment.


    He knew that Snowcloud''s mother had left to find a cure for the Patriarch roughly a decade earlier, and given that she was the one who created Snowcloud''s recipe, she would eventually have needed to find a dragon.


    "After you guided her to the dragon lair," Arran said, struggling to keep his voice calm. "Did she return?"


    "Sure did," Crassus replied with a cheerful nod. "Came back to Relgard about a month after I left her. Seemed to be in quite a good mood, too ¡ª even gave me another few gold pieces." He made an ugly face. "That bastard Sulla cheated me out of all of it. I should''ve never¡ª"


    As Crassus prattled on about his gambling misadventures, Arran pondered the matter.


    He could not be completely certain that the woman had been Snowcloud''s mother, but it seemed too much of a coincidence for there to be another explanation. And if he was right and it was really her, then it meant she had succeeded in finding the cure she sought.


    That last thought gave Arran some pause. If Snowcloud''s mother had been successful in gathering all the ingredients and creating the cure, then all that was left for her was to return to the Sixth Valley, a journey that shouldn''t be particularly dangerous for a strong mage.


    But Snowcloud''s mother had never returned. And since she would not have taken any needless risks while carrying the cure for the Patriarch, that could only mean someone had stopped her ¡ª someone who knew about her quest, and with enough power to stop her.


    Briefly, Arran considered returning to Relgard immediately, to let Snowcloud know about what he had found. She would undoubtedly want to know about it right away, and unlike Arran, she would definitely be able to tell whether the mage Crassus described was indeed her mother.


    Yet after carefully considering it, he finally decided against it. Important though the information was, their more urgent concern was finding a way to defeat an adult dragon. And for that, he would need information that could be only gathered through observation.


    Still, he took some time to thoroughly question Crassus, making sure to memorize everything the man remembered about the mage he had guided through the mountains a decade ago. It wasn''t as much as Arran would have liked ¡ª Crassus''s heavy drinking had done his memory no favors ¡ª but he still made certain that he didn''t miss even the slightest detail.


    When it was finally clear that there was nothing more that Crassus could remember, Arran turned his attention back to the dead dragon, rolling up his sleeves and unsheathing his sword for the bloody work that lay ahead.


    He spent several hours carefully dismembering the corpse, scrupulously studying the body while gathering up all the meat the massive carcass held, along with the skin, bones, and organs.


    He had already Sensed that the dragon''s body held an amount of Natural Essence that was far beyond anything he had previously encountered, so naturally, he would not let any of it go to waste. And while he had no direct use for the other parts, just their toughness made him certain that they would prove valuable eventually.


    Of course, studying the corpse was even more important than the meat and body parts, as it allowed him to gain a better understanding of the weakest and strongest parts of the creature''s body.


    He was disappointed but unsurprised to find that the creature seemed to have almost no weak spots. Even if its belly and throat weren''t as tough as its back and legs, it still took him half a dozen blows with his sword just to cut through the skin. And in a fight, he definitely wouldn''t get the chance to hack at the creature until he cut through its hide.


    When he finally finished butchering the corpse and gathering up the parts, nothing was left but a deep-red stain of blood on the rocks, several dozens of paces across.


    "You''d make a fine butcher," Crassus said cheerfully. The man had looked on with great interest as Arran dismembered the dragon''s corpse, seeming quite amused with the idea of a dragon being butchered like a cow.


    Arran shrugged. "How much farther is it to the dragon''s lair?" he asked, impatient to continue the journey.


    "Nearest one is about half a week from here," Crassus replied. "I haven''t been there in years, but the dragon should still be there ¡ª unless another one ate it, I suppose."


    Arran nodded. "Let''s get going then."


    They set off immediately, and as they traveled, Arran wondered if the mage Crassus had guided through the mountains a decade earlier was really Snowcloud''s mother. If it was, he feared dragons might not be the greatest danger that lay ahead of them.

 Chapter 170 The Dragons Lair

    As Arran and Crassus made their way through the mountains, the terrain grew increasingly inhospitable. Before, the rocky mountainsides had featured at least some trees and shrubs, but the farther and higher they traveled, the sparser the vegetation became, until eventually only grass and moss were left.


    Yet to Arran''s surprise, an ample amount of wildlife could still be seen in the mountains, with plenty of animals somehow managing to thrive despite the hostile surroundings. Most conspicuous among these were the mountain goats, which climbed even the steepest mountainsides with apparent ease, but there were sheep, hares, and various small rodents as well.


    This answered one of the biggest questions Arran had about the dragons: just how they could find sufficient food for their vast bulk in so inhospitable an area. But it seemed that without human hunters around, there was no lack of wildlife for the dragons to feast on.


    As they advanced, Crassus constantly kept a wary eye on the skies above them, grasping his blankets tightly in case a dragon appeared.


    Arran had initially been slightly derisive of the man''s trust in his blankets, but by now, he understood that the simple disguise was nothing to laugh at. Dragons hunted by sight, he had learned, and their lack of intelligence made the humble gray blankets a surprisingly effective tool.


    Of course, Arran didn''t need a blanket ¡ª he had his Duskcloak, which would be even more effective in hiding from any dragons they encountered.


    Still, while their travels were smooth, Arran was having considerable difficulty in coming up with a way to actually kill an adult dragon.


    For several days, he pondered the matter, but no matter how much he thought, no solutions came to him. While he was sure that there should be some way to kill a nigh-invulnerable monster,


    Finally, he turned to Crassus for advice.


    "The other mage," he began, "you said she killed a dragon by bringing down half a mountain on it. How exactly did she do that?"


    "No idea," the fat man replied. "There was a dragon after us ¡ª not an adult, but near enough ¡ª and instead of hiding, she just waved her hand. A moment later, a bunch of big rocks came loose from the mountainside. Caused the biggest rockslide I ever saw, but how she did it¡­" Crassus shrugged. "Some sort of magic, probably."


    Hearing the man''s words, Arran stopped in his tracks, and he cursed himself for having missed so obvious a solution.


    Neither he nor Snowcloud had the power to take on an adult dragon using their own abilities, but causing a rockslide was a different matter. That was something they could do, and easily at that.


    Of course, Arran knew it would not be as easy as just dropping some rocks on the dragon. To kill it, they would need to find a way to get it in the right position, and killing an adult dragon would require rocks the size of houses, if not bigger.


    But even so, knowing that there was a solution to his problem filled Arran with relief.


    For a while, he had thought the task might be impossible for him and Snowcloud ¡ª something they had no possible way of achieving with their current powers. But now, he knew there was at least a chance of success.


    In the days that followed, they made good distance, but Arran saw no sign of any other dragons.


    When he asked Crassus about this, the man nodded in response. "This close to the lair of one of the big monsters, you won''t find any of the smaller ones," he explained. "Any that come too close just get eaten."


    Arran felt some apprehension as Crassus spoke. The juvenile dragon he had faced had already been a terrifyingly powerful creature, and if the bigger ones saw a creature like that as nothing but a meal, he could barely even imagine how powerful they would be.


    Finally, nearly two weeks after they''d left Relgard, they reached a wide, empty valley. It was covered in rocks, with just a few patches of green moss and yellow grass to be seen at its edges. To Arran''s eyes, there wasn''t anything special about it, yet Crassus looked at it with excitement in his eyes.


    "This is it," Crassus said, gesturing at the empty space. "The dragon''s lair."


    "There''s no dragon," Arran pointed out.


    "Dragons spend most of their time hunting," Crassus explained. "Only return to their lair to sleep. It''ll show up by sundown." He cast a wary look at the sky, then added, "''Course, I wanna be far gone by then."


    "How do you know there is a dragon?" Arran asked, frowning. From what he could see, it was just a normal, empty valley.


    "There''s dragon shit," Crassus replied, pointing at the edge of the valley, where several vast piles of what looked to be massive boulders lay. "And see how there''s not a scrap of grass to be seen at the center? That''s where the dragon sleeps."


    Arran peered at the valley, and after Crassus''s words, he could now see that the piles of boulders looked unusual ¡ª more like balls of dried-out earth than actual boulders ¡ª and that the center of the valley was indeed unusually bare.


    Nevertheless, he gave Crassus a skeptical look. "How do I know you''re not planning on taking the gold, then leaving me in some random valley that''s never even seen a dragon''s shadow?"


    Crassus guffawed. "I might not be the most honest man alive, but I ain''t dumb enough to try and cheat a mage. I saw what you did to that dragon way back, and I''d rather not see what you can do to a man. The dragon will be here ¡ª I''d bet my life on it."


    After a moment''s thought, Arran nodded. "Alright," he said as he handed Crassus a handful of gold. "There''s something else I need you to do, though."


    "Something else?" Crassus looked at him suspiciously.


    "My companion had some business to finish in Relgard," Arran said, "but she should be done by the time you return. If you can bring her here, I''ll pay you double what I just gave you."


    Crassus hesitated, but only briefly. Then, he shook his head. "No deal."


    The answer took Arran by surprise. He had already given Crassus a small fortune in gold, and with double that, the man would be able to buy half of Relgard ¡ª he''d have enough to spend every single one of his remaining days bathing in brandy if he so wished.


    However, a sly look appeared in Crassus''s eyes as he looked at Arran. "I don''t want your gold," he said. "I want you to teach me some of that magic of yours."


    Arran blinked in surprise. "You want me to teach you magic?"


    Crassus nodded fervently. "I''ve seen some of what you can do, and I bet there''s a whole lot more. I''ll bring your companion, but only if you promise to teach me magic when we get back."


    For a moment, Arran was speechless. Whatever he''d previously thought of Crassus, he definitely hadn''t taken the man for an aspiring mage.


    Finally, he sighed. "All right," he said. "I can teach you the basics, but after that, whether you succeed depends on your own luck and talent."


    "Good enough," Crassus replied, sticking out his chubby hand for Arran to shake. "Now that that''s settled, I''ll go get your friend from Relgard."


    "Before you go¡­"


    Arran quickly told Crassus where to find Snowcloud, then instructed the man to tell her everything he knew about the female mage he''d met a decade earlier. If it was indeed Snowcloud''s mother, Arran figured she should know about it as soon as possible.


    When Crassus finally left, Arran hid between some rocks, then covered himself in his Duskcloak. If his guide was right, the dragon would appear within a few hours. Arran could already feel excitement rising within him at the thought of finally seeing a real adult dragon.

 Chapter 171 The Enemy Appears

    For several hours, Arran sat in silence, impatiently waiting for the dragon to appear.


    Although Crassus had said it would only return from its hunt when evening fell, Arran still kept an anxious eye on the skies, both eager and anxious to finally see the creature he would have to kill.


    He studied the valley while he waited, already searching for ways in which the terrain could be exploited for an advantage in the fight to come.


    Yet to his disappointment, the surroundings were almost completely bare, lacking anything that might help him face the creature he awaited. The valley was large and wide, its rocky floor mostly flat, with the slopes at its sides nowhere near steep enough to create the kind of landslide he hoped to use in killing the dragon.


    Worse, while the edges of the valley held several rock outcrops and loose boulders the size of houses, the center of the valley offered no cover whatsoever. It looked almost as if it had been purposely cleared of rocks and rubble, leaving only a wide open space that completely lacked places to hide.


    The only thing that gave Arran some hope was a sheer cliff at the far end of the valley, several thousands of feet tall, with the mountains behind it stretching even further up into the sky.


    Yet although Arran was certain that large rocks dropped from such a height would be enough to kill anything, using the cliff to kill the dragon would require somehow luring it there. And that, he suspected, would be easier said than done.


    But, of course, for any of that to matter, the dragon would first have to make an appearance. And despite the hours passing, there was still no sign of the beast.


    When dusk neared and the sun had long disappeared behind the mountains, Arran began to worry that Crassus had lied to him after all ¡ª or, if the man hadn''t lied, that he had simply been mistaken.


    Just then, however, Arran suddenly heard it. A sound like a rising storm, already shockingly loud despite being far in the distance.


    His eyes shot up at once, and he hurriedly scanned the skies for any sign of the dragon he knew must be approaching.


    For several moments, he saw nothing, although the sound steadily grew louder. But then, he saw it ¡ª above the mountains on the other side of the valley, a giant, rust-colored creature slowly rose in the skies, thunderous sounds echoing through the area with every flap of its vast wings.


    Arran could not help but gasp in astonishment at the sight.


    To say that the creature was everything he had hoped ¡ª and feared ¡ª was an understatement. Even from a mile away, he could see the dragon was astonishingly large, its body the size of a small fortress and each of its wings hundreds of paces across.


    The creature briefly hovered in the air, its large yellow eyes staring at the empty valley before it. Then, suddenly, it soared forward, with a speed beyond anything a creature so large should be capable of, heading like a spear toward the valley''s rocky floor.


    A moment later, it landed with a crash so loud it seemed to shake the mountains, after which it immediately folded its wings and wrapped them around its massive body. Seemingly unconcerned with its surroundings, it then closed its eyes and lay down, forming a large, rust-red hill at the center of the valley.


    As the dragon landed, Arran instinctively pulled his Duskcloak closer around him. Even though there was no way the creature could see him, the mere sight of it filled him with an awe that bordered on panic, like a mouse seeing a tiger.


    Arran silently watched the dragon for the better part of an hour, not daring to make even the slightest sound as evening fell and the light slowly faded. Yet it seemed that the gargantuan beast had fallen asleep only moments after it landed, and finally, he relaxed, if only slightly.


    He did not sleep that night, instead observing the dragon as best as he could in the dim moonlight, anxious to see if there was anything more he could glean from looking at it.


    But the creature did not move at all during the night, its body completely motionless until finally, dawn came.


    Then, as the first sunlight touched the mountain peaks that surrounded the valley, it got up and stretched out its wings. It took off again a moment later, once more causing a brief storm in the confines of the valley as it rose from the ground.


    Arran remained seated after the dragon left. While he knew it would likely only return in the evening, he wouldn''t risk exposing himself during the day until he was certain the creature wouldn''t suddenly return.


    As he waited, he finally tried some of the dragon meat he had gathered earlier, roasting it with Fire Essence before eating it.


    The meat tasted much like he had expected ¡ª tough, chewy, and gamy, with a hint of tangy earthiness. It wasn''t completely unpleasant, but it wasn''t far from it, either. Part of that might be due to his complete lack of skill in cooking, but even so, as food, it was disappointing at best.


    Yet while the taste was hardly encouraging, the Natural Essence within the meat was another matter. Despite his Sense already hinting at its potency, Arran found himself shocked at the sheer amount of Natural Essence it contained when he ate it.


    Compared to this, even the strongest foods he''d had so far seemed ordinary, and in just a few hours, he thought he could already feel his body grow stronger.


    Finally, when dusk began to fall, the dragon returned once more. Again, Arran could hear its approach well before he could see the enormous creature, and again, it fell asleep only moments after it landed.


    This time, Arran tried to catch some sleep before morning came. He already knew he would have to wait weeks before Crassus returned with Snowcloud, and nervous though the dragon''s presence made him, he could not stay awake the entire time.


    Arran spent the first week after his arrival like this, patiently observing the dragon as it came and went, while absorbing Natural Essence during the day and trying to sleep after sundown despite the dragon''s presence.


    With this, it didn''t take him long to understand that things were exactly as Crassus had said.


    Every morning, the dragon would leave shortly after dawn, its vast wings briefly causing a fierce storm in the valley as it took off. After that, it would be gone during the day, presumably hunting for enough prey to feed its enormous body.


    Then, in the evening, it would return only when the sun had already disappeared behind the mountains, with the sound of its approach marking its return well before it could be seen.


    During the nights, meanwhile, it merely slept, its wings wrapped around it while its vast bulk covered a good portion of the valley.


    Overall, Arran soon realized that the creature was as predictable as the sunrise, and had it not been for its vast size, he knew it would''ve been easy enough to trap.


    But predictable and dumb though it might be, its size and strength were astonishing ¡ª enough that it had no need to worry about being attacked or ambushed. Like the sunrise, it seemed more like a force of nature than an animal, too large to be stopped by any man.


    Still, Arran did not despair. If there was a way to kill the creature, he would find it.


    After the first week, he felt confident enough to start exploring the valley and its surroundings for several hours every day, while the dragon was out hunting.


    By now, he was reasonably certain that it would not suddenly return before evening, and even if it did, he knew the sound of its approach would give him enough time to hide.


    Two weeks passed like this, with Arran steadily mapping out every inch of the valley and the cliffs and mountains that surrounded it. It was slow work, but steadily, the beginning of a plan formed in his mind.


    By the end of his third week in the valley, on a sunny afternoon, Arran spotted two figures at the edge of the valley, both of them covered in gray blankets. Snowcloud and Crassus had finally arrived.


    Arran approached them eagerly, and as he did, there was a confidence in his eyes that hadn''t been there before. After weeks of careful study and observation, he finally had a plan.

 Chapter 172 Plan of Attack

    It took Snowcloud and Crassus only a moment to spot Arran when he approached them. The fat man greeted Arran with an enthusiastic wave, but Snowcloud''s expression was serious.


    When Arran reached the two, he briefly greeted them, then immediately turned to Snowcloud.


    "Did Crassus tell you¡­" he began.


    She nodded. "It was my mother," she said simply. "And if she succeeded in finding the cure¡­" For a moment, she remained silent. Then, she shook her head. "We''ll talk about that another time. Right now, there are other matters for us to discuss. Did you see the dragon?"


    "I did," Arran said. "And our original plan¡­" He briefly hesitated, then continued, "It isn''t going to work. If we wait for the dragon to recover, there''s no possible way we can kill it."


    Snowcloud looked doubtful. "I think you''re underestimating the poison," she said, though there was a hint of uncertainty in her voice.


    "You''re underestimating the dragon," Arran replied. "It''s beyond anything I expected, like a force of nature made flesh. Even with only a tenth of its full strength, we have no hope of defeating it."


    At his words, a ponderous expression came over Snowcloud''s face. "How can you be so sure?" she asked, clearly not convinced.


    "You''ll understand when you see it," Arran said simply. "It''ll return in a few hours."


    There was no way to convey the sheer power of the creature using mere words. Whatever Snowcloud had heard or read about dragons, he knew that she would only be able to truly recognize the creature''s staggering power once she saw it with her own eyes.


    It had been the same for Arran himself, after all. Between the stories from his childhood and what Snowcloud had told him, he''d believed he was prepared for a truly monstrous creature ¡ª yet that ended the moment he actually saw it himself.


    The dragon was something that simply stretched the limits of human comprehension. Even now, Arran felt like it was almost too large and strong to exist. Despite having met many powerful mages since leaving Riverbend, none of them had come even close to causing him the kind of awe he''d felt when first seeing the dragon.


    Snowcloud agreed with a reluctant nod, and they settled between the rocks, hidden beneath their blankets as the day slowly passed.


    The dragon finally made its appearance when evening approached, and on seeing it, Snowcloud instantly gasped in astonishment ¡ª then quickly closed her mouth for fear of drawing the creature''s attention.


    As Arran had come to expect, the dragon fell asleep only moments after it landed, but nevertheless, they waited in silence for nearly half an hour after that.


    Finally, when it was clear the dragon was well and truly asleep, Snowcloud whispered, "It''s terrifying." Even now, her eyes still wide with shock.


    "It is," Arran agreed.


    A few more seconds passed before Snowcloud finally managed to pull her eyes away from the creature and turned to Arran. "I hope you have a good plan¡­" She didn''t finish the sentence, instead glancing once more at the sleeping dragon in the valley.


    "I have a plan," Arran replied. "Whether it''s any good remains to be seen." He shrugged, then continued, "But we''ll discuss it in the morning, once the beast has left to hunt."


    Although it was unlikely that the dragon could hear their whispers, neither of them had any interest in putting that to the test. Instead, they waited silently through the night, Arran staying awake with Snowcloud as she observed the dragon''s figure in the dim moonlight.


    Crassus, on the other hand, seemed entirely comfortable with the situation. Seemingly unconcerned about the monster a few hundred paces away from them, the man fell asleep only minutes after the dragon did, one of his trusty blankets wrapped around him.


    When morning had come and the dragon had left for its daily hunt, Snowcloud turned to Arran, her expression troubled. "So how do we defeat it?" she asked, glancing at the sky even as she spoke, like she expected the dragon to return at any moment.


    "We can''t," Arran replied. "Even if we attack it when it''s at its weakest, we simply aren''t strong enough to do more than wound it. As for killing it?" He let out a cheerless laugh. "We can forget about that. With our power, even if there were a hundred of us, I''d still put my money on the dragon."


    Snowcloud gave him a puzzled look. "I thought you said you had a plan?" she asked, her brow furrowed.


    "I do," Arran said, reaching for his void bag. "Take a look at this. I took it from the juvenile dragon I killed on the way here."


    He handed a big chunk of dragon meat from his void bag to Snowcloud.


    A look of surprise appeared in her eyes almost immediately. "Is that Natural Essence?" Her eyes were wide with astonishment as she studied the piece of dragon flesh. "It''s so strong¡­"


    Arran nodded. "And it''ll be even stronger in the big one, so even if we injure it, it will heal quickly." He smiled slightly, then continued, "But take a closer look. Notice anything unusual?"


    Snowcloud inspected the piece of flesh carefully, but after several minutes, she looked up and shook her head. "What should I be seeing?"


    "There''s almost no fat," Arran replied, a triumphant look on his face. "When I ate it, I noticed how tough and tasteless it was ¡ª far too lean to be any good as food."


    "How does that help us?" Snowcloud asked, a nonplussed frown on her face. But even before Arran could answer, understanding dawned in her eyes. "It doesn''t have any energy reserves!"


    "Exactly," Arran confirmed. "The big one we''re after spends its every waking moment hunting. It took me a while to realize it, but the creature probably needs to spend much of its time eating just to stay alive. And if it can''t eat¡­" He smiled broadly.


    Snowcloud nodded thoughtfully. "So by the time it recovers from the poison, it will be on the brink of starvation. But will that be enough for us to defeat it?"


    Arran shook his head. "It won''t be. Even if it were unconscious, I doubt we could do enough damage to kill it. Judging from the small one I killed, this one should have skin like steel."


    "Then what do we do?" Snowcloud asked, giving Arran an expectant look.


    "First, we''ll use the poison you made," Arran began. "After that, we will have to wait, and attack when it''s too weak to defend itself. We won''t be able to kill it, but with luck, we can injure it enough that it won''t be able to hunt. And if it can''t hunt, it will grow weaker by the day, even as it recovers from the poison."


    He paused for a moment as Snowcloud took in his words, then added, "We''re going to let the dragon''s body defeat itself."


    "It''ll heal in a day or two," Crassus interjected. So far, the man had merely listened as Arran and Snowcloud spoke, appearing quite amused with Arran''s plan. But now, it seemed he finally could no longer resist the urge to weigh in. "Even if you injure the thing, it''ll recover enough to hunt in just a few days."


    "I know," Arran replied with a short nod. "That''s why we''ll have to keep attacking and injuring it every day, without giving it the chance to fully recover."


    "Then you''re planning to defeat it not just once, but every day for several weeks?" Crassus chuckled joyfully. "You''re ambitious, lad, I''ll give you that."


    Arran shrugged. "If you have any better ideas, I''ll gladly hear them."


    A thoughtful look appeared in the man''s eyes, but he remained silent.


    "So when do we start?" Snowcloud asked when it became clear that Crassus didn''t have a better plan.


    "There''s no point in delaying," Arran said. "If you''ve finished the poison, we should probably try to poison it tonight."


    "Do you have any ideas on how to do that?" she asked.


    Arran nodded. "It shouldn''t be too hard. But¡­ do you have any herbs or potions that can keep a goat asleep for a few hours?"

 Chapter 173 The Eve of Battle

    "Are you sure it will wake up in time?" Arran looked anxiously at the unconscious goat in the middle of the valley.


    Snowcloud nodded, her expression calm and confident. "It will wake up shortly before the dragon arrives, and when it does, it will be dazed enough that the dragon has an easy time catching it."


    Arran had captured the goat a few hours earlier, snatching it off the side of a cliff half a dozen miles from the valley. The chase had been more difficult than he cared to admit ¡ª the goat navigated the cliff side with surprising ease and agility ¡ª but in the end, he had managed to catch it alive.


    And it was necessary that the goat was alive for the plan to work. While the dragon might decide to eat a dead goat if they just left it in the valley, the dragon might just as well ignore it entirely, or so Crassus said.


    If the man was right, dragons relied almost entirely on their sight, and while their hearing wasn''t too bad, their sense of smell was almost non-existent. Because of that, the goat would need to be moving for the dragon to recognize it as food.


    With that in mind, Snowcloud had concocted a potion she said would keep the goat unconscious for the next several hours. If her skill was as good as she claimed, the goat should only come to a few minutes before sundown, right around the time the dragon returned.


    If all went well, the dragon would eat the goat ¡ª and along with it, the pouch with poisoned spirit crystals they had tied around its neck. After that, they would merely have to wait for the poison to do its work.


    But simple as the plan was, Arran could not help but feel anxious.


    While Snowcloud had prepared a good amount of the poison that had been used on her grandfather, there still wasn''t enough for more than a few attempts. If the dragon failed to eat the goat and it got away, the loss would be a painful one.


    And then, there was the matter of whether the poison would be strong enough. Even if Snowcloud said it should easily disable the dragon for a week or two, Arran had a hard time imagining a handful of poison affecting a creature so large.


    Still, the trap was set, and all that remained now was to wait and hope it would work.


    The hours passed slowly, but even so, it wasn''t long before the sun disappeared behind the mountains and dusk approached.


    "It''s moving!" Snowcloud said suddenly, and indeed, Arran saw that the goat was showing some signs of movement.


    They looked on anxiously as the minutes passed, with the goat twitching a few times, then slowly getting to its feet. It stood at the center of the valley in a dazed, looking around as if it was trying to find its bearings.


    Just then, the familiar sound of a rising storm sounded in the distance, and Arran knew the dragon was approaching. He kept a nervous eye on the goat, still worried that it might sense the danger and bolt.


    Yet as the dragon''s colossal figure appeared in the sky, the goat merely took a few unsteady steps, completely unaware of its impending doom.


    The dragon briefly hovered above the valley, but after a moment, its eyes fixed on the hapless goat that had so foolishly ventured into its lair. At once, it dove down, moving even more rapidly than usual.


    Even as the dragon''s clawed feet slammed in the rock, its jaws opened, revealing rows of sword-like teeth. Then, in a movement almost too fast for the eye to see, its head shot forward. An instant later its maw closed around its prey, and just like that, the goat was gone.


    Arran took a moment to breathe a silent sigh of relief, then turned to Snowcloud.


    "Now what?" he asked in a low whisper.


    "Now we wait," she whispered back. "If the poison works as intended, the dragon will barely be able to move by morning."


    Arran gave her a short nod, then turned his attention back to the dragon.


    As usual, it wrapped its wings around itself, falling asleep within minutes. Only this time, Arran hoped, it wouldn''t fly off in the morning.


    They waited through the night, Arran and Snowcloud keeping nervous eyes on the dragon as Crassus slept. Not that there was much point to their vigilance, of course ¡ª if the poison failed to work, there was nothing they could do about it.


    Still, with a search that had taken many months now finally nearing its end, they could not help but be filled with anxiety.


    The night passed excruciatingly slowly, with every hour seeming to last days, and when the first signs of morning came, both Arran and Snowcloud were completely exhausted.


    "It hasn''t moved yet," Snowcloud said softly. "I think the poison worked."


    Arran shook his head. "It''s too soon to tell. There''s still a good half hour to go until it normally departs."


    When the sun''s earliest rays began to hit the mountain peaks around them, the dragon stirred. A moment later, its head rose up as it inspected the valley around it, and slowly, it spread its wings. Although it appeared to move slightly slower than normal, it clearly wasn''t unconscious.


    Arran felt his heart sinking at the sight as he feared the plan had failed.


    Yet a moment later, a violent shiver went through the dragon''s body, and it sluggishly lowered its head again, then folded its wings around its colossal bulk once more.


    "I worked!" Snowcloud whispered, voice filled with enthusiasm.


    "Maybe," Arran replied. "But let''s wait a bit longer, just to make sure."


    Another few hours passed before Arran was as convinced as Snowcloud, but by then, there was no denying it anymore ¡ª the poison had incapacitated the dragon.


    "How long until it''s at its weakest?" Arran asked Snowcloud.


    A studious look appeared on her face, and after a moment, she replied, "The poison''s effects should steadily grow stronger for the next two weeks. After that, the dragon will gradually begin to recover, and with another two weeks, it will be fully restored."


    Arran nodded thoughtfully. "Two weeks until we attack, then," he said. "And after that, I suspect we''ll have to starve it for at least a month before it''s weak enough to kill."


    "Is there anything we should do before that?" Snowcloud asked.


    "Not really," Arran replied. "I already prepared the cliff before you arrived, so all we must do now is wait."


    From his first day in the valley, he had planned to use the single steep cliff it held against the dragon, so naturally, he had begun to prepare it as soon as he finished scouting the area. By now, there were several barn-sized at the top of the cliff that could be dislodged with minimal effort and sent plunging a thousand feet to crush whatever was beneath them.


    Other than that, there wasn''t much that could be done by way of preparation. While there were some weapons of war that could help them in facing the dragon, neither Arran nor Snowcloud knew enough about engineering to make those ¡ª even if they had the materials to do so.


    So all they could do now was wait and plan, and hope that their own powers would be enough to face the giant creature when it was sufficiently weakened.


    In the days that followed, Arran kept good on his promise to Crassus, trying as best he could to teach the man some magic.


    He was surprised to find that Crassus had no interest whatsoever in learning about body refinement. Instead, all the man wanted was to gain a Realm, and Arran obliged him by giving a Fire Realm Scroll and what little advice he could provide on opening the Realm.


    Still, for all Crassus''s professed desire to become a mage, he seemed to lack both the will and the drive to do so. Rather than focus his attention on opening the Realm, the man would spend perhaps an hour each day halfheartedly working on it, then spend the next few hours complaining about his lack of progress.


    It wasn''t a sentiment that was wholly unfamiliar to Arran ¡ª he could hardly be called a diligent mage, after all ¡ª but Crassus took shirking in his pursuit of magic to a whole new level. If Arran didn''t know any better, he''d have thought the fat man was barely interested in magic at all.


    The days steadily passed like this, with Crassus failing to open his Realm while Arran and Snowcloud spent most of their time making plans on how best to face the dragon. Most of the plans they made were quickly discarded, but even so, by the end of the first week, they had some rough ideas on how to go about the whole thing.


    But then, one afternoon, Crassus suddenly interrupted his unenthusiastic magical pursuits, interrupting Arran and Snowcloud as they were discussing yet another strategy.


    "If you still want to attack the dragon, you should do it now," the man said matter-of-factly. "It''s already been recovering for the past two days. I thought you''d have noticed by now, but¡­" He shrugged.


    Snowcloud gave him a puzzled look. "Why do you think so?" she asked, doubt in her voice.


    "Experience," Crassus replied indifferently. "Look at its chest. Two days ago, it was barely moving with each breath the beast took. But now¡­"


    Arran and Snowcloud quickly looked over, and Arran was shocked to see that Crassus was right. The difference was a subtle one, but now that he knew what to look for, it was plain as day.


    He quickly turned to Snowcloud, whose expression was as shocked as his own.


    "He''s right," she said, a pained look in her eyes. "We can''t wait any longer. I don''t know how we missed it¡­"


    Arran cast a suspicious glance at Crassus, but he quickly turned back to Snowcloud. Right now, they needed to cripple the dragon before it could recover any further, and every moment they wasted, it would grow stronger.


    "We have to attack," he said. "Right now."

 Chapter 174 To Fight a Dragon 1

    "I don''t like it," Snowcloud said, shooting a worried look at the sleeping dragon. "It''s too dangerous."


    "I don''t like it either," Arran replied truthfully, "but we''re not exactly spoiled for choice, and if Crassus is right, time is running short."


    Snowcloud sighed deeply. "We could at least wait until nightfall. At least then, it won''t be able to see you."


    Arran shook his head. "It''s another eight hours before the sun goes down. By then, the dragon will be even stronger. Every hour we wait is another hour it has to recover."


    Snowcloud hesitated briefly, but then, she gave Arran a reluctant nod. "All right. Just¡­ be careful. This isn''t the fight we planned for."


    Arran knew that all too well, of course. They had expected there would be at least another week before they had to face the dragon, with plenty of time to plan and prepare. And in their original plans, they would attack in the dead of night, using their Sense and Arran''s Shadowsight to gain an advantage over the beast.


    But then, Crassus had informed them that the dragon was already beginning to recover, over a week ahead of schedule. And although Arran had some doubts about the fat guide, from what he could tell, the man was right.


    Which meant that they had to attack immediately, with nothing but an improvised plan and the hope that the dragon had only recovered a tiny portion of its strength.


    Arran did not despair at the prospect ¡ª he didn''t have the time for that. All he could do now was perform the task ahead as best he could, and hope for the best. If he survived, there would be time to worry after the battle.


    He quickly hurried along the edge of the valley, hiding between the rocks as he moved. Even though the dragon should still be fast asleep, he didn''t want to risk waking it ¡ª not until they launched their attack, at least.


    When he finally came to a stop, he was on the opposite side of the valley, in an area filled with rocks and outcrops. While the cover would offer little protection if the dragon attacked, he hoped that hiding should buy him some time until he accomplished his task.


    He grabbed his Duskcloak from his void bag immediately and wrapped it around himself. Then, he produced his weapon ¡ª the dragonbone bow Lord Jiang had given him years ago.


    While the ''dragonbone'' from which the bow was crafted was really just wood, the weapon was still a formidable one. Even now, with his body many times stronger than it had been when he received the bow, it still took him effort to fully draw it. And while he wasn''t sure how much it would accomplish against an adept, it could rip through a novice with ease.


    But of course, he wasn''t facing novices or adepts right now. He was facing an adult dragon ¡ª strong enough to effortlessly kill novices and adepts alike.


    Arran took out half a dozen arrows, then spent several moments getting his position just right. In the battle to come, he needed every advantage he could get.


    Finally, when he was certain he had done all he could, he raised his hand and waved briefly toward the rocks that hid Snowcloud.


    A moment later, a man-sized boulder at the far edge of the valley began to roll, seeming to move all by itself.


    This, of course, was Snowcloud''s doing. She was using Wind Essence to apply an invisible force to the rock, causing it to move even though she herself was several hundreds of paces away.


    Despite his anxiety, Arran could not help but be impressed by the feat. Although he was physically stronger than Snowcloud, this was something he wouldn''t be able to do using just magic ¡ª both his skill and control were clearly still a level below hers.


    The rock steadily rolled toward the motionless dragon, picking up speed as it moved, and soon it was hurtling toward the beast as if it was rolling down a hill, moving forward with a thunderous sound. But despite the noise, the dragon did not react ¡ª it simply lay there like a scaled, rust-colored hill, still unmoving.


    A moment later, the rock struck the creature, crashing into it with enough force to flatten even a strong mage.


    Yet although the boulder cracked into several pieces when it struck, the dragon itself was completely unharmed, its steel-like skin easily resisting the blow.


    Arran had expected this, of course. If the beast were that easy to injure, their task would be an easy one. All he needed was for the dragon to be awakened from its slumber.


    For a few brief moments, the dragon did not react, as if it hadn''t even noticed the savage impact. But then, it began to stir, sluggishly raising its head.


    As the dragon moved, Arran waited with bated breath, arrow nocked to his bow. The moment was almost there¡­


    The giant beast moved its head several times, as if trying to shake off the poison''s daze. Then, it opened its eyes.


    That was the moment Arran had been waiting for. At once, he loosed an arrow that soared toward the dragon''s head with staggering force. Before the arrow struck, he loosed a second, then a third.


    Before his Tempering, he would not have been able to shoot so quickly and still be accurate. But now, it was a simple matter, even from a distance of several hundred paces. The only question was how much the dragon would move before the arrows struck.


    The moment the third arrow left Arran''s bow, he sent a surge of Essence into his Duskcloak, and like that, he disappeared from sight. Hit or miss, he did not want to give the dragon a chance to find him.


    As Arran hid, the first arrow struck, ramming into the side of the creature''s head with devastating power¡­ and harmlessly glancing off its scales.


    Yet the sudden impact caused the dragon to turn its head, and the second and third arrows struck only a moment later, slamming into the beast''s left eye with enough force to shatter a stone wall.


    While the dragon''s scales were like steel, its eyes had no such protection, and the creature roared in pain as its eye was torn apart.


    Arran breathed a quiet sigh of relief. The first half of the task was completed. Now, all they would need to do was wait for the dragon to calm down, then repeat the feat and fully blind the creature.


    Between the force of the arrows and the three types of poison Snowcloud had applied to them, it should be at least several days before the beast''s injuries healed. And while it was fully blinded, they should have a far easier time causing it further injuries.


    Arran''s relief was cut short an instant later, however, when the giant beast turned its head toward his hiding spot. The creature let out an anguished roar, then slowly raised its massive body up on its legs.


    Then, it took a step toward Arran, its clawed foot hitting the ground with a booming crash. Another step followed, and slowly though the beast moved, Arran paled at the sight.


    A feeling of dread set in when he understood this beast wasn''t as stupid as its juvenile cousin. Even if the dragon had not seen him, it seemed to realize from where the attack had come. And now, the colossal creature was heading straight for him.


    Arran cursed silently, his mind racing as he tried to think of a way to escape.

 Chapter 175 To Fight a Dragon 2

    Arran stared at the giant dragon that was fast approaching him, focusing his mind and suppressing the sense of panic that was rising within him. He knew that if he succumbed to fear, he would die ¡ª to have any chance of surviving this crisis, he needed his wits.


    The creature moved sluggishly due to the poison that still lingered in its veins, but its vast size meant that it crossed half the distance between them in moments. Just a few moments more, and it would reach him.


    As he saw the dragon near, Arran felt an overwhelming urge to flee, but he resisted it. As soon as he moved, his Duskcloak would no longer hide him, and there was no way he could outrun the creature when it saw him.


    Instead, he steeled his nerves and forced himself to remain motionless. If what he had in mind was to work, he could only move at the very last moment, and not a second earlier.


    Only two hundred paces remained between Arran and the dragon, and it crossed another hundred paces in just a few short steps. By now, it had reached the rock-filled edge of the valley, and here, the beast briefly paused, its single remaining eye sweeping across the area.


    Arran smiled wryly at the sight, once more realizing that the beast wasn''t anywhere near as stupid as its younger cousin had been. For all its size and viciousness, there was a hint of intelligence to the creature as well. And even it wasn''t much, just that little spark of wit made the dragon many times more dangerous than it would be otherwise.


    After taking a brief look at the rocks and boulders that lay in front of it, the dragon suddenly swiped forward with its claws.


    The attack hit with devastating force, easily crushing the rocks within a dozen paces of the creature, with the shattered remnants flying off to the sides. Even the few barn-sized boulders and rock outcrops that lay before the dragon could not resist its staggering power, and they were shattered like glass.


    Then, it took another step forward.


    Arran did not move as the beast moved closer. He intended to shoot an arrow into the dragon''s remaining eye at point-blank range, when the creature was too close to dodge or block the shot. And to do so, he would need to wait until the very last moment before he revealed himself.


    It wasn''t much of a plan, he knew. Even if the dragon did not crush him before he could attack and the shot was successful, he would be left within range of an enraged colossus, with little hope of escape.


    Still, it was the only chance he had.


    But just then, when only fifty paces remained between Arran and the dragon, there was a sudden flash of light as a streak of liquid fire shot toward the creature''s head. It impacted a fraction of a second later, causing an explosion that would have obliterated a Shadowflame novice. A second streak of fire followed immediately, with a third hitting the dragon only a moment later.


    While the dragon shrugged off the attacks unharmed, it stopped in its tracks, its giant head moving in the direction of its new foe. It let out a vicious roar, and for a moment, it seemed like the beast was about to attack the latest threat.


    After only a moment''s pause, the dragon turned back to its previous target. It seemed the creature had decided to deal with its second attacker only after the first was dead.


    Yet the brief distraction was enough. The moment the creature turned back, an arrow came hurtling toward its remaining eye. It crossed the fifty paces in a fraction of a second and slammed straight into its target.


    Arran did not wait to see the result of his attack. The instant he loosed the arrow, he turned and ran as fast as he could, using every bit of power in his body to escape.


    Roars of rage sounded behind him as he ran, loud enough to shake the mountains around the valley, but Arran paid them no heed. Whatever the dragon was doing in its fury didn''t matter to Arran ¡ª the only thing that mattered was getting as far away as possible.


    Only when the racket at his back began to fade in the distance did he finally turn around. By then, he was already halfway up the mountain, and the immediate danger had passed.


    When he looked at the valley, the sight shocked him. In its rage, the dragon had completely devastated the valley, with the rocky floor now cracked in numerous places, each of the cracks dozens of paces long and several feet wide. And still, the maddened beast roared and raged, blindly destroying everything in its reach.


    Arran observed the scene for several moments, but then, he turned his gaze away and began to circle back toward the other side of the valley, where Snowcloud and Crassus were.


    Despite the devastation the dragon had caused, Arran did not worry about his companions. He knew that they would have retreated the moment Arran blinded the colossal creature, making sure to get far away as it wrecked the valley.


    On his way, Arran kept a large distance between himself and the dragon at the center of the valley. Even with the dragon blinded and poisoned, only a fool would dare come near it, and after his earlier moment of crisis, Arran had no taste for any more danger.


    He reached the other side of the valley nearly an hour later, finding Snowcloud and Crassus soon after. The dragon, meanwhile, still hadn''t calmed down, and Snowcloud stared at it with awe in her eyes.


    Crassus, on the other hand, merely looked amused, a faint smile on his lips as he looked at the raging beast. That a commoner would be unmoved by such a scene puzzled Arran, but there was no time to give it any more thought.


    The dragon had been blinded, but that was only the first part of the battle. If they didn''t harm it any further, its wounds would heal in days, and Arran had no intention of finding out what it would do once it regained its sight.


    As he reached his two companions, he turned to Snowcloud. "Thank you," he said. "Your attack saved my life."


    She nodded in response, though there was a hint of joy in her eyes. "I was afraid you wouldn''t make it."


    "So was I," Arran replied honestly. It had been a close thing, and without the distraction of Snowcloud''s attack, he would have had little chance of escaping the dragon alive. Moreover, Snowcloud had risked her own life in saving him ¡ª had her attack lured the dragon away from Arran, she would have had to face it herself.


    Snowcloud glanced at the dragon. "Time for the next step?"


    "We''ll get in position now," Arran said. "And the moment the dragon calms down, we''ll launch the next attack."


    At once, he set off once more, this time toward the steep cliff at the end of the valley.


    While the dragon was blinded, its injuries were still mild enough to heal quickly. The next step, however, would set it on an inexorable path toward death ¡ª assuming they succeeded.


    A determined look formed on Arran''s face as he scaled the tall cliff, and he shot a vicious look at the titanic creature in the distance. He might be like an ant compared to his foe, but that would not stop him from killing it.

 Chapter 176 To Fight a Dragon 3

    Arran sat calmly at the edge of the cliff, looking down at the valley several thousands of feet below him.


    Nearly an hour had already passed, and although the dragon had still not calmed down, it was finally beginning to show signs of weariness. While it was still violently thrashing around and leaving giant cracks in the rocky floor of the valley, its movements were growing sluggish, and it seemed that with every passing minute its energy depleted further.


    Arran waited patiently. The more energy the dragon expended in its rage, the better.


    Finally, well over an hour after Arran had reached the top of the cliff, the giant creature appeared to have reached its limit. It let out a last vicious roar, then slowly lay down. Perhaps the beast had realized there was no chance of catching its enemies in its current blinded state.


    As the dragon lay down, Arran stood up. Then, he sent a thin but bright stream of Fire Essence into the air ¡ª a signal for Snowcloud.


    The brief spell of quiet in the valley came to an end almost immediately.


    Just seconds after Arran sent the signal, dull thuds began to sound from below as Snowcloud launched a series of attacks at the bottom of the cliff.


    The attacks weren''t strong enough to shake the cliff, much less damage it, but they were loud enough to make the dragon raise its head instantly. A moment later, it raised itself up, then started toward the noise. By now, its movements were weary and lethargic, which Arran observed with some satisfaction ¡ª the weaker the beast was, the easier it would be to harm it.


    When the dragon reached the foot of the cliff, Arran hurried a dozen paces back, then drew his starmetal sword.


    In the three weeks he had waited for Snowcloud and Crassus, he had already hewn deep cracks and fissures into the edge of the cliff, stopping just short of causing the entire edge to collapse.


    Now, when he struck the stone with all his might, cracks instantly shot out and rumbles could be heard deep within the rock. He struck several times more, and as he did the rumbling rapidly grew louder.


    When he felt a slight movement beneath his feet, he immediately retreated a hundred paces, and not a moment too soon ¡ª in an instant, the entire cliff''s edge seemed to come apart, and hundreds of tons of rock plummeted into the depths below.


    Even if it was exactly what Arran planned and expected to happen, the sight of the collapse still filled him with awe. Had there been a town at the bottom of the cliff, he was certain it would be completely obliterated.


    Yet his target was a dragon rather than a town, and awe-inspiring though the sight might be, he now found himself worrying whether the devastating collapse had done enough damage to the vast creature.


    He quickly made his way back down the side of the cliff to see what harm the devastating attack had wrought, fervently hoping that the dragon had not somehow managed to dodge the many tons of stone that should have rained down on it.


    As he reached the bottom of the cliff he saw that Snowcloud was already approaching him, and from her excited expression, he could immediately tell that the attack had struck true.


    "We got it!" she said in a spirited voice. "Half the cliff came down right on top of it!"


    "Let''s go take a look," Arran responded, an eager smile on his face.


    They wasted no time in heading to the vast field of rock and debris that lay at the bottom of the cliff, and even as they approached, Arran could see that the dragon was injured badly. Half its body was covered in giant pieces rubble, one of its wings looked to be shattered, and there were several gaping wounds on its neck and side.


    Yet for all its injuries, it was clear that the beast still lived, and as they neared it, Arran could see it was already trying to free itself from the tons of rock that covered it.


    At once, he grabbed his bow, then shot several arrows into each of its already ruined eyes. The dragon roared in pain, but the sound was far weaker than it had been before. Clearly, its injuries were grave.


    Snowcloud turned to Arran with a shocked look. "We can''t kill it yet!" she said, voice filled with worry. "It has to recover from the poison first!"


    Arran shook his head. "There''s no chance of killing it right now," he replied. "What we should do is worsen its injuries, so it takes longer to recover."


    He was absolutely certain of this. He had figured out long ago that the effects of Natural Essence were similar to those of Blood magic, and with as much Natural Essence as the dragon''s body held, he was confident that the creature could recover from any injury that didn''t kill it outright.


    What he was worried about wasn''t that they might accidentally kill the dragon, but that they might fail to keep it crippled long enough to starve it. Once the poison''s effects wore off, he expected it to recover at a terrifying rate, and the only way to defeat it would be to harm it while it was still vulnerable.


    Yet Snowcloud didn''t seem convinced. "Are you sure?" she asked, doubt in her eyes as she glanced at the wounded beast.


    "I am," Arran replied. "Bad as this looks, we''ll need to make it a whole lot worse just to have a chance of beating that thing."


    "You mean¡­" Snowcloud''s eyes went wide.


    Arran nodded. "Attack it with all you have, right now."


    He did not wait for Snowcloud''s response. Instead, he immediately began to gather Essence, then launched the strongest Windblade he could create at one of the open wounds on the dragon''s side.


    Once more, the creature roared in pain and fury, but Arran did not hesitate before launching another attack, and even as that attack struck, he launched yet another. Right now, the creature was at its most vulnerable, and that was an opportunity they couldn''t waste.


    A moment after Arran attacked, Snowcloud joined in. While her attacks were reluctant at first, when she saw that the attacks barely had an effect on the wounded dragon, she soon stopped holding back.


    For the better part of an hour, they attacked with all their might, bombarding the giant dragon with a barrage of magic, every attack aimed at the grievous wounds that already covered its body.


    Even so, the creature still managed to somehow drag its vast body from underneath the rubble, moving away from the cliff while it roared and screeched in anguish. While its shattered body wasn''t anywhere near fast enough to pose a threat to Arran and Snowcloud, they still found themselves steadily retreating, making sure to keep a good hundred paces between themselves and the dragon.


    When it was around four hundred paces from the cliff, the dragon appeared to give up on the idea of chasing its attackers. Instead, it lay down, then covered its wounded body with its broken wings as best it could.


    Yet despite the relentless attacks from Arran and Snowcloud, the creature''s wounds were only barely getting worse. While its skin was all but impervious to magic, its flesh seemed to be nearly as strong, and despite their best efforts, their attacks did little to damage the dragon.


    After an hour, both Arran and Snowcloud had all but run out of Essence. By now, their attacks had slowed down significantly, and they had to recover for several minutes after each attack they launched.


    The dragon, meanwhile, had all but stopped reacting to the constant attacks. It would occasionally let out deep roars of pain, but other than that, it was almost like they were attacking a giant hill ¡ª except that the beast was far harder to damage than rock or steel.


    "They''re tough creatures," Crassus said. The man had quietly observed their assault, a thin smile on his lips as he watched.


    "Seems that way," Arran responded with a short nod. Then, he turned to Snowcloud. "You take some rest, and I''ll keep attacking it." He frowned briefly, then added, "And if you can, make some poison as well ¡ª as many types as you can."


    She looked like she was about to say something, but then, she nodded at him. "I''ll take over after I get a few hours of sleep," she said, exhaustion clear on her face.


    As she headed toward the edge of the valley, Arran drew his bow once more. The fight was far from over, and if they were to prevail, they would have to spend the next several weeks taking turns attacking the dragon, not giving it the chance to rest for even a moment.


    He took a deep breath, then shot an arrow deep into one of the colossal beast''s open wounds. It would be a long night, he knew.

 Chapter 177 To Fight a Dragon 4

    Arran cursed loudly as his arrow narrowly missed the dragon''s eye and glanced harmlessly off its scales. Immediately, he shot another one, and this time, the attack struck true.


    Rather than being relieved, he merely sighed in exhaustion.


    Over a week had passed since the cliff collapsed on top of the beast, and after the initial attack, they had launched a constant stream of spells and arrows at it, determined to never give it more than a few minutes of respite.


    They had some success in the first few days, with the dragon''s wounds growing larger under their constant attacks. Yet even as they grew exhausted from the constant effort, the results of their labor grew smaller with each day.


    By now, they struggled just to keep their foe from healing even as they attacked it.


    The dragon, for its part, had all but stopped responding to the attacks. It merely lay on the ground, resting even while they desperately tried to harm it.


    The situation made Arran feel as if he was an ant trying to kill a sleeping tiger.


    He had grown more confident in his strength over the past year, but now, he began to understand just how insignificant the small bit of power he held truly was.


    Still, he did not allow himself to succumb to gloom. After all, his plan wasn''t for them to defeat the dragon outright, but to weaken it through hunger and exhaustion.


    Just as Arran readied himself to launch another spell at the dragon with the small sliver of Essence he had gathered since his last attack, Snowcloud walked over to him. She looked as tired as Arran felt, with dark rings around her eyes and her skin even paler than usual.


    "I can take over for a while," she said. "You should get some rest."


    Seeing her exhaustion, Arran briefly wanted to protest, but then he thought better of it. He was every bit as drained as she was, and without rest, he would be useless.


    "All right," he said. He was about to turn away, but then, a thought came to him. "How long did it take you to get here from Relgard?"


    "Just over two weeks," she replied, looking slightly puzzled at the question. "Why?"


    "Nothing," Arran replied with a shake of his head. "Just a thought I had."


    Snowcloud gave him a nonplussed look, but she did not ask any further questions. Instead, she wearily turned toward the dragon, already gathering Essence to attack it once more.


    As Snowcloud began to cast a spell, Arran headed back to their makeshift camp. Yet eager though he was to get a few hours of sleep, he could not help but cast a pondering look at Crassus.


    By now, he was certain that Crassus wasn''t nearly as simple as he appeared to be, and Arran was beginning to have some thoughts on the man''s true nature and identity.


    Still, this was not the time to deal with the issue. For the moment, all he could do was remain focused on their current foe, and for that, he desperately needed rest.


    When he lay down on a musty gray blanket a moment later, he fell asleep in an instant.


    In the days that followed, they kept up their constant struggle to keep the dragon from recovering, exhausting themselves with constant spells and attacks. By Arran''s reckoning, the magic they''d already thrown at the dragon should be enough to bring down a small mountain.


    Yet rather than succumbing to the attacks, it was obvious that the dragon was actually recovering. Each day, its wounds grew slightly smaller, and each day, there was more vigor in its breath.


    A feeling of gloom fell over Arran as he observed the dragon. It was clear that at this rate, it wouldn''t be long before the creature regained its old strength ¡ª and when it did, they would have no way to seriously harm it, much less defeat it.


    By the end of the second week, Snowcloud approached Arran with a serious look in her eyes.


    "The poison has worn off by now," she said. "And no matter what we do, the dragon grows stronger by the day."


    Arran nodded silently.


    "Your plan¡­" Snowcloud hesitated briefly before continuing. "It''s not going to work. The dragon is healing faster than we can injure it."


    "You''re right," Arran replied, a wry smile on his face. "It will be fully healed long before we can starve it."


    There was no point in denying the obvious. The giant creature was healing more rapidly by the day, and they would be lucky if it remained immobile for another few days, much less the weeks or months they would need to starve it.


    Had they been stronger or the dragon weaker, perhaps the plan might have worked. But as it was, they simply lacked the power to keep the beast from recovering its power.


    "But we don''t actually have to kill it." A small smile appeared on Snowcloud''s face as she spoke. "Now that the poison has worn off, all we need is its blood ¡ª and for that, we don''t have to defeat it."


    Arran''s eyes went wide with understanding. "So all we need is to make it bleed, then gather the blood?"


    Snowcloud nodded. "If we focus all our attacks on one of the wounds, we can easily make it bleed. And with the dragon still blinded, gathering the blood shouldn''t be all that difficult."


    The sudden realization almost caused Arran to burst into laughter as he realized that the dragon hadn''t been the only one who had been blinded. In his focus on killing the dragon, he had forgotten about their actual goal, which was to find a cure for the Patriarch. And now that the dragon had defeated the poison, all they needed was its blood.


    Yet just as Arran was about to agree to Snowcloud''s plan, he looked at the dragon, and a feeling of unease came over him.


    While getting the dragon''s blood would achieve their goal, to Arran, the creature''s entire body represented a priceless treasure. Just the Natural Essence in its flesh would allow him to increase his strength many times over, and he knew that its skin and bones would be equally valuable.


    To walk away from such a fortune was something he knew he would regret for years to come, and he doubted a chance like this would come again. Moreover,


    Of course, by now he knew he had no way to kill the beast himself. But if his suspicions were correct¡­


    "Crassus!" he called out.


    The fat man was sitting on the ground a few dozen paces away, and on hearing Arran''s voice, he looked up with a questioning expression. "What is it?"


    "Come over," Arran said. "I have an offer for you."


    Crassus stood up and quickly approached them. "An offer?" he asked, interest appearing in his eyes.


    Arran took a deep breath and forced the doubts he still had from his mind. "If you kill the dragon," he said, "I will help you open your Realm."


    "You want me to kill the dragon?" The man looked both puzzled and amused as he glanced at Arran. "What makes you think I can do that?"

 Chapter 178 The Best Way to Kill a Dragon...

    "Well?" Crassus gave Arran an expectant look. "Why do you think I can kill a dragon?"


    Arran took a deep breath before speaking. Even if he was fairly confident in his suspicions, he knew what he was about to say would sound like madness. And if he was right, there would be some risk in revealing the secret.


    Finally, he looked Crassus in the eyes, and softly said, "You''re a dragon yourself."


    While Snowcloud looked at Arran as if he had gone mad, Crassus seemed quite amused, and a big grin appeared on the man''s face.


    "You think I''m a dragon?" Crassus chuckled. "Any reason for that?"


    Arran had many reasons for his suspicions. Crassus knew too much about dragons, showed too little fear of the dragon in the valley, and had returned with Snowcloud too quickly. And that was just the start of it.


    Still, he didn''t mention any of this, instead only uttering a single word.


    "Relgard."


    Crassus frowned. "What about it?"


    "This mountain range is filled with dragons," Arran said, looking intently at the Crassus as he spoke. "Given its location, the town should have been overrun long ago. Yet somehow, it still persists."


    The fat man''s eyes narrowed. "Perhaps the town has a powerful protector. So what? Why would it need to be a dragon?"


    "When I observed this one," Arran said, gesturing at the wounded dragon at the center of the valley, "I saw that it needed to spend every waking hour hunting just to keep itself fed. But then, I wondered how an even bigger one would accomplish the task, and I realized it would need to hunt something far bigger than sheep."


    Crassus remained silent, though he looked at Arran with an expression of interest.


    Arran gazed at the mountains that surrounded them, then continued, "Wouldn''t a larger dragon, intelligent from countless years of absorbing Natural Essence, want its own hunting grounds, filled with creatures large enough to sate even a titan''s appetite?"


    A thin smile appeared on Crassus''s face. "Why do you believe such a grand creature would choose to assume a pathetic human form?"


    By now, Arran''s last doubts had disappeared, but he still answered the question as best he could. If he was right, annoying the man ¡ª or dragon ¡ª in front of him would be a very bad idea.


    "Perhaps a smaller body requires less energy to maintain," he replied. "But more importantly, with its intelligence, centuries of solitude would leave it bored ¡ª especially if most of its own kind were dumber than rocks, unable to even speak. That''s why it would choose to surround itself with humans, and that''s why it would choose to help a few curious mages."


    It was a guess, but Arran didn''t think he was wrong. Just the year he had spent in the Academy dungeon had been excruciatingly dull, and he couldn''t begin to imagine what spending thousands of years without a single conversation would be like.


    Hearing Arran''s words, Crassus gave him a look that held both amusement and curiosity, as if he had just encountered a pleasant surprise.


    "Very well," Crassus finally replied, a cheerful smile appearing on his face. "You said you could help me open a Realm. How?"


    Arran breathed a silent sigh of relief. He had been fairly confident about Crassus''s background, but what had worried him was how the man would react to having his true nature revealed. However, as he had hoped, Crassus merely seemed amused by the unexpected turn of events.


    He quickly reached for his void bag, then took out one of his few remaining Realm Opening Pills. "If you take this, any Realm you have will be opened instantly ¡ª although it will cause you some pain."


    The possibility that Crassus would take the pill by force didn''t worry him. From what he could tell, the fat man had little reason to betray them ¡ª both defeating the injured dragon and taking the pill would be equally easy for him.


    Moreover, it wasn''t as if Crassus actually needed the pill, or the Realm it would open. With the strength of an adult dragon, a newly opened Realm would make little difference, and Arran had already surmised that Crassus lacked the disposition to make any major achievements in magic.


    If his suspicions were correct, the man merely saw magic as a toy ¡ª an amusing distraction, but no more than that.


    "It will open any Realm I already have?" Crassus raised an eyebrow, a pleased expression appearing on his face.


    "It will," Arran confirmed. "So do we have a deal?"


    Crassus gave him a nod, then said, "I''ll take half the body. Now step back."


    Arran did as the man said, rapidly retreating several hundreds of paces with Snowcloud at his side. As they ran, she gave Arran a curious look, but she didn''t say anything.


    Only when they passed the edge of the valley did they turn around, and Arran was unpleasantly surprised when he saw that Crassus was casually disrobing, then neatly folding up his clothes and laying them down by his side.


    The sight of the fat, naked man was unwelcome, but Arran did not turn away ¡ª he wouldn''t risk missing what was about to happen.


    When Crassus was fully naked, he stretched out for a moment, looking much like someone who had just awoken and left his bed.


    But then, suddenly, the man''s body began to grow rapidly, shooting up like a sprout growing into a vast tree. As his sized increased, his ruddy skin turned a deep crimson, and large wings sprouted from his back.


    The sight filled Arran with awe and terror in equal measure. Before his eyes, Crassus was transforming into a vast dragon that utterly dwarfed the injured dragon in front of it, and still, he was rapidly growing even larger.


    As he passed a thousand feet in height, his growth finally seemed to slow, but it did not stop completely. Only when he was nearly two thousand feet tall did the transformation end, and the sight filled Arran with awe and terror in equal measure.


    If the injured dragon was like a hill, Crassus was like a vast mountain, tall enough to reach the top of the cliff at the end of the valley, with wings so gargantuan that they could blot out the entire sky.


    Arran had been prepared for a shocking transformation, but this far exceeded anything he could have expected. It was a sight that could make the heavens tremble, and Arran had trouble even comprehending it.


    Yet Arran wasn''t the only one who was affected. While Crassus transformed, the injured dragon had raised its head, appearing to sense that something was wrong even without its sight.


    The smaller dragon let out a panicked screech, then raised its body, causing a storm in the valley as it flapped its wings in terror.


    The titanic creature that was Crassus slowly turned its head toward its prey. Then, it opened its mouth, and its jaws suddenly snapped forward a moment later.


    Although the injured dragon desperately tried to flee, it was no use ¡ª compared to Crassus, it was like a mouse facing a tiger, and it had no way to resist or escape. With a single bite, Crassus tore off its head and most of its neck, and the dead dragon''s vast body collapsed to the ground with a thunderous sound.


    Just like that, the dragon that Arran and Snowcloud had spent weeks attacking died instantly, completely defenseless before Crassus. There was no fight or struggle, as its tough body was utterly unable to resist the single attack for even a second.


    After the dead dragon collapsed to the floor, blood gushing from its neck, Crassus''s giant claws tore it into two pieces. The titanic creature''s jaws shot forward once more, and in just three terrifying bites, it devoured the larger piece.


    Arran was shocked at the sight, and his shock nearly turned to panic when Crassus turned towards him and Snowcloud. Yet his terror eased a moment later, as Crassus turned back to the bloody remains of the smaller creature and quickly tore it into a heap of smaller pieces.


    Then, before their eyes, the gargantuan dragon began to shrink.


    A moment later, the titanic creature was gone. A fat, naked man now stood in its place, reaching for the small pile of clothes that lay on the ground next to him.

 Chapter 179 Dragons Blood

    Arran and Snowcloud were both speechless as they stared at Crassus. The sight they had just witnessed was simply too shocking to handle.


    Even though he had seen it with his own eyes, Arran struggled to believe that the humble man who stood at the center of the valley had been a titanic dragon only moments earlier. The difference was just too vast.


    Yet he knew it was true, and as he processed the shocking display he had witnessed, his mind slowly calmed. Still, a feeling of shock lingered within him.


    After some moments, Snowcloud turned to Arran with a mystified expression. "How did you even know dragons can take human form?"


    Arran smiled wryly. "Remember those childhood stories I told you about?"


    Snowcloud paled slightly, but she said no more.


    The truth was that while there had been many signs, Arran never would have noticed them if he hadn''t remembered the stories from his childhood. A few of those had mentioned dragons turning human, and those memories had helped him see through Crassus''s ruse.


    Yet now, with everything Arran had learned about magic, he found himself wondering just how Crassus did it.


    Normal magic couldn''t explain the transformation. Of that, Arran was certain. Crassus clearly didn''t have any magical skill, and even if he did, he lacked the disposition to truly master it.


    Moreover, Arran remembered well what Snowcloud had taught him about balance in magic: too much Body Refinement would make it far harder to control Essence-based magic, especially without Essence Crystals.


    Yet the only other explanation was that Crassus''s Natural Essence had reached such a level that he could reshape his body at will, and Arran could not help but wonder what else could be achieved through Body Refinement. He had thought Body Refinement merely gave physical strength, but now, he realized it might not be as simple.


    He frowned briefly, but then put the matter aside.


    "Let''s go," he said to Snowcloud. With an uneasy smile, he added, "I''d rather not keep him waiting."


    Snowcloud nodded nervously, and they quickly made their way to Crassus. While the man had shown them only kindness, after seeing his power they could not help but feel anxious at the prospect of facing him again.


    Yet when they reached Crassus, the man was completely back to his old self ¡ª fat, ruddy, and dressed sloppily, every bit the drink-loving guide Arran had met at a tavern in Relgard.


    Despite the man''s changed appearance, Snowcloud still bowed respectfully. "Lord Crassus," she greeted him, a hint of awe in her voice.


    "Lord?" Crassus raised an eyebrow, and it was clear he wasn''t pleased with the title.


    "Thanks for butchering the beast," Arran quickly interjected. "Did a better job than I could."


    A broad grin appeared on Crassus''s face. "Glad to be of help," he said, seeming gratified that Arran had recognized his gesture.


    In truth, although it was a small matter for Crassus to tear apart the beast''s remains, he had done Arran a big kindness. By himself, Arran would have struggled to cut the dragon''s carcass into pieces small enough to move to his void bags. After all, even with the beast dead, its body still held great strength.


    The favor gave Arran some trust in Crassus''s benign intentions, and he quickly took out a Realm Opening Pill, then handed it to Crassus.


    "My part of our deal," he said. With a thought, he added, "I can add a few more Realm Scrolls if you like. Wind, maybe?"


    He had no shortage of Realm Scrolls, and he figured that apart from Fire, Wind would likely be the most interesting Realm to a flying dragon. Giving a few scrolls would be a small price to pay for the man''s good will.


    Crassus shook his head in response. "I already have a bunch of Realms. I just never got around to opening them." He glanced at the pill in his hand, then unceremoniously threw it in his mouth and swallowed it.


    At once, Arran''s eyes went wide. He had not expected Crassus to take the pill immediately.


    "The pill¡­" he began hurriedly. "It will cause serious pain while it opens your Realms."


    While he thought Crassus shouldn''t be affected too badly, just the idea of the titan being enraged with pain was terrifying.


    The man merely shrugged. "No worries," he said. He grinned and winked at Arran. "I''m fairly tough."


    Arran sighed, then nodded. "I suppose we should collect some blood," he said, turning to Snowcloud.


    "It''s best if we take it immediately," she replied. "It will keep for a few days, but the sooner we''ve absorbed the cure, the better."


    Though she didn''t look at Crassus, Arran knew what she was thinking. Once they absorbed the dragon''s blood, the cure would be part of their bodies, and other than dying there would be no way of losing it. As long as they managed to flee with their lives, they would be able to cure the Patriarch.


    Of course, if Crassus turned against them, they would have little chance of escaping alive, but there were many other threats in the region. Arran knew that Snowcloud would only relax once they had cured her grandfather, and not a moment sooner.


    For a moment, he hesitated, then finally said, "It''s best if I go first. My body''s tougher than yours."


    He did not mention the Blood magic. Although Crassus was friendly enough, he was simply too strong, and Arran had no desire to find out if Crassus''s benevolence would be tested by the hidden power within Arran''s body.


    "All right," Snowcloud said. From the look in her eyes, Arran suspected she''d had the same thought. "You go first."


    As they approached the dragon''s remains, Arran produced a big mug from his void bag, then filled it with blood from the giant pile of flesh before him.


    He studied the deep crimson liquid for several moments, and although he had already Sensed the vast amount of Natural Essence within, he was still awed at its overwhelming strength.


    "It will probably take me a few hours to absorb it all," he said thoughtfully.


    Snowcloud nodded. "I''ll watch over you," she replied.


    As Arran raised the mug to his lips, he could feel a slight tremble in his body, as if it was eager to absorb the power it felt.


    The feeling surprised Arran, and he quickly lowered the mug, then turned to Crassus with a questioning look in his eyes.


    "It''s strong," the man said with an amused grin. "But you''ll be fine."


    Once more, Arran brought the mug to his lips. He took a deep breath, then downed the viscous liquid in a single large gulp. The taste was both rich and revolting, and he nearly gagged as he swallowed it all.


    At that moment, he heard Crassus''s voice again, sounding even more amused this time. "You probably should have started with a drop or two, though."


    Even as he swallowed the dragon blood, Arran felt an overwhelming power erupt within his body, and he only had time to shoot a single furious look at Crassus''s laughing face before the violent power forced him to sit down and close his eyes.


    While he did not worry that the blood would kill him ¡ª he didn''t believe Crassus would send him to his death like that ¡ª he could already tell that he was in for a very bad time.

 Chapter 180 Blood Crisis

    The dragon blood contained a power unlike anything Arran had felt before, the Natural Essence within it so strong he trembled just Sensing its potency.


    The thought of absorbing it all filled him with both awe and excitement. He knew the experience would be painful, but equally clear was that it would benefit him greatly.


    As the power within the blood spread through his body, he quickly focused his mind, then began to use a Body Refinement technique. The only way to make the vast tide of Natural Essence in his body subside was to absorb it, he knew.


    Even as he attempted to absorb the power, he felt it course through his veins, violently raging through his body while he tried to control it.


    The pain might have driven someone else to despair, but Arran''s mind remained steadfast. He had faced worse both in his Tempering and while training in the Eidaran city, and this time, it was clear that it was a simple matter of enduring until he absorbed all the power.


    The first few moments were the worst, with the Natural Essence filling his veins until it felt like he would explode from the pressure. Nevertheless, he cycled it through his body, and after a while, both the pressure and the pain grew slightly weaker.


    Yet while Arran slowly absorbed the power, he began to feel that something was off. The Natural Essence in the dragon blood was not behaving as it should. Instead of being absorbed passively, it was as if it was actively merging itself with his body.


    The realization puzzled him for a moment, but then, surprise set in.


    Although he could only barely sense it, it was as if the dragon''s blood held its own Body Refinement method ¡ª one that was far more efficient than his current one.


    Had he taken less of the dragon''s blood, the effect would have been too weak to notice. But now, he could just barely make out what was happening, and even the hint of it helped him gain insights about Body Refinement.


    These insights weren''t something he could use yet, but with time, they could help him create a Body Refinement method superior to his current one.


    Now, he understood why Crassus hadn''t stopped him from draining the entire mug of dragon''s blood ¡ª it was a great opportunity, and seizing it would bring tremendous benefits.


    He immediately focused his attention on the Natural Essence within him, observing how it merged with his body. While he could only barely perceive what was happening, just that little sliver of comprehension caused him enough excitement that he forgot about the pain.


    This continued for some time, with Arran''s excitement only growing stronger as both his insights and his strength increased.


    Although most of his concentration was focused on absorbing the Natural Essence, there was a feeling of anticipation in the back of his mind. Just a mug of dragon''s blood had such an effect, and he still had half a dragon waiting for him once he finished.


    However, while he was engrossed in absorbing the power, he unexpectedly felt something different ¡ª something worrying.


    The Blood magic''s bloodlust had long been silent in his mind, and ever since the Tempering, controlling it had been easy. Yet now, he suddenly felt it grow stronger.


    That would have already worried him, but as the bloodlust strengthened, he also felt something different rising. Something was absorbing part of the strength he had ingested, a hungry force within his body that was rapidly growing in intensity.


    His heart trembled when he realized he was feeling the Blood magic, feeding on the power contained by the Blood magic. And as it grew stronger and more violent, he sensed that it wasn''t just trying to absorb the dragon''s blood.


    Rather, it was trying to absorb all power around it ¡ª including Arran himself.


    The realization filled him with shock, and he immediately attempted to stop it, guiding the Natural Essence in his body away from the devouring force. He didn''t understand what was happening, nor why, but what he did understand was the grave danger he faced.


    He focused every shred of willpower he could muster without delay, desperately trying to stop the devouring force from growing further. If left unchecked, he feared it would kill him.


    Yet its growth seemed unstoppable ¡ª even as he willed his power away from it, the suction it caused grew stronger and more violent, and he was powerless to stop it.


    Already, his body was growing weaker, and his power to resist faltered.


    With a surge of effort, he opened his eyes, and saw Snowcloud and Crassus sitting on the ground in front of him. Snowcloud stared at him intently, her expression worried, but Crassus still looked unconcerned ¡ª amused even.


    Arran struggled to form words to alert them to what was happening, but even making a sound seemed all but impossible with the violent energies raging within him.


    "Blood magic¡­" Just saying the two words took most of the strength he still controlled, and he could feel his resistance slipping. Still, with an effort of will, he uttered a final word. "Dying¡­"


    At once, a look of panic appeared on Snowcloud''s face, and Crassus''s amusement faded in an instant, an expression of grave concern replacing it.


    "Something within him is feeding on the blood," Crassus said. He turned to Snowcloud. "What is it?"


    Snowcloud hesitated, a panicked expression on her face as she weighed the danger of telling Crassus against the danger of whatever Arran was facing.


    "Speak, child!" Crassus barked the words loudly, and his voice held a hint of his draconic power.


    With another worried look at Arran, Snowcloud began to speak.


    "Someone used Blood magic on him¡­"


    She hurriedly explained what had happened to Arran in the deserters'' fortress, how he had been affected by Blood magic, and what Elder Naran had done to help Arran control it.


    Crassus listened intently, and finally, he shook his head. "I don''t know a thing about any of that."


    Snowcloud''s expression turned desperate when she heard those words. "Can''t you¡ª"


    "Step back!" Crassus interrupted her in a tone that brooked no argument.


    As Snowcloud retreated, he turned his attention back to Arran. "I don''t know what this Blood magic is, but I''d like to see it resist the power of a real dragon."


    Crassus took several steps backward, then gave Arran an annoyed look.


    "Idiot mage."


    At once, the man''s figure began to expand violently, his clothes torn to shreds as his body grew hundreds of paces tall in an instant. His size surged further, and within moments he turned back into his true form ¡ª an immense dragon.


    This transformation was far faster than his previous one, and if Arran had been able to speak, he would have exclaimed in shock. Yet even while he saw Crassus transform in front of him, he felt the Blood magic strengthening further, devouring both the dragon''s blood and Arran''s power.


    At this rate, he would soon be dead.


    When Crassus reached his staggering full size, once more having taken the form of a gargantuan dragon, he took several giant steps back. Then, his claws shot out at the ground between him and Arran, tearing through the rock and leaving a wide pit.


    Without hesitation, the dragon''s claws shot out once more ¡ª only this time, the target was his own leg. The attack left a deep gash in his flesh, and blood poured out in a large wave, filling the pit in an instant.


    His claws moved a third time, now toward Arran. In a single movement, he picked up Arran''s motionless body, then tossed it into the blood-filled pit.


    Although Arran knew what was happening, he was powerless to do anything. At this point, he could already feel that he only had minutes left, and all he could do was hope that whatever Crassus was doing would somehow save him.


    He fell into the pit with a splash, immediately sinking deep into the dark crimson liquid. As it enveloped him, he could feel its monstrous power pressing on his body. At any other time, he would have been awed by the power, but now, his mind was entirely focused on the crisis he faced.


    He tried to hold his breath as he was submerged in the liquid, but with his heart racing and his body on the verge of collapse, he only lasted a moment. Then, despite himself, he took a deep breath ¡ª and dragon''s blood filled his lungs.

 Chapter 181 Blood Battle

    As Arran''s lungs filled with blood, an instinctive panic rose within him. Yet there was nothing he could do ¡ª his body had been paralyzed by the Blood magic that tore at his life force, the violent force of it tearing any control he had from his grasp.


    He could Sense the power within the blood that surrounded him and filled his lungs, and he vaguely felt that if he could only grasp it, there might be a way to solve the crisis.


    But it was too late ¡ª the Blood magic was already devouring him, and he had lost the control he needed to resist it. Despite the power all around him, at this moment, he lacked the strength to reach for it.


    His consciousness was on the verge of slipping, and any moment now, it could disappear entirely.


    As he felt death approach, a sense of calm came over him, and his mind suddenly grew clear.


    In that brief instant of clarity, he gained some small understanding of the Blood magic that was attacking his body.


    He had believed he controlled the Blood magic, but now, he knew he had merely suppressed its effects. The Blood magic wasn''t part of him; it was a parasite, using Arran to feed itself. The strength it had given wasn''t truly Arran''s ¡ª it was a means for the Blood magic to grow stronger.


    And driven wild by the power in the dead dragon''s blood, the parasite had now turned against its host.


    The realization filled Arran with anger.


    His body belonged to him, and him alone. The Blood magic had been forced on him, but he had refused to yield to it, forced it to accept his control. That it now tried to devour him was something he could not accept and would not allow.


    A violent hatred rose within him. Even if he died, he would not yield to the alien force within him.


    With the last shred of will his dying body held, he resisted the devouring force, cutting it off from his power. It was a fight he could not win, like an ant trying to resist an avalanche, but if he died he would die fighting.


    For a fraction of a moment, he succeeded in halting the devouring force. He knew he could not last for more than a single breath''s time, but it didn''t matter. If this was his last moment, then he would use it to battle the foe within him.


    The moment Arran''s resistance blocked the devouring force from its nourishment, it suddenly surged in strength, lashing out with a blind hunger to consume whatever it could find. And in that instant, it pulled in the nearest source of power that wasn''t blocked ¡ª the dragon''s blood within Arran''s lungs.


    The Blood magic pulled a sliver of the dragon''s blood into Arran''s body, greedily devouring the power it held. Then, it pulled in more.


    A deluge of power from the dragon blood surged into Arran, and the Blood magic instantly began to devour it, feasting on its overwhelming strength.


    Yet for all its voraciousness, it could consume only a fraction of the power that bore down on it. There was simply too much of it to devour, and the remainder flooded through Arran''s body.


    Had it been normal Natural Essence, Arran would have been unable to absorb it in his current state. But this power was anything but normal ¡ª instead of waiting for Arran to take it, it immediately began to merge with his body, rapidly healing him and restoring his strength.


    Arran was shocked at the sudden effect. He had been on the brink of death only moments earlier, but now, he recovered almost instantly. And it didn''t stop there ¡ª more power flooded into him, and as it did, it eagerly fused with his body.


    There had been a hint of a Body Refinement method within the dead dragon''s blood, but in Crassus''s blood, it was no mere hint. The blood clearly contained its own shockingly powerful Body Refinement method.


    And at this moment, that method was forcibly merging power with his body, like it had its own will.


    Moreover, Arran could feel that as he absorbed the power, the Body Refinement was somehow also becoming part of him. Rather than just perceiving and understanding it, it was as if he was gaining a natural ability to refine and absorb Natural Essence.


    He had been on the verge of death only moments ago, but not only had he been saved, his strength was also increasing by leaps and bounds.


    Still, even as he felt himself grow stronger, he knew the crisis was far from over.


    The power in Crassus''s blood had brought him back from the brink of death, but at the same time, the Blood magic was feeding on it, allowing it to grow stronger with every moment that passed. And once the power in the dragon''s blood ran out, Arran knew the Blood magic would once more try to consume him.


    He could not allow that to happen ¡ª even with his increased strength, it would be a death sentence.


    Without hesitation, he focused his will on the power that flowed through his body. While the Blood magic was absorbing strength from the dragon''s blood, that strength had to go through Arran''s body first, and there, he had some control over it.


    He immediately began to draw the power away from the Blood magic''s devouring force, resolutely cutting off the parasitic force''s sustenance. It responded at once, violently lashing out to find more power, and Arran struggled to resist.


    This sudden battle continued for some time, with Arran fighting the Blood magic over the power that entered him, neither side strong enough to quickly defeat the other.


    As Arran''s body floated motionless in a pool Crassus''s blood, inside of him there was a battleground, with the parasite and the host engaged in a deadly fight for power.


    At first, Arran seemed to be on the losing end of this battle ¡ª the Blood magic was simply too powerful for him to block completely, and each time it lashed out, it would devour some strands of power and grow even stronger.


    Yet as more time passed, he began to realize that while the Blood magic was strong, it lacked intelligence. Much like the juvenile dragon he had fought, it blindly chased its prey, driven by nothing but hunger.


    Arran immediately acted on this sudden understanding, and he stopped trying to resist the devouring force ¡ª that was a battle he could not win. Every time the parasite lashed out, it would absorb power even if he resisted it. And if he moved the power away from it completely, it would once more begin to feed on Arran himself.


    Instead, he began cycling the dragon''s power through his body, luring the Blood magic to chase after it. It was a simple tactic, but against a mindless enemy, it proved extremely effective.


    The tide of battle changed almost instantly. Now that the Blood magic''s devouring force was fruitlessly pursuing the power that fled before it, it ceased to grow stronger. And Arran, on the other hand, was now absorbing even more of it than before, no longer having to compete over it.


    Hours passed like this, with the blood that surrounded Arran continuing to strengthen him. And the stronger he grew, the more the Body Refinement method integrated with his body, with his understanding of it growing at the same time.


    The more he understood of it, the more its ferocious nature astonished him. He could easily control it with a thought, but just to absorb power, there was no need to ¡ª it seemed to contain an innate and endless hunger that absorbed any power it found.


    Or rather, he realized with some surprise, it devoured it. Much like the devouring force of the Blood magic, the dragon''s blood contained its own devouring force ¡ª except unlike the parasite, this force nourished its owner.


    Deep within the pool of crimson blood, a ruthless smile appeared on Arran''s face.

 Chapter 182 Leaving the Blood Pool

    Arran naturally intended to destroy the Blood magic. As long as it remained in his body, he would be in danger. And now, he had an idea on how to eliminate it once and for all ¡ª by using the devouring force he had gained from the dragon''s blood against it.


    Still, he did not act immediately.


    The parasitic magic had already been stopped from growing stronger, and now, time was on Arran''s side. With every passing moment, he absorbed more strength from the blood that surrounded him, and the stronger he grew, the more confident he was in crushing the Blood magic.


    With that in mind, he waited patiently, observing the competing forces within his body as his strength gradually increased.


    Once more, he was surprised at the similarity between the two. Both were vicious devouring forces that hungrily consumed power, and both seemed to be far more efficient than the Body Refinement techniques Arran knew.


    Yet while the Blood magic was a hostile parasite, the devouring power in the dragon blood had fully merged with Arran''s body. Any power it consumed benefited him, and he could control it effortlessly with a simple thought.


    More questions arose in Arran''s mind, however.


    The Blood magic had previously only absorbed life force from dying enemies, but after he ingested the dead dragon''s blood, it had begun to devour Natural Essence as well.


    This gave him some pause, and he wondered whether it always had that capability or whether the dragon blood had merely awakened it. And in either case, he was still unclear on what life force actually was ¡ª though now he wondered if perhaps it was some special kind of Natural Essence.


    He considered the question for several hours, then gave up. Perhaps he would be able to learn more about it once he returned to the Sixth Valley, but for now, he had no way to find the answer.


    Instead, he focused his attention on the forces within his body, preparing himself for the struggle ahead.


    He remained within the pool of blood for several days, taking in the vast amount of power it contained. It was an opportunity the likes of which he wouldn''t see again soon, so he wouldn''t dare waste it.


    After some days, the power in the blood began to grow thinner, and he knew the moment had come ¡ª it was time to attack the Blood magic, and eradicate it once and for all.


    This was something that could not wait any longer. He could starve the Blood magic of power for a time, but only if he kept his attention focused. And while the constant supply of power in the blood around him had kept him awake so far, he would eventually need to sleep ¡ª and the moment he did, he knew the Blood magic would once more try to devour him.


    He took a moment to steel his resolve and prepare his mind for the battle ahead. While he was confident in his chances, he knew that succeeding would require all his willpower, and perhaps some luck as well.


    Then, he focused all the devouring power he had gained from the dragon blood, and willed it to attack the Blood magic ¡ª to devour it the way it had tried to devour him.


    Yet the battle that Arran expected did not happen.


    While the Blood magic furiously resisted his attack, its resistance lasted only moments. The devouring power the dragon blood had imparted on Arran overwhelmed it with ease, then viciously began to consume it just a moment later.


    His effortless victory left Arran baffled. The Blood magic had nearly killed him, but it completely lacked the strength to resist the devouring power from the dragon''s blood. It was like a flimsy wooden sword being struck by a heavy steel blade, collapsing almost instantly.


    Between the two devouring forces, it almost seemed like one was an inferior copy of the other, forced to recognize its master when the two confronted each other.


    Arran didn''t have the time to give the matter more thought. As his body devoured the Blood magic, its power was forcibly seized, and all the might the Blood magic had acquired for itself now became Arran''s in an instant.


    The sudden influx of strength briefly overwhelmed him, and even after what he''d already taken from the dragon''s blood, he could feel his body take another step forward.


    Then, the swell of energy suddenly ended, disappearing as quickly as it had come.


    Arran did not dare feel relieved just yet. Hurriedly, he checked whether any of the Blood magic remained, examining every shred of power he could feel within his body.


    What he found left him confused. The parasitic force itself had completely disappeared, but it seemed as if the devouring force from the dragon blood had subtly changed in absorbing it.


    This didn''t exactly worry Arran ¡ª he could feel that it was fully under his control, which had never been true for the Blood magic ¡ª but it did leave him with even more unanswered questions.


    He forced himself to put the matter aside, at least for the moment. The immediate threat was gone, and there was little point in worrying about things he could not change.


    Instead, he focused on draining the last of the power from the blood pool. This took him several more hours, and when he had finally absorbed as much as he could, he began to move toward the surface.


    His head rose from the crimson liquid a moment later, and as he opened his eyes, he saw Snowcloud and Crassus sitting on the ground a dozen paces away.


    Both of them were facing the blood pool, and it was clear that they had been expecting Arran''s emergence. Yet as he surfaced, although their expressions were relieved, their eyes still held a trace of worry.


    "I made it," Arran said, a smile appearing on his blood-covered face.


    At this, relief appeared in their eyes. They had obviously feared that what emerged from the pool might not be Arran anymore, but now, that fear faded away.


    "You had me worried," Snowcloud said, a soft smile on her face as she looked at Arran. "What about the Blood magic? Is it still inside of you?"


    "I destroyed it," Arran replied. He turned to Crassus, then added, "And I have you to thank for that. I don''t how I''ll ever be able to repay the debt I owe you."


    "A change of clothes would go a long way, if you have any in those magic bags of yours." There was a cheerful grin on the man''s ruddy face as he spoke, and he seemed every bit as relieved as Snowcloud at seeing Arran alive and unharmed.


    Arran now noticed that Crassus was wearing a robe several sizes too small for his large frame, and he remembered that the man''s clothes had been torn apart in his transformation. The tiny robe he wore must have belonged to Snowcloud.


    "Of course," Arran said, quickly producing several sets of clothes along with some rags and several jugs of water. After spending the better part of a week in a pool of blood, he also needed a change of clothes ¡ª as well as some serious scrubbing.


    While Arran quickly cleaned himself up, he asked, "Did the Realm Opening Pill work?"


    Crassus grinned. Instead of answering, he opened his mouth, then exhaled a thick stream of fire. When the fire dissipated a few seconds later, there was a content look on his face. "I''ve always wanted to be able to do that."


    Arran was relieved to see the man had opened his Fire Realm successfully, but then, a thought occurred to him. "You don''t have any void bags yet, do you?"


    When Crassus shook his head, Arran took one of his own, then handed it to Crassus and explained how to use it. He owed the man a vast debt of gratitude for saving his life, and while a void bag was hardly valuable, he knew Crassus would enjoy having one.


    He would find a way to repay the man''s kindness in the future, but for now, this was the best he could do.


    Crassus reacted much like he expected, immediately enthusiastic at receiving a magic item he could control with his newly gained powers. As Crassus began experimenting with the void bag, Arran turned his attention to Snowcloud.


    "Did you use the dragon blood?" he asked immediately.


    She nodded in response. "I did. Although I only took three drops, it should be enough to let me cure Grandfather."


    Arran coughed, slightly embarrassed as he recalled his decision to drain an entire mug of it. But then, his expression grew serious. "So we will travel back to the Sixth Valley now?"


    "We will, but I fear the journey will be dangerous." Snowcloud paused for a moment, a pained look appearing in her eyes. "From what Crassus told me, my mother obtained the cure in the mountains, then left Relgard soon after that. And with her power, the journey back should have held little danger."


    "Someone must have captured her after she left." Arran did not mention the other possibility, although he thought it more likely. Either way, the conclusion was the same: Snowcloud''s mother had encountered enemies on the journey back ¡ª enemies who wanted to stop her from returning with the cure.


    Snowcloud nodded slowly, the pain she felt still clear in her eyes. "But that''s not all. In Goldhaven, I told you that only people within the Shadowflame Society would know what she was after." She paused for a moment, then continued, "And if they caught her after she left Relgard, they knew where she went."


    Arran immediately understood the meaning of her words, and he cursed under his breath.


    "So they''ll know where we''ll be, too," he said. It wasn''t a question.


    "And that we succeeded," Snowcloud confirmed. She smiled wryly. "I didn''t realize it before, but that must be why they didn''t come after us earlier. A novice and a recruit should have had no chance of defeating an adult dragon ¡ª they expected us to die here. And if we had, there would be no need for them to get involved."


    "But we didn''t," Arran replied. "And once we leave the mountains, we''ll be hunted down like rats." His expression turned gloomy as he understood the implications.


    Snowcloud''s mother had been strong enough to obtain an adult dragon''s blood with just her own power, yet she had still been captured by her enemies. If Arran and Snowcloud had to face those same enemies, their chances of escaping would be non-existent.


    Yet after a moment''s thought, Arran''s gaze turned to Crassus, who was still happily playing with the void bag.


    Perhaps they had a way to escape after all.

 Chapter 183 Escape Plan

    "Absolutely not." Crassus''s voice was firm and his words plain.


    Arran nodded silently. Though his heart sank at the response, he understood that asking for even more help was too much ¡ª Crassus had already helped them more than could reasonably be expected.


    That he had still dared to ask for help was because he saw few other options, and Crassus''s answer was neither unexpected nor unreasonable.


    Yet when Crassus saw Arran''s dejected face, his expression softened and he sighed deeply.


    "It''s not that I don''t want to help, but I don''t dare get entangled with Shadowflame mages." He smiled wryly, then added, "They have some real monsters within their ranks."


    Arran blinked in surprise. "They''re stronger than you?"


    He knew the Shadowflame Society held powerful mages, but he had not expected that they would be as strong as Crassus. From what little Arran had seen, he seemed like a force of nature, capable of shattering mountains with ease.


    Crassus responded with a gloomy nod. "There are many who can match me, and more than a few can defeat me outright."


    With a shocked expression, Arran turned to Snowcloud. "Is that true? Are they really that strong?"


    She hesitated in answering, though she as stunned as Arran felt. "I don''t know," she finally said. "The Elders don''t exactly show off their power when they''re in the Valley. I knew they were strong, but¡­"


    Although she didn''t finish the sentence, her expression told Arran that she was every bit as surprised as he was.


    This puzzled Arran for a moment ¡ª she had grown up in the Sixth Valley, after all ¡ª but then he realized it made sense. If mages who were more powerful than Crassus regularly used their full powers in the Sixth Valley, he doubted there would be much of a valley left.


    "So¡­" An ugly expression came over his face as he considered the implications. "The people who will come after us won''t be weak, either."


    Snowcloud nodded weakly. "If they''re the same people who moved against Grandfather, then they must be strong ¡ª otherwise they wouldn''t have dared to do such a thing."


    Arran did not reply. Instead, he pondered their situation, and the more he thought about it, the gloomier he grew.


    They had been extremely lucky in getting as far as they had, only narrowly avoiding disaster on several occasions. Yet now, it seemed that the real dangers still lay ahead of them. And if their enemies could match Crassus in power, they would be utterly terrifying.


    For a time, they sat in silence, both Arran and Snowcloud looking gloomy as they thought about the return journey.


    Then, unexpectedly, Crassus spoke up.


    "I can take you to the border of the old Eidaran Empire, but no further." He sighed. "That''s as far as I can fly in a single night, but it should be enough to get you past any enemies who are lying in wait."


    Arran''s eyes instantly lit up, and he found himself speechless with joy. If Crassus brought them to the edge of the Eidaran Empire, not only would it save them months of travel, it would also allow them to skip the most dangerous part of the journey ¡ª because their enemies definitely would not expect them to cover months of travel in a single night.


    Crassus grinned when he saw their reactions. "I take it you''ll accept my offer, then," he said with an amused chuckle. "In that case, you should get ready. We leave at dusk."


    Arran wasted no time. Immediately, he set to work transferring the dead dragon that still lay in the valley to his void bags. He only had a few hours, and there was an entire hill of dragon flesh he had to store.


    Obviously, he had no intention of leaving any of it behind. The dragon''s body had already been a priceless treasure to him before he acquired the devouring force from Crassus''s blood, and now, he was certain it would benefit him even more.


    It would take him months if not years to eat every last bit of it, but he knew his body would be strengthened tremendously in the process. And if he safely made it back to the Sixth Valley, he should have plenty of time to eat it all while working on his Destruction Realm.


    As Arran packed the dragon''s remains into his void bag, Crassus observed him with some interest, narrowing his eyes as if he was studying Arran''s movements.


    After a while, the fat man finally said, "There''s something we need to discuss."


    "What is it?" Arran asked, although he suspected it would have something to do with the force that Crassus''s blood had imparted on him.


    Crassus shook his head. "Not now. We''ll talk about it in the morning. For the moment, focus on getting all that meat inside your bags. There''s only a few hours left, and if you leave anything¡­ I''m eating it."


    He said the last part with a grin, but Arran knew it wasn''t a joke. He had already seen Crassus devour a giant dragon in a few bites, and he had little doubt that the man would not hesitate to eat his treasure as well.


    With the threat fresh in his ears, Arran worked even harder than before, blindly stowing the large chunks of dragon meat in his bags as fast as he could.


    When dusk finally approached and the sun disappeared behind the mountains, Arran had managed to store most of the dragon meat in his bags. There were tons of it, but with his strengthened body, he barely tired, and finished most of the task in time.


    He briefly considered putting in a last short spurt of effort, but then, he thought better of it. Even if Crassus might not exactly need it, the man would probably enjoy a small snack before his flight.


    As he stepped back, he saw that both Crassus and Snowcloud were already waiting for him.


    "All done?" Crassus asked, casting a short but hungry glance at the portion of meat that remained on the valley floor.


    "All done," Arran confirmed.


    "Then let''s get ready," Crassus said. "When we fly¡­ just remember to hold on tightly."


    With those words, the man walked toward the center of the valley, then began to transform once more, his figure slowly taking on its old titanic size and shape.


    Although Arran had seen the spectacle several times already, the sight still filled him with awe. And when he realized he would be flying on the giant dragon''s back, he could not stop a broad smile from appearing on his face.


    When Crassus finished his transformation, he devoured the remaining dragon meat in a single bite. Then, he turned his giant head toward Arran and Snowcloud, and motioned at them.


    "I guess we''ll have to climb on his back," Snowcloud said, and when Arran glanced at her, he saw that she had visibly paled.


    Arran, on the other hand, felt his heart beating in excitement.

 Chapter 184 Dragons Fligh

    Arran and Snowcloud carefully climbed onto Crassus''s back. In his dragon form, Crassus was the size of a small mountain, and although though he had lain down on the ground it was like scaling a cliff.


    Arran noticed that Snowcloud glanced down several times as they climbed, and there was a gloomy expression on her face which only got worse the higher they climbed.


    When she saw Arran look, she gave him a weak smile, then said, "I''m not very fond of heights."


    He wisely kept his mouth shut. Reminding Snowcloud that this was just the start of it seemed like a bad idea ¡ª not to mention that she seemed well aware of it already.


    He finally chose a spot at the base of Crassus''s neck, where several large scales stuck out like rocks.


    "You should probably sit behind me," he said to Snowcloud.


    While he was strong enough to hold onto the scales, Snowcloud would have an easier time if she held onto Arran. And more importantly, judging from her fearful look, she could use some reassurance once they took to the air.


    She did as he suggested without protesting, sitting down behind Arran and wrapping her arms around him. "I suppose it''s too late to change our minds now," she said after she sat down, and miserable as she sounded, Arran half suspected that she would prefer facing their enemies over facing the skies.


    "We''re ready!" he called out in a loud voice.


    A moment later, Crassus stood up and spread his wings, and the sight left Arran awestruck. Crassus''s wings were large enough to cover much of the valley, shrouding it in darkness as if night had arrived several hours early.


    Then, Crassus dragon began to move, his wings slowly flapping as he prepared to take off.


    Just that small bit of movement to cause a storm within the valley, with the wind around them roaring and howling loudly. Once more, Arran found himself amazed at Crassus''s sheer power. They hadn''t even left the ground yet, and already he was causing the valley to tremble.


    Then, in a sudden sharp movement, Crassus flapped his wings forcefully, and Arran''s heart fluttered in his chest when he felt that they were leaving the ground.


    At the same time, at the edges of the valley, man-sized rocks were blown aside by the force of their ascent, and the mountains around them shook violently. A moment later, the half-collapsed cliff at the end of the valley reached its limit and broke apart entirely, crumbling into pieces beneath Arran''s eyes.


    It was a sight that normally would have astounded Arran, but now, he barely even noticed it, because right at that moment they surged up into the sky.


    Arran''s mouth fell open in shock when he looked down and saw the mountains rapidly growing smaller beneath them. Within moments, he could see for tens of miles around them.


    The sight was both beautiful and stunning ¡ª it was like standing on the tallest mountain in the world, looking out over the entire vast mountain range where they had spent the past months.


    Yet Arran had no time to enjoy the sight, because, at that moment, Crassus suddenly surged forward with such force that he nearly lost his grip on the dragon scales. Arran hurriedly strengthened his grip on the scales, and he could feel Snowcloud grabbing onto him tightly.


    He thought he could hear Snowcloud saying something, but as they tore through the air, the sound of the wind around them was far too loud for him to make out what she said.


    It was as if they were standing right at the center of the strongest storm in history, and Arran found that he had to grip the scales tightly just to avoid being blown away ¡ª and plunging into the depths below.


    For a brief while, Arran''s attention was entirely focused on the unexpected danger. Yet soon, he grew more comfortable, and as he did, the short flash of panic he had felt made way for exhilaration.


    He had been excited about the idea of flying even before they took off, and reality far his expectations. The only regret he felt was that it would last just a single night ¡ª if he could choose, he would fly the skies every day.


    Much to Arran''s disappointment, it wasn''t long before the last light of day faded and the lands beneath them were shrouded in darkness. In the dim moonlight, he could only barely make out the shapes of the mountains that passed under them, but even so, his eyes were filled with awe as he gazed at the lands below.


    With Arran fascinated by the sight, the hours passed quickly, and as night fell, the air around them grew even colder than before ¡ª though Arran only noticed this when Snowcloud held onto him even more tightly than before, pressing her soft body against his back.


    After the first few hours, when they had left the mountain range, he could occasionally see small lights on the ground below. These, he guessed, were towns and cities, filled with people who had no idea that a giant dragon was flying above them.


    More hours passed, and Arran knew they were crossing hundreds of miles in a single night. Every hour, they crossed a distance that would have taken at least a week on foot.


    He silently wished they could make the entire journey like this. They would be back in the Sixth Valley within weeks, with their enemies having absolutely no chance of catching up.


    Yet soon, the first light of dawn appeared ¡ª far quicker than Arran had thought or wished. And when it did, Crassus immediately dove toward the ground.


    Of course, Arran understood the reason for this. A mountain-sized dragon flying through the skies would draw attention for dozens of miles around, which was something they had to avoid. Still, Arran felt some disappointment when he realized the flight was coming to an end. Had it been up to him, it would have lasted for days instead of hours.


    Crassus descended sharply, and they plummeted toward the ground at a staggering speed. Only at the last moment did he suddenly flap his wings again, and although that slowed them a bit, the landing was still a violent one.


    With a thunderous bang, Crassus''s claws slammed into the ground, bringing them to a halt in an instant.


    After a moment to recover their senses from the rough landing, Arran and Snowcloud stood up, preparing to climb down to the ground again.


    "Are you okay?" Arran asked with a look at Snowcloud. She was even paler than before the flight, and her body trembled slightly.


    "I''m okay," she said, though her voice suggested otherwise. "But I''ll be better once I can feel the ground under my feet again."


    They quickly made their way down, after which Crassus wasted no time in transforming back to his human shape. When he did, Arran saw that his expression was thoughtful.


    "I rather enjoyed that," Crassus said. "But the region¡­ I last flew here centuries ago, when the Eidaran Empire was at the height of its power. Back then, you could see endless little lights for hundreds of miles around, with towns and cities everywhere. But it seems the stories of their misfortune weren''t exaggerated."


    There was a hint of nostalgia in his voice as he spoke, and Arran found himself surprised ¡ª this was a side of Crassus he hadn''t seen before. Yet when he thought about it, it made sense. The man had lived for hundreds if not thousands of years, and Arran could only imagine what it must be like to see the world change as much.


    "But enough of that," the man said. "Did the two of you make it all right?"


    Arran nodded enthusiastically, though Snowcloud''s response was rather less excited.


    "I just need to lie down for a bit," she said with a weak smile. "I''ll be fine after that."


    Crassus chuckled. "Not everyone has an easy time flying," he said, then turned to Arran. "While she rests, there''s a matter we need to discuss."


    "All right," Arran said. "What is it?"


    A serious expression came over Crassus''s face. "I take it you got more than just strength from my blood. That will benefit you greatly in the future ¡ª but there''s danger as well."


    "Danger?" Arran frowned. "The Body Refinement technique in your blood¡­ it''s dangerous to me?"


    "It isn''t," Crassus replied. "But the people who want it are."

 Chapter 185 Dragons Ruin

    "The power in our blood ¡ª what you called a Body Refinement method ¡ª is known by many names," Crassus began, his expression uncharacteristically serious. "Some call it a blessing, a bloodline, or a legacy. But those who know better call it by a different name ¡ª the Dragon''s Ruin."


    "The Dragon''s Ruin?" Arran frowned as he heard the name. "Does that mean it''s harmful?"


    "Far from it," Crassus said, a bitter smile on his face. "The Ruin will allow your body to grow stronger than most mages would think possible, helping you absorb strength without any effort whatsoever. And not just that ¡ª it will protect you against poisons and other harmful influences."


    "Then why call it that?" Arran asked.


    "Because it eventually ruins all of us," Crassus replied. "Many mages long to have this power for themselves, and sooner or later, we all fall to them. It''s a fate no dragon escapes forever ¡ª in the end, all dragons are slain by mages."


    Again, Arran frowned, though this time there was some shock in his eyes. "But even if they want your power, why would they need to kill you?"


    He could see why mages would want the power ¡ª what Crassus called the Dragon''s Ruin ¡ª but he did not understand why they would need to kill dragons for it. Especially with dragons as powerful as Crassus, asking for their help seemed a whole lot easier than defeating them.


    "Most mages don''t acquire the Ruin as easily as you," Crassus said. "That you gained as much as you did from just a few drops of my blood¡­ it would drive many of them mad with envy."


    He gave Arran a curious look, but then continued, "The stronger a mage grows, the harder it becomes to acquire the Ruin. For the strongest mages, not even all the blood in my body would be enough ¡ª they would need to find a dragon far more powerful than me, and drain it completely. And even then, they will likely fail."


    "Why is that?" Arran asked. He suspected that the Blood magic had helped him somehow, but he wondered why it would be harder for stronger mages to benefit from the dragon blood.


    Crassus shrugged. "I don''t know enough about magic to answer that. What I know, I''ve heard from mages, and you lot aren''t exactly the most straightforward of people."


    At that, Arran could only nod in agreement. In the few years he had spent among mages, he''d found that they were opaque at the best of times, and often downright unintelligible.


    Still, in this case, he had some guesses of his own about the matter.


    Both Essence and Natural Essence transformed the body, and as a mage grew stronger, over time his body would be more strongly affected. From Snowcloud, Arran had learned that the wrong balance in this could make it far harder to practice magic.


    What he suspected now was that a body rich in magic somehow resisted being changed by the Dragon''s Ruin, thus making it more difficult to gain its power. It was a guess, but Arran thought it a likely explanation.


    Still, that was a matter he''d consider another time. For now, he turned his attention back to Crassus.


    "So what you told me¡­" An uncomfortable expression appeared on his face. "Does that mean there are mages after you, too?"


    "Of course," Crassus confirmed. "From the moment my consciousness awoke, I''ve faced mages trying to take both my power and my life. That''s why I don''t dare come near the Shadowflame region ¡ª I''d be like a mouse in a cat den." He chuckled at the last part, then continued, "But now that you have gained the Ruin, you''re in danger as well. You might not be a dragon, but if others find out about it, you''ll be hunted like one."


    Arran nodded thoughtfully, but although he knew he should be worried, he couldn''t bring himself to feel any concern over it. "It''s just another secret I''ll have to keep," he said with a shrug. He already had plenty of secrets, and one more would hardly make a difference.


    However, a sudden thought occurred to him, and he narrowed his eyes as he looked at Crassus.


    "If mages are your natural enemies, then why did you help us?"


    At this, Crassus let out a laugh. "It must seem strange to you," he said, "but the truth is that most dragons aren''t good company, and normal humans just die too quickly. Most of them barely last a few short decades before dying." He sighed at the thought. "Mages might be dangerous, but at least they live long enough to get to know them."


    "Then you know other mages, as well?"


    "Of course," Crassus replied. "One of the few I count among my friends is part of your Shadowflame Society. Tall fellow for your kind, nearly twice your height. Came to kill me a few centuries ago, but instead, we drank together for several weeks ¡ª held his drink like a dragon, that one."


    "Elder Naran?!" Snowcloud interrupted, a look of shock on her pale face. She had been sitting on the ground, still recovering from the flight, but this seemed to have caught her attention.


    "Elder?" Crassus frowned. "He''s barely five centuries old. But the two of you know him, then?"


    "He claimed to have killed the dragon. That''s how he got his name¡­" She frowned deeply, almost seeming disappointed. "So that was all a lie, then."


    "I don''t know about any of that," Crassus replied. Then, with a glance at Arran, he added, "But if you know him, he''s the one you should ask about the Dragon''s Ruin. Knows a lot more about it than I do, truth be told."


    Their discussion continued until the fall of evening, with Crassus giving Arran advice on how to use the Dragon''s Ruin ¡ª most of which amounted to consuming lots of food with Natural Essence ¡ª and regaling him with tales of Elder Naran, who seemed to have built a name for himself in Relgard with his love for liquor.


    When evening finally fell, Crassus''s expression fell with it. "It''s time for me to go," he said, although it looked like he would gladly have spent another few days with them.


    Arran did not object. He thought that Crassus might be persuaded to accompany them for a few more weeks ¡ª if not more ¡ª but now that he knew the situation, he did not want to lead Crassus into further danger. For all his strength, the man''s guileless and forthright nature almost made him seem vulnerable.


    As night fell, they said their goodbyes, with Arran promising Crassus that he would visit him in a few years. Arran had every intention of keeping his word ¡ª after the help Crassus had given them, he already considered the man a true friend.


    Finally, when the sky had turned dark, Crassus transformed once more, his giant shape taking flight in a show of strength that once more left Arran wishing he could fly himself.


    Snowcloud looked at the giant dragon''s departure with a complex expression.


    "He''s not what I expected from a dragon," she said.


    Arran could only agree with her. They had both had their own ideas about dragons before meeting Crassus, but in the end, they had both been entirely wrong.


    "I take it we''re leaving in the morning?" he finally said.


    "We are," she replied. "With the lead we gained from flying, we should be safer than we would be otherwise, but even so, the journey ahead will be filled with dangers."


    "Then we''ll face those dangers, and defeat them," Arran said, trying to instill some confidence both in Snowcloud and himself.


    In truth, he was not at all confident about the road ahead. He knew little of their enemies, but what little he knew was already cause for worry. And even with their lead, he doubted that escaping unscathed would be an easy matter.

 Chapter 186 The Way Back

    In the night after Crassus departed, both Arran and Snowcloud were kept awake by their worries about the journey ahead.


    For several months, they had enjoyed something close to safety. While the mountains held their own dangers, none of those was the kind that would actively come searching for them, and within the vast mountain range, there had been little risk of their enemies finding them.


    In many ways, their hunt for a dragon had ended up being the most peaceful part of their journey across the border. While they had faced a single terrifying foe, it had been a fight where they held the initiative, and where they knew their opponent.


    But now, that brief period of relative safety was at an end. Their goal was to reach the Sixth Valley, and to get there, they would have to travel through a region that was filled with hidden dangers.


    After a night filled with worry, they got up before dawn. While they hadn''t slept more than a wink, they were both anxious to leave ¡ª the sooner they were gone, the sooner they would be able to get to safety.


    They ate a quick breakfast before they departed, with Arran hungrily devouring a large chunk of dragon meat. While the taste was nothing special, the surge of power it caused in his body filled him with excitement.


    Now that he had the Dragon''s Ruin, he no longer needed to spend time absorbing Natural Essence. Instead, his body absorbed it naturally, and far more efficiently than normal Body Refinement techniques would have allowed.


    Yet as he ate, Snowcloud looked at him with a troubled expression. Finally, she couldn''t hold back anymore, and asked, "Are you sure you want to do that?"


    He gave her a puzzled glance. "Do what?"


    "Eat the dragon meat," she said. "I know it makes your body stronger, but it will make it much more difficult for you to control your magic."


    Arran frowned. "I thought Essence Crystals were supposed to help with that?"


    "They will help," Snowcloud replied. "But with the amount of Natural Essence you''re taking in, the imbalance you''re creating will be hard to overcome even with their help. If you keep this up, you''re going to struggle as you practice magic, and becoming a truly powerful mage will be even more difficult than it already is."


    Arran pondered what she said, staring at the piece of dragon meat in his hands. He had no reason to doubt her words ¡ª he could almost feel his body growing stronger with each bite, as the Dragon''s Ruin inside him hungrily devoured every drop of Natural Essence in the meat.


    That such power would come at a price was only logical, but after a moment, he decided it was a price he would gladly pay.


    "The future only matters if we have one," he said. "And to make it back, we need every advantage we can get." He paused, then added, "But once we reach the Sixth Valley, I''ll focus on studying magic."


    Snowcloud nodded, albeit reluctantly. "I suppose you have a point. But after we return, you must make a serious effort to learn magic properly. If you don''t, you might never get past the novice stage."


    "I will," Arran replied, having every intention to keep his word. He had neglected magic from the day he learned about Body Refinement, but once he reached the Sixth Valley, he intended to focus on magic until he mastered it ¡ª if only because he wanted to discover what his Destruction Realm could do.


    Still, her words caused him to frown in wonder. With his physical strength and his resistance to magic, he could already easily defeat novices, and he was confident that even adepts would struggle to best him.


    If he continued on his current path, just what would the limit be? Would he eventually be able to match Masters in combat, or even Grandmasters? Or would he find himself at a disadvantage against mages?


    Arran gave the matter some thought while he finished his breakfast, but he had little idea of what the limits of Body Refinement and the Dragon''s Ruin were, or how long it would take him to reach those limits.


    After they finished their breakfast, they packed up, then quickly departed. The journey ahead was both long and dangerous, and it would grow more dangerous with every moment of delay.


    For the first few days, they avoided the large roads that ran through the ruins of the Eidaran Empire. While the roads offered direct routes through the empire, they lacked any sort of cover. And worse, they would be among the first places where their enemies would search for them once they discovered that Arran and Snowcloud had escaped the mountains alive.


    Yet within the week, they found that staying off the roads would be impossible ¡ª if they wanted to reach their destination, at least.


    Snowcloud''s maps were inaccurate at the best of times, and only by following the roads could they be sure that they were even heading in the right direction. Without that, it could easily be years instead of months before they found their way back ¡ª while smaller than the real Empire, the Eidaran Empire''s wilds were just too large for them to navigate.


    When they took to the roads, they found them empty and dilapidated, often overgrown with grass and weeds. And although they encountered the occasional merchant or wanderer on the road, making his way through the ruins of the former empire, on most days they didn''t meet a single soul.


    None of this made Arran more comfortable about traveling so openly, however, and he constantly swept the area around them with his Shadowsight, anxious and wary of all other travelers.


    Despite his misgivings, he had to admit that staying on the roads increased their speed greatly, and that mattered for more than just convenience ¡ª the sooner they passed through the region, the sooner they would reach safety.


    Moreover, because of Crassus''s help, their enemies would not know immediately that they had safely left the mountains, much less that they had covered weeks of travel in a single night. None of that meant they were safe, but it did mean that they had at least a chance of escape.


    With the roads empty and their hearts filled with worry, they traveled rapidly, covering dozens of miles every day. And while that did little to allay their fears, they knew that with each mile, they were getting closer to safety.


    Several weeks passed peacefully, and they were soon approaching the southern part of the Eidaran Empire. Still, Arran''s worries lingered ¡ª he would only relax when they had safely entered the Sixth Valley, and not a moment sooner.


    Then, as they were passing through the ruins of a small village, Arran detected a large group of people with his Shadowsight, heading toward them at a rapid pace.


    "There are people ahead," he said. "At least several dozen, and they''re rapidly coming this way."


    "Do we run?" Snowcloud''s expression instantly turned anxious.


    "Not enough time," Arran replied. "They''ll spot us any moment now, and there''s not enough cover to hide."


    "Then be prepared to fight."


    As she spoke, Snowcloud already began to gather Essence in her hand, and Arran''s hand shot toward his sword.


    If the people approaching were enemies, they would not be taken without a fight.

 Chapter 187 Unexpected Allies

    In the few moments before they were spotted by the group of people approaching them, Arran waited calmly. Although he was prepared for battle, he didn''t feel the nervousness that would have filled him in the past ¡ª between his Tempering and his experience, his nerves had strengthened a great deal.


    Moreover, the size of the group brought him some comfort.


    Powerful mages would not bring such numbers just to hunt a novice and a recruit, and if they were hunting for Snowcloud, they would not want to bring along a group of weaker mages. That meant that even if these people were enemies, they likely wouldn''t be particularly strong.


    The first people among the group quickly came into view, and when he saw them, Arran found his expectations confirmed. The men and women approaching them were young, and they were wearing the dark robes of Shadowflame novices and recruits.


    Arran relaxed at the sight. Although they might still be enemies ¡ª there were traitors in the Shadowflame Society, after all ¡ª he was confident that if needed, he could slaughter them all with ease.


    He glanced over at Snowcloud. "Anyone you know?"


    "I can''t tell yet," she replied. Her anxious expression had eased the moment she saw the Shadowflame novices, and now, the look in her eyes had changed to one of interest rather than worry.


    At that moment, a black-robed young woman noticed them, and she called out to her companions, "Over there! People!"


    The others quickly came over, and as they did, Arran and Snowcloud waited silently, unconcerned now that they knew there was no immediate threat.


    As the group came closer, Arran recognized two of the people among them ¡ª Zehava and the black-haired man who had defeated him in the tournament in Hillfort. It appeared the man had chosen to join the Iron Mountain novices.


    When the group reached them, a fresh-faced young man with long dark hair stepped forward. "Lady Snowcloud! We found you!"


    "So you have," Snowcloud replied in a cold tone. "But I can''t help but wonder why you were looking for me."


    "You''re in danger," the novice replied, his voice deferential. "The Iron Mountain has learned that there are people looking to harm you, and we were sent to help protect you."


    "There are people who want to harm me? Who are they?"


    The young novice''s expression grew uncomfortable. "I don''t know. Nobody knows for certain who they¡ª"


    "The Waning Moon faction," Zehava interrupted the novice. As she stepped forward, she pushed the young man aside. "Few people dare say it out loud, but it seems the Waning Moon faction harbors traitors. And for some reason, those traitors are after you."


    Snowcloud frowned. "How do you know about this?"


    "Elder Rahan discovered it some months ago," Zehava said. "When he found out about it, he sent several dozens of parties out to search for you, to bring you back to safety. We''re one of those parties."


    "If Elder Rahan knows there are traitors among the Waning Moon members, why hasn''t he taken action against them?" Snowcloud frowned as she asked the question, although there was a trace of shock in her eyes.


    Zehava snorted. "You know the answer as well as I do. If an Iron Mountain Elder acts against one of the other factions, it will lead to war within the Valley. Or do you think the Waning Moon would just accept Elder Rahan''s word about traitors among their ranks?"


    Snowcloud didn''t reply immediately, but her expression was thoughtful. "If the Waning Moon faction is after me," she said finally, "what help can a few novices and recruits offer?"


    "More than what you have now." Zehava cast a dismissive glance at Arran. "But it''s not just us. There are several adepts a few days'' travel from here, and Elder Rahan even sent a few Masters to this region. That should tell you how serious the matter is."


    "He sent Masters? More than one?" From Snowcloud''s tone, it was clear that this was something she hadn''t expected, and Arran surmised that sending out Masters was something that wouldn''t be done lightly.


    Zehava nodded. "Had it not been for the situation at the border, I think he would have come himself."


    "What situation?"


    "The conflict between the Waning Moon and the Soaring Sun has grown worse," Zehava said. "But I''ll tell you about that once we''re on our way." Looking around uncomfortably, she added, "No offense, but with you here, I don''t feel safe with just us novices ¡ª we should seek out the adepts as soon as we can."


    Snowcloud hesitated in responding, but only for a moment. "All right. We''ll join you."


    Arran did not object. If the Iron Mountain novices had bad intentions, they would have attacked immediately. After all, without them knowing about Arran''s strength, a single novice and a recruit would hardly seem like a match for half a dozen novices and over thirty recruits.


    They wasted no time in leaving, and as they walked, Zehava explained to Snowcloud that the Soaring Sun and the Waning Moon had both massed their forces near the Empire''s border. The Iron Mountain had responded by doing the same, blocking the way into the Sixth Valley for the other two armies in hopes of stopping the conflict from spilling over into the valley.


    So far, Zehava explained, the tension hadn''t boiled over yet ¡ª other than a few skirmishes between groups of novices and recruits, there had been no open battle. But the situation was like a heap of tinder, she said, and even the smallest spark could set the whole thing alight.


    Arran listened with some interest. Although he still knew little about the conflict, it was obvious that the Sixth Valley was on the verge of civil war. And if such a war erupted, he doubted he would be able to stay out of it entirely.


    As they traveled, he soon discovered that their companions had little interest in him, clearly seeing him as just another recruit.


    The novices'' attention was squarely focused on Snowcloud, whom they treated with a hint of reverence ¡ª likely owing to her status as the Patriarch''s granddaughter. The only one among them who did not seem awed by her was Zehava, but even she treated Snowcloud like a superior.


    Some of the recruits made small talk with Arran as they walked, but when he told them that his time across the border had been spent helping Snowcloud gather herbs, what little interest they had in him quickly faded.


    Arran did not mind this. Even if he had no reason to expect danger from the group, he remained prepared for unwelcome surprises, and the lack of interest allowed him to observe the others quietly.


    Still, no matter how hard he looked, he could not find anything suspicious.


    While the group was clearly wary of hidden dangers along the road, they did not appear to be concerned about Snowcloud and Arran at all. Had the two of them wanted to sneak off during the night, doing so would have been easy.


    But then, if Zehava''s story was true, they had no reason to flee. If anything, the Iron Mountain''s help offered their best chance of making it back to the Sixth Valley safely ¡ª especially now that they had learned the Waning Moon was after them.


    Two days passed quickly, and finally, Zehava said, "The camp is just a little farther ahead. And once we reach the adepts, we should be safe."


    A relieved smile appeared on her face, and in the distance, Arran could see clearing on the side of the road.

 Chapter 188 Iron Mountain Adepts

    As they approached the clearing, Arran studied the others in the group, searching for signs that something might be wrong. Yet hard as he looked, all he saw in the novices'' faces was relief at the prospect of handing over Snowcloud''s protection to more powerful mages.


    The only person whose face did not relax was the recruit Arran had faced in Hillfort.


    During the past few days, the dark-haired recruit had been quiet but stolid, seeming neither fearful nor anxious. Now, however, a hint of tension appeared in his eyes, as if something about the situation caused him concern.


    The change was a subtle one, but it immediately set Arran on edge.


    Although he showed no outward signs of worry, his muscles tensed and his hand moved toward his sword. If trouble appeared, he was as prepared as he could be, ready to spring into action in an instant.


    Right before they reached the clearing, he caught Snowcloud''s eye and briefly shook his head.


    The gesture was small enough that the others did not notice, but after over a year of them traveling together, Snowcloud instantly understood his meaning. There was a subtle shift in her movements, and he knew she was preparing for battle as well.


    When they stepped into the clearing, Arran saw that it was large and flat, with the ground covered in trampled grass. There were signs that there had been a larger camp not long ago, but right now the clearing only held three people ¡ª the Iron Mountain adepts, Arran assumed.


    As the group walked toward the small camp, the three adepts stood up and turned to face the approaching novices. Two of them were men, Arran saw, while the third was a woman. Had he not known already, he would not have guessed they were adepts ¡ª they looked exactly like novices, though perhaps slightly older and more confident.


    "Why did you return so soon?" one of the adepts called out, his voice curious but casual.


    "We found her!" the fresh-faced novice replied in an excited tone, and the smile on his face held a trace of pride.


    "Lady Snowcloud?" the adept''s gaze fell on Snowcloud, and he raised his hand as if to greet her. The gesture seemed entirely normal, and yet, to Arran''s eyes something about it was off.


    At once, he rushed in front of Snowcloud, and in the corner of his eye he saw the dark-haired recruit do the same with Zehava.


    There was no time for him to wonder about the recruit''s actions, because an instant later, a crescent of white flame exploded from the adept''s hand. It rapidly expanded outward, reaching their group a fraction of a second later.


    The wave of fire hit Arran head-on, but powerful though it was, it was spread out too much to cause him any serious injuries ¡ª while the force that hit him exceeded a novice''s full-strength attack, by now, that was something he could easily withstand.


    But the novices and recruits lacked his toughness. The surge of flame hit them before they could react, and against such power, they had no defense. They fell in an instant, dying as their bodies were engulfed in the flames.


    As they died, Arran felt his Dragon''s Ruin devour their life force, filling him with power and healing his injuries.


    He did not hesitate in reacting. Before the attack even ended, he drew his sword, then dashed forward toward the three adepts. Their magic far surpassed his own, but at close range, he should have a chance.


    In the moment it took Arran to reach the adepts, a large boulder flew past him, soaring toward the woman standing at the middle of the three.


    She moved to block it with a Wind Shield, but when the boulder struck, it unexpectedly wasn''t stopped. Instead, it shattered into numerous shards, none of which were slowed in the slightest. A moment later, the shards of rock tore through her body in dozens of places.


    Arran did not let the woman''s death distract him, and he ignored her ruined body as it collapsed to the ground.


    Instead, he rushed at the adept who had attacked first, sword raised and ready to strike. The man stumbled backward as he drew his own sword, but still, he launched another attack before Arran reached him ¡ª a white ball of fire that struck Arran in the center of his chest.


    The attack staggered Arran, but only for a second. Then, ignoring the pain, he crossed the last few paces between himself and the adept, and immediately launched a furious series of blows at the man.


    Arran''s onslaught drove the adept back several paces, but his opponent somehow managed to avoid being struck, expertly deflecting Arran''s blade with his own. Despite the man''s resistance, Arran continued to attack with all his strength ¡ª giving the adept even the slightest respite could only end badly.


    For several long seconds, they were at an impasse. While Arran held the advantage, he could not easily break through his foe''s defenses, and with another adept still alive, he had no time to wear his opponent down.


    But then, a thin stream of fire soared forth from behind Arran ¡ª one of Snowcloud''s attacks, headed straight for the adept. The man raised a Wind Shield to block it just in time, but the distraction was enough to create an opening in his defenses.


    With a brutal two-handed strike, Arran battered the adept''s sword aside. A panicked look appeared on the man''s face as he tried to move backward, but it was too late ¡ª an instant later, Arran''s blade cleaved his body from neck to waist.


    Arran tore his sword free as the adept''s body slumped to the ground, then turned to face the final adept ¡ª just in time to see the man''s head explode in a mist of blood.


    He quickly looked at the battlefield, and saw that only four people remained alive ¡ª Snowcloud, Zehava, and the mysterious recruit. Both Snowcloud and the recruit seemed calm, but Zehava''s eyes were filled with panic.


    "They tried¡­ You killed¡­" Her wide eyes darted between the recruit and Arran as she tried to form a complete sentence. Finally, she blurted out, "You''re not recruits!"


    A small smile appeared on the recruit''s lips, and with a nod at Arran, he sheathed his sword. After a moment''s hesitation, Arran did the same. The recruit had clearly been the one who killed the other two adepts, and whoever he was, if he meant them harm he would have acted already.


    "My real name is Athan Kulik, or Rockblaze," the recruit said. "I''m an adept of the Seventh Valley. The Matriarch sent me to investigate the situation in the Sixth Valley. Can''t say I expected it to be quite as bad as this, though." He glanced at Arran and raised an eyebrow. "As for this one, I have no idea."


    "I just had some lucky encounters," Arran said, then turned to Snowcloud. "Are you all right?"


    She smiled at him, then nodded. "Thanks to you."


    "You helped me as well," he replied. While he thought he could have defeated the adept by himself, without Snowcloud''s help the battle would have been a great deal harder.


    "Why did they attack us?! We almost died!" Zehava interrupted them as she stared at Rockblaze. "And you lied to me!"


    "It should be obvious why they attacked," Rockblaze replied. "The real traitors are part of your Iron Mountain. That''s why I chose to join you."


    "You joined me to spy on the Iron Mountain?" The look of shock on Zehava''s face grew even stronger as she spoke, and to Arran''s eyes, it seemed like she was on the verge of breaking down completely.


    "And it''s a good thing I did, or you''d be dead now."


    "But if they¡­" Zehava paused mid-sentence. "The Waning Moon isn''t after Snowcloud?"


    Rockblaze shrugged. "My guess is that the Iron Mountain traitors are behind that rumor. Had she died, everyone would have believed the Waning Moon was behind it." At that, his gaze moved to Snowcloud. "But I do wonder why they are so intent on killing you."


    Snowcloud did not speak immediately, and for a moment, she seemed torn on whether to tell them the truth. Then, she answered, "I can cure Grandfather."

 Chapter 189 A New Plan

    Zehava gasped audibly at Snowcloud''s words. "You can heal the Patriarch''s injuries?"


    "He wasn''t injured," Snowcloud said, her voice grave. "He was poisoned, and I have the antidote."


    A deep frown appeared on Zehava''s forehead. "Poisoned? But I thought¡­"


    "It''s true," Rockblaze interrupted her. "The Society has kept it quiet, because the poisoning of a Patriarch means powerful Shadowflame members were involved. And if it gets out that there are traitors among our leaders, it could tear the Society apart." He furrowed his brow and looked at Snowcloud. "But you say you have an antidote? How confident are you that it will work?"


    "Very confident," Snowcloud said. "Before she disappeared, my mother figured out the type of poison that was used against Grandfather. I recreated that poison, then used an adult dragon to create the antidote."


    There was a hint of surprise in Rockblaze''s eyes as he heard his, but he did not question Snowcloud''s words. Instead, his expression turned thoughtful, and he said, "Then, assuming you made the poison correctly, the antidote should work. I take it you already consumed the dragon''s blood yourself?"


    "I did," Snowcloud replied plainly.


    "Then we have to get you back to the Patriarch alive, no matter the cost."


    Rockblaze spoke with such resolve that it briefly left Arran confused. From the zealous look in the man''s eyes, it almost seemed like he would sacrifice his own life to achieve their goal.


    But then, slowly, Arran began to understand the situation ¡ª both why Snowcloud had shared her secrets so openly and why Rockblaze responded with such fervor.


    Arran''s own ties to the Shadowflame Society were weak at best. While he would risk his life to protect Snowcloud, that was because he considered her a friend. The Society, however, he considered little more than a means to an end.


    He needed a place to grow stronger, and the Shadowflame Society offered him such a place. But beyond that, the Society''s fortunes mattered little to him ¡ª if it fell today, he would leave in search of an alternative tomorrow.


    Yet for someone who truly considered the Shadowflame Society his home, things would be different. Someone like that would feel true loyalty to the Society ¡ª the kind of loyalty for which they would give their life if needed.


    And that kind of loyalty, Arran realized, was something the Seventh Valley Matriarch would absolutely require in a person she sent to root out traitors.


    He could not help but be impressed by Snowcloud''s quick assessment of the situation. Had it been him, he would have kept the secret ¡ª and missed the opportunity of gaining Rockblaze''s absolute allegiance.


    While Arran quietly pondered the situation, the others continued their discussion.


    "We have to bring her back," Zehava agreed, though a hint of panic could still be seen in her eyes. "But how? Even if we make it out of the region, the Iron Mountain has an entire army blocking the way into the Sixth Valley. And if even Elder Rahan is a traitor, we can''t trust anyone."


    Rockblaze answered at once. "We should travel to the Seventh Valley. It will add a few months to our journey, and the northern borderlands are dangerous, but we will be able to avoid the Iron Mountain traitors. And once we reach the Seventh Valley, we will have the Matriarch''s full support."


    "We can''t," Snowcloud said. "Before I left the Valley, Grandfather was already nearing his end. That''s why I left before I was fully prepared ¡ª I couldn''t wait any longer. Even now, I worry that I won''t reach him in time."


    "Then perhaps we should¡ª" Rockblaze began.


    "There are more pressing matters," Arran interrupted him. While the others talked, he had taken the dead adept''s void bag, and as he did so, an unwelcome glint had caught his eye. "They already know what happened here."


    He held up the Lifesense Amulet he''d found on the adept''s body, then quickly put it in the void bag.


    Rockblaze let out a vicious curse, then turned toward the others. "My guess is that one of the Masters in the region has the other part. That means we only have a few days." A look of resignation appeared in his eyes. "The three of you have to flee. I will try to delay them as long as I can, but against a Master¡­"


    He didn''t finish the sentence, but it was clear that he expected his life would only buy them a brief respite.


    "Don''t go chasing martyrdom just yet," Arran said. "Snowcloud, how far are we from Uvar?"


    At those words, her eyes widened and her gloomy expression disappeared in an instant. "A week''s travel. Less if we hurry."


    "Uvar?" Rockblaze asked with a frown, and Zehava looked equally nonplussed.


    "It''s an Eidaran city," Arran explained. "Or the ruins of one, more accurately. And those ruins have something that might yet save us ¡ª even from a Master."


    Rockblaze did not seem wholly convinced, but after a moment, he sighed. "Then we''ll leave immediately. If these ruins offer even a slight chance of escape, it''s our best choice."


    "But what about the other search parties?" Zehava said. "There are dozens of them in the region, and we can''t avoid them all."


    "The search parties are made up of novices and recruits, and I doubt any of them know what''s really happening," Rockblaze said. "If we meet any, we''ll tell them the truth. And if they try to stop us¡­"


    Although he didn''t finish the sentence, it was obvious what he was thinking. If any of the Iron Mountain search parties tried to stop them, he would show them no mercy.


    "But encountering them could be good fortune for us," Rockblaze continued. "I am not the only adept the Matriarch sent ¡ª there are at least half a dozen others just among the search parties, and more in the army at the border."


    Snowcloud''s eyes narrowed when she heard this. "That many? But then¡­ your Matriarch isn''t just investigating the traitors, is she?"


    Rockblaze hesitated before speaking. Then, in a cold voice, he said, "It''s better to have the Sixth Valley fall than to risk it being ruled by traitors."


    "She''s planning to attack the Sixth Valley?!" Outrage instantly appeared on Snowcloud''s face, and her voice rose in anger as she spoke. "She wants to start a war between the Valleys?!"


    "Only if there is no other way." Rockblaze''s expression did not change as he spoke, but Arran thought he saw a trace of pain in the man''s eyes.


    "No other way? You''re talking about the death of thousands! Forget the Sixth Valley ¡ª the Seventh Valley would also be decimated in a war like that! The entire Shadowflame Society would be weakened for centuries!"


    "It''s not something she wants, but¡ª"


    "Both of you, shut up," Arran interrupted them. "There''s a Master on the way to kill us. We have to leave, right now."


    A brief flash of anger appeared in Rockblaze''s eyes at the interruption, but it faded as quickly as it had come. "You''re right. Let''s go."


    They set off without any further delay, running at a pace that stretched the limit of what Snowcloud and Zehava could bear.


    As they ran, Arran glanced at Rockblaze. While he had little doubt about the adept''s loyalty to the Shadowflame Society, the man''s earlier revelations caused him some concern ¡ª and not just for the Sixth Valley, but also for their small group.

 Chapter 190 The Road to Uvar

    They moved toward Uvar at a speed that Snowcloud and Zehava could only barely maintain, but Arran found himself holding back as he ran. His physical strength now far exceeded that of the novices, and he suspected he would have little difficulty outrunning Rockblaze if needed.


    That left him with plenty of time to think, and his thoughts soon wandered to the battle against the adepts.


    While the fight had lasted only moments, it brought Arran two things that bolstered his confidence for the journey ahead.


    The first of these was the familiar surge of power he felt when the novices and recruits died.


    He''d thought he lost the Blood magic''s ability to consume life force when it was devoured by the Dragon''s Ruin, but instead, it seemed the Dragon''s Ruin had somehow seized the ability for itself.


    While Arran didn''t understand how this had happened, he was happy that it had. It was an ability that made him all but invincible against large groups of weaker enemies, and while he still distrusted its origins, he was happy to retain this part of it.


    The second, meanwhile, had come when he faced the Iron Mountain adept.


    He had long wondered how strong Shadowflame adepts were, and although his power had increased greatly since he crossed the border, he hadn''t been confident in his ability to defeat them. But now, he knew that with his physical strength and his resistance to Essence, he should be more than a match for an average adept.


    The only thing that gave him some pause was the attack Rockblaze had used. Instead of attacking with Essence directly, Rockblaze had used it to launch a giant boulder, striking their foes with devastating effect.


    Arran''s resistance to magic would do him little good against such an attack, and he understood that in the future, he would have to be on guard against similar tactics. While he had gotten stronger, adepts were still a serious threat to him.


    But then, the most pressing threat at the moment wasn''t an adept but a Master. Against an enemy like that, Arran had no chance of victory ¡ª not in a fair fight.


    And to make the fight unfair, they needed to reach Uvar as quickly as possible.


    On the first day, they continued well into the night, only stopping to rest when the two novices could go no more.


    The second day passed much like the first, with the small group running as fast as the novices could go. Neither Snowcloud nor Zehava complained, but it was obvious that the pace was one they could maintain for long.


    "We''re not moving fast enough," Arran said late in the afternoon, as they were stopped for a short rest. "At this rate, we''ll probably get caught before we reach Uvar."


    Even if he had no idea how far behind their pursuer was, a Master would not be slow in traveling. And from what Zehava and Rockblaze had said, their lead should be a day or two at most.


    "There''s nothing we can do about that." Rockblaze cast an annoyed glance at Arran. "We can''t go any faster than this ¡ª not without leaving Lady Snowcloud and Zehava behind. All we can do is hope that it''s enough."


    Arran frowned. "I think there might be a way¡­"


    When they set off again some minutes later, Zehava was draped over Rockblaze''s shoulder, while Arran was carrying Snowcloud. Both novices had balked at the suggestion, but only briefly ¡ª as much as they disliked the idea, it was still much better than the alternative.


    After that, their pace increased greatly. Even while carrying the novices, Arran and Rockblaze were able to move much faster than before.


    To Arran''s delight, Rockblaze now struggled to keep up with him, and the effort left the adept visibly exhausted.


    That he was happy to see this wasn''t because of some petty dislike ¡ª not entirely, at least. Rather, the misgivings he had about Rockblaze''s intentions still lingered, and if the adept turned on them, he wanted every advantage he could get.


    With a higher speed and fewer breaks, they covered far more ground than before, and Arran''s confidence in reaching Uvar before they were caught steadily grew stronger.


    Then, on the third day, Arran detected a group of people on the road ahead of them with his Shadowsight ¡ª another Iron Mountain search party.


    "Quick! Hide!" Even as he spoke, he rushed into the dense brush along the side of the road, moving far enough that the novices'' Sense would not be able to detect him.


    Rockblaze followed behind him, though there seemed to be some reluctance in the adept''s movements. In a low voice, he asked, "Why are we hiding?"


    Arran did not respond immediately, remaining silent until they were far enough from the road not to be detected. Then, he said, "There''s a search party ahead."


    A frown appeared on Rockblaze''s face. "How do you know? I didn''t Sense anything."


    "I just do," Arran replied curtly.


    Rockblaze gave him a suspicious look. "Even if you''re right, why would we hide? Maybe there''s one of my comrades among them, and we could use the help. And if not, even if they''re enemies, a few novices would barely slow us down."


    "One of them could be wearing a Lifesense amulet," Arran said.


    While this was true, the more important reason was that he did not want to risk having one of Rockblaze''s allies join them. Even if it would mean they had more help in the fight to come, once they had dealt with the Master, it would leave them at Rockblaze''s mercy.


    They waited quietly as the group passed in the distance, just barely within range of Arran''s Shadowsight. "They''re gone," he said finally.


    Once more, Rockblaze looked at him suspiciously. "You have many secrets."


    "And I will keep them," Arran replied. Before Rockblaze could respond, he headed back toward the road.


    Despite the tension between Arran and Rockblaze, the remainder of the journey passed without issue, albeit silently.


    After four days, they finally reached Uvar, and Arran felt an immediate surge of relief when he laid eyes on the city''s crumbling walls. Here, they stood a chance of survival.


    Rockblaze, however, gazed at the city scornfully. "How is this supposed to help us?" he asked, not bothering to hide the contempt in his voice.


    "You''ll find out when you walk inside," Arran replied.

 Chapter 191 Setting the Trap

    Rockblaze glanced at the ruins in front of him, then turned back to Arran. "What aren''t you telling me?"


    Arran smirked. "You''ll find out if you walk up to the wall."


    A dark look appeared in Rockblaze''s eyes. "I don''t trust you. What are you planning?"


    "The city contains the lingering Essence of the battle that destroyed it," Arran said. "Someone created a formation to contain it, but when you approach the city, it will overwhelm your Sense."


    Although he was tempted to talk Rockblaze into approaching the city unprepared, he decided against it. It would only serve to further increase the tension between them, and worse, it would waste precious time.


    "You expect such a cheap trick to work against a Master?" Rockblaze stared at him in disbelief.


    "I do," Arran replied simply.


    "You think some lingering Essence will harm a Master?" The adept scowled as he spoke, and there was a trace of anger in his voice. "And even if it could, how do you plan to draw him inside?"


    Arran took a deep breath, resisting the urge to shout at Rockblaze. Instead, he said calmly, "We will drop the Lifesense amulet here, and I will go into the ruins. When he appears, I''ll shoot a few arrows to make it look like a failed ambush ¡ª and when he comes after me, the city''s pressure will incapacitate him."


    "What''s to stop him from just evaporating you where you stand?"


    With a sigh, Arran gathered a mass of Fire Essence in his hand, then shot a fireball at the city. Before it could reach the city walls, it dissipated into thin air. "The barrier works both ways."


    Rockblaze frowned, then launched a fireball of his own ¡ª one that was many times stronger than anything Arran could create. Yet for all Rockblaze''s strength, his attack fared no better than Arran''s, simply disappearing when it hit the invisible barrier.


    Naturally, this did not surprise Arran. He had spent months in the city, and although most of his time had been spent training his resistance to magic, he had investigated the formation around the city as well.


    Still, Rockblaze did not appear satisfied. "If you can withstand the Essence in the city, you cannot possibly expect it to stop a Master."


    "It will work," Snowcloud interjected, a trace of annoyance in her eyes. "I''ve experienced it myself, and the pressure in the city is overwhelming."


    "Lady Snowcloud," Rockblaze said, and his voice suddenly turned respectful as he faced Snowcloud, "while you are undoubtedly a talented mage, you are only a novice. Us stronger mages can withstand powers far beyond what novices like yourself can imagine."


    The annoyance in Snowcloud''s expression grew stronger, but before she could reply, Arran cut her off with a soft gesture.


    "If you don''t believe us," he said to Rockblaze, "then follow me."


    Without waiting for a reply, Arran began to walk toward the city walls, and Rockblaze followed behind him after only a brief moment of hesitation. Although there was an uncomfortable look on his face, it seemed he was unwilling to show himself fearful of something Arran faced so casually.


    When Arran crossed the barrier, he winced in discomfort as the city''s pressure fell upon him. Although the feeling was a familiar one, it was far from pleasant, and it took him a moment to steady his mind before he turned around.


    "Your turn," he said to Rockblaze, who had paused at the edge of the barrier.


    For a moment it looked like the adept was about to back away, but a scowl appeared on his face, and he stepped forward ¡ª then collapsed instantly.


    Arran grinned as he looked at Rockblaze''s trembling body on the ground before him. After a moment, he looked up at Snowcloud and Zehava, who had remained a few places behind.


    "Will he be all right?" Zehava asked. This was the first time she had spoken in at least a day, and her expression was one of shock.


    "That depends," Arran said. He turned to Snowcloud. "I don''t trust him. He has a part to play in my plan, but if you think he might turn against us¡­" He didn''t finish the sentence, but his hand moved toward his sword.


    Snowcloud was silent for a moment as she considered his words. Then, she shook her head. "We will need his help on the way to the Valley. And whatever there is between the two of you, I''m certain he will not betray us to the Iron Mountain."


    Arran nodded, then reluctantly dragged Rockblaze out of the formation.


    Even without the city''s pressure, it took several minutes for the adept to regain his senses, and when he did, he was greeted with a grin from Arran.


    "Still doubtful?"


    "That¡­" Rockblaze blinked, trying to steady his vision. "How did you withstand it?"


    "Practice," Arran replied. "If you want, I can toss you back inside. A few weeks from now, you should be able to resist it as well."


    Rockblaze slowly sat up. "Your plan might work," he said, though he did not seem particularly pleased about it. "What do I have to do?"


    "I need you to hide in the treeline until our opponent arrives," Arran said. "If he stops before the barrier, or if he has adepts with him, you''ll need to find a way to push them inside."


    "Hide?" Rockblaze frowned. "You expect me to hide from a Master?"


    "You have that Shadowcloak technique, don''t you? I''ve seen novices use it. Surely an adept like you has already mastered it."


    Rockblaze shook his head. "Using a Shadowcloak takes too much Essence. I can only keep it up for a few minutes."


    This was something Arran had not foreseen. "Only a few minutes?"


    "Shadow Realms are hard to train," Rockblaze said. "And while mine is stronger than most, it isn''t enough to keep up a Shadowcloak for hours on end. I doubt even a Master could do that."


    Arran frowned, but only for a moment. "Then use this," he said, taking out his Duskcloak. "It only needs a sliver of Essence, and it will hide you until you move."


    "You have a Duskcloak?!" The adept''s eyes widened when he saw the cloak in Arran''s hands. "How did you get it?!"


    Arran had not expected this strong a reaction, but either way, he had little interest in debating the matter right now.


    "It doesn''t matter how I got it," he said, handing the cloak to Rockblaze. "What matters is that we get in position. Unless you think we should wait for the Master to catch us here?"


    Rockblaze accepted the cloak silently, though Arran could see that the adept''s eyes were filled with suspicion. But there was no time to deal with that now ¡ª they had already wasted too much time.


    "But what about us?" Zehava spoke in a soft voice, almost as if she was afraid of getting in between Arran and Rockblaze. "If Ghostblade goes into the city, and Rockblaze hides in the treeline, where will we go?"


    Snowcloud smiled cheerlessly. "Ghostblade will take us into the city," she said, with a look that told Arran she had already seen through this part of his plan. "It''s the only place where we''ll be safe."


    "But¡­" An ugly expression appeared on Zehava''s face. "If the city has that effect on adept, what will it do to¡ª"


    "It won''t be pleasant," Snowcloud interrupted her, "but we''ll survive. I''ve experienced it before." She glanced at Arran. "Now let''s stop wasting time and get in position."


    A few minutes later, Arran stood alone at the edge of the barrier. Rockblaze had hidden among the trees, concealed by the Duskcloak, and Arran had carried Snowcloud and Zehava into the city, laying them down behind the walls. The pressure within the city had rendered the two novices unconscious as soon as they crossed the barrier, but they should be safe with the city walls.


    Now that the trap was set, all that remained was the bait. Arran took a final moment to consider whether there was anything he had overlooked, but there was nothing he could think of. With a deep breath, he took out the Lifesense amulet.


    "Time to find out how tough Masters really are," he muttered.


    Then, he tossed the amulet on the ground outside the barrier.

 Chapter 192 Facing a Master

    Arran waited for their pursuer in the ruins of the city wall, hidden amid large pieces of stone debris. While the ruined wall had mostly collapsed, its wretched state created numerous places to hide, and Arran had chosen one where even the most observant eyes would find it hard to spot him.


    As he waited, he thought about what could still go wrong with his plan.


    The biggest risk was that the Master already knew what lay inside Uvar, and would refuse to go inside. That would not bring any immediate danger ¡ª Arran and the two novices were safely inside, after all ¡ª but it would allow the Master to wait for reinforcements.


    And although if Arran was confident that a Master could not easily withstand the city''s pressure, if any Grandmasters and Archmages arrived, it would be another matter.


    Still, he did not think this outcome likely. The Eidaran Empire was far from the border, and strange though Uvar was, it was just one of many unusual locations in a region too large for any single person to know entirely.


    Moreover, the Eidaran Empire had fallen only decades ago. That was longer than Arran had lived, but for powerful mages who were born centuries ago, it was little more than a blip in time, barely even worth mentioning.


    This was something he had gleaned from Snowcloud''s maps.


    The maps she brought were among the best the Sixth Valley had, but throughout their travels, Snowcloud and Arran had found them shockingly out of date. They featured towns that had crumbled into ruin centuries earlier, roads of which not a trace remained, and even several kingdoms that had long since faded into memory.


    Arran''s thoughts were interrupted when he spotted two small figures in the distance. At once, he let out a silent curse. He had expected a single Master, perhaps accompanied by several adepts. But two people had now appeared, and he very much doubted either of them would be an adept ¡ª there was no reason a Master would let himself be slowed down by a single adept, after all.


    The two figures approached rapidly, and although they looked around as they walked, there was more confidence than caution in their movements. But then, they had little reason to be cautious ¡ª there were precious few enemies that posed a threat to a single Master, much less two of them.


    The sight disheartened Arran, but he did not allow it to shake his calm. Against a more serious threat than they had expected, remaining calm was all the more important.


    It only took a few minutes before the two figures reached the Lifesense amulet had tossed on the ground, and one of them picked it up. By now, Arran could see that they were a man and a woman, both middle-aged, and clearly comfortable around each other.


    His original plan had been to feign an ambush, but now, he reconsidered. Even if he could lure one of the two into the ruins, doing so would immediately alert the other to the danger. And against a forewarned Master, Arran had little confidence in their chances.


    Instead, he looked on silently and unmoving, bow at the ready if the situation changed.


    The two middle-aged mages talked as he watched, and although he could not hear their words, it seemed like they were arguing ¡ª the man repeatedly pointed toward the city''s ruins, and each time, the woman shook her head in response.


    Then, to Arran''s surprise and delight, the man began to walk toward the city walls.


    "We don''t know what''s in there!" he heard the woman shout, anger and frustration in her voice as she followed several paces behind the man.


    But her protests had little effect. The man continued onward to the barrier, and he crossed it just a moment later. The effect was immediate ¡ª the man froze mid-stride, as if struck by lightning. Then, he collapsed to the ground, his body shaking as the city''s pressure bore down on his Sense.


    The woman''s face instantly filled with shock. "Serik!" she cried out in a desperate voice, then rushed forward.


    For a brief moment, Arran thought she would cross the barrier, falling to his trap without him even having to intervene. Yet instead of rushing to her doom, she came to a half a pace away from the barrier. Then, without hesitation, she began moving her arms.


    Arran could not Sense what she was doing, but her movements made it clear that she was testing the barrier, searching for a way to pass it safely. While he did not know whether this was even possible, the sight caused him some concern. If she managed to resist the city''s pressure¡ª


    Before he could finish the thought, a horse-sized boulder tore itself from the ground two dozen paces behind the woman, then soared toward her at a staggering speed.


    Rockblaze had acted.


    Sensing the threat, the woman instantly turned around and raised her left arm, then made a fist. The boulder that had looked unstoppable only a fraction of a second ago instantly came to a halt, then harmlessly crumbled into dust.


    But that wasn''t the end of it. The woman made a small gesture with her right hand, and an instant later, the entire treeline exploded. For at least half a mile, it seemed as if every single tree had chosen to erupt in a devastating blast.


    It was a sight that would normally have shocked Arran, but at this moment, he had no time to worry about it. The woman''s back was turned to him, and with the barrier right behind her, she would have no way to Sense him.


    Without even a second''s hesitation, he nocked, drew, and loosed an arrow at the woman''s unprotected back. Even before it struck, he had another two in the air.


    The first arrow took the woman in the center of her back, the force of Arran''s shot driving it in all the way up to the fletching. The second hit only a fraction of a second later, striking barely a hand away from the first.


    Despite the devastating injuries, the woman spun around once more, and the third arrow shattered against an invisible shield just inches from her body.


    Yet as the woman turned, Arran saw two arrowheads sticking from her chest, with blood gushing from her wounds. The arrows had torn through her lungs and heart, and had she been a less powerful mage, she would have already died.


    But far from dying, the woman didn''t even show signs of collapsing. What should have been mortal wounds appeared to only be injuries to her, albeit grave ones. And as Arran looked at her, he saw the flow of blood from her chest lessening.


    He rushed forward without hesitating, drawing his sword as he ran. There was no time to ponder his attack ¡ª he understood that his foe was at her weakest right now, and if she recovered, there would be no way to defeat her.


    As he ran, the woman launched an attack at him ¡ª something that looked like a black fireball ¡ª but when it was stopped when it hit the barrier, although this time, a ripple ran through the air from where it impacted.


    Then, Arran raised his sword ¡ª not at the woman, but at her unconscious companion. He did not know how much a fallen Master''s life force would help him, but for the fight ahead, he needed every advantage he could get.


    "No!" The woman shouted loudly when she saw Arran''s target, her voice filled with terror. But from behind the barrier, there was nothing she could do in the brief moment before Arran''s sword came down on her companion''s neck.


    As the Master died, Arran felt a surge of power ¡ª stronger than any he had felt before, though not nearly as strong as he had hoped. But there was nothing for it. This would have to do.


    He turned to face the woman¡­ and was stunned to see her crossing the barrier, her expression one of utter despair as she looked at her companion''s body.


    She fell to the ground the moment she crossed, but to Arran''s shock, she did not fall into a stupor. Instead, she began to crawl toward the dead man at Arran''s side, a trail of blood in her wake as she crossed the grass.


    The sight caused Arran to step back in shock, but the woman ignored him as she approached the body. When she reached it, she took the head and cradled it in her arms.


    For several seconds, Arran looked at the woman as she held her companion''s head, sobbing quietly. Finally, she slowly raised her eyes and faced Arran.


    "Do it."


    She said the words softly, and as she spoke, there was a wretched look in her eyes that conveyed unbearable grief and sorrow.


    Arran nodded slowly. Then, he brought his sword down on the woman''s neck.

 Chapter 193 Hunter

    As Arran looked at the bodies that lay on the ground in front of him, he felt no sense of triumph or accomplishment.


    He had no reason to hate these defeated foes. That they were enemies at all was a matter of chance ¡ª he had blindly chosen a side in Hillfort, and had he chosen differently, they might well have been his allies.


    Perhaps they deserved to die for betraying the Shadowflame Society, but in truth, the betrayal meant little to Arran. His only reason for joining had been to gain power, and his only reason for killing these two Masters was survival ¡ª his and Snowcloud''s. Beyond that, he cared little about the Society''s conflicts.


    Maybe Darkfire had the right of it, he thought.


    While Arran had spent the past year killing countless people he didn''t know for a cause that wasn''t his, Darkfire had spent it in safety and comfort, a woman he loved at his side and all the fine food and ale he wanted within reach.


    But then, Arran didn''t have that choice. What he had were enemies. And unless he grew stronger, he would eventually meet the same fate as these two Masters.


    He sighed, then began to search the bodies.


    As he expected, the Masters'' void bags were rich in treasure and Essence Crystals, all of which he quickly transferred to his own bags. There would be time to examine the contents later.


    As he also expected, both of them wore Lifesense amulets. Since both Masters had died within the barrier, whoever held the amulets'' counterparts wouldn''t know about their fate just yet, and Arran stored the amulets in a separate void bag. Only when they were retrieved from the bag outside the barrier would the mages'' fate be discovered.


    When Arran finished looting the bodies, he saw Rockblaze emerge from the ruined treeline. Although the man had several bloody injuries and walked with a limp, none of his wounds appeared to be life-threatening, and Arran could not help but be impressed by the adept''s resilience.


    "You killed them," Rockblaze said as he approached Arran. Far from appearing pleased at their victory, he gazed at Arran with thinly veiled hostility.


    "Glad to see you''re all right, too." Whatever the reason for Rockblaze''s ever-increasing antipathy toward him, Arran had no interest in indulging it.


    "You killed them both," Rockblaze said again.


    "That was the plan, wasn''t it?" Arran looked the adept in the eyes. "But perhaps I should have let her finish you off first?"


    In hindsight, perhaps that wouldn''t have been the worst idea.


    Rockblaze responded with a glare. "Why haven''t you gotten the others yet?"


    "I was just about to," Arran replied.


    Without any further words, he turned around and headed toward the ruined city, glad to be rid of Rockblaze if only for a moment.


    Retrieving Snowcloud and Zehava was a quick task, and although both novices had spent a long time within the city, once Arran brought them outside the barrier, they recovered in a matter of minutes.


    When Zehava stood up, legs still unsteady, her eyes fell on the two dead Masters. At once, she went pale with shock.


    "You knew them?" Arran asked.


    She nodded silently in response, and from her pained expression, Arran suspected she knew them quite well.


    Yet before he could ask who the two were, he saw Rockblaze moving in between himself and the novices. And not just that ¡ª the adept''s hand reached for his sword, and Arran could Sense that he was gathering Essence.


    "What are you doing?" Arran said coldly, his hand moving toward his own weapon as he spoke.


    "Stay back!" The veil had been pulled from Rockblaze''s earlier hostility, and now, he looked at Arran as if he was expecting battle. "I know what you are!"


    "What I am?" Arran gave the adept a puzzled look. "What the hell are you talking about?"


    Under normal circumstances, he would have been wary of facing Rockblaze, but the man''s fresh injuries meant the confrontation posed little threat to Arran. Which made the adept''s behavior all the more baffling.


    Rockblaze didn''t reply to Arran''s question. Instead, he drew his sword, then motioned for Snowcloud and Zehava to get behind him.


    At that moment, Snowcloud spoke. "Whatever it is you think you''re doing, it ends here." Though her voice was calm, it held a hint of danger. "Sheathe your sword, or you will die."


    A frown rippled across Rockblaze''s forehead, but he did not lower his weapon. "You can''t stop me from protecting you. You''re only a¡ª"


    "I''m an alchemist," Snowcloud interrupted him. "I poisoned you several days ago. At this moment, a single thought from me is enough to kill you where you stand. Now sheathe your sword and release your Essence."


    The adept''s eyes briefly went wide with shock, but then, he did as she said. Although Snowcloud spoke calmly, the tone of her voice made it clear that the threat was not an empty one.


    Oddly, instead of being upset at the poisoning, it seemed as if Rockblaze had somehow been reassured by her words. "You poisoned him as well? That''s how you''re controlling him?"


    "No," Snowcloud replied. "I trust him."


    "But he''s a Hunter!" Anger erupted on Rockblaze''s face, and he spat the words as if they carried some horrible meaning.


    "A what?" Arran gave the adept a puzzled look. Any concern he felt disappeared the moment Snowcloud revealed the ace up her sleeve, and now, he merely found himself wondering what had gotten into the adept.


    "Don''t deny it!" Rockblaze scowled as he spoke, but Arran saw that for all the adept''s anger, he kept his hand well away from his sword. "I''ve seen your strength!"


    "A Hunter?" Snowcloud looked at Rockblaze in disbelief. "Have you gone soft in the head?"


    "How else could he have such strength?" The hostility in Rockblaze''s eyes remained undiminished, but his voice slightly wavered at Snowcloud''s cold admonishment.


    "He joined me in the Empire," Snowcloud said. "Have you ever heard of a Hunter entering the Empire?"


    "He could have¡ª" Rockblaze began.


    Before he could finish the sentence, Snowcloud continued, "Your Matriarch intends to attack the Sixth Valley if Grandfather dies, does she not?"


    Rockblaze nodded silently.


    "Then, to start a war between the Valleys, all Ghostblade had to do was walk away when the Masters arrived. Would a Hunter pass up such an opportunity?"


    "He could still be plotting something," Rockblaze said, though there was now a trace of doubt in his expression.


    "Something worse than a war between the Valleys?"


    Rockblaze hesitated in answering. Finally, he said, "He has the powers of a Hunter."


    "I was there when he acquired those powers," Snowcloud replied. "And lucky though he might be, he is no Hunter." She let out an exasperated sigh. "Did you honestly believe I could spend a year traveling alongside a Hunter without recognizing what he was?"


    "He really isn''t a Hunter?" Rockblaze looked at Arran as he asked the question, and Arran could see that the adept''s earlier hostility had all but disappeared, a look of confusion having taken its place.


    Arran sighed in frustration. "If we''re not going to fight," he said, "would either of you care to explain what the hell you''re talking about?"

 Chapter 194 The Way Back

    "Hunters are called that because they hunt mages," Snowcloud explained. "They specialize in a type of Body Refinement that grants them resistance to magic, and they use it to hunt and kill mages. Even Masters and Grandmasters fear them."


    "Why do they hunt mages?" Arran asked. Although he was curious about the Body Refinement technique she mentioned, this did not seem like the right time to express his interest in it.


    "Nobody knows," she replied. "They rarely appear in the borderlands, but when they do, they inevitably leave a trail of dead mages in their wake. After that, they simply disappear again."


    "That''s it? They kill mages?" Arran frowned, unimpressed with the explanation. He had killed his fair share of mages already, and with the possible exception of Zehava, so had the others in their small group. Moreover, while Hunters'' powers seemed to resemble his own, Body Refinement and resistance to magic were hardly unique abilities.


    "You don''t understand," Rockblaze said. "They slaughter mages like commoners." He emphasized the last word, an expression of disgust on his face as if the very idea was obscene.


    "But mages kill each other, too," Arran said. "And quite often, at that."


    "That''s different," Rockblaze said sharply. "A fight between mages is a fight between equals. But Hunters¡­ what they do is butchery. There is no honor involved."


    To Arran''s ears, the adept''s words sounded like nonsense. Even ignoring the ridiculous idea of honor in battle, none of the mages he had faced had shown any interest in honorably facing an equal.


    Still, he held his tongue.


    Irrational though Rockblaze''s ideas seemed to Arran, the conflict between them had only just been resolved, and rekindling it would serve no purpose. Even if he thought the adept was an idiot.


    Instead, he asked, "Is that why your attacks use Essence indirectly?"


    It seemed to be the right question, because at once, the adept''s expression turned excited. "Exactly! Using magic directly is easy, but it has far too many weaknesses. By manipulating objects you can¡ª"


    Rockblaze spent several minutes extolling the virtues of indirect magic attacks, and although Arran''s opinion of the man didn''t improve, he found himself listening intently. He had no plans of using the techniques himself ¡ª mostly because he lacked the required skill ¡ª but anything he learned might help him better protect himself.


    The adept continued speaking for some time, but finally, Snowcloud interrupted him. "We should depart. There is a long journey ahead, and the region is still filled with enemies. The sooner we leave, the better."


    Arran nodded. "We should. But there is something I have to do in the ruins, first ¡ª it will only take a moment."


    Snowcloud gave him a meaningful look, then nodded. "Be quick about it."


    It only took Arran a short time to find the void bag he had hidden within the city, and he smiled in satisfaction when he inspected its contents. The belongings of the Waning Moon novices they had slain on the road to the Eidaran Empire were still there, and from the looks of it, undisturbed.


    When he returned to the others, he found them ready and waiting to leave.


    Yet as they were about to depart, Zehava spoke up. "The poison you used on Rockblaze," she began, with a fearful look at Snowcloud, "did you use it on me, too?"


    "Of course," Snowcloud replied flatly. "I''ll give you both the antidote when we''re back to safety, but not a moment before that."


    "But what if something happens¡ª"


    "I control the poison," Snowcloud interrupted. "Unless I trigger it, you''re safe. But if I see any signs of betrayal¡­" She left the rest unspoken, but the message was clear: betrayal meant death.


    Arran wondered whether Snowcloud was telling the truth, but only briefly. After spending a year with her, he knew her well enough to see that this was no bluff ¡ª she had actually poisoned the two.


    In his mind, he complimented her decisiveness. It was not a side of herself she showed often, but when she did, it never failed to leave him impressed.


    They quickly set off once more, albeit at a less frantic pace than before. With a long journey ahead and no more pursuers on their tail, an abundance of haste would not serve them well.


    To Arran''s surprise, they encountered no more Iron Mountain mages on their way out of the Eidaran Empire, and Zehava explained that most of the search parties had been sent further to the north.


    This eased their travels, but Arran had little time to enjoy the peaceful journey, because Rockblaze''s behavior underwent a radical shift after he learned that Arran was not a Hunter.


    Where the adept had earlier treated Arran with barely veiled hostility, he now took it upon himself to instruct Arran in the intricacies of magic, and he did so in excruciating detail.


    Arran vaguely suspected it was Rockblaze''s way of apologizing for the false accusation, but whatever the reason, it wasn''t long before he began to dread the Rockblaze''s lectures far more than he had ever feared the man''s power.


    Still, as the weeks passed, Arran was forced to reluctantly admit that Rockblaze was an excellent ¡ª if unpleasant ¡ª teacher.


    Not only did the adept''s knowledge far exceed Snowcloud''s, but he was also far more skilled in conveying it, and Arran learned a great deal from Rockblaze''s endless monologues. It wasn''t anywhere near enough to make up for years without proper instruction, but it allowed him to begin building a foundation he had previously lacked.


    Better yet, as his understanding of magic improved, so did his understanding of the seal on his Destruction Realm. And while he was still far from opening it, he grew increasingly confident that with a few months of uninterrupted work, he would be able to break through.


    After several weeks of travel, they reached the location that had held the Soaring Sun camp. They found it completely abandoned except for a family of goat farmers who had taken up residence in the castle Elder Naran once inhabited.


    But while the camp had been abandoned months earlier, the army it held was large enough that its path was still clearly visible, new grass only now beginning to cover the deep trail of dirt that had been left by thousands of boots.


    "You''re planning to follow them?" Zehava asked.


    Snowcloud responded with a short nod. "If what you say is true and the three factions are at a stalemate in front of the border, then the Soaring Sun offers our best chance of crossing safely. Elder Naran will help us once he learns the situation."


    "I left the Iron Mountain army months ago," Zehava replied in an uncertain voice. "I don''t know what has happened since then ¡ª for all I know, the battle could be long over. If we continue, we might find only enemies at the border."


    "It''s possible," Snowcloud said, "but I doubt it. Neither the Soaring Sun nor the Waning Moon would dare attack the other with the Iron Mountain lying in wait." She sighed, then added, "And with armies this large, if a true battle erupts, there''s a good chance the factions'' Elders will get involved. If that happens, the destruction will be unimaginable."


    As she spoke those last words, Arran saw concern in both the novices'' eyes, and even Rockblaze seemed uncomfortable.


    But then, he felt as worried as they looked, if not more so. He had seen the aftermath of a battle between truly powerful mages in the ruins of Uvar, and the sight of it had been burned into his mind. If the Shadowflame Elders held even a fraction of that power, he wouldn''t want to be anywhere within a dozen miles when they battled.


    The journey continued as smoothly as they could have hoped, but as the weeks passed, their worries about the dangers ahead steadily grew stronger. Against Shadowflame Elders the little bit of strength they had was completely useless, and they would have to rely on others to survive.


    For mages who were used to relying on their own power, that was perhaps the most daunting realization of all: that they were heading toward a situation where they might as well be commoners.


    But despite their worries, they continued onward, and with each passing day, they came closer to their destination. Then, one afternoon, Arran finally saw the border''s vast mountains in the distance.


    They were still far enough that he could only barely make them out, but even seeing their blurry shapes rising up into the sky filled him with a sense of awe. They were larger than he remembered ¡ª unnaturally large, almost ¡ª and they formed an unbroken line from north to south, like a wall built to stop gods.


    "We''re almost there," Snowcloud said softly. Sunken in thought as he was, Arran had not heard her approach.


    He tried to think of something encouraging to say, but no words came. They were at the end of their journey, and before the week was over, they would either meet victory or death.


    "I hope we make it," he finally said.


    "So do I."


    She reached out and took his hand, and for a time, they stood in silence, eyes fixed on the mountains ahead.

 Chapter 195 The Edge of Victory

    "Lady Snowcloud?" The young novice''s eyes were wide with surprise as he looked at her. "You''re alive? And you''re here?"


    "Clearly," Snowcloud replied.


    They had met the Soaring Sun patrol only moments earlier, and the half dozen novices in the patrol all seemed shocked at having run into Snowcloud. The recruits among them, meanwhile, looked at the scene with discomfort. While they might not recognize Snowcloud themselves, their leaders'' startled expressions were enough to cause them concern.


    "Apologies, Lady Snowcloud," the novice said, visibly struggling to regain his composure. "It''s just that¡­ rumor has it that the Waning Moon is hunting you. Elder Naran even sent several dozens of search parties to find you, but nobody''s seen any sign of you for months, and many thought you were dead. I hadn''t expected you to turn up here, so close to our camp."


    "How far is the Soaring Sun camp?" Snowcloud asked, ignoring the novice''s other words.


    "Half a day''s travel, less if we hurry." He gestured into the distance, indicating the direction of the camp. "But what about her?" He cast a suspicious glance at Zehava, whom he clearly recognized as an Iron Mountain novice.


    "She comes with us," Snowcloud said. "Now let''s go."


    She made no attempt to explain the situation to the novice, nor did she ask him any questions. Theirs was a matter that random novices had no business knowing about, and the young man would not be able to tell them anything useful.


    What they needed was to meet with Elder Naran and the other Soaring Sun Elders, and they needed to do so without delay.


    The half-day it took them to reach the camp passed in silence, with the Soaring Sun novices quickly understanding that their curiosity would not be satisfied.


    While the two groups both ostensibly consisted of novices and recruits, there could be no doubt that although Snowcloud and her companions did not outrank the others in terms of titles, they certainly surpassed them in confidence and experience.


    They reached the Soaring Sun camp early in the afternoon, and immediately, Arran saw that this camp was at least as large as the previous one had been, if not larger.


    At its center was a tall hill, upon which stood a large stone fort. Both the fort and the hill beneath it seemed new, and Arran suspected they had been erected through magic only months earlier.


    For at least a mile around the hill, numerous tents covered the ground. They were arranged in neat rows, with wide walkways and the occasional training field between them, and numerous people going about their business wherever he looked. It resembled a city built of tents, except not a single person within it was unarmed.


    At a glance, he guessed there were at least fifty thousand people in the camp, and likely even more than that. Although the vast majority of these were recruits, he also spotted many novices, and a number of mages he suspected of being adepts.


    It was a sight that once would have filled him with awe, but now, he knew that the true power of the army lay with the handful of powerful mages who would be inside the fort. Even if Elder Naran were pitted against all the novices and recruits the army held, Arran had little doubt the odds would be on the Elder''s side.


    Amid the bustle and noise of the camp, their group drew little attention. Though some of the novices they passed glanced their way, there was a constant coming and going of patrols, and theirs was just one of many.


    This changed when they reached the foot of the hill, however. The hill itself was clear of tents, and posted around it were several small groups of mages whom Arran thought were adepts rather than novices. And as soon as they entered the clear space around the hill, one of those small groups approached them.


    "What''s your business?" a severe-looking woman asked. Just short of her middle years, she was lean and tall, with eyes that suggested she had little patience for troublesome novices.


    The novice who led the patrol replied at once, his voice deferential. "While we were out on patrol, we encountered Lady Snowcloud."


    The woman''s eyes turned to Snowcloud and she raised an eyebrow. "So you did. Lady Snowcloud, I did not expect to see you here."


    "We need to speak to Elder Naran," Snowcloud said curtly. "Immediately." Her voice held none of the deference the novice had shown, and her tone suggested that it was an order rather than a request.


    "I suspect he will want to speak with you, too," the woman replied. "Very well. As for the rest of you, leave." The novices and recruits did as she said at once, but when she saw that Arran, Zehava, and Rockblaze remained, she asked Snowcloud, "These three are with you?"


    "They are."


    As the woman guided them up the hill, Arran looked in the distance, and saw that this camp was not the only one in the area.


    Several miles to the south stood a similarly sized camp, built around its own hill like a mirror image of the Soaring Sun camp ¡ª the Waning Moon army, no doubt. And to the east, blocking the way between the two armies and the mountains, was another camp, nearly as large as the other two combined. This, Arran knew, would be the Iron Mountain army ¡ª their enemies'' base of power.


    Arran had no chance to study the view any further, as the woman guided them into the fort without delay. Just moments later, they entered a large room in which they found Elder Naran along with half a dozen other mages, each of whom exuded an aura of power.


    A large grin appeared on Elder Naran''s face the moment he laid eyes on them, both joy and relief plainly visible in his expression.


    "At last, some good news," the giant man said in a cheerful voice before the adept could even announce them. "I feared the two of you had been taken by the Waning Moon traitors. Tell me, how did you escape them?"


    "It wasn''t the Waning Moon that came after us," Snowcloud said. "It was the Iron Mountain."


    She wasted no time on pleasantries, instead immediately explaining what had happened ¡ª how they had encountered an Iron Mountain search party, and how the adepts had tried to kill them.


    As she spoke, the expressions of both Elder Naran and the other mages in the room turned dark. Although there was no shock in their eyes, the news Snowcloud brought about the Iron Mountain was clearly unwelcome.


    "So it''s like that," Elder Naran finally said. "It seems I''ve underestimated the danger our Valley faces."


    "It''s worse than you think," Snowcloud said. She gestured at Rockblaze, then continued, "This one is a spy for the Seventh Valley''s Matriarch. She''s sent many others, and if the Sixth Valley falls to traitors, she intends to take action and invade."


    This time, Snowcloud''s news did shock the mages. Conflict within the Sixth Valley was one thing, but a conflict with another Valley was a different matter entirely ¡ª just the mention of it was something that filled everyone in the room with visible dread.


    "A war between the Valleys?!" one of them said, an elderly woman with a panicked look on her face. "She cannot do that! A war like that would be ruinous! The entire Society will be weakened!"


    "All of you, quiet!" Before the scene could erupt into chaos, Elder Naran''s voice thundered through the room so loudly that Arran thought he could feel the floor shake. Then, the giant man turned to Snowcloud, and said in a calm voice, "From the look on your face, I expect there''s more you wish to tell us."


    "There is," Snowcloud confirmed. She took a deep breath, then said, "I can cure Grandfather."


    Her words were met with a stunned silence. None of the mages present in the room had been prepared for this revelation, and it took them several moments to fully process it.


    Finally, Elder Naran spoke once more. "Are you sure of this?"


    "I am," Snowcloud replied. "Most of you know that before my mother disappeared, she left the Valley in search of a cure. What you don''t know is that she left notes detailing the cure she devised. I found those notes, and now, I have completed the work she started."


    Of course, that wasn''t nearly enough to satisfy the mages'' curiosity, and for nearly half an hour, Snowcloud obligingly answered their answers about her mothers'' notes, the cure, and how she had managed to create it. Some parts she omitted, like the help Crassus had given them, but everything else she explained in detail.


    "Enough questions," Elder Naran eventually said. "We''ve all heard enough to know that these aren''t merely the delusions of a child. As far as I can tell, the cure she created should have a reasonable chance of working, which is more than anyone else has accomplished."


    He sighed deeply, then continued, "That means we''re left with only one question: how to get the cure to the Patriarch. And with the Iron Mountain standing between us and the Sixth Valley, that will be no easy task."


    One of the mages coughed softly, a gray-haired man with a venerable appearance and calm, dark eyes. "Surely it would suffice to announce that a cure has been found. Once the Valley learns of this, none would dare stand in our way."


    "Don''t be an idiot," Elder Naran replied bluntly. "Both the Iron Mountain and the Waning Moon would dismiss it as a trick. And even if they didn''t, the traitors within the Iron Mountain would fight to the death before letting us pass ¡ª if the Patriarch recovers, they''re as good as dead, anyway."


    "Then we fight," the elderly woman who had panicked earlier said, her voice now resolute. "Between the mages in this room, we have enough power to force our way through any army." Her eyes narrowed, and she gazed at Elder Naran. "And even if they stop the rest of us, you will be able to get through."


    Elder Naran hesitated briefly, then shook his head. "The moment we get involved, the other factions'' Elders will respond, and a battle like that is one none of our armies would survive. The Valley would lose an entire generation of novices and recruits. And worse, we still have to find a way to get past the traitors within the Valley itself."


    "Traitors?" the woman frowned. "You mean to say that there are more traitors than just the Iron Mountain?"


    "I cannot be certain," Elder Naran replied, "but we would be fools not to consider it likely. We should expect to find enemies even within the Valley."


    Once more, the room went silent as the mages pondered the situation. Yet none of them offered a solution, and the longer the silence lingered, the gloomier their expressions grew.


    Finally, convinced that none of the others had an answer, Arran spoke up. It was something he had wanted to avoid for a number of reasons, but now, it seemed there was no other choice.


    "I may have a solution," he said in a low voice.


    One of the mages gave him a derisive glare. "This is not a matter a child¡ª"


    "Quiet!" Elder Naran interrupted the man. Then, he looked at Arran questioningly. "This solution of yours, what is it?"


    Arran briefly hesitated. "It''s not something I can discuss with others around," he said after a moment.


    "All of you, leave the room," the giant man said at once, motioning for the other mages to exit. "But don''t stray from the fort ¡ª anyone tries to leave the fort, I will consider them traitors."


    There were some unhappy looks among the assembled mages, but none of them dared speak against Elder Naran, and they hurriedly did as he said.


    Within moments, the room was empty except for Arran, Snowcloud, and Elder Naran, with the latter looking at Arran intently.


    "The room is warded," he said. "You can speak freely."


    Arran gave him a brief nod. Then, he began to speak.

 Chapter 196 A Final Deception

    "I assume the Iron Mountain has spies within the camp," Arran said. "Which means they will learn of Snowcloud''s arrival soon. And once they do, they will stop us from reaching the Valley no matter what." He shook his head. "We cannot let that happen. To have a chance of reaching the Sixth Valley, we need them to believe that she is in the Waning Moon camp."


    "A reasonable suggestion," Elder Naran said, his expression neutral, "but how do you propose we achieve that?"


    Arran looked the giant Elder in the eyes. "I assume you have spies within both enemy camps?"


    "Of course," the man replied. "But even if my agents spread word that she''s in the Waning Moon camp, the deception will not last long."


    "It doesn''t have to," Arran said.


    He took out a void bag, then handed it to the Elder. "This bag contains the Lifesense amulets of two Iron Mountain Masters, both sent to capture Snowcloud. If the amulets are taken out in the Waning Moon camp, the Iron Mountain traitors will know about it."


    Now, a look of interest appeared in the Elder''s eyes, and he motioned for Arran to continue.


    Arran took a deep breath, then said, "If they already suspect that Snowcloud has returned, to them, the most logical explanation should be that one of the Waning Moon Elders saved her, and is showing the amulets to the others as evidence of the Iron Mountain''s betrayal."


    Elder Naran frowned. "You will have to explain how you acquired these sometime. But for now¡­" His frown grew deeper, but after a moment, he nodded. "It should work. But while that will divert the traitors'' attention to the Waning Moon camp, it doesn''t bring us any closer to the Valley ¡ª not unless they act on your ruse."


    "There''s more," Arran said, and he took out another void bag ¡ª the one he had retrieved from Uvar. "This contains the Lifesense amulet of Ardesh Tir''s son. If it is taken out within the Iron Mountain camp¡ª"


    "He will attack them," Elder Naran interrupted, eyes wide with shock as he stared at the bag. "And if the traitors believe that the Waning Moon intends to bring Snowcloud into the Valley¡­" He turned his eyes to Arran, and his expression was grave. "This plan of yours, it will start a battle. Tens of thousands will die."


    Arran simply nodded. "But their battle will give us the opening we need."


    Elder Naran did not respond, and it was clear that he struggled to make a decision that would send thousands of Shadowflame mages to their deaths ¡ª even if they were in enemy factions.


    Yet after some moments, a woman''s voice suddenly sounded. "We will do it."


    The voice had come from the far wall, but there was no one there ¡ª neither Arran''s eyes, his Sense, nor his Shadowsight detected any sign of another person in the room, and briefly, he found himself at a loss.


    But then, a small flicker appeared in the stone wall, and a moment later a woman walked through it. Dark-haired and beautiful, she was tall, but not unusually so. She smiled pleasantly as she nodded to Arran and Snowcloud, then turned to Elder Naran.


    "My love, you are too soft-hearted. This young man has just handed us a way to save the Patriarch, cripple our foes, and prevent a war with the Seventh Valley, and you would reject it to spare the lives of our enemies?"


    "Thousands will die," Elder Naran replied, although his voice lacked conviction.


    "And many more will be saved," the woman said in a soft but firm voice.


    She walked up to the giant Elder, then gently took the two void bags from his hand. "I will expose the Masters'' amulets in the Waning Moon camp at sundown, and Elder Tir son''s amulet an hour later in the Iron Mountain camp. After that, be ready to move."


    She turned around and left without saying another word, disappearing through the wall as if it wasn''t there.


    As soon as she disappeared, Snowcloud turned to Elder Naran. "Your wife is the one who actually commands the Soaring Sun?"


    "She is," the Elder confirmed. "And it seems the matter has been decided." While he still did not seem happy with the matter, there was a look to his eyes that suggested he was glad to have the matter taken out of his hands.


    "What do we do now?" Arran knew that despite the diversion, the matter of actually crossing the border and reaching the Patriarch would not be an easy one.


    "Let me call the others inside, and I''ll explain," Elder Naran said. He waved his hand, then called out, "All of you, come in!"


    It was obvious that the mages who had left earlier had been waiting by the door, because they entered the room almost immediately, bringing Rockblaze and Zehava with them.


    "Our path has been decided," the Elder said. He gestured at two of the mages. "You two. An hour after sundown, break camp and lead our army west. Keep it quiet beforehand, and avoid battle." He glanced at Rockblaze and Zehava, then added, "Take the Iron Mountain girl and the Seventh Valley spy with you, and keep a close watch on them."


    The two mages gave him small bows in response, then rapidly departed with Rockblaze and Zehava in tow, their muted protests going ignored.


    Five of the mages remained, three men and two women, and although Arran could not be certain, he thought these were the strongest ones. While they hid their power too well for him to Sense it, something about them caused him a sense of awe that bordered on dread.


    Elder Naran faced the mages, then spoke. "Tonight, an hour after sundown, a battle will erupt between the Iron Mountain and Waning Moon armies. When that happens, the six of us will guide Snowcloud through the Iron Mountain camp."


    "What about the boy? Is there a need to take him?" The one who spoke was the gray-haired man, and he looked at Arran somewhat dismissively.


    "Do you wish to join us?" Elder Naran asked Arran.


    "I do," Arran replied. Although the mages did not know it, he also carried the antidote in his body. If something were to happen to Snowcloud, he would be their only chance of curing the Patriarch.


    "Then he comes along," Elder Naran said. "Brightblade, Thunderblood, the two of you will protect them. The rest of us will take the lead."


    Two of the mages stepped forward, a dark-haired woman who looked to be in her thirties, and a blond, rough-looking man who vaguely resembled Arran, albeit several decades older and with twice the muscle on his body.


    The woman stood next to Arran, then gave him a cheerful smile. "I''m Brightblade."


    "Ghostblade," Arran replied with a friendly nod.


    She grinned. "Good name."


    Elder Naran gave a slight cough, then continued speaking. "We will use no magic until it is absolutely necessary, and then only as little as needed. If the Iron Mountain Elders discover our intentions, they will not let us pass easily."


    "Might want to do something about your appearance, then," Brightblade interjected. "You don''t exactly blend in."


    The giant Elder did not reply. Instead, a look of intense concentration appeared on his face, and slowly, his ten-foot body began to shrink. It took several minutes, but finally, his size dwindled to something just barely under seven feet, after which his expression relaxed.


    "That should suffice," he said. "Now, all of you, follow me."


    A few minutes later they stood atop the fort''s tallest tower. The position offered an excellent view of the enemy camp, and the sight gave Arran a better understanding of the situation ¡ª which did little to soothe his worries.


    He had known the Iron Mountain camp was large, but actually seeing it was a different matter altogether. There were several miles of empty land between the two camps, but even from a distance, he could see that the Iron Mountain camp stretched out for miles, covering the ground all the way up to the foot of the mountains.


    To reach the Sixth Valley, they would have to cross through all of it ¡ª miles of land where every pace was crawling with enemies, any one of whom might discover them. And if they were discovered, the Iron Mountain held enough powerful mages to vaporize both Arran and Snowcloud a thousand times over.


    That they had powerful protectors was no guarantee of safety, either ¡ª Elder Naran and the others were strong, but against the might of the Iron Mountain, they might struggle just to protect themselves.And in a serious battle, having to protect Arran and Snowcloud would put them at a serious disadvantage.


    But despite his worries, Arran felt far from hopeless. The night ahead would be dangerous, yet their goal lay within reach. And for the first time, they would have allies at their side.


    The few remaining hours until sunset passed slowly, with none of those present speaking more than a few words. Their plan was a simple one, and although it was dangerous, all of them knew the dangers that lay ahead.


    Finally, the last few rays of sunshine disappeared behind the horizon, and the light of the day slowly began to fade. Arran could see no commotion in the Iron Mountain camp just yet, but he knew it wouldn''t be much longer.


    "Time to go," Elder Naran said. "If we leave now, we''ll reach their camp right when the battle begins."


    Assuming, of course, that Arran''s plan actually worked. If it didn''t, they would find themselves in hostile territory, and likely with all their enemies'' attention focused on them.


    After a moment of thought, Arran dismissed the possibility. It was too late to change the plan, and their best hope now was to follow through without hesitation.


    Arran took a deep breath, then hurriedly followed Elder Naran.

 Chapter 197 The Iron Mountain Camp

    Right before they left the fort, Elder Naran stopped in his tracks, then turned to the gray-haired man. "It won''t do to have us looking like this. Anything you can do about it?"


    The man briefly furrowed his brow, then nodded. "I can provide us with some small protection from prying eyes," he said. "It won''t fool the Iron Mountain Elders, but their adepts and Masters should not easily see through it."


    He immediately set to work casting various spells on the members of their group, subtly changing the appearance of each of them. None of the changes he made were obvious, but they left the mages looking younger, just different enough not to be easily recognizable.


    With some amusement, Arran noticed the man reserved the biggest effort for himself ¡ª in a matter of moments, his gray hair turned black, the lines on his face disappeared, and his jaw now looked sharper.


    When he finished, there was a look of satisfaction on his artificially handsome face, though beneath it lay a hint of exhaustion. "The illusion should last through the night," he said, "provided none of us use too much magic."


    While the transformations weren''t nearly as convincing as those Arran had seen from Master Zhao and Panurge ¡ª not to mention Crassus ¡ª he had to admit they were effective. Where his companions had previously looked exactly like the group of Elders they were, they could now easily be mistaken for novices and adepts.


    Still, the comparison gave Arran some pause. Years earlier, Master Zhao had effortlessly used a disguise on him that had lasted months. Yet now, he saw an Elder struggle to cast illusions that would last only a single night.


    Arran had no time to give the matter any further thought, because with the illusions in place, they left at once.


    They were stopped twice on their way out of the camp, each time by watchful adepts who were wary of the group of strangers. Both times, Elder Naran sent the adepts on their way by flashing a sun-shaped badge, though Arran could tell that he was pleased with his subordinates'' caution.


    Before long, they had left the camp and entered the empty lands that lay in between the opposing armies.


    The growth here was dense enough to provide them with ample cover, and in the failing light, it would be difficult to spot them from a hundred paces away, much less the miles that lay between them and the Iron Mountain camp. And while there might be Iron Mountain patrols about, those posed little threat to their group.


    Yet despite this relative safety, Arran''s heart was aflutter with anxiousness ¡ª more so than the night ahead warranted.


    "Nervous?" Brightblade asked, her voice low but cheery.


    "A bit."


    "Don''t worry, I''ll keep you safe."


    The reassuring grin she gave him did little to soothe Arran''s nerves. Instead, it made him realize why he felt uncomfortable: it wasn''t that he was heading toward danger, but that he was placing his life in the hands of others.


    He had spent the past year honing his strength, and there was something unsettling about once more having to rely on strangers to protect him. But there was nothing for it but to accept that for the task ahead, his own strength was laughably insufficient.


    They crossed the deserted lands at a jog, careful to take full advantage of the cover provided by the many shrubs and trees the area held.


    At about a mile from the enemy camp, Elder Naran suddenly halted, then raised his hand. "Stop!" he hissed in a quiet voice. "We wait here until the Waning Moon and the Iron Mountain begin their battle."


    The others did as he said, silently taking cover in the surrounding growth. Their plan wasn''t a complicated one, and it was clear that to get through the Iron Mountain camp unseen, they needed their enemies'' attention focused elsewhere.


    And so, as the sky gradually grew darker, they waited.


    After what seemed like an eternity to Arran, Elder Naran suddenly spoke. "It has begun."


    Arran could neither Sense, see, nor hear anything different, and when he glanced at Snowcloud, she gave him an equally nonplussed look. Yet the others in the group tensed up, their eyes narrowing as if they were concentrating on something.


    Barely a minute later, Arran heard it ¡ª the sound of thunder rumbling in the distance, as if a massive storm was fast approaching. But this was no thunder. The thunderclaps followed each other far too quickly for that, and as the sound grew louder, Arran recognized the sounds of blasts and bellows among the noise.


    "Do we go?" he asked somewhat anxiously.


    "Not yet." Elder Naran''s voice remained as calm as ever. "We wait until the battle has truly started, and the Iron Mountain camp is in chaos."


    At that, Arran swallowed hard. Already, the sounds in the distance were overwhelming, yet Elder Naran said the battle hadn''t even truly started yet. If this was just a prelude, then the real battle would be devastating beyond comprehension.


    For several minutes, Elder Naran remained still, seeming to ignore the increasingly violent sounds of battle in the distance. Then, finally, he said, "Let''s go. All of you, follow my lead."


    At once, he set off toward the Iron Mountain camp at a run, with the others hurrying behind him. Arran did his best to ignore the commotion to the south as he ran, although he could not help but notice that there were regular flashes of light illuminating the night sky.


    They reached the Iron Mountain camp within minutes, and as they approached, a small group of men and women ran toward them. At their head was a wide-eyed man with a tense expression, who eyed Elder Naran uncertainly.


    "Halt!" the man called out, his voice sounding anxious to the point of panic. "Who are you, and why are you here?"


    Elder Naran flashed a small badge at him. "Elder Herran sent us out on a mission last week. We have urgent news for him." Without giving the man a chance to respond, he continued, "And what in the hells is happening in the camp?"


    "Word is the Waning Moon army attacked us," the man replied, his tone suggesting that he could scarcely believe it himself.


    Elder Naran cursed loudly. "This is a disaster! The Elder sent us to keep an eye on the Soaring Sun camp¡­"


    At that, the guard''s face twisted in terror. "They''re attacking as well?!"


    "Tell your commanders to prepare for an attack!" Elder Naran snapped. "I have to inform the Elder!"


    He did not wait for the man to reply, and instantly set off at a run once more, Arran and the others following closely after him. Already, Arran could hear the guards behind them shouting, fearfully preparing for an attack that would never come.


    When they entered the camp a moment later, they found it in a state of complete chaos. Recruits and novices could be seen running in all directions, some of them heading toward the battle to the south while others ran the other way.


    Although the Iron Mountain mages were many, their numbers now seemed to work against them, with the sudden battle leaving them in utter disarray. And within the confusion, few of them barely even noticed the small group that passed through their ranks.


    Those few who did confront them were easily dealt with by Elder Naran, whose brief but confident orders they followed without question. To Arran, it looked as if they were glad to have someone tell them what to do, even if they did not know whose orders they were taking.


    Yet despite Elder Naran''s unexpected skill at deception, their progress was slow. Because while the Iron Mountain recruits and novices might not actively try to stop them, their sheer masses meant that each pace forward required pushing half a dozen disoriented men and women aside.


    But slow though their progress was, it was progress nonetheless. And while the chaotic battle to the south only increased in terrifying intensity, they steadily moved forward, coming ever closer to the mountains ¡ª and with them, the Valley.

 Chapter 198 Toward the Valley

    With every step they took, the sounds in the distance seemed to grow louder ¡ª thunderclaps, blasts, and rumbles that shook the very earth itself.


    These were not the sounds of battle, Arran thought. They were the sounds of disaster. What he heard were storms, earthquakes, and landslides, all come together in a deafening cataclysm under a sky that was lit with fire and lightning.


    Although they were miles away from the battle, the shockwaves and blasts of heat coming from the south could be felt even here, and several times, house-sized chunks of rock flew from the direction of the battle, crushing hundreds of Iron Mountain recruits where they landed.


    With the destruction extending this far, Arran could not begin to imagine what the actual battleground would be like, but he had little doubt that it would be a terrifying scene ¡ª one with little chance of survival for anyone caught nearby.


    That the camp had fallen into chaos was only logical. Recruits and novices had no way to defend themselves against such powers, and the only way they might survive the night was to stay far away from the battling Elders.


    Yet while the Iron Mountain mages were running around in a panic, Elder Naran''s group continued onward, exploiting the panic and confusion to pass through the camp unchecked. They had no need for stealth or caution ¡ª with thousands of mages around them desperately fleeing the battle, their small group was all but invisible.


    After nearly an hour of wading through the frightened masses, they were well into the mountains'' foothills, and although the camp still stretched on, there were fewer tents and people here. It was as if the Iron Mountain leaders had intentionally spread out the camp to ensure that it stretched all the way to the mountains, leaving no space for enemies to pass unnoticed.


    If that was indeed the Iron Mountain''s intent, the idea had failed miserably.


    Had the hills been empty, the small group would have stood out like wolves in a tavern. But with people all around, barely anyone so much as gave them a second glance. Most of the mages in the area were fleeing the cataclysmic battle in the distance, and even those few who weren''t fleeing had their attention fully focused on the battle.


    "There''s a path into the mountains nearby," Elder Naran said. "I doubt we''ll find it unguarded, so ready yourselves for battle."


    They continued onward at a rapid pace, and before long, Arran could see that the Elder was right. There was a path leading up into the mountains, but before it stood a large group of mages ¡ª at least three dozen, if not more.


    From their confident appearance despite the continuing sounds of cataclysm in the distance, Arran knew that these were no novices, or even adepts. They would be Masters, if not stronger. And at their head stood a man who emanated the same sense of absolute power Arran saw in Elder Naran. Another Elder.


    The man was tall, with dark skin and long, flowing hair. He wore a simple black robe, and at his side, there was a slender sword, its blade lightly curved. His face was angular, dignified if not handsome, and right now, his dark eyes were fixed on Elder Naran.


    "The Dragon approaches," the man said, seeing through the disguise in an instant. "Have you joined forces with the traitors? Or are you using their attack to seize the Valley for yourself?" Though his voice was calm, it held an undertone of violence, as if he could attack at any moment.


    "Neither," Elder Naran said. "We have come to cure the Patriarch. Now stand aside, Rakhish ¡ª you cannot defeat us, and although I have no wish to kill you, I will do so if I must."


    "You can cure the Patriarch?" The man ignored the threat, instead giving Elder Naran a questioning look. "Why would I¡­" His voice trailed off and his eyes narrowed. "What proof have you of this?"


    Elder Naran wordlessly stepped aside, revealing Snowcloud. Despite her disguise, recognition dawned in Rakhish''s eyes. "Lady Snowcloud¡ª"


    Before he could finish the words, the scene erupted into chaos. In an instant, half a dozen of the mages launched attacks at Snowcloud, the air suddenly thick with Essence as a torrent of destruction surged toward her.


    Yet although each of the attacks was far beyond anything Arran was capable of producing, they were all stopped with a single casual wave of Elder Naran''s hand.


    And then, the attackers died. There was no battle ¡ª all at once, they died where they stood, their bodies burnt, torn, or rent to pieces. It was over before Arran could register what was happening. A dozen Masters died in the blink of an eye, and to his horror, Arran realized he hadn''t even Sensed the magic that had been used against them.


    "Traitors!" Rakhish snarled the word, fury in his eyes as he looked at the dead mages around him. His sword was drawn and bloodied, though Arran had not seen him draw it, much less use it.


    "Now you understand the situation," Elder Naran replied, a grave look on his face.


    Arran realized that the Elder had used Snowcloud as bait, and although he knew she hadn''t been in any danger, the thought caused him some anger.


    "How did you know to trust me?" The fury had faded from Rakhish''s expression as quickly as it had come, a pensive look replacing it.


    "The traitors believe that both Lady Snowcloud and the cure are with the Waning Moon army," Elder Naran replied. "Doubtless they intend to resolve that problem away from prying eyes. Your presence here means they likely count you among those."


    "That means Herran¡­" Rakhish''s eyes showed a hint of sorrow, but it lasted only a moment. Then, he shook his head. "You should leave. I will send word to the others and hold off the traitors when they come after you. The Waning Moon is on the verge of defeat, so there''s not much time."


    Elder Naran gave him a nod. "Fight well."


    Without wasting any further words, he set off along the mountain path, Arran and the others following close behind him. They moved at a quick pace, and before long, they had left the camp far behind.


    As they advanced into the mountains, Arran recalled the brief battle ¡ª if it could even be called that. While the Elders'' power was every bit as terrifying as expected, what had shocked him was their speed. Against enemies like those, he would fall before he even had a chance to defend himself.


    Roughly half an hour after their encounter with the Iron Mountain mages, Arran noticed that the thundering sounds of battle in the distance were lessening. Although the battle wasn''t over, he knew it wouldn''t be much longer.


    "We need to go faster," Elder Naran said, apparently having had the same thought. The Elder glanced at Snowcloud, then unceremoniously picked her up and slung her over his shoulder. Then, he turned to Arran.


    "I can run," Arran hurriedly said. He had no desire to be carried like a bag of potatoes ¡ª just having to rely on the others'' protection was bad enough.


    At once, the group quickened its pace, and it wasn''t long before Arran found himself struggling to keep up with the others. Yet driven by his unwillingness to become a literal burden to the others, he did not allow himself to falter even if their speed pushed him to his limits.


    The sounds in the distance gradually died down as they hurried up the mountains, until finally, they disappeared completely. None of them spoke, but all knew what it meant: the battle was over, and soon, the traitors would come after them.


    Barely half an hour later, a cacophony of deafening thunder and rumbling sounded on the mountainside. At this, Elder Naran stopped running and turned around.


    "Rakhish," he said. "He has others with him, but¡­" He let out a sorrowful sigh. "It isn''t enough."


    They set off again immediately, the knowledge of what was happening behind them driving them to run even faster than before. When the sounds ended a while later, they did not pause. A sacrifice had been made to buy them time, and they would not waste it.


    They continued like this throughout the night, running at full speed without pause or rest. Arran did not know how close their pursuers were behind them, but it didn''t matter ¡ª all he could do was hope that it would be enough.


    To Arran, the night passed in a blur, the constant effort leaving him little time for thought. Yet as morning approached he could feel the air growing thinner, and he knew they were getting close to their destination.


    The first light of day had already appeared when Arran saw it: a long, narrow gorge with a tall wall at the end of it ¡ª the entrance to the Sixth Valley. At the center of the wall stood a large gate, and the sight caused Arran to feel a sudden surge of despair.


    The gate was closed.

 Chapter 199 The Valleys Gate

    When he saw the gate at the end of the narrow pass in front of them closed, Elder Naran calmly turned to the mage who had changed their appearance. "Remove the illusions."


    The man quickly did as told, undoing the spells he had used on the group at the Soaring Sun camp. He removed the illusion he had used for himself last, a wistful smile appearing on his lips as his hair turned gray and the wrinkles returned to his face.


    While the mage removed his illusions, Elder Naran reversed whatever method he had used to suppress his size, and within moments he had regained three feet of height. Then, he changed into another robe ¡ª one that not only fit his normal size but also featured elegant golden embroidery.


    "Now let''s see what weight our status as Elders still carries," he said, stepping forward into the narrow pass.


    Arran followed behind the others as they headed toward the closed gate that lay at the end of the pass, over half a mile ahead of them.


    "What if they don''t let us in?" he asked Brightblade, who was walking beside him.


    "Then we''ll have to fight our pursuers," she answered. Although there was no fear in her voice, her previous levity had all but disappeared.


    "Can''t you break through?"


    "The Valley''s defenses aren''t so easily broke," she replied. "Countless generations of mages have strengthened both the gate and the wall, and this pass contains a formation that suppresses magic."


    At this, Arran frowned. "A formation?"


    "Try to use a spell and see what happens."


    Arran did as she said, and he tried to form a fireball in his hands. Yet immediately, he discovered that it was impossible ¡ª the moment the Essence left his body, it dissipated into the air around him.


    "So you''re defenseless here?" he asked, shocked.


    She smiled in response. "We still have our swords. And although we can''t use magic here, neither can the Iron Mountain traitors." She hesitated, but then continued, "Of course, if the defenders are traitors as well, we have a problem."


    "How bad a problem?" Arran asked, although from her expression, he wasn''t sure he wanted to hear the answer.


    "The formation was created to defend the Valley, not its enemies. It blocks those in front of the gate from using magic, but the defenders aren''t suppressed." She smiled wryly. "Anyone on top of the wall can attack us at their leisure, and if they do, there''s little we can do to stop it."


    Arran''s eyes widened in shock. "That means¡ª"


    "Don''t assume the worst just yet," she cut him off. "The traitors likely sent most of their numbers with the Iron Mountain army, and even then, they did not fully control it."


    Her words, reasonable though they were, did not fully reassure Arran. But then, he did not have any options other than following Elder Naran ¡ª there were enemies behind them, and Arran had no illusions about his fate if he was caught.


    They had crossed most of the distance to the gate while talking, and now, Arran saw that there were only a hundred paces left to go.


    Although he had been here before, with the gate closed it was as if the hundred-foot wall had grown even taller than he remembered, its smooth stone surface stretching up into the sky like the impenetrable barrier it was.


    Behind the parapet at the top of the wall stood a line of mages, their eyes focused on the small group in front of them. Though it was hard to see from a distance, to Arran''s eyes, they seemed extremely nervous.


    Elder Naran motioned for their group to stop, then called out in a booming voice, "Open the gate!"


    Several moments passed without a response, and the Elder''s expression turned angry.


    "Open the gate!" he called again. "Right now!"


    This time, a response came. "Lord Elder," one of the mages atop the wall replied, his voice so weak it could barely be heard. "We have orders not to open the gate for anyone."


    "Who gave these orders?" Elder Naran''s voice thundered through the pass, and he made no attempt to conceal his anger.


    "Lord Elder, the orders came from Elder Feng''s steward himself."


    "You would deny us entry on the word of a steward?!" Although Elder Naran sounded furious, Arran thought he could hear some relief in the man''s voice as well. "The order is hereby rescinded! Now open the gate, or face the consequences!"


    "Lord Elder, I can''t¡­ I have to get¡­" The mage''s panicked voice trailed off as he disappeared from the wall.


    For several minutes they stood waiting, until finally, another mage appeared on the wall.


    "Lord Elder," he called out, but then, he briefly went silent. "Elders¡­" The shock in his voice was palpable when he realized that Elder Naran was far from the only Elder in the group. "Open the gate, you dimwits!"


    His panicked shout set the other guards into motion, and just moments later, the massive gate slowly swung open.


    Elder Naran and the others hurried through the gate at once, and inside, they found the commander who had ordered the gate opened. The man was visibly flustered, and on seeing the group of Elders in front of him, he seemed at a loss for words.


    "Have the gate closed," Elder Naran said. "Immediately."


    "Of course, Lord Elder," the man replied, bowing deeply.


    As the commander scurried off, Elder Naran turned to the group. "That fool will try to open the gate the moment the Iron Mountain traitors show up. I need two of you here to ensure he doesn''t, and to give the traitors a welcome they won''t soon forget."


    When the commander returned some moments later and learned that he was no longer in charge, he seemed relieved rather than upset ¡ª a feeling that Arran guessed would disappear as soon as the Iron Mountain mages made their appearance.


    They departed not long after, their group now even smaller than before. Yet although they had left behind two Elders, Arran knew their chances of success had vastly improved.


    The Iron Mountain forces were blocked from following them any further, and even if they somehow found a way to cross into the Valley, it would be too late to make a difference.


    All that remained now was to reach the Patriarch and cure him, and whether they succeeded or not would be determined soon. The danger was far from over, with more traitors doubtless lying in wait within the Valley, but the end of their journey was in sight.


    They traveled toward the capital much like Arran and Snowcloud had fled it more than a year earlier, running through the day and the night, crossing the rolling fields without pausing for rest or sleep.


    Yet this time, with Elder Naran carrying Snowcloud and Arran stronger than before, they moved far faster. After just a single day and night of tireless running, the ancient capital appeared in the distance, every bit as grand as Arran remembered it.


    Brightblade nudged Arran, then pointed toward a vast domed building at the far end of the city, with marble-white towers lining its sides. "That''s where we''re going," she said. "The Patriarch''s palace."

 Chapter 200 The Patriarchs Palace

    "Entering the city unnoticed will be difficult," the gray-haired mage said. "Even ignoring the many people in the streets, there are too many guards and formations that could reveal us."


    "More than just difficult, I would say," Elder Naran replied. "It should be downright impossible. Heavens know we''ve worked long enough to make it so."


    The other man furrowed his brow. "But then, how will we reach the Patriarch without being found?"


    The giant Elder smile calmly. "We won''t. Now that we''ve reached the capital, we will no longer hide our presence. Quite the opposite, in fact ¡ª I intend for every mage in the city to know exactly why we''re here. Any of the traitors act against us, they''ll be up against the entire Valley."


    The gray-haired Elder slowly nodded. "I suppose you''re right. There''s no point in hiding now."


    Surrounded by mages whose power and experience both vastly exceeded his own, Arran was reluctant to speak. Yet now, he could no longer hold back ¡ª there was something on his mind that could not wait any longer.


    "If we announce our purpose," he said, voice uncertain. "Won''t the traitors just kill the Patriarch?"


    Elder Naran chuckled. "A reasonable question, and if they could, they would have done so long ago. But before he fell into unconsciousness, the Patriarch created a formation to protect himself."


    Arran frowned. "A formation?"


    "The Patriarch is a master of seals and formations," Elder Naran explained. "And this one is especially formidable. It blocks others from entering it, and it''s too powerful and complex to be broken through by force. And while the formation allows a few people to pass unhindered, none of those are likely to be traitors."


    The Elder cast a glance at Snowcloud, and Arran understood that she would be among the few people who could enter the formation unhindered. He did not know how it was possible for a formation to reject some and accept others, but then, that the Patriarch''s skills were beyond his comprehension was to be expected.


    "Now, no more delays," Elder Naran said. "It''s time for us to cause an uproar."


    Arran could see a glint in the Elder''s eyes as he started toward the city, as if this was a moment the man had long awaited.


    They entered the city soon after, finding its streets busy with traffic and commerce. It was still early in the day, but there were already many townsfolk about, most of them browsing the morning markets and food stalls.


    Yet as soon as their small group entered the streets, all eyes were drawn to them.


    Even to commoners, it would be obvious that these were no ordinary mages ¡ª just Elder Naran''s height was enough to make sure of that. And if commoners could not Sense the mages'' power, they could still clearly see that they moved with the kind of calm confidence that was unattainable for inexperienced novices.


    But while the commoners and initiates in the city gawked at them, the stronger reaction came from the small groups of novices on the streets.


    Most of them seemed to recognize at least some of the Elders ¡ª the giant Elder Naran, if no one else ¡ª and the sight of Elders roaming the streets so casually caused them to stop in their tracks.


    At this, a small smile appeared on Elder Naran''s lips, and he stepped toward one of the groups.


    "You!" he said, facing a terrified-looking novice. "Take word to Elder Sun that a cure for the Patriarch has been found, and tell him to come to the Patriarch''s palace immediately."


    It took the wide-eyed novice some moments to process what had happened, but then, he gave a deep bow. "Of course, Lord Elder." He hurried off at once, his companions instantly forgotten.


    "You!" The Elder turned to another novice, then instructed her to take word to some Grandmaster whose name Arran did not recognize.


    Once each novice in the group had been sent off with a message, Elder Naran approached the next group.


    This scene repeated itself many times as they made their way through the city, until eventually, several dozens of novices were hurrying through the city with messages for various Elders and Grandmasters.


    Word spread quickly, and it wasn''t long before Arran saw small groups of novices gathering along the road, eager to be given their own task and curry favor with an Elder.


    When they reached the gate to the restricted portion of the city, the commander of the guards approached them at a run.


    He gave Elder Naran a hurried bow, then asked, "Lord Elder, is it true? Have you found a cure for the Patriarch?" His eyes held an almost ecstatic glow as he spoke.


    "It''s true," the Elder confirmed. "We can cure the Patriarch."


    "This¡­" The man''s words failed him, and he blinked several times, trying to comprehend the magnitude of what he''d just been told. "I have to come with you."


    "Of course," Elder Naran said, then continued onward through the gate.


    Although his messages had instructed the recipients to come to the Patriarch''s palace, it quickly became clear that many lacked the patience to wait that long. As they made their way to the palace, they were approached by a new mage every few steps of the way, and each time, the question was the same: is it true?


    The small group rapidly grew into a large one, with dozens of mages soon following behind Elder Naran and the others. Not all of these would be Elders and Grandmasters, but it was an astonishing force nonetheless.


    Arran understood that this was exactly as the Elder had intended. With so many powerful mages surrounding them, no traitors would dare make a move ¡ª not unless they were willing to give up their lives. And even then, they would have little chance of success.


    When they finally reached the Patriarch''s palace, Arran marveled at the sheer size of the building, but only briefly, as his eyes were soon drawn to the crowd waiting in front of it.


    There were well over a hundred mages present, gathered in front of the palace in a large crowd. And as soon as they saw Elder Naran and the others approach, many of them called out questions about the news they had just received.


    Yet at the front of the group stood a single man, and although he did not look particularly imposing, he immediately caught Arran''s attention.


    Short, with a soft round face and a plump figure, he looked more like a baker than a mage. Yet he was dressed in an extravagant robe made of red and yellow silk, all woven in lavish patterns, and the other mages kept a respectful distance from him. And more than that, there was an aura of confidence and power about him.


    "Elder Naran," the plump man called out, his voice overly friendly. "I hear you bring unexpected news."


    "So I do, Elder Feng," the giant Elder replied. "Though we very nearly didn''t make it, pursued as we were by the traitors who have seized control of the Iron Mountain. Had Elder Rakhish not sacrificed himself to hold them off, we might well have died before reaching you."


    Loud gasps immediately sounded among the crowd, but Elder Naran continued in a loud voice, "Of course, we had not expected to find the gate to the Valley closed to all, at your orders. If not for the loyal commander at the gate letting us through, we would have perished."


    More gasps sounded, and all eyes turned to Elder Feng, with some of the mages in the crowd looking as if they wanted to attack him that very moment.


    Yet Elder Feng merely nodded, a wry smile on his lips. "It''s true," he said. "I only learned about it days ago ¡ª traitors have seized control of the Iron Mountain, several of our most powerful Elders among them. That is why I ordered the gate closed: to stop them from entering the Valley."


    Elder Naran gave him a cold stare. "Then you should be pleased to hear that I stationed two Soaring Sun Elders at the gate. If the traitors entered the pass, I imagine their numbers will have been thinned a fair bit."


    "I am most grateful for your assistance," Elder Feng said, his voice not betraying any emotion. "Both in fighting the traitors and in obtaining a cure for our beloved Patriarch. If only you''d arrived a few days sooner, your heroic efforts might have saved him."


    "The Patriarch has died?!" The shocked words came from some random mage amid the crowd, but they were echoed almost instantly by a dozen others.


    "The Patriarch remains alive," Elder Feng said, "but his condition is grave. It seems that with his last remaining sliver of consciousness, he erected a second formation around himself, doubtless to protect himself from traitors." He made a pained gesture, then continued, "But the new formation allows none to pass ¡ª even his trusted healer lost his life when attempting to reach him."


    Elder Naran''s expression turned grim, and in a flat tone, he spoke, "Not even you can breach this new formation, Elder Feng? With the Patriarch''s consciousness all but faded, I would not think him capable of defeating your vast knowledge of seals."


    Elder Fang shook his head in a gesture that, to Arran, seemed just a bit too dramatic to be genuine. "The Patriarch''s skill always exceeded my own. This new formation uses one of the Ancestral Seals ¡ª something you know well is beyond me."


    At that, Elder Naran frowned. "I will see him." From his tone, it was clear that this was no request.


    "Certainly," the plump Elder replied. "Follow me."


    Raising his voice, Elder Naran spoke, "All Elders and Grandmasters, follow along. Perhaps there is one among us who can defeat this new obstacle."


    They entered the palace with several dozens of mages following behind. Some of them cast curious glances at Arran, but with Brightblade at his side, none objected to his presence.


    Behind the palace''s doors they found a vast hall, lined with rows of massive pillars. Its walls and ceiling were clad with gray marble, and other than a large throne at its center, it was completely empty.


    The footsteps of the group echoed in the giant space as they crossed the hall, and the sound of it caused a chill to run down Arran''s spine. Rather than a palace, it seemed like a long-abandoned tomb.


    At the far end of the hall was another set of doors, behind which lay another hall. It was smaller than the first, if not by much, but otherwise largely similar.


    Except, where the first hall had held a throne at its center, this one held a large white marble platform. And upon that platform lay a man.


    Had Arran not known that this was the Patriarch, he would have thought it a long-dead corpse. The body was completely shriveled, lacking any fat or muscle. Only skin seemed to hold its bones together, and Arran could not detect even the faintest movement from the body.


    The group approached the platform silently, reverence clear in the mages'' eyes as they walked forward.


    When they were about thirty paces removed from the platform, the group suddenly halted, and after a moment, Arran understood why ¡ª while Sensing it took him a great deal of effort, he recognized that a web of Fire Essence lay in a circle around the platform.


    This, Arran knew, would be the new formation. Thousands of strands of Fire Essence woven together in an intricate pattern, each strand interlocking with numerous others. But for some reason, there was something strangely familiar about it.


    "As you can see," Elder Feng said to the group, "this formation is no simple matter. To the best of my knowledge, this is an Ancestral Seal ¡ª one of the seals created by the Ancestors of the Valley, impossible to break without years of study."


    Arran barely heard the man''s words. The more he studied the formation, the more familiar it seemed. It was sloppy and flawed, but the pattern was unmistakable. Unless he was deeply mistaken¡­


    "I can break it," he said.

 Chapter 201 Barrier

    "I can break it," Arran repeated, louder this time.


    "Could someone silence this delusional child?" Elder Feng''s voice held a hint of annoyance, but no more than that.


    "Let him speak," Elder Naran said sharply. Then, he turned to Arran. "Are you certain?" There was doubt in his eyes, but he did not dismiss the idea outright.


    Arran hesitated before speaking. "I am," he finally said. "Mostly."


    Ancestral Seal or not, he''d recognized the formation almost immediately. Although it was larger and formed from Fire instead of Shadow Essence, the pattern it used was a near-perfect match for the seal on his Destruction Realm. And after years of having the seal inside him, he could not possibly fail to notice the likeness.


    That alone would not have given him confidence in breaking it, of course. The seal was something he could not break, and had the formation exactly matched it, he would have had no way to deal with it.


    But where the strands of Essence in Master Zhao''s seal formed a perfect whole, that was not the case with the formation. While its parts were the same, it was as if they had been pieced together by someone who did not know what he was making ¡ª someone who had blindly followed instructions to create something he did not truly comprehend.


    As Arran knew all too well, the seal''s biggest strength was exactly its perfect unity. Each strand of Essence was linked with all the others in an intricate pattern that seemed to lack any weak spots, making it all but impossible to dismantle.


    Yet in the formation, this unity was absent.


    To someone who had not spent numerous infuriating hours tangling with the real seal, the formation''s weaknesses would have been near-impossible to see. But to Arran, they were unmistakable.


    "By all means, let the youth have a go at it," Elder Feng said. The annoyance in his voice had disappeared, mocking amusement now taking its place. "Perhaps he will see what dozens of Elders failed to notice."


    Some of the mages chuckled in derision, but Arran ignored them. His concentration was entirely focused on the formation, and he slowly approached it, stopping only when he was close enough to touch it.


    For the better part of an hour, he meticulously studied the formation, making note of all the ways in which it differed from the seal on his Destruction Realm. Each of these differences represented a weakness, and Arran took care not to miss any of them.


    "Not as easy as it looks, is it?"


    Even without seeing Elder Feng, Arran knew there was a satisfied smirk on the man''s face. Yet if the Elder''s intention was to distract, he would be disappointed ¡ª even without the Patriarch''s life at stake, Arran would not easily give up this chance to practice his seal-breaking skills.


    As Arran continued his work, some grumbles occasionally sounded from the mages who stood waiting, but each time, a quick word from Elder Naran was enough to silence them.


    Finally, Arran had learned all he could, and he was certain he knew how to break the formation. All it would take was to interrupt the strands of Essence in a specific order, without giving them time to reinforce each other.


    The broad grin that appeared on his face lasted only a moment, however, because then, a horrible truth dawned on him.


    While he knew what to do, he lacked a way to actually do it.


    In his focus on defeating the pattern, he''d forgotten that there was a crucial difference between Master Zhao''s seal and this formation.


    The seal existed inside him and was created using his own Essence. He could manipulate it with just a thought ¡ª that he had failed to defeat it was solely because he lacked the knowledge to do so.


    But the formation was a different matter altogether. Rather than manipulating it with his thoughts, he would have to block each strand of Essence using magic ¡ª and there were thousands of strands in the formation.


    He knew the task was beyond him, but he could not give up ¡ª if he did, the Patriarch would die and the traitors might yet achieve victory. And if that happened, both he and Snowcloud would be in grave danger.


    A frown crossed his face as he considered what to do, but then, he set to work.


    First, he created a small Force Shield, which he used to block one of the strands of Fire Essence. The shield held, and he quickly dismissed it, replacing it with a smaller one. He did this several times, soon finding the strength that was needed to block a single one of the formation''s strands.


    Then, he began to create more of the shields, as many as he could handle. But for all his physical strength, his skill at magic was lacking, and he barely managed to form two dozen small shields before he reached the limit of what he could control.


    That was far less than he needed to break the formation ¡ª even a hundred times as many would not be enough, and Arran was already struggling to control this much. Actually breaking the formation with his current level of skill would be utterly impossible.


    Yet at that moment, an idea dawned in his mind. It would be dangerous, but¡­


    "Enough of this," Elder Feng said. "The young man clearly doesn''t know what he''s¡ª"


    The Elder went silent as Arran stepped into the formation.


    The idea was as simple as it was mad. Although Arran could not break the formation, he could target its weak points to force open a crack just large enough for him to pass through unharmed, two dozen tiny Force Shields blocking key points of the formation.


    But if he made even the tiniest error, he would be pierced by a thousand strands of Fire Essence. And all that stood between him and death was his skill at magic ¡ª an embarrassing weakness at the best of times, and something he now sorely regretted neglecting for so long.


    He forced the crack in the formation open further, then quickly took another step forward as it closed behind him.


    "He will cause a disturbance in the formation!" Elder Feng cried out, a trace of panic in his words. "He''ll kill us all! We can''t let him continue!"


    Arran knew it was nonsense. He was the only person who was in danger. But in his struggle with the formation, he could not spare the attention to refute the man''s ridiculous claim.


    "We can, and we will." Elder Naran''s tone held a barely veiled threat of violence as he dismissed Elder Feng''s concerns.


    "If you want to join this man in death, I cannot stop you," Elder Feng said, his voice close to shouting. "But I will leave ¡ª I will not throw away my life so easily!"


    "You will stay!" The giant Elder''s words thundered through the hall, and what had been a veiled threat a moment ago now became a promise. "You will stay, or you will die. Do you think us foolish enough to believe your lies? You will remain here, to be judged by the Patriarch when he awakens."


    "You dare accuse me of treason?!" Elder Feng cried out in a shrieking voice that contained fear and fury in equal measure. "You dare¡ª"


    Arran tuned out the commotion behind him. All his attention was needed to maintain the crack in the formation. Feeling that his control would not hold much longer, he hurriedly took another step forward.


    Just one more step now, and he would be through the formation. He repositioned the shields, then moved again ¡ª and found an invisible barrier blocking the way. The inner formation.


    He had hoped there was some space between the two formations, but with his control on the verge of collapse, it was too late to turn back. And even if he could, the conflict between the Elders was on the verge of erupting into battle, and Elder Feng doubtless wasn''t the only traitor in the group.


    There was no choice but to push forward and hope that the inner formation would accept him. It was a distant hope, but not an absurd one. He suspected that the Patriarch somehow controlled the inner formation, and if so, there was a chance he would be allowed inside it.


    He pushed again, and again found himself forced back. But this time, there was some give in the barrier. A sign, perhaps ¡ª or maybe just vain hope. Either way, he could only try again.


    He made a third push, and this time, he met no resistance at all. He stumbled forward, and the outer formation immediately snapped shut behind him.


    As he got to his feet and looked at the body on the platform before him, he heard the Elders go silent. Even in the heat of conflict, they had seen what had happened.


    "I must borrow your body. Do not resist; I mean you no harm."


    It took Arran a moment to realize that the voice was inside his mind, and by then, his body was already turning around, completely outside his control. There was no question of resisting it ¡ª he had become a mere observer in his own body, his actions no longer his to decide.


    He raised his arm and pointed at Elder Feng. "Traitor!" he said in a voice that was not his own. "In your lust for power, you betrayed both me and the Valley, allying yourself with the Society''s enemies and causing thousands of our own to die. Both your rank and life are void."


    "Patriarch, I¡ª"


    The Elder did not get a chance to say his final words. Even as he spoke, Arran felt the Patriarch draw upon a vast reservoir of Essence, channeling staggering amounts of Fire and Shadow Essence into his body. Then, in an instant, the two types of Essence fused perfectly, and a thin stream of invisible flame shot toward the traitorous Elder.


    Arran could feel the attack as if it was his own, but even so, the spell was too fast for his mind to follow. It had struck like lightning, and only when he saw Elder Feng topple to the floor with a hole burned through his forehead did he realize what had happened.


    "Traitor!" he said again, pointing toward a different Elder.


    In less than a minute, a dozen Elders and Grandmasters died. Some tried to defend themselves, while others begged or fled, but the outcome was the same for each of them. Using Arran''s body as a conduit for his power, the Patriarch swatted them like flies.


    Finally, Arran''s eyes were turned to the survivors. "Elder Naran," he heard himself say. "Take Snowcloud and your Elders to the throne room and wait there. The rest of you, purge the Valley of traitors. Take the Seventh Valley spies alive, and kill the others. Now leave!"


    The gathered Elders and Grandmasters did as he said at once, a mixture of fear and reverence showing on their faces.


    Only Snowcloud showed something different ¡ª concern, Arran thought. Yet Elder Naran hurriedly guided her out of the hall, and moments later, none were left but Arran, the Patriarch''s shriveled body, and a dozen dead mages.


    As Arran looked at the scene, the Patriarch''s words sounded in his mind once more.


    "As for you¡­ There is much in your memories that interests me."

 Chapter 202 The Patriarch

    The Patriarch''s voice sounded in Arran''s mind. "You think I intend you harm?"


    Although Arran had given no voice to his fear, it was clear that the Patriarch knew his thoughts without needing him to speak any words.


    "While your memories are of interest to me, I would not harm you for them. I would not offer you such poor repayment for the help you''ve given me and Snowcloud."


    Arran breathed a sigh of relief. The Patriarch had no reason to lie ¡ª if he intended harm, there was absolutely nothing that Arran could do to stop him.


    "Before anything else, please bring me the cure for that wretched poison. Heavens know I''ve had to endure it long enough."


    Arran understood that the Patriarch could easily force him to deliver the cure. That he did not do so was likely intended as a token of goodwill ¡ª a good sign, if nothing else.


    "A token of goodwill? In part, I suppose. But I would not lightly force an ally to do something ¡ª not unless it was absolutely necessary. Now hurry up. A few drops of blood sprinkled across my body''s lips should be enough."


    Ignoring his unease at having his thoughts read so easily, Arran approached the Patriarch''s motionless body, then used his sword to make a deep cut across his hand. In the brief moment before it healed again, he released a thin stream of blood across the shriveled body''s lips.


    "Excellent! With this, I should recover in a matter of weeks!"


    The Patriarch''s casual words hid a deep sense of joy, and Arran needed little imagination to understand that after decades spent trapped in his own body, the prospect of freedom was no small matter to the man.


    "Now, if you''ll allow me to use your body again, I can take care of Elder Feng''s formation. If not, you will have to wait until I recover and remove it myself. But I think you''d prefer not to spend the next few weeks locked in here with a withered old man and a dozen corpses."


    Arran quickly agreed. He had no desire to spend another hour in the room, much less several weeks.


    Once more, he could feel the Patriarch take control of his body. A moment later, he could feel Essence rushing into his body ¡ª far more than he would be able to control himself.


    Several hundreds of strands of Essence formed, then slowly stretched out towards those parts of the formation that Arran had previously recognized as its weak points. Yet just before they touched it, they unexpectedly dissipated.


    "Attacking these weak points would be an effective way of destroying the formation, though it would not help you against a more skillfully made version. I do not know who taught it to Elder Feng, but he did a supremely lousy job at it. Had he used one of his own formations, you would not have passed it so easily ¡ª but then, his work would have been easy to recognize."


    With a start, Arran realized that the Patriarch was offering him instruction ¡ª rather than just breaking the formation, he was showing how it could be done.


    "Of course," the Patriarch''s voice came. "It would not do to waste an opportunity like this. Now pay attention."


    In quick succession, he demonstrated nearly a dozen different ways to attack the formation, with each providing Arran new insights on the functioning of seals. It was like watching a master craftsman at work, and with the Patriarch using Arran''s body, even the slightest detail was easy to see.


    Finally, the Patriarch''s words sounded in Arran''s mind again. "But the most effective way to break a formation is through a counter-formation."


    In the blink of an eye, the Patriarch formed an impossibly intricate pattern consisting of thousands of strands of Essence. Although most of it was beyond Arran''s understanding, he could tell that the pattern was like an opposite of the one used in the formation.


    When the pattern was finished, it suddenly grew in size, expanding until it perfectly covered Elder Feng''s formation.


    Like a candle being snuffed, the formation dissipated in an instant, not a trace of it left behind.


    The scene left Arran in awe. The Patriarch''s skill was beyond anything he could have imagined. And as he observed this, an idea formed in his mind. If the Patriarch could destroy Elder Feng''s formation this easily, then perhaps he could remove Master Zhao''s seal as well.


    "I could, but I won''t," came the Patriarch''s reply. "That seal is more valuable than the Realm it covers. Study it well, and once you are able to break it, you will have made a first step toward becoming a master of seals yourself."


    Arran nodded silently, understanding that the Patriarch was right. And now that he knew that seals and formations were essentially the same thing, he realized that mastering the skill would bring him tremendous benefits.


    "But perhaps I can do something else for you. If you remain here a little longer, I can give you some small pointers on how to properly use magic."


    "All right," Arran replied quickly.


    "Pay close attention. This opportunity will not come again, and it will save you years of study."


    The Patriarch gathered a large amount of Essence in Arran''s body, then began to cast a series of spells.


    The spells were all ones Arran already knew ¡ª Windblade, Force Shield, and Battering Force ¡ª but the difference between his own versions and the Patriarch''s was like night and day. Even limiting himself to an amount of Essence that Arran could control, the Patriarch''s spells were somehow far more powerful.


    Yet with the Patriarch using his body, it was as if he was casting the spells himself, and in a few short minutes of observation, he gained more understanding than he had in years of practice.


    "Of course, they can also be used with different kinds of Essence."


    The Patriarch cast the spells once more, but this time, he used other types of Essence. The Windblade became a Force Blade, the Force Shield a Shadow Shield, and Battering Force became a violent storm.


    "Practicing the variations will improve your skill, and also help you develop a greater control of Essence ¡ª something you are desperately lacking."


    Arran did not dispute this. He knew well that control of magic was a weakness of his, and one that he needed to address sooner rather than later.


    "Next, I will show you a new spell. It''s called Flamestrike, and you have already seen it used more than once. Learning to cast it will not only give you a powerful new attack but also qualify you to become a novice."


    The Patriarch crafted an intricate spell, far more complex than the previous ones, and a moment later a thin stream of white-hot Fire Essence shot from Arran''s hand like lightning.


    Arran immediately recognized the spell. He had seen Snowcloud use it many times against their enemies, and he knew its power could not be underestimated.


    The Patriarch cast the Flamestrike spell a dozen more times, each time doing so slowly and carefully. Arran knew that learning it himself would be no simple matter, but this lesson was invaluable ¡ª it would save him years of practice, if not more.


    "Another spell you should learn is Shadowcloak. You have some small skill at using Shadow Essence already, and with your physical strength, mastering it should be particularly useful to you. Observe."


    Again, the Patriarch began to cast, demonstrating the Shadowcloak spell several dozens of times. It was far more complex than the Flamestrike spell, but still, Arran thought he had a good chance of learning it in less than a year.


    "Your idea of using that Duskcloak to study the Shadowcloak spell is a good one, but as you can see, there are some important differences between how the spell and the artifact work. So learn from the cloak, but remember what I showed you."


    Arran nodded, his attention fully focused on remembering every single detail of what he had been shown.


    "Finally, one last spell ¡ª the one for which our society is named. Learning it will qualify you to become an adept, and mastering it will make you a threat even to Grandmasters. Behold ¡ª Shadowflame."


    The Patriarch began to cast, and Arran recognized the spell as the one he had used against the Elders. Except this time, the Patriarch cast it slowly, taking care to demonstrate each step involved.


    The Shadowflame spell seamlessly fused Shadow and Fire Essence, then used it in an attack that vaguely resembled the Flamestrike spell. Only it was clear that this spell held far greater power, and Arran thought¡­


    Before he could even finish the thought, the Patriarch''s words sounded in his mind. "You are correct. Executed perfectly, other mages cannot Sense the Shadowflame spell. Few mages ever achieve that level of mastery, but those who do are feared by all."


    Arran did not need to ask whether the Patriarch had mastered it ¡ª the answer was obvious. And equally obvious was how terrifying the spell would be, especially in combination with the Shadowcloak spell. With these two spells, a mage would be able to strike from the shadows, killing enemies without ever being seen.


    "Indeed," came the Patriarch''s answer. "But note the Shadowcloak''s weakness, which you have already discovered. What you call Shadowsight ¡ª a good name, I think ¡ª can be used to detect those who use it. There are ways around that, but none of them are simple."


    Arran furrowed his brow, engraving both the spells and the Patriarch''s words in his mind.


    While the lesson had barely taken an hour, he knew its value was beyond compare. Even if this was the only reward he would get for saving the Patriarch, it was already worth it ¡ª and many times over, at that.


    "Once you leave, tell Elder Naran to give you scrolls for these spells, and have Brightblade provide you and Snowcloud with instruction. You need to practice while the memories are still fresh in your mind."


    Arran nodded quietly, though there was no need for the reminder. After what he had been shown, he was brimming with anxiousness to put it into practice.


    "But now, you should go. I must focus on recovering. Have Elder Naran take you and Snowcloud to my estate, and do not leave it before I return. Before the last traitors have been dealt with, the Valley won''t be safe for either of you."


    With that, Arran could feel the Patriarch''s presence disappear from his mind.


    For a brief moment, he stood there silently, pondering what had happened. He still did not understand how the Patriarch had entered his mind, but it had been a blessing beyond anything he could have hoped for.


    Finally, he began to head toward the exit, an eager smile on his face.


    When he emerged into the throne room, he found Elder Naran and the others waiting for him. And before he could so much as say a word, Snowcloud rushed toward him, embracing him tightly.


    Several moments passed before she let go, and when she did, Arran saw a look of utter relief in her tear-filled eyes.


    "I was so worried," she said. "I didn''t know what Grandfather would do. I feared he might take your body for his own, or worse."


    Elder Naran chuckled. "As I told you, there was no need to worry. Your grandfather may have been unconscious throughout your youth, but I''ve known him for centuries. Terrifying though he can be, I''ve never seen him treat his friends and allies with anything but absolute loyalty."


    Despite his words, Arran could see that the giant Elder was relieved as well. Even if he trusted the Patriarch, the situation had clearly caused him some worry.


    After that, Arran detailed what had happened and relayed the Patriarch''s instructions, and the others'' eyes went wide with surprise.


    "You don''t know how lucky you are," Elder Naran said. "What he did for you¡­ there isn''t an Elder who wouldn''t give his right hand for that. Experiencing the Patriarch''s magic like that will allow you to reach a level of understanding that few of us ever achieve."


    At these words, Arran frowned. "But you can already cast these spells, can''t you?"


    "Not like the Patriarch," the Elder replied. "Achieving the insights needed to cast spells perfectly is something that takes centuries of study. But you ¡ª you''ve witnessed it first-hand. When you struggle, you will know exactly what to improve." He smiled wistfully, then added, "With enough time, you might well surpass me."


    "There can be no doubt of that," Brightblade said, a broad grin on her face. "Not only will he have the Patriarch''s insights, he''ll also have a teacher far more skilled than you."


    They left the palace not long after, Snowcloud holding Arran''s arm tightly as they headed for the Patriarch''s estate.


    Sounds of battle could be heard in the distance, but for the first time in years, Arran felt no worry ¡ª with the Patriarch cured, allies at his side, and Snowcloud next to him, the future looked unusually bright.

 Chapter 203 The Patriarchs Summons

    "Pathetic!" Brightblade shouted. "That wouldn''t even kill a pigeon!"


    Arran groaned in exhaustion, then began to form another Flamestrike with the sliver of Fire Essence that was left in his body.


    As he struggled with the spell, a mass of Wind Essence shot from Brightblade''s hand and rammed into the Wind Shield that Snowcloud hurriedly formed to protect herself. The hasty defense merely weakened the attack, and Snowcloud was sent sprawling to the ground.


    "Not good enough! My next attack will be stronger!" A grin on her face, Brightblade turned back to Arran. "Are you trying to wait me to death? Attack already!"


    Arran let out another deep groan, then shot yet another Flamestrike at his teacher.


    It was slightly better than his previous attempt, he thought. While it might not kill a pigeon, he was reasonably confident it could at least injure one.


    Three months had passed since they arrived at the Patriarch''s estate, and during those months, all of Arran''s time had been divided between studying Master Zhao''s seal and practicing magic under Brightblade''s tutelage.


    His progress on the seal was as rapid as it was infuriating. The better he understood the seal, the clearer it became just how difficult it would be to break the damn thing.


    Before the Patriarch''s demonstrations, he had believed a few short months of dedicated study would be enough to accomplish the task. But now, he realized it would take him at least another year. That the process also greatly helped his understanding of seals in general was only a small comfort.


    His magical studies, meanwhile, were even more infuriating. Even with near-perfect knowledge of what he was trying to do, he had quickly discovered that he lacked the skill and control to actually do it.


    After three months of arduous study, he could now form a Flamestrike that struck with all the power of an angry toddler. And while Snowcloud said that was enough to qualify him to become a novice ¡ª if only barely ¡ª it would do him little good in combat.


    When the day''s practice session had ended, Arran and Snowcloud left the training grounds, then headed back toward their small cottages on the Patriarch''s estate. As always, Arran would spend the evening studying the seal, while Snowcloud would continue her alchemical studies.


    While they walked through the estate''s lavish gardens, Snowcloud gave Arran a studious look. "You''re improving," she said.


    "Doesn''t feel like it," Arran replied. "It''s been months, and I can still only barely use Flamestrike."


    She stared at him incredulously. "You''ve made more progress in months than most mages make in years, or even decades."


    "I suppose you''re right," Arran conceded. "It just feels so slow. After the Patriarch''s help, it feels like I should be improving faster."


    Snowcloud glanced at him, then sighed. "Your progress would be faster if you didn''t eat all that dragon meat."


    She was right, of course. Arran had spent the past months eating a steady diet of dragon meat and little else, absorbing numerous Essence Crystals to compensate for the negative effect the Natural Essence had on his magic affinity.


    The Essence Crystals helped, but even so, the sheer amount of Natural Essence he absorbed undeniably slowed his progress in magic. And although Arran thought the strength it brought him was worth it, Snowcloud clearly disagreed.


    Arran was about to defend his choice once more when he saw a servant approach them. Dressed in a simple white robe, the man looked more like a priest than a mage, although Arran had little doubt that he would have at least an adept''s strength.


    "Young master Ghostblade," the servant said with a small nod. "The Patriarch has requested your presence."


    "The Patriarch? Now?" Arran frowned in surprise.


    The Patriarch had emerged from the palace two weeks after the events there, but they had barely seen the man in the months that followed. From what little information passed the estate''s walls, all his attention had been focused on dealing with the traitors and putting the Valley back in order.


    "Immediately," the white-robed servant confirmed. Evidently believing that no more information was needed, he turned around and left at a jog.


    "I''ll see you tonight," Arran quickly said to Snowcloud before hurrying after the servant.


    The estate was vast, but the Patriarch''s mansion wasn''t far from the training grounds, and it wasn''t long before they arrived at the large building. Built from wood in a simple but elegant style, it looked more like the summer house of a low-ranking noble than the mansion of a powerful mage.


    The servant wasted no time in guiding Arran inside, with the guards wordlessly nodding them through.


    They passed through several hallways until they arrived at a large, sober room that held a round wooden table, several chairs, and little more. At the table sat the Patriarch, a cup of tea and a bowl of soup in front of him.


    "Lord Patriarch, I brought you young master Ghostblade," the servant said, then immediately left.


    "Have a seat," the Patriarch said to Arran. "I hope you''ll excuse me for eating while we talk ¡ª after several decades without a meal, I have a lot of catching up to do."


    Arran sat down, then looked at the Patriarch. The man no longer looked as withered as he had in the palace, but his appearance was still gaunt to the point of emaciation. And with his white hair and wrinkled face, he seemed worryingly frail to Arran''s eyes.


    "It''s not as bad as it looks," the Patriarch said with a laugh. "A few more months, and I''ll be as strong as ever." He paused to eat a spoonful of soup, then continued, "Now, there are matters we have to discuss ¡ª matters involving your memories."


    Arran immediately cringed. He had long known this moment would come, but he dreaded it all the same. Buried in his memories were secrets he didn''t wish to share with anyone ¡ª not even an ally.


    "No need to look so worried," the Patriarch said, his expression friendly. "I have already seen your memories, and I have no need to question you. I called you here today to address your questions, not my own. Now, what do you wish to know?"


    That was not at all what Arran had expected, and he briefly found himself speechless, desperately trying to recall the many things he wanted to know.


    Finally, he asked, "How did you enter my mind and take control of my body?"


    "When I created the formation to protect myself, I embedded a part of my consciousness within it," the Patriarch explained. "After you entered the formation, young and weak, entering your mind was a simple matter. But there''s little reason to worry about another doing the same thing ¡ª separating part of one''s consciousness is no simple matter, and it has¡­ unpleasant consequences."


    A frown crossed his face as he spoke those last words, and Arran understood it was a matter the man would not gladly discuss any further. Instead of trying to dig deeper, he asked, "With your power, how did they manage to poison you?"


    The Patriarch smiled wryly. "Unlike you, I don''t have the Dragon''s Ruin within my blood. And the traitors poisoned me when I was severely injured, when my body was at its weakest."


    "Injured? Who injured you?" With the Patriarch''s strength, Arran found it hard to believe that there were enemies powerful enough to gravely injure him. But evidently, there were, and Arran was eager to know about them ¡ª so he would know where not to travel.


    The Patriarch took another spoonful of soup, then said, "It was at the end of the Eidaran civil war. Agents of Chaos had provided the warring factions with magics far beyond their control, and the idiots faced each other in a final desperate battle ¡ª though, with their empire already in ruins, I do not know what they hoped to gain in victory. The outcome¡­ well, you''ve seen Uvar. When the city was beyond saving, I sealed it off."


    "You created the formation around Uvar?" Arran''s eyes went wide with surprise.


    The Patriarch nodded. "If I hadn''t, none within a hundred miles of the city would have survived. But to create the formation, I had to enter the city while the magic inside was still running rampant. I survived, but I came within a hair''s breadth of death. And when I returned to the Valley, my body still far from recovered, I was met with betrayal."


    Arran nodded thoughtfully, the events finally beginning to make some sense to him. "You said that agents of Chaos were involved in the war?"


    "There are few wars in which they aren''t involved. If you dig deep enough, doubtless you''d find agents of Chaos behind the Valley''s traitors, too. The Society has long been struggling against its enemies, and the power to resist our enemies is tempting to many."


    "But why?" Arran asked. "These agents of Chaos, what do they gain from starting wars?"


    "I''m afraid I cannot answer that question," the Patriarch replied. "The entire conflict between Chaos and Order has existed since long before the Society was formed, but to what end they fight each other, I do not know. All I can tell you is that both are our enemies."


    "That''s it?" Arran couldn''t help but be disappointed at the answer. He had hoped to finally get the answers he sought, but it seemed the Patriarch knew little more than he did about the matter.


    "There''s nothing I can tell you that you don''t already know," the Patriarch confirmed. "The Academy forced us from the Empire countless thousands of years ago and seeks to control all magic within the Empire, while the forces of Chaos spread war and disorder wherever they go. But beyond that? Until I saw your memories, I didn''t even know about those supposed Gods of theirs."


    Arran''s face fell when he understood that his most burning question would not be answered.


    "But I believe there is someone who has more answers," the Patriarch continued. "Someone you''ve already met."


    Naturally, Arran knew who the Patriarch was talking about. "Master Zhao? You know who he is?"


    "I can''t be certain, but I can venture a guess." A small smile crossed the Patriarch''s lips. "From the seal he put on your Destruction Realm, I suspect he''s one of the Society''s Ancestors ¡ª the original followers of the Saint of Shadows. Most of them disappeared when the Academy defeated the Shadowflame Society, but ever since, there have been rumors that they have been working from the shadows to protect the Society."


    Arran took a moment to process the words, then asked, "Does that mean he''s more powerful than you?"


    The Patriarch laughed loudly. "If he is indeed one of the Ancestors, the difference between us will be like night and day. I am an Archmage ¡ª a real one, mind you, not like those Academy incompetents ¡ª while the Ancestors are Sages."


    "Sages?" Arran had never heard the term before.


    The Patriarch frowned. "I forgot that nobody ever properly taught you the ranks of mages. It''s time to remedy that."


    As Arran waited anxiously, the Patriarch ate another quick spoonful of soup, then scraped his throat. Then, he began to speak.


    "At the lowest level are common mages ¡ª initiates, novices, and adepts. These are simple titles that carry little meaning beyond tradition, and they vary widely between groups. What one order of mages calls a novice might be considered an adept in another.


    "Above them stand Masters, Grandmasters, and Archmages. These titles do carry meaning, though not as much as you might think. Masters are those who have condensed the Essence within their bodies to the point where it resembles a liquid, greatly increasing the reserves of Essence they can draw upon. Grandmasters have condensed their Essence even further, turning it solid. Naturally, their Essence reserves are far beyond those of Masters.


    "Archmages like myself are a step beyond that. We can draw upon the Essence of our Realms directly, giving us what is essentially an endless reserve. We are limited by our minds and bodies, but most of us can maintain simple spells like Shadowcloak indefinitely.


    "But note what I didn''t mention: skill. None of these ranks necessarily require a mage to be skilled. In theory, it would be possible to become an Archmage without being able to cast even a single spell, with a body that cannot handle even a shred of Essence.


    "That is why the Academy ranks mean so little ¡ª all but a few of their mages lack the strength and knowledge to control truly powerful spells, and only those deemed sufficiently loyal and talented are shown the path to true power. The others are like untrained swordsmen carrying giant swords, which they have neither the strength nor the skill to wield properly."


    Arran frowned. "Then what about Sages?"


    At this, a glint of fervor appeared in the Patriarch''s eyes. "Sages are different altogether. Their insights into magic have reached such a level that it''s almost as if their spells have a soul of their own."


    "A soul?" Arran stared at the Patriarch in confusion. He had absolutely no idea what the old man was talking about.


    "Take the seal on your Destruction Realm. Even if I created the exact same seal, it would be many times weaker, because my insight is lacking." The Patriarch let out a laugh, then continued, "In truth, I benefited greatly just from observing the seal while I was inside your mind. And you will see even larger benefits ¡ª with enough study, you might even gain part of the insights hidden within the seal. That''s why it''s a treasure beyond compare, far more valuable than your Destruction Realm."


    Arran pondered the Patriarch''s words, but he knew that his knowledge of magic was too limited to truly comprehend what the man was talking about. After a moment, he asked, "So Master Zhao is a Sage?"


    "Almost certainly," the Patriarch responded. "And if he isn''t, he''s only a hair away from becoming one. Either way, his knowledge of magic far exceeds my own."


    "Is there a stage beyond Sages?" Arran asked, his curiosity not yet satisfied.


    The Patriarch chuckled. "Beyond Sages are Saints ¡ª like the founder of our Society. All of them are figures of legend, but I do not know of any who remain alive today. Should you ever meet one, I don''t know if it would be a curse or a blessing."


    Arran nodded, though he had a hard time imagining just how powerful a Saint would be. If the Patriarch had created the formation around Uvar and Sages were vastly more powerful than the Patriarch, then Saints would have to be utterly terrifying.


    "But we have another matter to discuss," the Patriarch said, his expression turning serious. "One that concerns your future."


    "My future?" Arran''s musings about Sages and Saints were instantly forgotten.

 Chapter 204 A New Path

    "When you came to the Sixth Valley, you did so in search of a place to develop your strength in safety," the Patriarch said. "A place where you could quietly study magic without the constant threat of enemies pursuing you."


    Arran nodded. What the old man said was entirely correct ¡ª but then, he''d likely gleaned it from Arran''s own memories.


    "But when you saved my life, any chance of that was irretrievably lost," the Patriarch continued. "Every Elder in the Valley knows who you are, and before long, your fame will spread to the rest of the Valley. If you remain here, you will never have the quiet you seek ¡ª nor the safety."


    Naturally, Arran had already come to this conclusion himself. By breaking through Elder Feng''s formation in front of several dozens of Elders and Grandmasters, he had ensured that his face was engraved in the minds of all.


    "So what do you suggest?" It was clear that the Patriarch had something in mind. He would not have called Arran otherwise.


    "I have a plan," the Patriarch replied. "Or rather, a proposal. But before I continue, Snowcloud should be here as well. She faces the same issue as you, and what I have in mind involves both of you."


    He pulled a small golden bell from his robe and rang it. Although the sound was so soft it was almost inaudible, a white-robed servant appeared in an instant.


    "You called, Lord Patriarch?"


    "Please fetch Snowcloud," the Patriarch told the man.


    "At once, Lord Patriarch." The servant hurried off immediately.


    As Arran waited anxiously for Snowcloud to arrive so he could hear the Patriarch''s plans for him, the old man calmly finished his bowl of soup.


    Snowcloud entered into the room a short while later. A smile on her face, she gave the Patriarch a small bow. "Grandfather."


    "Good to see you," the Patriarch replied. "Have a seat." As Snowcloud sat down, he continued, "In saving me, both of you have become targets for my enemies. With the Valley no longer safe for you, I have decided to send you away."


    "Send us away?" Snowcloud''s smile disappeared in an instant, and she stared at her grandfather with wide eyes. "Can''t you protect us here?"


    "I can, of course," the Patriarch replied. "I could take you both as my personal apprentices and have you guarded at all times. You would have myself and the Valley''s Elders as your teachers, with enough resources at your disposal to make even Grandmasters go green with envy. It would be a path that would destine both of you to become Elders."


    Arran frowned. What the Patriarch described was everything he wished for, but from the sound of it, it wasn''t what the man had in mind for them.


    "But your lives would be sheltered ones," the Patriarch continued. "You wouldn''t be able to leave the Valley or face real battles, and although your knowledge of magic would be vast, you would lack the experience to temper it. While you would become Elders one day, your power would be unremarkable at best."


    "Then what do you intend for us?" Snowcloud asked.


    "Seeing Ghostblade''s memories, I was reminded that the path most mages follow is a limited one. In their pursuit of magical power at the expense of all else, they grow blind to their weaknesses. Even I made this mistake. Relying on my strength in magic, I ignored my body, and fell victim to a simple poison. What I intend for you is a path that avoids these pitfalls."


    It was clear in Snowcloud''s expression that the answer didn''t satisfy her, but after a moment, she let out a sigh of resignation. "What is it you expect us to do?"


    "To start, I will send both of you to the Ninth Valley, where none know your identity. You will pose as initiates, the students of a visiting adept."


    "Initiates?!" Snowcloud''s voice was thick with outrage.


    "You''re making us study under an adept?" Arran felt nearly as outraged as Snowcloud sounded. After months under the tutelage of an Elder, he understood well how large the gap between the two was ¡ª being taught by a mere adept, he doubted his progress would be even half as fast.


    "I think I''ve done a reasonably good job at teaching you so far," a woman''s voice sounded at the back of the room.


    Arran quickly turned around, and saw that it was Brightblade. She had entered the room without him noticing, and on seeing his startled expression, she grinned broadly.


    "But you''re not an adept," Arran said, somewhat redundantly.


    "It''s only been a few short centuries since I held that rank," Brightblade replied. "Taking on the role once more shouldn''t be too difficult. And with me teaching you, there is some small hope of you becoming a proper mage yet."


    The Patriarch scraped his throat, and as the others went silent, he said, "Brightblade will accompany you, as your teacher and protector. With an Elder posing as an adept, I trust you won''t find it beneath your dignity to pose as initiates."


    Snowcloud hurriedly shook her head, and Arran could see there was a hint of red on her cheeks.


    "Now, with that matter settled, there is something I wish to give you."


    The Patriarch produced two rings, then put them on the table before Snowcloud and Arran. They were exceptionally plain and seemed to be made of iron, and Arran could Sense no magic coming from them.


    Seeing their puzzled stares, the Patriarch explained, "These are void rings. They are much like void bags, except when you retrieve items, they will appear directly in your hand ¡ª a rather useful quality when fighting or gambling. Inside these rings, you will find the supplies I have prepared for you. Go ahead and bind them."


    Arran did as the Patriarch said, and when he saw the ring''s contents, he had to stop himself from gasping in awe. The space it contained held tens of thousands of Essence Crystals, along with numerous scrolls, memory amulets, and various objects he did not recognize.


    Yet where Arran could barely contain his excitement, Snowcloud spoke glumly, "There''s dragon meat in here."


    "A gracious gift from Elder Naran," the Patriarch said. "You will also find a Body Refinement technique he devised with the help of your mutual acquaintance in the Redpeak Mountains. While it won''t be as effective as the Dragon''s Ruin, it should allow you to gain a great deal of strength over the next few years."


    "But¡­" Snowcloud glum tone turned to horror. "Using that will interfere with my magic!"


    "It will slow your progress," the Patriarch confirmed. "Which is a small price to pay for the benefits you''ll receive."


    Before Snowcloud could object any further, he continued, "Among the supplies, you will also find amulets, one for each of you. I created them recently, but you should find them quite useful. You can use them to unleash a steady assault of unbound Essence upon yourself, which will allow you to build a resistance against magic."


    Arran frowned. What the Patriarch described sounded exactly like what he had done in Uvar, and with the Patriarch having seen his memories, he understood that wasn''t a coincidence.


    "This¡­" A complex expression appeared on Snowcloud''s face. "You want me to follow Ghostblade''s path?"


    "No," the old man said. "I want you to combine the two and forge a new path. I want you ¡ª both of you ¡ª to become equally formidable in magic and physical combat. I want you to avoid the weaknesses other mages have, but without losing their strengths."


    "You want me to abandon the True Path." Astonishment was clear in Snowcloud''s eyes when she said the words, as if she only now understood the magnitude of what her grandfather was suggesting.


    "The True Path is just one of many roads to power," the Patriarch said. "And although it has served us well, it is no longer enough. The Iron Mountain''s betrayal was just the latest in a long line of disasters, and with every passing year, the Society grows weaker and more divided. You have seen the evidence of that with your own eyes, this past year."


    "But why us?" Snowcloud asked, looking bewildered. "If a new path is needed, why not have an Elder search for it?"


    "Naturally, we have done that," the Patriarch replied. "I wouldn''t place the fate of the Society in the hands of a novice ¡ª not even one who shares my blood. There are many Elders searching for ways to improve our strength, and perhaps some of them will succeed. But you are both young enough that your path hasn''t yet been set, and I would be a fool to waste that opportunity."


    "So we''re an experiment?" Arran gave the Patriarch a flat stare.


    "In a sense," the old man said. "But one that I firmly believe will benefit you both."


    "If it''s an experiment, what if it fails?" Arran asked. Firm belief or not, the old man''s words hardly inspired confidence.


    "Then you will have wasted a few years traveling down the wrong path." The Patriarch shrugged. "At your age, there will be plenty of time to reverse course. But even without my suggestion, would you give up your endeavors in Body Refinement to focus solely on magic?"


    Arran sighed, knowing very well that he wouldn''t. "Very well. I''ll go."


    The Patriarch nodded, then turned to Snowcloud. "And you?"


    She took longer in answering, but finally, after a look at Arran, she said, "All right."


    "Excellent," the Patriarch said. "You will depart a week from now."

 Chapter 205 A Long Journey

    "She has to be hiding in the copse of trees on that hill over there." Snowcloud''s eyes held a look of grim determination. "It''s the only place nearby that offers cover and a good vantage point. If you can distract her, I''ll go around and attack from the back."


    Her knuckles whitened as she reflexively tightened her grip on her sword. After more than half a year of training her strength and swordsmanship, she no longer treated the weapon with disdain. Now, she wielded it with as much confidence as she wielded her spells.


    Arran looked out over the dense wilderness that lay before them, considering Snowcloud''s assessment. The rolling landscape was thick with brush, but from what he could see, she was right ¡ª the tree-topped hill was the only place that gave both shelter and a good view of the area.


    He gave Snowcloud a quick nod. "Let''s do this."


    She moved off slowly, crouching as she silently crept toward the hill. It only took a few moments before Arran could no longer see her, but that didn''t matter ¡ª he knew her well enough to guess how long it would take her to get into position.


    After a quarter hour, Arran decided it was time. He took a deep breath, then began to gather Fire Essence, preparing to attack.


    His first Flamestrike exploded the largest tree in the copse, showering the area around with large splinters of wood. The second arrived an instant later, tearing through two of the smaller trees.


    He quickly began to move forward, maintaining a Force Shield with his left hand while he continued to launch Flamestrikes with the right. While the copse was already ruined and ablaze, he did not stop his attacks ¡ª if their enemy was there, the distraction would be sorely needed.


    While Arran advanced, Snowcloud emerged from the brush a few dozen paces away from the burning copse. She headed forward at once, sword drawn and ready to strike.


    But then, Arran saw it ¡ª a figure appearing at her back, a raised blade in its hands.


    "Behind you!" he called out.


    Snowcloud managed to turn just in time, and for a few brief seconds, she held off her attacker. But despite her furious defense, the fight was lopsided, and she fell before Arran''s hasty Flamestrike even reached their foe.


    Arran rushed forward, already forming a second Flamestrike, when the figure raised its hand ¡ª Brightblade''s sign that the exercise was over.


    At this, Arran breathed a secret sigh of relief. Whatever the reason, he was happy to have escaped the thrashing that facing their teacher entailed.


    As Snowcloud got back to her feet, Arran began to head to his two companions, curious to see what good stroke of fortune had saved him from another painful defeat.


    Ever since they departed the Sixth Valley half a year earlier, hidden within merchant wagons in the dead of night, Brightblade had made Arran and Snowcloud face her in battle hundreds of times.


    Sometimes they were ambushed, sometimes they were chased, and sometimes Brightblade merely faced them directly for days on end, making them fight for every step forward before inevitably defeating them and gloating over her victory.


    At times, it was enough for Arran to wish he really had gone into secluded training for the next decade, as the Valley''s Elders had been told. Between isolation and Brightblade''s teaching methods, the former certainly seemed like the less painful option.


    Yet grueling though Brightblade''s training methods were, their effectiveness was beyond question. She often made Arran fight using only his magic and Snowcloud only her strength, and the constant practice had seen Arran''s skill increase with leaps and bounds.


    Perhaps his Flamestrikes weren''t yet quite as strong as Snowcloud''s, but the difference was no longer the vast chasm it had once been.


    And Snowcloud''s progress had been at least as astonishing, if not more so. Yet Arran knew that this wasn''t just due to Brightblade''s skill as a teacher.


    In the week before they left, the Patriarch had spent several days having long conversations with Snowcloud, and she had been silent and morose for several weeks afterward. She had refused to discuss the matter with Arran, but he understood the Patriarch had talked about her parents ¡ª and it was obvious the news wasn''t good.


    Her spirits eventually improved, if only slightly, but something had changed inside her. She began to study Body Refinement and swordsmanship with a fervor that bordered on fanaticism, studying and practicing even in the few moments of rest they got each day.


    What he saw caused Arran worry, yet there was nothing he could do but hope that her pain would eventually lessen ¡ª or that she would decide to share it with him.


    As much as he wanted to help her, he knew it was something he could not force.


    When Arran reached his two companions, he quickly turned to Brightblade. "Any reason you decided not to blast me with a spell or two?"


    "I was feeling merciful," she replied with a grin. "And more importantly, we have a guest."


    She gestured behind her, and when Arran looked, he saw a young woman in the distance who was slowly walking toward them. At a glance, he could tell that she was dressed like a Shadowflame mage ¡ª a novice, from the looks of it.


    The three of them waited as the young woman approached. Naturally, Arran felt no worries ¡ª with Brightblade at their side, there wasn''t much in the borderlands that could threaten them.


    As the stranger came closer, Arran saw that she was younger than he had initially thought. Instead of a woman, she looked more like a girl, with an innocent face, large green eyes, and curly brown hair.


    The girl came to a halt a dozen paces from them, some hesitation on her face. "Are you also novices?" she asked in a timid voice.


    "I''m an adept," Brightblade replied. "These two initiates are my students."


    "Oh!" the girl exclaimed, then cast a glance at the burning copse of trees. "Then it was your magic I Sensed. That explains why you''re so powerful."


    Arran suppressed a grin, quickly deciding that he liked the girl already.


    "I''m Acantha," she said. "Apologies for not recognizing you. I¡­ I don''t know many adepts."


    "I''m Brightblade," Brightblade introduced herself. "These two are Snowcloud and Ghostblade. And that you didn''t recognize us is only natural ¡ª we''re not from your Valley."


    "You''re not from the Ninth Valley?" Acantha''s eyes went wide with surprise. "Then you traveled all the way from the Eighth Valley?"


    "That, and then some," Brightblade replied. "But we''ve come to visit your Valley."


    "You have? Oh! But then I can show you the way! We''re only a few days from the border!"


    Brightblade nodded. "Lead the way."


    "Of course, Adept Brightblade," the girl said, only barely managing to contain her excitement.


    They soon were on their way again, but despite her promise, it wasn''t long before Acantha fell back behind Brightblade. Excited or not, she was clearly uncomfortable leading an adept, and after a few aborted attempts at talking to Brightblade, she silently slipped in between the initiates.


    The quiet didn''t last long, however, and she soon attempted to strike up a conversation with Snowcloud. This predictably failed ¡ª Snowcloud wasn''t much for talking these days, especially not to strangers ¡ª and finally, all other options exhausted, Acantha turned to Arran.


    "I actually just finished my first year across the border," she said, her smile slightly forced.


    "By yourself?" Arran raised an eyebrow. "You didn''t have any recruits with you?"


    "I couldn''t find any good recruits to join me," she replied dejectedly.


    "But wasn''t it dangerous?" Although Arran knew novices should be able to defend themselves, he had some doubts about this particular one.


    "It was," she said with an emphatic nod. "I met a group of bandits, and I had to injure one of them to scare them away." Then, in a lower voice, she added, "I heard from other novices that one of the new recruits was actually killed some months ago."


    Arran gave her a puzzled look. "It''s rare for recruits to die?"


    "Of course!" She looked at him as if he''d just asked whether grass was green. "If it happened often, the Elders wouldn''t just send us across the border."


    "But aren''t there enemies in the borderlands? Hostile mages and Body Refiners?"


    "Not really," Acantha said. "There are the Hunters, of course, but they don''t usually bother novices. Not unless you¡ª"


    "Hunters?" Brightblade interrupted her sharply. "You said there are Hunters in the region?"

 Chapter 206 Into the Valley

    A fearful look crossed Acantha''s face. Brightblade''s forceful response to the mention of Hunters was something she clearly had not expected.


    "Yes, Adept Brightblade," she said. "Hunters are common in the borderlands." A slight tremble in her voice, she added, "But there''s nothing to worry about. They don''t attack Shadowflame mages. Not unless we challenge them ¡ª but nobody''s been dumb enough to do that in years."


    Brightblade raised an eyebrow. "They don''t target your Ninth Valley mages? But they do attack others?"


    Acantha nodded. "They hunt any mages who aren''t from the Shadowflame Society. At least, that''s what my teachers say ¡ª ."


    "Then what do you do?" Brightblade asked, her brown furrowed as she looked at the novice.


    A puzzled expression appeared on Acantha''s face. In an uncertain tone, she asked, "What we do?"


    "In the borderlands. Without other mages around, what do you novices do here? Your Elders don''t just send you out here to go camping, do they?"


    At this, understanding dawned in Acantha''s eyes. "We protect the region from bandits and dangerous creatures," she answered, a proud look on her face.


    Suddenly, Arran understood why the Ninth Valley''s borderlands were so safe for novices. With only bandits and beasts as enemies, there were no real dangers to mages.


    "I see," Brightblade said. "Very well, let''s start moving again."


    She turned around without another word, though Arran could detect a hint of dissatisfaction in her gaze. He suspected she didn''t think such safety was good training for novices.


    As they went on their way again, Acantha was noticeably quieter than before, seemingly wary of drawing Brightblade''s attention once more. Yet Arran''s brief respite lasted barely an hour, after which she began chattering once more.


    They traveled for two days, Snowcloud and Brightblade both quiet as Acantha prattled to Arran about her year in the borderlands. It didn''t bother him too much ¡ª some part of her reminded him of some of the girls he''d known in Riverbend, with a type of innocence he hadn''t seen in a long time.


    Then, to Arran''s surprise, there was a sudden shift in the landscape. Where there had previously been wilderness all around them, now, they had entered a region full of farmlands. Fields of wheat and pastures filled with livestock stretched out as far as he could see to the north, and all the way up to the mountains in the east.


    "We''re close now!" Acantha said, sounding excited. "The path to the Valley is less than three days from here!"


    Arran looked around at the cottages and farms that littered the fields surrounding them. "There are people living outside the Valley''s entrance?" He still vividly remembered the wasteland that lay at the entrance to the Sixth Valley, yet here, things looked to be completely different.


    "Of course," Acantha replied. "This far out, there are only a few small villages, but there more people live near the entrance. And at the entrance itself, there''s a city ¡ª Mountaingate." She glanced at Brightblade, and when she saw that the woman wasn''t looking, she whispered, "You should visit Mountaingate when your teacher isn''t with you. They have the best strawberry wine, and¡ª"


    Arran listened with half an ear as Acantha continued, his attention focused on the area around them. It was like no part of the borderlands he had seen before. Even in the Empire, he had seen few regions as peaceful and prosperous as this.


    As Acantha had said, the population grew denser as they drew closer to the Ninth Valley''s entrance, encountering many villages and even some small towns.


    Yet the biggest surprise came when they reached Mountaingate.


    While Arran had expected to see a city, he hadn''t expected to see one nearly as vast as this one. At a glance, he could tell that it was at least twice the size of Hillfort if not larger, and the roads leading up to it were crowded with merchants, travelers, and farmers bringing produce to the city.


    "We''re nearing Mountaingate," Acantha said somewhat needlessly. "I have some people to meet in the city, but if you want, I can take you¡ª"


    "We''ll be traveling straight to the Valley," Brightblade interrupted her. "Thank you for your help." The tone of her voice made it clear that she expected Acantha to leave, and without delay.


    "All right," Acantha said. "It was a pleasure to meet you all, and maybe we''ll see each other again." She flashed Arran a smile, then walked off, disappearing in the crowd in a matter of moments.


    For some minutes, their small group continued onward in silence. Then, Brightblade spoke. "I don''t like this."


    "Neither do I," Snowcloud concurred. "There''s something strange about it. And that girl¡­"


    "She wasn''t too bad," Arran said. "She was friendly enough, and she helped show us the way."


    Snowcloud gave him an annoyed glare. "Perhaps you were blinded by that pretty smile, but you must have noticed that there was something off about her. She was almost like¡­ a commoner." She emphasized the last words, distaste clear in her voice.


    While Arran didn''t want to judge the girl too harshly, he had to admit Snowcloud was right. He hadn''t seen Acantha use magic, but from her demeanor, she seemed more like a young village girl than the skilled mage a novice was supposed to be.


    "I suppose you have a point," he admitted reluctantly.


    "She does," Brightblade said. "And I intend to find out what''s going on here as soon as I can. Nothing about this is normal ¡ª not the farmlands in the borderlands, not the absurdly weak novice, and certainly not the friendly Hunters." She shook her head. "But first, we should get set up in the Valley."


    They circled around Mountaingate, finding the path to the Ninth Valley without much trouble. Much like the other roads in the area, it was filled with the carts of traveling merchants and farmers, a steady stream of traffic continuously moving both ways.


    The traffic made their progress slow, and it took them the better part of the day to reach the Valley''s gate.


    When they finally reached it, Arran was almost relieved to see that this, at least, was the same as in the Sixth Valley ¡ª a long, narrow pass with steep walls on either side leading all the way up to a massive gate, with a towering wall looming over it.


    Yet another difference soon emerged. Where the Sixth Valley''s guards carefully checked every traveler, here, the guards merely waved everyone through, at most urging the passing travelers not to dawdle at the gate.


    Even Arran and his two companions, all three of them clearly mages, barely got a single glance, much less a second one.


    This apparent disregard for security caused Arran to raise an eyebrow, but then, he realized the guards might have little choice ¡ª inspecting every arrival would quickly bring the long line of carts and people on the path below to a stop.


    Brightblade, meanwhile, looked at the scene with barely veiled chagrin, and Arran almost feared she would cause a scene out of sheer frustration with the guards'' nonchalance. Yet she quickly walked on, merely casting a few angry glares at the guards as they passed into the Ninth Valley.


    "Unacceptable," she muttered under her breath when they were a few dozen paces past the guards. "Completely unacceptable."


    Still, yet another shock awaited them when they reached the cliff leading down into the valley. Immediately, they could see that the Ninth Valley was far more densely populated than the Sixth Valley. In the landscape that stretched out before them, Arran counted at least half a dozen towns, and he understood many more must lay further ahead.


    "There are so many people here," he said, more to himself than to the others.


    Next to him, Snowcloud nodded, her eyes wide with astonishment. "It''s not at all like the Sixth Valley¡­"


    "I don''t like this," Brightblade said once more. "I''ll take the two of you to an inn in the nearest town, and then I''m going to find out just what has happened here. Wait for me to return, and don''t draw any attention."

 Chapter 207 Alders Farm

    "Open up!" Arran knocked on Snowcloud''s door, louder than the previous time.


    "I''m coming," her muffled voice sounded from behind the door. It opened a moment later, revealing Snowcloud''s flustered face. From the sweat on her forehead, Arran could tell she had been in the middle of a training session. "What is it?" she asked.


    "We''re going into town," Arran announced.


    "I can''t," Snowcloud replied without hesitation. "I have to practice my Body Refinement."


    Arran gave her a flat stare. "After six months of ceaseless training, an afternoon off won''t make a difference."


    "Brightblade told us not to draw attention," she retorted.


    "She also told us to enjoy the town," Arran said. "If she intended that to mean we should stay in our rooms, she would have picked a nicer inn."


    "I won''t risk it," Snowcloud said. "You can go if you want, but I''m staying here."


    She moved to close the door, but before she could, Arran blocked it with his hand. "You can either come along by yourself, or I''ll throw you over my shoulder and carry you, the locals'' attention be damned."


    "You wouldn''t!" Her eyes went wide at the threat, and she stared at him mistrustfully for several seconds. Then, she let out a sigh. "Fine. If it''s that important to you, I''ll come along. Wait for me in the common room. I''ll be there in a quarter hour."


    Arran smiled at her brightly, then turned around and headed down the stairs, to the small inn''s common room.


    When they had arrived three days earlier, Brightblade had given them a few brief instructions, then left for the capital at once. After that, Snowcloud had spent all her time locked in her room, her fervor in training not the least bit diminished now that they had reached their destination.


    Arran, meanwhile, had spent his days exploring the town.


    Alder''s Farm, as it was called, wasn''t particularly large, but its location near the Ninth Valley''s gate meant that it saw plenty of traffic. And that meant the town was filled with numerous inns, restaurants, and little shops.


    Initially, the change of surroundings was like a breath of fresh air to Arran. After six months in the wilderness, he had relished the chance to be among people again and to eat things other than the vast mountain of dragon meat he carried in his void ring.


    Yet as the days passed, his worries about Snowcloud grew.


    He had hoped that her spirits would improve once they returned to civilization, but instead, it seemed things had only gotten worse. Where she had previously been quiet, she had now withdrawn herself completely. And from what Arran could tell, things were only getting worse.


    Finally, he had decided to put an end to it. He could not solve her problems, but he would not simply stand by while watching her descend further down this path.


    Perhaps dragging her outside would accomplish nothing, or perhaps it would only make matters worse. But whatever the case, he would not give up without even having tried.


    When Snowcloud arrived in the common room a quarter hour later, she no longer looked like she had just stepped out of a battlefield. Rather than a worn training outfit, she was now wearing a simple black robe, and her hair was combed and tied back.


    Arran gave her a smile when he saw her, then quickly took her hand and guided her outside.


    "Where are we going?" she asked. "What was so important that you couldn''t handle it alone?"


    "To start," Arran began, "there''s an excellent little restaurant nearby. They serve fresh flatbread and some kind of herbal paste that tastes like nothing you''ve had before. The roasted chicken is pretty good, too, not to mention the vegetable stew. And you should really try¡ª"


    He kept talking as he dragged Snowcloud along, fearful that if he gave her even the slightest chance, she would still change her mind.


    Yet she didn''t, and barely an hour later, they were sat inside a small restaurant, the table in between them filled with empty plates.


    "You were right," Snowcloud said, dabbing up a last bit of sauce from her plate with a small chunk of bread. She ate it in a single bite, then continued, "It''s good. But why did you insist on me coming along?"


    Arran hesitated before answering, briefly wondering whether he should tell her the truth. "I''m worried about you," he said. "You haven''t been the same since you spoke to your grandfather. I can''t make you tell me what happened, but I''m not going to watch you wither away, either. Whatever is wrong, closing yourself off from the world isn''t going to help."


    Snowcloud slowly shook her head. "I know you mean well, but this isn''t something you can decide."


    "Sure I can," Arran replied. "I might not be the best talker, but I''m strong as an ox. If need be, I''ll pick you up and carry you with me for however long it takes."


    At this, a trace of a smile formed on her lips. "The strength of an ox, and the wits to match it," she said with a sigh. "All right then. Where are we going next?"


    "No idea," Arran replied with a grin. "Let''s find out."


    They left the restaurant not long after, then headed into the town.


    For nearly two hours, they walked around aimlessly, visiting various stores and ¡ª at Arran''s insistence ¡ª several of the small food stalls that lined the streets. Mostly, however, they just walked, watching the crowds as they passed.


    "It''s so peaceful," Snowcloud said, curiously looking at the people around them.


    "Feels strange, doesn''t it?" Arran looked around with some wonder as well. "Nobody trying to kill us, no enemy mages to deal with. It''s almost like we''re commoners."


    Snowcloud nodded. "It''s been a long time since I felt like this."


    Time passed quickly while they walked through the town, and for the first time in months, Arran heard Snowcloud''s laugh again. Although it was obvious that her troubles were still hiding just below the surface, her mood seemed better than it had in a long time.


    It wasn''t long before dusk came, and the light of day began to fade. When they passed one of the large parks the town held, Snowcloud glanced over, then said, "Let''s go inside."


    There were few people in the park, and for some time, they silently walked along its winding footpaths. But then, Snowcloud suddenly spoke.


    "They''re dead," she said. "My parents¡­ Grandfather told me they were killed."


    Arran did not know what to say, but after a moment, he wordlessly reached out and pulled Snowcloud into a tight embrace. For several minutes, they stood there like that, silent except for the sound of Snowcloud''s sobs against Arran''s shoulder.


    When they let go, her eyes were red with tears. "I spent all these years hoping I could save them, like some foolish child. And they were already dead."


    "There''s nothing foolish about hope against the odds," Arran responded. "Especially when you''re fighting for the people you love."


    "That''s the worst part," Snowcloud said, her eyes downcast and her voice miserable. "I don''t know if I love them. I barely even remember them. When they left I was a small child, and those years I dreamed of saving them, I just wanted to have parents again. I didn''t just fail to save them, I even failed to keep their memory alive." Tears welled up in her eyes once more.


    Arran shook his head. "You didn''t fail. You completed your mother''s final task and saved your grandfather. That was more than anyone could have expected from you."


    "I know that." She sighed dejectedly. "But no matter what I know, it still feels like I failed. And I can''t even avenge them. Grandfather refused to tell me who their murderers are ¡ª he said that if I went after them, I wouldn''t survive."


    "He knows who murdered them?" Arran raised an eyebrow at this. If the Patriarch knew who the murderers were but hadn''t dared take action himself¡­ a chill ran down his spine at the thought.


    "He does. And if Grandfather isn''t confident in facing them, then I don''t stand a chance."


    "That''s why you''ve been training so hard?" Arran asked, finally beginning to understand Snowcloud''s behavior over the past half year. "You want to hunt down your parents'' murderers?"


    "I know it''s a ridiculous plan¡­ the idea that I could become stronger than Grandfather¡­"


    "Nonsense," Arran replied brusquely. "We will both surpass him, and when the time comes, I will help you slaughter the people who killed your parents."


    At this, a small smile formed on Snowcloud''s face. "Thank you," she said. "Maybe together, we can succeed. When you''re at my side, I feel like¡ª"


    Before she could finish the words, they were interrupted by the sound of stumbling footsteps coming toward them. Their senses sharpened by half a year in the borderlands, the sound immediately drew their attention, and as one, they turned toward it.


    Yet rather than a threat, what they found was a novice. He was unsteady on his feet, with a faltering pace that suggested he''d imbibed more than a few bottles of wine beyond his limit. But although his eyes were only half-open, it was clear that he was heading toward them.


    When the novice was a few paces away, Arran smelled that he reeked of booze. Then, suddenly, the young man took several quick steps forward, and his hands stretched toward Snowcloud. "A pretty girl like you should¡ª"


    The novice staggered back, a red imprint of Snowcloud''s palm on his face. The drunkenness disappeared from his eyes at once, rage now taking its place.


    "You bitch!" he cried out, drawing his sword. "I will¡ª"


    In an instant, Arran appeared between Snowcloud and the novice. Snowcloud''s sword was already half-drawn, but with his left hand, he blocked her from completing the draw. And at the same time, the palm of his right hand slammed into the novice''s chest.


    The novice was sent tumbling to the ground, coming to a stop a dozen paces away. Arran did not worry about the young man''s condition ¡ª he had restrained his strength, and other than five or six broken ribs, his opponent should be fine.


    The novice struggled to get back to his feet, and when he finally succeeded, he pointed his sword at Arran. "Don''t you know who I am?! I will¡ª"


    "You will shut your idiot mouth right this second!" a voice said sharply.


    Arran quickly turned toward the newcomer, and saw that the person who had spoken was a middle-aged man who was standing on the path a short distance behind them. Tall and gaunt, his features were as sharp as his voice, and there was disgust in his eyes as he looked at the novice.


    "This young man just saved your life," the man said. "You should not squander that undeserved gift so lightly. Now go to your teacher and request a punishment. If I find it lacking, there will be a second one of my choosing. Now leave!"


    The novice paled at the man''s words, but then, he bowed deeply and ran off.


    "Useless!" the man grumbled, voice thick with displeasure. Yet as he turned to Arran and Snowcloud, a satisfied smile appeared on his face. "The two of you, however, appear to have some potential."

 Chapter 208 An Invitation

    Arran looked at the tall man in front of them, eyes full of suspicion. Although the stranger had shown no signs of ill will, he didn''t believe for a second that the man''s timely appearance was a coincidence.


    "You were following us." He gave the stranger an appraising look, yet his eyes told him little about the man. Tall and middle-aged, wearing a simple but expensive robe and a well-made sword, he suspected the man held a prominent rank in the Ninth Valley ¡ª but then, he already knew that from the novice''s reaction.


    "So I was," the man replied. "It isn''t every day that we get visitors from another Valley."


    "How did you find out?" Snowcloud asked. She sounded more curious than shocked, as if she had already expected them to be identified.


    "Mages who return from the borderlands rarely stay in Alder''s Farm for more than a single night. When two young mages linger for three days, and one of them remains in her room for days on end, an innkeeper is bound to get suspicious." The man chuckled. "There are still some of us in the Valley who don''t take our safety for granted."


    "So you know we''re from another Valley," Arran said. "Will that be a problem?"


    "Far from it," the man said. "Visitors from other Valleys may be rare, but they are always welcome. And in your case, particularly so." He motioned at Arran and Snowcloud. "Let me accompany you while you head back to your inn. I have an offer that may interest you."


    Arran glanced at Snowcloud, who responded with a small nod. "All right," he said. "We''ll listen."


    As they headed toward the park''s exit, their surroundings now fully shrouded in the darkness of night, the man began to speak.


    "Since you''ve come all this way, I expect you intend to stay in the Ninth Valley for some time." He glanced at Arran, and when no objection came, he continued. "Now, I assume the both of you are adepts¡ª"


    "We''re just initiates," Arran interjected.


    "Initiates?" The tall man raised an eyebrow. "From what little I''ve seen, you certainly are stronger than any initiates I''ve ever met, and I''ve met many. But no matter. What about that companion of yours, the one who left for the capital some days ago?"


    "She''s our teacher," Snowcloud said. "She''s an adept."


    "Two initiates and an adept¡­" The man furrowed his brow in thought, then asked, "Am I correct in assuming that the three of you all have experience in battle?"


    "You are." Arran knew there was no point in hiding that fact. A lie would only serve to make the man suspicious.


    "Excellent. In that case, I would like to extend an invitation to join the House of Swords, both for you and for your teacher."


    "The House of Swords?" Arran had never heard the name before, and he knitted his brows in confusion as he glanced at the tall man.


    "We are a fellowship of those within the Valley who haven''t yet forgotten the importance of strength." Pride was clear in the man''s expression as he spoke, and he continued, "Even in these peaceful times, we do not neglect our training ¡ª unlike too many of our fellow mages, we realize that no peace lasts forever."


    Arran frowned. "But why do you want us to join?"


    With a hint of regret, the man said, "No amount of training can equal real experience. And while I am old enough to remember the days when battle was common, many of our younger members have never faced a true fight."


    "You think training with us will benefit them."


    Arran suddenly understood the man''s intentions. If his inexperienced students spent their time training with equally inexperienced partners, it would be all too easy for them to pick up dangerous habits.


    Having more experience students among their ranks would not solve the problem entirely, but it certainly wouldn''t hurt, either.


    "Exactly," the man replied with a smile. "There are benefits in it for you as well, of course. Joining our fellowship will allow you to train with the most talented mages in the Valley. And beyond that, it will grant you status and provide you with privileges that many others do not enjoy."


    "Your offer is a gracious one," Snowcloud said. "But we cannot accept it. We will pass it on to our teacher when she returns, but the decision is hers."


    "Of course," the man said. "When she returns, tell her that Grandmaster Solin wishes to speak with her. She can find me at the House of Swords in the restricted section of the capital."


    It appeared he was about to leave, his interest in clearly lessened after he learned that Snowcloud and Arran were just initiates, with their teacher the one who would make the ultimate decision.


    Yet now that Arran understood the man was a Grandmaster, he quickly realized there was an opportunity here ¡ª one he would not let go to waste.


    "Grandmaster Solin," he said, forcing himself to take an obsequious tone, "I was wondering if you could explain something to me. Something about the Ninth Valley."


    The man frowned. "What do you wish to know?"


    "In our own Valley, the borderlands are crawling with danger and Hunters are considered mortal enemies. Yet here, the borderlands seem as safe as the Valley itself, with Hunters eradicating the Society''s enemies. How did this strange state of affairs come to be?"


    Grandmaster Solin let out a laugh. "You are certainly right in calling it strange," he said. "A century ago, I would have looked upon it much the same as you do now. But the truth is disappointingly simple."


    Arran paid close attention as the man spoke. Simple or not, he was extremely interested in the explanation, and he doubted he would find a better source for quite some time.


    The man continued, "For centuries, we fought the Hunters, losing as often as we won. But half a century ago, an unspoken truce emerged. And with the two main powers in the borderlands no longer fighting each other, all other serious threats were soon eliminated."


    "An unspoken truce?" Arran asked. "What was the cause of that?"


    "Both sides grew weary of battle," the Grandmaster said. "We spent centuries battling the Hunters, but no matter how many we killed, more always appeared. One day, the Matriarch ordered us to stop attacking Hunters unless they attacked first, and I suppose their leaders did the same. Ever since, we''ve had peace."


    "It seems peace has served you well," Arran said.


    "It has," Grandmaster Solin said. "In some ways, at least. Our numbers have tripled over the past half-century, but the lack of danger has caused our strength to dwindle. We have become like untempered steel, and I fear that if the Hunters take up arms against us once more, the pressure might break us."


    "Then you don''t agree with the Matriarch''s decision?" Arran asked cautiously.


    "A dangerous question," the man replied, his expression now troubled. "If your teacher decides to join the House of Swords, perhaps we will discuss it in the future." He sighed. "But now, I must depart. Tell your teacher of my invitation, and hopefully, I shall see you both again soon."


    With a final friendly wave, the man departed, soon disappearing into the dark streets of Alder''s Farm.


    Arran and Snowcloud continued on silently for some time, neither of them daring to speak where strangers might hear. Yet night had already emptied the streets of most traffic, and when Arran spread out his Shadowsight, he saw that there was nobody nearby to hear them.


    "We can talk," he said. "So what do you think?"


    Snowcloud thought for a moment, then shook her head. "I don''t know. It seems that despite the peace, the Ninth Valley is far from stable. And if their mages are as weak as Grandmaster Solin said¡­"


    "If the Hunters turn on them, it could be a bloodbath. Unless peace has caused the Hunters to grow weak as well. But I doubt that." Arran sighed. "I suppose we''ll have to wait for Brightblade and hope she''s learned something useful."


    A few minutes later they were back at the inn, where Arran cast a wary glance at the portly innkeeper. Yet as much as he disliked being spied on, he could not blame the man for wanting to protect his homeland.


    It took another three days for Brightblade to return, most of which Arran and Snowcloud spent exploring the town and its many shops and restaurants. While Snowcloud did not pause her training entirely, Arran was glad that she no longer secluded herself.


    Brightblade finally made her return on the morning of their sixth day in Alder''s Farm. She burst into Arran''s room shortly before dawn, a tired look on her face and a sleepy Snowcloud in tow.


    Arran was already awake. He wasn''t as obsessive in his training as Snowcloud, but he spent an hour each morning using the Patriarch''s amulet to strengthen his resistance to magic. It wasn''t as effective as his training in Uvar, but in six months, he had made enough progress that he was confident he could now easily withstand even adepts'' attacks.


    "You''re already awake. Good." Brightblade walked into the room, then sat down on the bed. "I''ve learned quite a bit these past few days." She turned to Snowcloud. "Close the door behind you!"


    After Snowcloud did as she said, she waved a few times with her right hand, and Arran could feel a thin layer of Essence spreading through the room.


    "Now we can talk," she said. "To start, I''ve discovered what the situation with the Hunters is, and why the borderlands are so calm."


    "The Matriarch ordered a truce half a century ago," Arran said. "We know."


    Brightblade frowned. "It seems I''m not the only one who had a fortunate encounter. What happened?"


    Arran quickly told her about their encounter with Grandmaster Solin, making sure to repeat everything the man had told them.


    Brightblade''s nodded as he spoke, unexpectedly seeming quite pleased with the situation. When he finished talking, she broke into a smile. "Then it looks like we''ll be joining the House of Swords."


    "You''re actually planning to accept his invitation?" Snowcloud''s eyes were wide with surprise, and Arran shared her astonishment. Even from what little he knew, he suspected that joining the House of Swords would ally them with the Matriarch''s opponents.


    "The situation in the Ninth Valley is more complicated than it appears, and the two of you have inadvertently provided us an excellent opportunity." She stood up. "But I''ll explain while we travel. Pack your things; we''re heading for the capital immediately."

 Chapter 209 Houses of the Ninth Valley

    They had already traveled several miles from Alder''s Farm by the time the sun rose above the mountains, its light revealing the densely populated lands of the Ninth Valley.


    As far Arran''s eyes could see, the rolling fields were speckled with farms and cottages, and in the distance lay several villages. At a guess, he thought it would be impossible to travel even a single mile in any direction without meeting someone.


    There was something about the sight that made him uncomfortable. Even in the Empire, he had never been in a place like this ¡ª a place with no room whatsoever for real solitude. And more importantly, no place to flee or hide.


    Before he could give the matter any more thought, Brightblade''s voice interrupted his musings. "Now that we''re on our way, let me fill you in on the situation."


    The words immediately caught Arran''s attention, and both he and Snowcloud turned toward Brightblade, anxious to hear what she had discovered in the previous days ¡ª and more importantly, what lay ahead for them.


    "To start, the House of Swords is just one of many," Brightblade began. "The Ninth Valley is filled with different Houses, each of which with different aims and goals."


    "Like the Sixth Valley''s factions?" Snowcloud asked, understandably wary after the things they had faced the previous year.


    Brightblade shook her head. "Not quite. The Houses are more like guilds, each specialized in a particular area of magic. While they do have disagreements on the course of the Valley ¡ª large ones, at that ¡ª their original purpose was to bring together the Ninth Valley''s experts to combine their knowledge."


    Snowcloud nodded slowly, although her expression suggested that she thought the whole idea quite strange.


    "At the top stand four greater Houses," Brightblade said, "with many lesser ones beneath them. Over the years, these greater Houses have almost become like separate societies, with each having amassed experts in the others'' disciplines as well. The same is true for the lesser Houses, albeit to a lesser extent."


    Arran listened intently as she spoke, his interest growing as he understood that the Ninth Valley was very different from the Sixth Valley.


    Brightblade cast a look at Arran and Snowcloud, looking as if she was expecting questions.


    When no questions came, she continued, "The first of the Greater Houses is the House of Seals. This is the largest and most influential House by far, and its traditional focus is on seals and formations."


    "Their focus is on seals?" Arran''s curiosity was immediately sparked. He had yet to unseal his Destruction Realm, and learning more about seals would certainly help him. "If they''re the largest House, shouldn''t we join them?"


    "No," Brightblade replied curtly. "The House of Seals is firmly under the control of the Matriarch. If we were to join the House of Seals, we would irrevocably ally ourselves with her. And given the state of the Ninth Valley, that is something I wish to avoid."


    Arran gave her a resigned nod, though he could not help but be disappointed.


    "Second is the House of Flames," Brightblade went on. "It was founded by experts on offensive magic, and these days, it holds the Matriarch''s most vocal critics. Naturally, we cannot join them either ¡ª allying ourselves with the Matriarch''s opponents would be unwise."


    Neither Arran nor Snowcloud had any comments about this. That it would be a bad idea to join the Matriarch''s enemies was obvious.


    Brightblade gave them another look, then continued. "Third is the House of Creation. Its members are mostly craftsmen ¡ªalchemists, enchanters, scribes, and so on. The House of Creation tends to avoid Valley politics, remaining neutral when it can."


    Snowcloud''s eyes lit up at the mention of alchemists, but only for a moment. Their primary goal in coming to the Ninth Valley was to grow stronger, not to become skilled crafters.


    "And finally," Brightblade said, "there''s the House of Shadows. As the name suggests, its strength lies in Shadow spells, particularly those meant for concealment. They''re predictably secretive, so I haven''t been able to discover much else about them."


    They briefly went silent as a farmer passed them, a cart full of produce behind him. The man gave them a friendly nod, but otherwise barely appeared to notice their presence.


    Some moments later, after the farmer passed out of earshot, Arran asked, "Then the House of Swords is one of the lesser Houses?"


    "Correct," Brightblade said. "The House of Swords specializes in physical combat, and although its history gives it some status, both its numbers and its strength rank well below those of the greater Houses."


    "That''s why you chose it? You want us to focus on studying physical combat?" Snowcloud asked, her brows knitted in thought.


    Brightblade shook her head. "I chose it because we need to draw attention to ourselves. And that will be easier in a lesser House."


    "You''ll have to explain that," Snowcloud said, confusion written plainly across her face. "I thought the plan was not to draw attention?"


    "Your training will require resources that I alone cannot provide," Brightblade replied. "To get those resources, we need the full support of a House. And for that, we must make ourselves invaluable to them. That goal is more easily achieved in a lesser House than in a greater one."


    Now, Arran began to understand her plan. She wanted them to make a big splash in a small pond, so they could earn the full backing of their House. Yet after giving it some thought, he thought the strategy seemed uncomfortably risky. "If we show our strength, won''t that draw too much attention from others?"


    Brightblade grinned in response. "That''s the other benefit of joining a Lesser House. Even if we cause an uproar in the House of Swords ¡ª which I fully intend to do ¡ª the other Houses will barely even notice."


    Arran furrowed his brow, then shrugged. From the sound of it, Brightblade had already thought the entire thing through.


    Yet it seemed Snowcloud wasn''t yet satisfied. "What about¡ª" she began.


    "That''s enough for now," Brightblade interrupted her. "Most of your remaining questions will be answered soon enough, and there are too many people on the road who might overhear us."


    This last part was no exaggeration. Only a brief time had passed since the sun had risen, but already the road had filled with traffic. Most of the people who passed them appeared to be farmers and villagers, but there were several who looked to be mages.


    That none of the people they passed gave them a second glance brought Arran little comfort. After the innkeeper in Alder''s Farm had spied on them, he was fully aware that any of these farmers could easily do the same.


    They progressed slowly along the traffic-filled roads, and before evening had even fallen, Brightblade suggested they stop in a nearby town to find an inn. She appeared to be wholly unconcerned with their slow pace.


    When Arran asked her about this, she flashed him a grin. "I want to let the Grandmaster stew for a bit," she explained. "He''ll be easier to deal with after he spends a few days worrying whether we will show up."


    And by a few days, Arran discovered, she meant well over a week. They could have crossed the distance in a day or two if they ran and traveled through the night, but Brightblade made it a point to travel slowly.


    The delay caused him some frustration even if he knew the purpose. After over half a year of travel, his patience was starting to wear thin, and he was anxious to finally see their destination.


    Yet when they reached the Ninth Valley''s capital, all his frustrations were instantly forgotten.


    The city was vast beyond belief ¡ª at least five times the size of any city he had seen before, if not larger. Rather than a mere city, it resembled a boundless landscape of rolling hills that seemed to have spontaneously sprouted an endless number of buildings.


    Brightblade glanced at Arran and Snowcloud''s dumbfounded expressions, then let out a loud laugh. "If just the sight dazzles you this much, you should know that at least a quarter of the people here are initiates."


    "What?!" Snowcloud gasped in astonishment. "How¡­ how can there be that many? The truce has only been in place for fifty years, hasn''t it?"


    "A lot can happen in fifty years," Brightblade said. "Without any danger in becoming a mage, everyone with even the slightest shred of talent or ambition took the opportunity." She shrugged. "Most initiates never advance beyond that stage, but with so many of them, even that small fraction amounts to hundreds of thousands of novices."


    "That''s terrifying," Snowcloud said, her voice quiet with awe. "Hundreds of thousands of novices¡­ that''s more than the Sixth Valley has initiates."


    Brightblade chuckled. "I should mention that although the House of Swords is only a lesser House, it still has at least ten thousand members." She motioned at the city. "Let''s go. Reaching the House of Blades will take several hours, and I intend for us to be among its most valued members by nightfall."


    She set off toward the city, and Arran and Snowcloud followed behind her, eyes still fixed on the gargantuan city ahead of them.


    As he approached the city, Arran finally truly understood Brightblade''s plan. In such a vast sea of mages, it would be easy for them to go unnoticed ¡ª even if they made it a point to draw attention.

 Chapter 210 A Change for the Worse

    The Ninth Valley''s capital was large enough that it took them several hours to pass through it, and as they navigated the city''s many traffic-filled streets, Arran found himself amazed at the sights.


    He had thought he knew what cities were like, but this one was something different altogether. The many stores, inns, and taverns that would form the city center in other places stretched on endlessly here, street after street filled with traffic and commerce.


    In just a few hours, they came across dozens of shops that sold magical items, including more than a few whose signs indicated that they sold enchanted armor and weapons.


    Arran quickly decided that if he had the chance, he would return to find himself a proper set of armor. Although his body was tough enough to withstand most attacks without so much as a scratch, more protection couldn''t hurt ¡ª especially if he had to face tougher enemies.


    After a moment''s thought, he also decided that he would consult Brightblade before going on a spending spree ¡ª he still vividly remembered what had happened when he had shown his wealth in Goldhaven, and that was not an experience he wished to repeat.


    Yet while the stores drew his attention, what made his eyes go wide with shock were the taverns.


    While most of the taverns in the city looked normal, he saw more than a few with serving girls gathered around the entrance, their clothes so scandalously scanty that his face reddened with embarrassment.


    Still, he did not pull his eyes away ¡ª not until Snowcloud gave him a visibly annoyed glare, at least. After that, he made sure to limit himself to stealthy glances.


    But although the sights of the city drew his eyes, what his Sense told him was even more startling.


    A constant hum of Essence pervaded the city, as if thousands of people were constantly using small amounts of magic all around them. None of it was strong, but there was enough of it that the feeling was unmistakable.


    At first, Arran believed that this must be the result of mages training elsewhere in the city. But then, when he passed one of the many food stalls that lined the city''s streets, he saw that the vendor was using Fire Essence to roast meat.


    At once, he stopped in his tracks.


    "You''re a mage?" he asked the man, though he already knew the answer.


    A brief look of confusion crossed the vendor''s face, but then, he broke into a smile. "So I am," he said. "And my goat-stuffed flatbread ranks among the best in the city, for only a single copper a piece."


    "I''ll take three," Arran said.


    When the vendor finished preparing the food, Arran handed him a silver coin. "Keep the change," he said, then hurried back to Brightblade and Snowcloud, who had stopped a short distance ahead when they noticed Arran had veered off course.


    "That vendor was a mage," he said as he handed them each a piece of stuffed flatbread. It almost seemed too ridiculous to be true. A mage selling goat-stuffed bread.


    "This is goat?" Brightblade made an ugly face, then handed her piece of flatbread back to Arran. "And yes, there are many initiates who are vendors, farmers, shopkeepers, and even servants. The Ninth Valley has more initiates than it can properly train, and those without enough talent often return to their old lives when they fail to advance."


    Arran frowned. "So they become mages and then just quit?"


    "Initiates have little status in the Ninth Valley," Brightblade said. "Only those who join Houses are even allowed into the restricted section of the Valley, and the Houses only accept those with sufficient talent. The others receive little guidance, making it all but impossible for them to progress."


    "Then why even recruit them?" Anger sounded in Snowcloud''s voice, as if the very idea appalled her. "Why allow them to become mages if they''re not going to be trained? Why create all that potential only to waste it?!"


    "A good question," Brightblade said, "and one I have yet to answer. But right now, our focus is on joining the House of Swords. The gate to the restricted section of the Valley is just up ahead."


    Arran glanced at her and saw a slight grin on her face. Whatever she was planning, it wouldn''t be long before he found out.


    They reached the gate soon after, and found a long line of mages in front of it, waiting to be let in by the guards. While the line moved quickly, there were enough people that it would take them at least half an hour just to get to the gate.


    Brightblade took a single look at the line, then said loudly, "Absolutely not."


    Without giving the line a second glance, she walked past it, heading straight toward the gate with Arran and Snowcloud a few paces behind her. This caused more than a few grumbles from the waiting mages, but Brightblade ignored them entirely.


    When they reached the entrance, a handful of guards hurried toward them, a weary-looking man at their head.


    The man gave Brightblade an uncertain look before speaking, clearly unsure of her status and wary of offending someone powerful. Yet after a moment, he appeared to decide that she wasn''t important. "You''ll need to move to the back of the line."


    "I was invited by Grandmaster Solin of the House of Swords," she replied. "And I didn''t travel here from the Fourth Valley to stand in line."


    She spoke with a confidence that more befitted her actual status as an Elder than the adept she was supposed to be, but Arran knew this was no carelessness. She had made it clear she intended to draw attention, and it seemed she had already begun.


    "The Fourth Valley?" The man''s expression suggested both he was uncertain of how to handle the situation, and that he was not at all pleased with that. Yet after a moment, he sighed, then said, "Follow me."


    The man brought them to a guardhouse a short distance from the gate, then guided them inside, where they sat down on some simple wooden chairs.


    "Please wait here," he said. "I''ll get someone from the House of Swords to accompany you." He departed in a hurry, though not before leaving three guards to watch them.


    Any time they had gained bypassing the line was lost in waiting, but Brightblade didn''t seem to mind, and Arran understood that saving time wasn''t her real goal.


    The guardsman finally returned nearly half an hour later, and when he did, there was another man with him. The second man was middle-aged and dressed in a fine robe, and his sculpted features radiated an air of authority.


    "Master Kallias," the guardsman said, "these are the three mages who claim to have business with Grandmaster Solin."


    The middle-aged man nodded pensively as he looked at them, then asked, "And who might the three of you be?"


    "I am Adept Brightblade of the Fourth Valley, and these are my students," Brightblade said. She stood up, then continued, "Now, lead us to your House''s stronghold. Too much of my time has already been wasted."


    "Adept Brightblade," Master Kallias said, emphasizing the title with some scorn, "I hardly think it befits an adept to address a Master this way. If you have business with Grandmaster Solin, I will be glad to¡ª"


    "My business with the Grandmaster isn''t yours to know," Brightblade interrupted him. "I imagine he is currently awaiting my arrival quite anxiously. But if you waste any more of my time, I shall take my offer to another House. Understood?"


    The Master nearly turned red with rage at her words, but the outburst that Arran expected did not come. Instead, a moment later, he spoke with clenched teeth, "I will escort you to Grandmaster Solin."


    "Then stop delaying," Brightblade responded curtly. Without speaking another word, she headed for the door.


    Master Kallias exited after her, his expression murderous, with Arran and Snowcloud following silently behind the man.


    As they stepped out of the guardhouse, Arran had a sinking feeling that whatever Brightblade''s plan might be, winning friends in the House of Swords wasn''t part of it.

 Chapter 211 Unreasonable Demands

    The short journey to the House of Swords'' stronghold was as smooth as it was uncomfortable.


    They ran the whole way, with Brightblade repeatedly urging Master Kallias to move faster. Any attempts he made at forced friendliness were curtly dismissed, with Brightblade treating him like a servant rather than an equal, much less a superior.


    Soon, the man''s face was locked in a hostile grimace, and if he hadn''t known they were Grandmaster Solin''s guests, Arran had little doubt that he would have attacked Brightblade. Even now, it seemed like he might not be able to restrain himself.


    Yet after the first quarter hour, Arran stopped worrying.


    Bizarre though Brightblade''s behavior was, it was clear that it was intentional. He did not know her purpose in provoking the Master, but after half a year of traveling with her, he trusted her judgment ¡ª she was often brash, but never careless.


    Confident that there was a plan ¡ª even if he didn''t know what it was ¡ª he turned his attention to their surroundings.


    He had stayed in the restricted section of the Sixth Valley for several months, but most of that time had been spent in the Patriarch''s estate. But here, in the Ninth Valley, he had the opportunity to look around.


    The wall that demarcated the restricted section of the Valley cut right through the capital, and he soon found that the inner part of the city was completely different from the outer part.


    For a start, there were far fewer people, and all but a few of them appeared to be mages ¡ª and not the kind that sold flatbread by the roadside. Most looked like novices, but more than a few showed the trappings of higher ranks, clad in fine robes and wearing well-made swords at their sides.


    There was far less commerce, too. The outer part of the city was filled with shops and stores, but Arran saw few of those within the inner part. And those few he did see were large and stately, more like small palaces than shops. He didn''t need to enter to know that both their wares and their prices would match their exteriors.


    Yet interesting though he found the sights, there wasn''t much time to look, because it took them barely half an hour to leave the city behind.


    Outside the city, too, the landscape was markedly different from the outer Valley. Where the outer Valley was filled with fields and farms, most of the inner Valley held woodlands, with the occasional manor or estate barely visible from the road.


    They passed several walled towns along the way, which Arran knew would have to be strongholds belonging to some of the Houses.


    The first two were vast, large enough to almost be considered cities in their own right. Yet as they moved farther from the capital, the strongholds grew smaller ¡ª it seemed that the largest Houses were nearest the capital.


    Finally, after nearly two hours, when they reached another of these towns, Master Kallias came to a halt.


    "We''ve arrived," he said in a flat voice, then led them toward the guarded gate.


    When they reached the gate, the guards took only a glance at Master Kallias, then bowed in respect as they passed. This brought a brief smile to the man''s face ¡ª after Brightblade''s assault on his dignity, it seemed he was in dire need of some reassurance.


    Inside, Arran quickly realized that the stronghold more resembled a vast estate than a town. While there were plenty of buildings within the walls, there were numerous large fields of grass as well, upon which many groups of mages were training.


    All but a few of these were practicing swordsmanship, either performing various sword forms or sparring against each other.


    Arran appraised their efforts in passing, and found himself unexpectedly impressed.


    Every one of these mages was clearly a skilled swordsman. Their movements were fluid and practiced, and they reacted to each other''s attacks with the kind of instinctive responses that only years of training could bring.


    Moreover, they switched between styles and techniques with ease, in seamless motions that combined what looked to be at least half a dozen different schools of swordsmanship.


    But although he was impressed with their displays, Arran could not help but think there was something off about the way they fought.


    He pondered what he had seen as they moved past the training fields, barely noticing their surroundings while his thoughts were still occupied with the training mages.


    From what he had seen, it was as if they were playing games rather than truly fighting, more concerned with scoring points than with defeating their opponents.


    These thoughts were cut short when they reached a large stone building, where Master Kallias gestured for them to enter.


    Inside, the man guided them through a series of halls and hallways, until finally, they reached a large wooden door. Master Kallias gave it a few short knocks, and a moment later, a voice called for them to come inside, where they found Grandmaster Solin sitting at a desk.


    "Grandmaster," Master Kallias said, offering the other man a respectful bow. "I''ve brought you Adept Brightblade and her students. She claims to have business with you."


    "Excellent." Grandmaster Solin smiled broadly, visibly pleased with their arrival. "Master Kallias, you may leave."


    The Master bowed again, though he seemed disappointed that Brightblade''s claim had turned out to be true. Yet disappointed or not, he quickly left, doubtless glad to be rid of the hateful adept.


    "Adept Brightblade, is it?" Grandmaster Solin cast an appraising glance at Brightblade. "All of you, please have a seat. I''m quite happy to see you here ¡ª I was beginning to worry that you would not accept my offer."


    "I had other business to attend," Brightblade said. "But now that I am here, I intend to accept your invitation. Both I and my niece here are members of the Fourth Valley''s Dao family, and I believe there is much we can offer the House of Swords."


    "The Dao family?" A hint of excitement sounded in Grandmaster Solin''s voice. "Even here, I''ve heard whispers about your family''s reputation."


    Arran frowned. He recognized the name instantly ¡ª it was Snowcloud''s real family name, as well as Darkfire''s.


    "I''m sure you have," Brightblade said, "But before we can join, there are some conditions. While I am happy to offer my assistance, I cannot allow my students'' training to be hindered, nor my own."


    The Grandmaster nodded. "That goes without saying. What do you need?"


    "To start, we will need our own quarters within the stronghold. A small mansion should suffice. And we will need resources, too ¡ª Essence Crystals, herbs, and various other materials."


    "Of course," Grandmaster Solin said. "I can arrange for all of that. Now, if you¡ª"


    "Furthermore," Brightblade interrupted him, "I cannot devote all my time to training your mages. Of the eight days in each week, I will spend four offering instruction within the House of Swords, with the remaining four reserved for my own students."


    The Grandmaster frowned, then sighed. "Though I hoped to have more of your time, I suppose I cannot expect you to neglect your students. I''ll agree to your¡ª"


    Again, Brightblade interrupted him. "There is more. Your House of Swords has agreements with the other Houses to provide each other''s most talented students with training. My students will require this as well."


    Grandmaster Solin paled slightly at her words. "I am surprised you learned so much of us in so little time. What kind of instruction do your students need?"


    "My students will require weekly instruction from the House of Flames and the House of Shadows," Brightblade replied. "In addition, Snowcloud will require training from the House of Creation, and Ghostblade from the House of Seals."


    This time, a barely veiled look of shock appeared on the Grandmaster''s face. "You ask a lot. Every hour of instruction your students receive from the other Houses must be repaid in kind by our own Masters and Grandmasters. For each of your students to be instructed by three other Houses¡­ even our most talented novices do not enjoy such luxuries."


    Yet Brightblade still wasn''t done. "Finally," she said, "I require an estate outside your stronghold ¡ª a secluded one, at the mountains'' edge. Something that is at least several miles away from any other estates, where I and my students can train without being disturbed."


    At this, an ugly look appeared on Grandmaster Solin''s face. "Adept Brightblade," he said sharply, "it seems you have mistaken my interest for desperation. What you ask is outrageous ¡ª it''s more than even a skilled Grandmaster would be given."


    Brightblade responded with a calm smile. "If my demands seem outrageous," she replied, "it is because you do not understand what I offer. Perhaps a demonstration is in order."


    "A demonstration?" The irritation in Grandmaster Solin''s eyes faded, curiosity now taking its place. "What sort of demonstration do you have in mind?"


    "A friendly contest," Brightblade said. "Have your House''s strongest novice and adept fetched, and I will show you the value of experience."

 Chapter 212 A Small Demonstration

    "A demonstration¡­" Grandmaster Solin''s furrowed his brow as he considered the proposal, then finally gave Brightblade a nod. "Very well. We will see if your skill justifies your demands."


    He led them outside the building, stopping several mages along the way and sending them off to fetch various people, including several high-ranked members of the House of Swords. It seemed the Grandmaster intended for the demonstration to have an audience.


    This briefly puzzled Arran, but after giving it a moment''s thought, he understood the man''s reasoning.


    If the Grandmaster gave in to Brightblade''s demands, the decision to lavish resources upon a group of outsiders would certainly raise questions. Having the House''s other leaders witness her strength would answer those questions before they could be asked.


    And should Brightblade fail to impress¡­ well, then there would be no need to accept her demands. Instead, Grandmaster Solin could claim it as a validation of his own students'' training ¡ª a sign that despite decades of peace, the House of Swords could still produce fighters to match the other Valleys.


    Whatever the outcome, the Grandmaster would benefit.


    Half an hour after they left the building, they were stood at the edge of an empty training field, waiting for the last of the audience to arrive. There were already at least fifty mages present, and none of them looked weak. Master Kallias was among them, along with a number of other mages who looked to be Masters and Grandmasters.


    Finally, Grandmaster Solin decided that there were enough onlookers, and he moved forward to face the crowd.


    In a loud voice, he said, "Novice Ilena, step forward."


    At his words, a brown-haired young woman in a simple training robe stepped out from the crowd and onto the grass. Her movements were graceful and her eyes confident, and Arran immediately knew she would not be a weak opponent.


    "Novice Ilena is one of my personal students," Grandmaster Solin said, pride in his voice. "Despite her youth, she''s already mastered several sword styles, and her technique is flawless. Even against adepts, she wins more often than not."


    He glanced at Arran and Snowcloud, then turned to Brightblade. "If either of your students lasts more than a few minutes against her, I will be most impressed."


    Brightblade raised an eyebrow, a glint of amusement in her eyes. "Snowcloud, you will face the novice. Don''t hold back."


    At once, Snowcloud did as she was told, stepping onto the grass and drawing her sword. Though she was outwardly calm, Arran knew her well enough to see that she was filled with excitement at the battle ahead.


    Little wonder, he thought. She had spent the past half year training in swordsmanship and Body Refinement, but she had not yet had the chance to test her skills. During their journey from the Sixth Valley, there were only Arran and Brightblade to spar against, neither of whom she could match.


    Now that she could finally put her newly acquired skills to practice, Arran had little doubt that she would make the most of the opportunity.


    "Begin," Grandmaster Solin called out.


    The word had barely left his mouth when Snowcloud and her opponent charged at each other, their swords meeting just seconds later.


    The first few moments of their clash saw each fighter unleash a rain of blows upon the other, and briefly, it was difficult to see which of them held the upper hand in the exchange.


    The Ninth Valley novice was easily the more skilled of the two, her practiced movements effortlessly combining multiple sword styles. She was neither careless nor timid, pressing forward with graceful yet powerful attacks. And as she fought, she continually used feints and flourishes to distract her foe.


    Snowcloud, on the other hand, fought in the sparse but efficient style she had learned from Brightblade. Every movement she made offered the threat of injury, and although she lacked her opponent''s grace, her simple but utilitarian attacks weren''t easily blocked or deflected.


    That alone would not have allowed her to match her opponent''s superior skill, but she also held the advantage in strength and speed. Every attack the novice made was blocked before it could be completed, while every blow Snowcloud struck caused her opponent to wince in shock.


    After barely a minute, Arran knew the fight was Snowcloud''s.


    The Ninth Valley novice was skilled, but she had little defense against her opponent''s strength. Each time their swords met she was staggered, the grace fading from her movements as she braced to withstand the blows.


    That alone was enough to decide the match, but Arran could see that Snowcloud''s attacks rocked not just the novice''s body but also her mind. Her confidence had quickly faltered, and now, she winced before each exchange, fearful of facing Snowcloud''s blows.


    "It seems your student will soon best mine," Grandmaster Solin said to Brightblade. "Though I noticed that she uses but a single style."


    "A battle is not a dance, Grandmaster," Brightblade replied. "A single style used well is more valuable than a dozen used poorly."


    As if to emphasize Brightblade''s point, Snowcloud suddenly stepped up her attacks. Her movements grew faster and more forceful, and soon, her opponent was stumbling backward, desperately trying to ward off the assault.


    It was no use. Snowcloud now revealed strength she had hidden earlier, and she launched into a savage flurry of blows that caused her opponent to stagger back even further. A moment later, the novice''s blade went flying, and Snowcloud''s sword came to a halt just before the panicked girl''s neck.


    A subtle smile on her lips, Snowcloud gave the novice a small bow. As she sheathed her sword, several people could be heard clapping among the crowd that had gathered around the field.


    When Snowcloud returned to Brightblade''s side a moment later, Grandmaster Solin looked at her with interest.


    "Most impressive, initiate," he said, then turned to Brightblade. "Your student did well, but your own opponent will prove a greater challenge."


    In a loud voice, he called out, "Adept Doran, please step forward."


    A young man stepped out from the crowd and entered the training field. He looked to be in his mid-twenties, with unruly brown hair and a short scruffy beard. While he was as tall as Arran, he was considerably more muscular, with massive shoulders and a thick neck.


    His expression pleased, Grandmaster Solin said, "Adept Doran is one of the greatest talents of his generation. In physical combat, he is the strongest adept not just in our House, but in the entire Valley. You will certainly earn my admiration if you manage to defeat him."


    "I will not be the one facing him," Brightblade replied. She turned to Arran. "Ghostblade, step forward."


    "What?!" The Grandmaster''s eyes went wide with shock. "You want a mere initiate to face an adept? Don''t be foolish. You already proved your students'' strength ¡ª there is no need for this. An initiate cannot¡ª"


    "Grandmaster," Brightblade interrupted him. "I promised you a demonstration. Watch closely." She motioned for Arran to enter the training field. "Show your skill, but do not go overboard."


    Arran wasn''t surprised that he would be the one to face the adept ¡ª he had suspected as much the moment Brightblade told Grandmaster Solin to fetch his strongest adept.


    Without delay, he stepped onto the grass, then drew his sword and faced his opponent.


    "Begin!" Grandmaster Solin''s call sounded a moment later, though his voice held no enthusiasm. It was clear that he expected little from the battle.


    At the Grandmaster''s call, Arran and his opponent approached each other cautiously.Neither of them attacked with the fury that the previous fighters had shown, both intent on getting the measure of their rival before committing to serious attacks.


    They circled each other several times, engaging in half a dozen tentative exchanges.


    Just this was enough for Arran to know that he was thoroughly outclassed. The man before him was vastly more skilled than Snowcloud''s opponent had been, and he showed none of the novice''s weaknesses.


    He did not waste energy on spectacular flourishes, nor did he needlessly switch between styles. Instead, he fought with ruthless efficiency, attacking only when he spotted openings in Arran''s defense.


    That Arran was stronger than the adept offered only a small advantage. Unlike the novice before him, this man was clearly experienced in facing stronger opponents, and rather than facing Arran''s forceful blows head-on, he smoothly deflected them.


    If Arran fought at full strength, he might still have overpowered the man, but that wasn''t an option ¡ª when Brightblade told him not to go overboard, he knew she meant he should not reveal all his strength.


    While he attempted to find a solution, he sustained several cuts on his arms. None were deep, but it was clear that the adept was growing more aggressive as his insight into Arran''s skills increased.


    Arran clenched his jaw, then made a decision. He had to end the fight quickly, or there would be no way to win it ¡ª not without exposing his strength, at least.


    He launched a sudden attack, leaving his left shoulder open as his sword darted out at his rival. As expected, the adept took advantage of the opening, and Arran winced as he felt the man''s blade cut deeply into his flesh.


    Yet that was exactly what he had hoped for. The adept''s strike wasn''t enough to give Arran a real opening, but it was enough for him to counter with an attack that forced the two fighters into a bind, the distance between them briefly closed.


    That was all Arran needed.


    While their swords were pressed together, he rammed his left fist into the other man''s midriff, hitting the adept right below the ribs.


    To his credit, the adept did not collapse instantly. Instead, he coughed loudly as he tried to pull back, still holding up his sword despite his obvious pain.


    But Arran had already anticipated this, and before the man could retreat, his left hand shot out again.


    This time, he seized his opponent''s swordhand with his left hand and jerked it out of the way, then used the opening to slam the pommel of his sword into his opponent''s face.


    The adept''s eyes briefly went blank, and when he recovered a moment later, Arran''s blade was already at his throat.


    Without a word, Arran pulled back his sword and sheathed it.


    "Good fight," the adept said, a broad smile appearing on his bloodied face. For all his skill, it seemed he wasn''t a poor loser.


    "Likewise," Arran replied, giving the man a friendly nod.


    As he turned and headed back to Brightblade''s side, he noticed that the crowd had gone completely silent. He didn''t know whether they were impressed by his victory or appalled by his tactics, but it didn''t matter ¡ª he had won.


    Grandmaster Solin gave him a pensive stare. "Remarkable," he said. "Most remarkable. You took a serious injury just to secure victory."


    "He''s the better swordsman," Arran said with a shrug. "But I''m the better fighter." He didn''t mention that the wound had already healed in the few moments it took him to return.


    Brightblade scraped her throat. "You''ve seen Snowcloud''s strength and Ghostblade''s ruthlessness," she said. "Now, I will demonstrate my skill."


    Grandmaster Solin frowned. "I doubt Adept Doran is in a state to go another round," he said. "I could have another adept fetched, but none are as good as him."


    Brightblade shook her head, a smile on her lips. "Your adepts are no match for me," she said. "But perhaps you are?"

 Chapter 213 Show of Power

    Grandmaster Solin raised an eyebrow at Brightblade''s challenge. "You wish to spar against me?" A moment later, a smile appeared on his face. "Very well! Having seen your students'' skill, I look forward to seeing their teacher''s accomplishments."


    Brightblade gave him a nod, and without any further words, both walked onto the training field. They faced each other, then drew their swords.


    Grandmaster Solin was the first to attack.


    With a sudden dash, he surged forward, moving so fast that Arran could only barely see his movements. His sword struck a dozen times in quick succession, each strike hitting with a speed and precision that left Arran breathless. The display of swordsmanship was beyond anything he had ever seen.


    He had known a Grandmaster of the House of Swords would be skilled, but this was far beyond his expectations.


    Grandmaster Solin''s skill and speed were utterly inhuman ¡ª as far beyond Arran as Arran was beyond an untrained commoner. Just witnessing it made him realize how far he still had to go, and he wondered whether he could ever achieve such a level of absolute mastery.


    It took Brightblade all of five seconds to defeat the man.


    She didn''t display any of the Grandmaster''s speed and strength, nor did her movements betray any great level of skill. To an average onlooker, she would seem little more skilled than a novice ¡ª and not a particularly outstanding one, either.


    Yet although her movements were slow and simple, her sword was exactly where it needed to be. Every single one of Grandmaster Solin''s attacks was casually deflected, and a moment later, Brightblade''s sword lay at the man''s throat.


    Gasps of shock sounded through the audience, and a look of astonishment appeared on the Grandmaster''s face as he realized what had happened. Yet Brightblade merely smiled and drew back her sword, then motioned for him to attack again.


    A frown crossed Grandmaster Solin''s face, and he launched another attack a moment later.


    Arran had thought the man''s previous display was near the pinnacle of swordsmanship, but this time, he easily surpassed his previous effort. With what only could be called a god-like show of skill and power, he assaulted Brightblade once again.


    This time, he was defeated in four seconds.


    Again Brightblade motioned for him to attack, and again he was defeated in seconds. Over and over, the Grandmaster tried to match her, yet each time, he fell miserably short of even threatening her.


    In the span of half an hour, Brightblade bested Grandmaster Solin well over a hundred times, with the Grandmaster never lasting more than a few seconds. He tried many different tactics and styles, but each was defeated with ease by his opponent. Not a single one of his attacks came even close to hitting her.


    Finally, after another quick defeat, Grandmaster Solin stepped back and sheathed his sword. "I''ve seen enough," he said calmly. "Follow me."


    He ignored the shocked audience as he began to head for the building where they had first met, Brightblade at his side while Arran and Snowcloud hurriedly followed behind the two.


    He did not speak a single word until they had entered his chambers once again, though Arran could not tell whether this was because the man was speechless with shock or because what he had to say required secrecy.


    Inside Grandmaster Solin''s chambers, the man sat down at his desk, then gave Brightblade a long look, a complex expression on his face.


    Finally, he sighed deeply.


    "In the past, our House of Swords had two Elders," he said. "Both of them fell just before the truce was formed, but before they fell, I had the honor of training under both of them. Just the memory of their skill fills me with awe to this day."


    He paused briefly, his eyes focused on Brightblade. Then, in a soft voice, he said, "Compared to you, they were like students."


    Brightblade did not reply. She merely looked at Grandmaster Solin, her expression calm as ever.


    "I do not know whether you are an unparalleled genius or one of the Society''s old monsters," the Grandmaster continued. "But it doesn''t matter. Our House''s resources are yours to use. Your students will be accepted as core members of the House of Swords, and if you wish, you will be accepted into our council of leaders."


    "Thank you, Grandmaster," Brightblade replied. "I will accept your offer." She smiled, then added, "And I intend to keep my promise of teaching your members."


    A joyous look appeared on the Grandmaster''s face. "To have you teach us¡­ it will transform our House." He let out a sudden laugh. "And none of the other Houses will understand what happened."


    Brightblade smiled, and with a glance at Arran and Snowcloud, she said, "To most mages, an exceptionally skilled swordsman is little more interesting than an exceptionally skilled baker ¡ª less so, perhaps, since one cannot eat swords."


    She frowned slightly, she added in a casual tone, "Hunters are feared for their resistance to magic rather than their skill at combat. A novice shrugging off a simple Flamestrike would draw far more attention than the demonstration I gave today."


    This was a warning, Arran knew, and a clear one at that. He and Snowcloud could show their strength and skill without drawing unwanted attention, but if they showed their resistance to magic, there would be problems.


    "Quite right," Grandmaster Solin said. "This blindness has always been one of the Ninth Valley''s weaknesses. Had we acknowledged the Hunters'' skill rather than just their toughness, I believe we could have defeated them without ever needing a truce."


    Brightblade nodded in agreement. "But there are matters we have to discuss," she said. "Perhaps you could arrange quarters for my students, so that we may talk in peace?"


    "Of course," the man replied. "There is an empty mansion that belonged to one of our Grandmasters. I will have your students escorted there. I can arrange for servants as well, so that you and your students can¡ª"


    "No servants," Brightblade interrupted him. "I do not intend for my students to grow too comfortable." She chuckled, then added, "Nor myself, for that matter."


    Grandmaster Solin nodded in approval. "Too much comfort does have a way of weakening the spirit. Very well. I will have your students seen to their quarters. But first¡­"


    He produced two small badges from his void bag, then handed them to Arran and Snowcloud. They were made out of some kind of black stone, and they were shiny and smooth to the touch, carrying a simple engraving of two crossed swords.


    "These badges identify you as core members of our House. Go ahead and bind them."


    Arran did as the man said, and when he bound the badge, he found that a small connection was formed between himself and the item. It didn''t seem to have any functions beyond that, but if a mage inspected it closely, it would be clear that the badge was his.


    "Core members?" he asked. "What exactly does that mean?"


    "It means that you hold the same status as adepts within our House," the man explained. "With these, you can enter and leave the inner Valley unhindered. If anyone threatens or insults you, it will be considered an offense against all of us." He sighed, then added, "Though I would suggest you avoid making enemies within the greater Houses. Our influence is not what it once was."


    Arran nodded. He had no intention of making enemies if he could avoid it ¡ª he had come to the Ninth Valley to train, not to find conflict.


    After that, the Grandmaster summoned a novice to lead them to their new quarters. Barely half an hour later, Arran and Snowcloud were sitting in the gardens of a mansion at the edge of the stronghold.


    The mansion was larger than expected, built out of wood in a simple but elegant style, with walls surrounding both the building and its gardens. It held over a dozen rooms, and although it had clearly not been used for some years, the interior was still spotless.


    But while the mansion itself was spacious and comfortable, its best feature were its gardens. Large and well-kept, they featured a training field, a small orchard, and several herb beds that made Snowcloud exclaim in delight.


    Amid the gardens was a quiet patio with several chairs and tables, and after the exhausting day, Arran and Snowcloud eagerly took the opportunity to sit and relax.


    "In that fight, how much of your strength did you use?" Snowcloud asked, nibbling on a sweet she had produced from her void ring.


    "About a quarter," Arran said. "But that adept¡­ his skill was incredible. If I hadn''t been stronger than him, he would have defeated me in seconds. And what about you?"


    Snowcloud frowned. "I used about half my strength. That novice ¡ª Ilena, I think it was? ¡ª she was amazing. She lacked strength and experience, but in the future, she''ll be terrifying."


    Arran nodded. Watching the fight, he''d had the same thought. The mages in the House of Swords lacked in power and real battle practice, but their skill was beyond question. Although obviously, they could not compare to Brightblade.


    "Did you know Brightblade was that strong?" he asked, forehead creased in thought as he remembered her display.


    "No," Snowcloud said. "I mean, she''s¡­ well, with her status, I knew she was strong. But this?" She shook her head in wonder.


    They spent several hours in the garden, sitting and talking while enjoying the chance to do nothing. They understood well that their break would be short-lived ¡ª Brightblade would not have brought them here to grow lazy.


    When Brightblade arrived at the mansion evening had already fallen, and from her pleased expression, it seemed her talks with Grandmaster Solin had gone well.


    As she sat down next to them, she said, "Your training starts tomorrow. It will take Grandmaster Solin a few days to make arrangements with the other Houses, so until then, you will have your afternoons and evenings to yourself. The mornings, you will spend teaching and practicing."


    "Teaching?" Arran''s eyes went wide with surprise. "We''re going to be teaching?"


    Brightblade nodded. "Snowcloud will teach initiates, and you will teach novices." She laughed, then went on, "Consider it part of your training. By teaching others, you also improve your own skills."


    Arran frowned, then nodded in acceptance. While he wasn''t sure how he felt about becoming an instructor, Brightblade''s earlier display had removed any last doubts he still had about her skill. If she believed it would benefit them, then he would trust her.


    "Besides," Brightblade continued, "we will spend the next few years using the House''s resources. It won''t hurt to repay their kindness."


    "Then why did you offend Master Kallias earlier?" Arran asked. "From the look on his face, I feared he was only a word away from trying to strangle you."


    Brightblade laughed. "Being too friendly would make it look as if I was hiding something. But now, most will assume that I am some Elder''s daughter ¡ª grown strong with her parents'' backing, and with the arrogance to match her strength."


    Arran furrowed his brow. "Will people accept that story? Even after what you showed today?"


    While Brightblade seemed confident, he remained skeptical. After her earlier display, he found it hard to believe that she wouldn''t draw attention from the other Houses.


    "They will," Brightblade replied. "Most mages see swordsmanship as a useful but crude tool. That''s why the House of Swords ranks among the lesser Houses ¡ª in terms of status, mastery in swordsmanship cannot compare to mastery in spells."


    Before Arran could object, she continued, "But the two of you should head to bed. Training starts at dawn, and you wouldn''t want to disappoint your students."


    She grinned brightly as Arran''s expression fell. Between doing battle and teaching novices, the latter worried him infinitely more than the former.

 Chapter 214 Bad Teacher

    Arran hurried through the training fields, feeling some panic as he tried to find the group of novices he was supposed to train. The sun was already up and groups of students were gathering in the fields around him, but he had yet to find his own novices.


    At random, he approached one of the groups'' teachers, a young woman he figured for an adept.


    She glanced at him as he approached, but then, her eyes went wide. "You''re the one who defeated Doran!"


    "I am," Arran confirmed hastily. "But right now, I''m looking for¡­" He paused, trying to recall the name. "The Dragon''s Claw, I think it was?"


    "The Dragon''s Fist," she corrected him. "That''s Doran''s group. Figures they''d let you train the House''s most advanced novices. You''ll find them about a mile from here, near the western gate."


    Arran quickly thanked her, then departed at a run.


    Now that he knew where to go, he found the group in minutes. There were about three dozen novices, paired off and sparring against each other. Walking among them to offer instruction was a familiar face ¡ª the mage Arran had faced the previous day.


    The adept still bore several large bruises on his face from their encounter, but when he saw Arran approaching, he greeted the newcomer with a friendly wave.


    "Apologies for being late," Arran said. "I had some difficulty finding the right group."


    "No matter," Doran replied. "A few minutes hardly makes a difference. Are you ready to begin?"


    "I suppose," Arran said. In truth, he felt far from ready, but he knew that there was no escaping this fate.


    "Everyone, gather up!" the adept called out loudly. He waited for the novices to gather, then said, "This is Initiate Ghostblade. Starting today, he will join me in instructing you."


    The novices looked at Arran with some curiosity, but then, one of them spoke up. "Is this a joke? We are to be instructed by an initiate?"


    The novice who spoke was a young man with short, dark hair and a clean-shaven face. His eyes held a hint of arrogance that caused Arran to feel an immediate dislike toward him.


    "See this, Levo?" Doran pointed at the bruises covering his face. "He''s the one who did that. Initiate or not, his skill is well beyond yours. You would do well to learn from him."


    Doran''s words caused most of the novices to go wide-eyed with surprise. Apparently, word of the previous day''s events hadn''t yet spread to everyone.


    Yet although the novice named Levo shut his mouth, his expression remained skeptical ¡ª a few bruises clearly weren''t enough to convince him of Arran''s skill.


    Ignoring the novice''s doubtful look, Doran turned to Arran. "Since this is your first time training these novices, I suggest we instruct them in a style of your choosing. They would benefit from seeing another Valley''s take on the styles they know."


    Though Doran intended well, Arran paled at the suggestion.


    He had trained in swordsmanship for several years already, but he had never seriously studied any single style, much less mastered one. Instead, he simply used the scattered techniques he had picked up over the years, relying on his instincts to combine them.


    With a sigh, he decided that there was nothing for it but to tell the truth.


    "I don''t know any complete styles," he admitted. "I''ve never focused on learning any single style ¡ª I''ve always just combined the techniques I know, using those best suited for the situation."


    Doran frowned, but before he could say anything, Levo spoke up once more. This time, there was a hint of mockery in his voice.


    "The initiate doesn''t even know any styles? And he''s supposed to teach us?" The young man turned to Doran. "He may have gotten lucky against you, but that doesn''t mean he''s qualified to teach us."


    "Is that so?" Doran said the words calmly, but there was a subtle coldness to his voice as he spoke. "Anyone who believes Ghostblade isn''t qualified to teach this group, step forward."


    Naturally, Levo wasted no time in doing just that. But a moment later, another novice followed, and then another. Before long, most of the novices had joined him.


    There was a satisfied look on Levo''s face when he looked at the others around him. "Clearly, most of us agree that this initiate is unworthy," he said, a smug expression on his face.


    "Indeed," Doran replied. "All of you who stepped forward, draw your swords. Now!"


    Confused looks crossed the novices'' faces, but they did as the adept said. The tone of his voice brooked no argument.


    When the novices had all drawn their swords, he continued, "All of you will face Ghostblade together. Anyone who refuses or objects is to leave and not return."


    He turned to Arran, then said in a low voice, "Don''t hurt them too badly." After a quick glance at the novices, he added, "But don''t let them off easy, either."


    Arran gave Doran a small nod, then faced the novices. A small grin appeared on his face as he stepped toward them. Teaching was something he had no confidence in, but fighting? By now, that came as natural as breathing.


    There was some confusion in the novices'' eyes as Arran approached them, but their confidence did not waver. They quickly prepared for battle, forming a half-circle around their opponent.


    Arran waited for them to finish, then attacked.


    The group of novices would have been a deadly threat to him just a year earlier, but now, they posed no challenge whatsoever. In less than two minutes he defeated them all, leaving the novices bruised, battered, and bloodied.


    None of their injuries were serious, but Arran had little doubt that they would be sore for the next few days.


    The novices who had not stepped forward watched the fight with awe-filled eyes, and when Arran finally returned to Doran''s side, their expressions showed relief ¡ª along with an unmistakable satisfaction at their fellow students'' misfortune.


    Doran waited until the last of the defeated novices had gotten back to his feet, then called out, "Did you dimwits truly believe that an initiate could defeat me through luck?!"


    He paused for effect, then continued, "Ghostblade is a mage of the Fourth Valley. Unlike you useless morons, he has experience in actual battles ¡ª the kind where only one fighter walks away."


    One of the novices spoke up, her voice trembling. "But Adept Doran, we didn''t know that¡ª"


    "You didn''t know?!" Doran seethed with anger. "I told you, you rock-brained cow." He shook his head in disgust. "If any of you ever set foot on a real battlefield, misjudging an enemy this badly will kill you as surely as cutting your own throat."


    At this, a new layer of shock appeared in the novices'' eyes. Miserably losing a fight was one thing, but now they understood the true reason for Doran''s anger ¡ª in their pride, they had failed to recognize a dangerous opponent. And that despite repeated warnings from their teacher.


    There was shame on the novices'' faces as they recognized the true extent of their failure, and Doran gave them a final contemptuous look. "Today''s lesson is over," he said. "Tomorrow, bring your wits, or don''t come at all."


    Without further words, he turned and left, Arran departing alongside him.


    Yet the moment they were out of the novices'' earshot, Doran let out a loud laugh. "Perfect! That went better than I could have hoped!"


    Arran looked at him in confusion, a deep frown across his forehead. "You wanted this to happen?"


    As far as Arran could tell, the whole thing had been a complete disaster ¡ª not only had he failed to teach the novices a single thing, he had even ended up fighting them. He could scarcely imagine how things could possibly have gone any worse.


    "They just learned a lesson I have long tried ¡ª and failed ¡ª to teach them," Doran replied cheerfully. Seeing Arran''s puzzled expression, he explained, "They''re all among the most skilled novices in our House, but that has left them overconfident."


    "So they needed to be defeated?"


    Doran shook his head. "They face defeat whenever they spar against adepts, but there is no shame in being defeated by a stronger mage. What they needed was to fail, and today, they failed so miserably that they won''t soon forget it. If they take the lesson to heart, perhaps they will avoid making this mistake when it matters."


    Arran nodded thoughtfully. In truth, it was an important reminder for himself as well ¡ª as his strength grew, so did his confidence. And that, he knew, could be both a strength and a weakness.


    "Of course, Levo did have a point," the adept said. "If you''re going to be training novices, you should master at least a few of our styles." He briefly frowned, then continued, "We have another few hours to go before our own training starts. Want me to show you a few of our sword styles?"


    "Sounds good," Arran replied, though he secretly wondered whether learning these styles could bring him any real benefits ¡ª his own techniques were already quite effective, and with his strength, few mages under the Master level posed a threat to him.


    But then, the novices he''d defeated had probably had a similar thought.


    "Follow me," Doran said. "There''s a secluded spot nearby where we can practice in peace."

 Chapter 215 The Thousand Cuts

    Arran and Doran stood on a small patch of grass near the walls of the stronghold. While it wasn''t far from the training fields, it was obscured from view by a group of trees that blocked the eyes of any curious onlookers.


    "So you don''t know anything about sword styles?" Doran''s question was blunt, but his voice held no scorn or mockery. Instead, he merely seemed curious.


    Arran shook his head. "Not really. I''ve had several teachers who taught me in their own styles, but their skill was far beyond mine. I picked up techniques and practices, but I never got anywhere close to mastering a style."


    "Seems it served you well enough, so far," Doran said. "But in the long run, continuing on that path will limit you. When we fought, I could see that your skill already exceeds your knowledge."


    "You''re right," Arran admitted. There was no point in denying it ¡ª so far, he had gotten by on strength and experience, but he knew his lack of knowledge was already hurting his progress.


    "My problem is the opposite," Doran continued. "My foundation is strong, but I lack the experience to put it to full use. Sparring with the students and teachers here is no use, either ¡ª few of them have any experience, and even those that do haven''t seen battle in decades."


    Arran nodded. He''d obviously noticed Doran''s limitations in their fight. If the adept had been more experienced, defeating him would have been far more difficult.


    "Given the situation, I suggest we train together," Doran said. "I can help you gain a proper foundation in our House''s styles, and you can return the favor by sharing your experience when we spar."


    "I''m interested, of course, but¡­" Arran hesitated before continuing, "Are you sure? It sounds like you''d be on the losing end of that deal."


    And that was putting it mildly. What Doran suggested was a completely lopsided arrangement, which would cost the adept numerous hours while barely taking any effort from Arran.


    Doran shrugged. "There are many people here who can teach sword styles, but very few with any battle experience. Having you as a training companion would be a treasure to any adept in the House ¡ª along with a good portion of the Masters."


    "All right." Arran grinned. "Then I''ll take your offer."


    "Perfect!" Doran said, a broad smile on his face. "Then let''s get started right away. I won''t waste your time with any of the basic styles ¡ª with your skill, they''d do you little good. Instead, I''ll show you a few advanced styles. They''ll be harder to learn, but they''ll still be useful even when your skill progresses."


    "Sounds good," Arran replied, eager to learn more. "What do you have in mind?"


    "I''ll start with a style called the Stalwart Blade," Doran said. "It''s best if I demonstrate it. Look closely ¡ª you''ll probably recognize more than a few of the techniques involved."


    The adept dropped into a fighting stance and began to execute a series of movements, each technique seamlessly flowing into the next in a precise sequence of sword strokes.


    Arran quickly understood that this was a defensive style, focused on blocking and parrying an opponent''s attacks. The few offensive moves it included were mostly counters, clearly intended to take advantage of opponents whose attacks had just been broken.


    As Doran had predicted, Arran recognized many of the techniques in the style, but he was astonished by how smoothly the adept moved between them. It seemed as if every sword stroke already set up the next one, creating a constant flow of movement.


    Over the course of several minutes, Doran executed well over a hundred different movements, each of them distinct from all the others.


    When he finally finished, he sheathed his sword, then asked, "You''ve already been through the Tempering, right?"


    "Right," Arran confirmed.


    "Then you should be able to repeat what I showed you, more or less," the adept said. That Arran had already been through the Tempering despite being an initiate did not seem to bother him. "Give it a try."


    Arran did as Doran said, copying the series of movements he had observed moments earlier. He got some of the movements wrong and his transitions weren''t anywhere near as smooth as Doran''s, but overall, he thought he did pretty well ¡ª especially considering that this was his first time.


    When he finished, Doran raised an eyebrow. "Impressive. I knew you were talented, but I didn''t expect you to pick it up this quickly. There''s a few small things you got wrong. Let me show you¡­"


    He spent the next hour explaining the style in more detail and giving more demonstrations, until eventually, Arran grasped the basics of the Stalwart Blade style.


    This was far from actually mastering it, of course. What he had learned were just the basic movements, and mastering the style would require learning to combine them as smoothly as Doran did.


    The true challenge, Arran knew, lay in the infinite number of combinations that could be formed with these techniques, and the countless transitions that would be needed to do so effectively.


    "Seems like you''ve got the hang of it," Doran said finally. "Let''s move on. The next style I''ll show you is called the Floating Leaf. Like the Stalwart Blade, it''s a defensive style, except it focuses on evading and deflecting attacks."


    Again, the adept demonstrated the style''s core techniques, with Arran intently studying his every movement.


    They spent another hour practicing before Arran just barely comprehended the Floating Leaf style''s many elements, and when he did, Doran gave him a satisfied grin.


    "With the Stalwart Blade and the Floating Leaf, you''ll have the tools to create a solid defense, though learning to combine the techniques will take quite a bit of practice."


    Arran nodded in understanding. That it would take a vast amount of practice to master the two styles was clear ¡ª together, they encompassed hundreds of techniques, and learning to unite those would undoubtedly be a monumental task.


    "Now, let''s move on to offense," Doran said. "There are a number of styles that would work for you, but with your experience, I figure the basic styles would be a waste of your time. Instead¡­"


    He hesitated before continuing, although there was an eager glint in his eyes. "There''s something ¡ª not a normal style, exactly ¡ª that might suit you. It will be difficult, though."


    Arran''s interest was immediately sparked. "What is it?" he asked eagerly.


    "The Thousand Cuts style," Doran replied. "It''s the House''s single greatest achievement ¡ª a collection of numerous attacks, all refined to match the others and united in what could be called a style of styles. I am still far from mastering it myself, but if you want, I can show you the basic movements."


    His brow furrowed, Arran gave Doran a slow nod. While the idea sounded intriguing, he had a hard time imagining what it would look like in practice.


    Once more, the adept began a demonstration, forming technique after technique in a constant flow of movement. Yet where the previous two demonstrations had ended in minutes, this time, it seemed like there was no end to the sequence of movements.


    Although Arran didn''t keep count, it was clear that the number of techniques was well over a thousand, each of them different from the others. And yet, they were all clearly part of a greater whole ¡ª as if each attack had been created from the same philosophy.


    Finally, after nearly half an hour, Doran finished. His brow was covered in sweat, but there was a look of excitement on his face.


    "That was over a thousand," Arran pointed out.


    "The Thousand Cuts style was created ages ago," Doran explained, breath still heavy from the exertion. "Over the years, the House of Swords has continuously added new techniques to it. By now, there are nearly three thousand, although it''s been nearly a century since anyone has expanded it."


    "It''s astonishing," Arran said truthfully. "Compared to this, the other two styles you showed me look like children''s games. But¡­ how can anyone master something as complex as this?"


    Doran''s display had been beyond impressive, but Arran had noticed that the adept was still far from mastering the Thousand Cuts style. While he obviously had the basic techniques down ¡ª an impressive feat in itself ¡ª the way he combined them was noticeably less smooth than with the previous two styles.


    "Most people don''t," Doran replied. "In fact, there''s currently no one in the House who has done so. But even without completely mastering it, it''s a style beyond compare. Just the sheer number of attacks gives you endless ways to deal with every enemy. And anyone who does master it¡­"


    He didn''t finish the sentence, though the glow in his eyes suggested that it was something he had often dreamed about.


    "And you want me to learn it?" Arran asked, feeling a slight sense of dread at the thought of taking on so monstrous a task.


    "Correct," the adept replied cheerfully. "So we''d better get started right away."


    In the hours that followed, he patiently guided Arran through the steps of the Thousand Cuts style. It was far too much to take in all at once, so instead, he broke up the basic techniques into chunks, teaching them to Arran a hundred at a time.


    The hours passed quickly as they practiced, and engrossed in swordplay as they were, midday came and went without either of them noticing.


    Arran had memorized half the techniques when the sun began to set, and as it did, he looked up at the sky in shock.


    "Practice¡­ I was supposed to practice with the other adepts this morning," he blurted out, now realizing that he had completely missed his first day of training.


    Doran shrugged dismissively. "We''ll stop by Master Kallias''s place and explain. Once I tell him how we spent the day, I doubt he''ll mind us skipping practice. Let''s go."


    It turned out that Master Kallias had a house barely ten minutes from the training fields, and it wasn''t long before they stood at his door, Arran feeling a slight sense of panic as Doran knocked.


    The door opened a moment later, revealing Master Kallias''s robed figure. He raised an eyebrow as he saw them, then spoke, "It seems my lost students have finally appeared. Any reason the two of you were absent today?"


    "We were busy training and forgot about the time," Doran said. He briefly explained what he had taught Arran earlier that day, and as he did, Master Kallias''s eyes went wide with surprise.


    "You''re teaching him the Thousand Cuts style? On his first day here?"


    "Not just that," Doran said, a grin on his face. "He''s already learned half the basic techniques."


    Master Kallias''s eyes shot toward Arran. "Show me," he said, his expression serious.


    Arran did as the man said, showing the movements and techniques he had learned so far. It was a clumsy effort, he thought ¡ª but then, after barely a day, one could not reasonably expect more than that.


    Yet when he finished his demonstration, there was a look of amazement in the Master''s eyes. "Remarkable," he said. "Absolutely remarkable. This much, in less than a day¡­ his progress is even faster than yours, Doran. And not just that¡­ did you notice?"


    "It was hard to miss," Doran said, smiling broadly. Seeing Arran''s confused look, he explained, "The Thousand Cuts style was created for the battlefield, not the training grounds. And with your experience, you''re getting some parts right that have given me more than a little trouble."


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    "Not just you," Master Kallias said with a loud laugh. "Merely watching him has already given me some insights I''ve long pursued." He turned to Arran, then continued, "But let''s see how you do with the other parts."


    Before Arran knew it, they were practicing once more, this time with Master Kallias joining in. More hours passed, and Arran''s knowledge of the Thousand Cuts style steadily increased, until eventually, he had a bare understanding of all the basic techniques it comprised.


    By then, it was well past midnight, and Master Kallias said, "We''ll continue this tomorrow. For now, the two of you should get some sleep." There was a hint of reluctance in his voice, as if would have preferred to spend another few hours training.


    Arran quickly bade the others farewell, then made his way back to the mansion. Even with his strengthened body, the day had left him weary, and he was eager to eat something and get to bed.


    When he arrived at the mansion, he found Brightblade sitting in the garden. She was alone, and as he approached, she gave him a curious look.


    "You''re late."

 Chapter 216 Training Days

    "I''m sorry," Arran said. "I got caught up in training. But I thought you said the afternoons and evenings were our own?"


    "With our first day in the House of Swords, I thought¡­" She sighed. "No matter. There''s food if you''re hungry."


    She gestured at the tables beside her, where Arran could see the remains of a small feast. Over half the food was still untouched, and he understood that she had intended to celebrate their arrival with him and Snowcloud.


    He felt some guilt at ruining the celebration, but not enough to keep him from quickly piling a heap of food on one of the large plates ¡ª he hadn''t eaten since morning, and the day of training had left him famished.


    As he began to eat, Brightblade asked, "So what did you learn today? If you couldn''t return before midnight, I imagine it must''ve been quite something."


    Arran explained the day''s events to her while he ate, and she listened intently. When told her how Doran had begun teaching him the Thousand Cuts style, a look of mild surprise appeared on her face, which increased further when she heard that Master Kallias had joined in.


    "On your first day, you''ve already found someone willing to teach you the Thousand Cuts?" She nodded slowly, seeming quite pleased. "No wonder you took so long in returning. I''d expected it to be months before you''d find people willing to invest so much time in you."


    "Then you know about the Thousand Cuts style?" Arran asked.


    "Of course," she replied. "I mastered it centuries ago, although I suppose they will have added a few new techniques since then."


    Arran frowned. "You''ve mastered it? But then, can''t you teach me yourself?"


    "I can, and I will. But not yet." She smiled broadly. "If you want my instruction, you''ll have to earn it by setting the first steps yourself."


    He gave her a puzzled look. "I thought the Patriarch sent us here to grow stronger. What''s the point in wasting time with adepts and Masters if you can teach us?"


    "To help you grow stronger, of course," Brightblade said. Seeing Arran''s baffled expression, she let out a loud laugh. "The truth is that you still lack a solid foundation, and if I offered you proper instruction now, it would ultimately harm you."


    "That makes no sense," Arran said. "You''re the best sword fighter in this Valley. How could it hurt me to have you teach me? And didn''t you spend half a year teaching me and Snowcloud already?"


    "What I''ve given you so far barely qualifies as guidance," Brightblade replied. "And my skill is exactly the reason it would harm you ¡ª with your weak foundation, my influence on your progress would be too great. You would learn to perform techniques the way I do, rather than finding your own way."


    "Wouldn''t that be a good thing?" Arran asked. With Brightblade''s skill, he did not see how learning her methods could be anything but beneficial.


    "It wouldn''t," she responded. "Swordsmanship isn''t like magic. It relies on your body as much as it does on skill and knowledge, and your body is different from mine." She gave him an appraising look. "Very different."


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    Arran frowned. "So I need to adapt the styles I learn to my body?"


    "Exactly," Brightblade replied. "And to be able to do so, you need to build a foundation of your own. Once you have that, I can teach you without risking having too strong an influence on you."


    Arran let out a deep sigh. "I don''t suppose I can change your mind?"


    While he understood her explanation, he still wasn''t fully convinced. And even if she was right, it meant he''d have to spend months or even years training before she''d properly teach him.


    "Correct," she said. "Though I''ll still regularly offer you guidance ¡ª enough to make the adepts here green with envy." She flashed him a broad smile, then said, "But you should get some rest. You have novices to teach in a few hours."


    Arran groaned, yet he took her advice, quickly heading to bed. A few hours of sleep would be better than none at all.


    The next morning, he found the novices quite a bit more receptive to his teaching than they had been the first day. He wasn''t certain whether this was out of fear or respect, but either way, the lesson passed smoothly.


    Since he could not yet instruct them in any styles, he instead sparred with them, handing out valuable ¡ª albeit painful ¡ª lessons on how their styles and techniques would fare in real fights.


    Despite Arran''s harsh teaching methods, the novices were eager to face him. Having been shown their limitations, they were now clearly anxious to fix them.


    After Arran and Doran finished training the novices, they ate a quick meal, then headed to their own training session.


    The other students turned out to be two dozen of the House''s most-skilled adepts, and aside from Master Kallias, there were another two Masters instructing them. It was obvious that the House of Swords considered each of these adepts a treasure to be nourished and grown.


    It came as little surprise to Arran that the other adepts were eager to spar with him. After his defeat of Doran, it was only natural that their curiosity had been sparked.


    He spent two hours facing them one by one, defeating each of them. Some of his victories came easily while others were narrow, but in the end, the combination of his strength and experience proved too much for any of them to overcome.


    The remaining hour of practice, he spent studying the Stalwart Blade and Floating Leaf styles. Doran helped him with this, but several of the other adepts joined in as well, showing their own interpretations of the styles.


    This was even more useful than Doran''s demonstrations had been. Seeing different interpretations of the same styles allowed Arran to get a better understanding of the principles behind them, and in just an hour of practice, he made significant progress.


    When the lesson ended, Arran was already starting to feel tired ¡ª mentally if not physically ¡ª but his training for the day was still far from over.


    The moment the lesson came to an end, he was approached by Doran and Master Kallias, both of them keen to continue the previous day''s work on the Thousand Cuts style.


    Arran happily obliged them. Tired though he was, the lure of the Thousand Cuts style was far too great to resist.


    More hours passed quickly with the three of them engrossed in training, and it was already late afternoon when they concluded their practice for the day.


    Arran returned to the mansion tired but satisfied, already looking forward to an evening enjoying some well-deserved rest.


    Yet when he arrived, he found Snowcloud in the gardens, furiously practicing a style he did not recognize. It looked simpler than the ones Doran had taught him, but she was clearly struggling, and beneath her sweat-covered brow, her eyes held a look of frustration.


    "Are you okay?" he asked.


    She stopped her sword mid-stroke, turning to him as she sheathed it.


    "I can''t keep up with them," she said, a mixture of disappointment and annoyance in her voice.


    "With who?"


    "The adepts in my group." She sighed. "I''m strong enough to match them when sparring, but their skill¡­ it''s far beyond anything I can do."


    "That''s only natural," Arran said. "We just arrived two days ago. You can''t expect¡ª"


    "That''s not what I mean," she interrupted him. "Of course their skill is ahead of mine, but they learn much faster, too. It''s the Tempering ¡ª it allows them to pick up new techniques much faster than I can."


    Arran frowned, now understanding her problem. Since she hadn''t been through the Tempering yet, learning new movements would be far more difficult for her.


    "Maybe I should ask them to place me with the novices," she said dejectedly. "They won''t be much of a challenge in sparring, but at least I''ll be able to learn at the same pace."


    "How about we train together?" Arran said. "We have time in the evenings, and with me helping you, you should progress faster."


    For a moment, it looked as if Snowcloud would reject the offer, but then she nodded. "Thank you. I don''t know if it''ll be enough, but with your help, I''ll have a chance."


    "I''ll just get something to eat first, and then we can start," Arran said.


    After a quick meal of dragon meat and leftovers, he got up and stretched his muscles. Then, he began his fourth training session for the day.


    The styles Snowcloud was studying were much simpler than the ones Arran had learned from Doran, and before long, he had picked up the basics. This caused Snowcloud to give him an envious glare, but it faded quickly as he set to work on helping her.


    Their training lasted until well after sundown, and by the end of it, Arran was completely exhausted. While his body had little trouble enduring the day, his mind was another matter ¡ª the constant effort of learning and improving sword techniques left him almost too tired to think.


    When he reached his quarters, he fell asleep in an instant.


    The days that followed were much the same, with Arran spending every waking moment training until his mind was fully consumed with techniques and styles.


    The progress this brought him was well beyond his expectations ¡ª within a week, he had mastered the styles Snowcloud struggled to learn, and after another week, he had learned the Stalwart Blade and Floating Leaf techniques well enough to teach them to his students.


    The Thousand Cuts style, however, was another matter. While his understanding of it progressed with leaps and bounds, trying to master it was like climbing an endless mountain. With each step, it only became clearer just how long the journey ahead of him would be.


    Nearly a month passed like this, though after the first week, Arran could barely tell the days apart. Each was the same as the last, and each was filled with nothing but sword training.


    But then, one afternoon, he found Brightblade waiting in the mansion''s gardens when he returned from the training fields, a cheerful expression on her face and Snowcloud at her side.


    "Grandmaster Solin has finally found us a suitable estate," she said, voice upbeat. "We''re leaving right now, and I expect we''ll spend the next few weeks there."

 Chapter 217 The Road Ahead

    Before they left, Brightblade told them to inform their teachers that they would be absent for several weeks. Though she was eager to depart, that was a common courtesy that could not be skipped.


    Arran headed over to Doran at once ¡ª while the adept wasn''t his teacher, strictly speaking, he was the person in the House of Swords who would most notice Arran''s absence.


    He found Doran in the gardens of the adepts'' quarters, casually practicing some style he didn''t recognize.


    When Doran noticed him, he immediately paused his practice and gave Arran an enthusiastic wave. "Up for some extra training tonight?"


    Arran shook his head. "My teacher just informed me I''ll be gone for a while. She plans to train me and Snowcloud in private."


    There was some jealousy in Doran''s expression when Arran told him the reason for his absence. "I wish I had a teacher like that." He sighed regretfully, then asked, "When will you be back?"


    "No idea," Arran replied. "From what she said, it''ll be at least a few weeks."


    Doran scowled. "That long?" An idea seemed to pop into his head, however, and he raised a questioning eyebrow. "If she teaches you anything good, you''ll share it, right?"


    "Sure," Arran said with a laugh. "But don''t get your hopes up. I think she''ll have us focus on magic, not sword fighting."


    "Magic?" Doran made an ugly face. "You can learn that anywhere. With a teacher like her, why waste your time on magic?"


    Arran shrugged. "Not my decision. She''s the teacher."


    "I still think it''s a waste." Doran sighed. "But I guess there''s nothing you can do about it. I''ll pass word to Master Kallias about your absence."


    After they said their goodbyes, Arran hurried back to the mansion, where he found Brightblade and Snowcloud already waiting in the gardens.


    "All done?" Brightblade asked, obviously impatient to leave.


    Arran nodded in reply. "So the estate, where is it?"


    "A few hours from here," Brightblade replied. "If we hurry, we can make it before nightfall ¡ª and I hope we do, because I''m not confident in finding it after dusk."


    They departed at a run, heading south toward the mountains.


    In the first hour, they encountered several more strongholds, along with a number of estates that could be seen from the road. Yet the further they moved, the sparser the habitation grew.


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    When they had gone a quarter-hour without meeting any other travelers or seeing any buildings, there was a sudden increase in Brightblade''s pace to something well beyond the capabilities of normal adepts.


    Arran and Snowcloud quickly matched her speed, and although Snowcloud struggled to keep up, she did not fall behind ¡ª after half a year of growing her strength, the gap between her and Arran''s was no longer the gaping chasm it had once been.


    Several more hours passed in silence, Brightblade leading the way as her students focused on following her. By then, they had already reached the edge of the mountains, and the terrain around them was filled with tall, rocky hills.


    Suddenly, Brightblade stopped in her tracks.


    When Arran stopped beside her a moment later, he saw that her forehead was creased in thought.


    "We should be close," she said. "But I don''t see it anywhere¡­"


    "We''re lost?" Snowcloud asked, a frown on her face that suggested she was less than impressed with Brightblade''s pathfinding skills.


    "We''re not lost," Brightblade replied sharply. "I know exactly where we''re going." She cast a frustrated look at the mountains ahead of them. "I just haven''t found it yet."


    They set off again some moments later, moving slower than before as Brightblade tried to figure out where their destination was. And despite her words, Arran was growing increasingly that they were, in fact, lost.


    Another hour passed fruitlessly, and by then, the sun had already disappeared behind the mountains in the west.


    As it grew dark, Brightblade finally came to a halt. "I think we''re lost," she said reluctantly. "It should be here, but¡­" She shook her head. "In the dark, we won''t be able to find it. We''ll have to camp out here for the night."


    They quickly set up a small camp, and a short while later, the three were sat around a fire upon which several chunks of dragon meat were roasting.


    "Since the evening is wasted," Brightblade began, "I might as well tell you my plans for the next few weeks."


    Both Arran and Snowcloud immediately sat up, eager to hear how they would spend the next few weeks ¡ª and if there were any unexpected benefits ahead.


    "You have both worked hard these past few weeks," she continued, "but Snowcloud, your progress isn''t fast enough."


    "I tried," Snowcloud replied, a dejected look on her face. "But without the Tempering¡­ I just can''t keep up with the adepts."


    Brightblade nodded. "Correct. So the first thing we''ll do when ¡ª if ¡ª we find the estate is have you undergo the Tempering. I would prefer to wait until you''re ready to become an adept, but that''s still far ahead, and this is hindering your training."


    At once, Snowcloud''s eyes lit up with joy. "You''re having me take the Tempering?!"


    "I am," Brightblade confirmed. "Or, well, a Tempering. You ¡ª both of you ¡ª will still need to undergo the Tempering thing when you become adepts, of course."


    Arran frowned. "When I become an adept, I''ll have to go through the Tempering again?"


    Brightblade nodded. "Correct. And having undergone it once already, you will face a Tempering far stronger than most ¡ª although it should bring you greater benefits, as well."


    Arran frowned, unsure of whether this was a good thing or a bad thing. The first time had been bad enough, and if the second time would be even worse, he could barely even imagine how painful it would be. And yet, he immediately felt the lure of power.


    "While I take Snowcloud through the Tempering," Brightblade continued, "you should work on unsealing that Destruction Realm of yours. You''ve struggled with it long enough ¡ª I expect you to break through within a year. Once you do, I''ll allow you to become a novice."


    A jolt of shock went through Arran when he heard the words. He was still far from opening the Realm, and doing so within a year seemed like an insurmountable task. Even if Master Zhao had originally told him it would take several years to open it, he had long begun to fear that it would take decades, instead.


    Yet before he could object, Brightblade had already turned her attention to Snowcloud. "As for you," she said. "Once your Tempering is complete, I will spend some days teaching you the basics of Shadow seals. Properly learning them will take far longer ¡ª well over a year. But only when you succeed in doing so will you be allowed to become a novice."


    Snowcloud''s eyes went wide with shock. "I have to wait more than a year before I can become a novice again?!"


    "Unless you manage to master Shadow seals faster than that, yes," Brightblade confirmed. "Now, there are other matters to discuss. To start, once we return from the estate, you will begin your training with the other Houses."


    Though Arran''s thoughts still focused on the task of unsealing his Destruction Realm, this immediately caught his attention. After several weeks of training with the House of Swords, he had already begun to imagine what training with the other Houses would be like.


    "Before we return, I will give you instructions on how to avoid drawing too much attention," Brightblade continued. "But more importantly, the year ahead will be far more difficult than anything you have faced so far. There should be little danger, but you will spend every waking moment training, until even your dreams are filled with nothing but magic and swords."


    Then, a small grin appeared on her face. "And by the end of this year, I expect both of you to be capable of facing Masters on equal terms."

 Chapter 218 Hidden Estate

    "Masters?!" Snowcloud''s voice was filled with disbelief. "You want us to become stronger than Masters? Before we even become novices?"


    "You''re already a novice," Brightblade pointed out. "And yes, I want you both to have the strength of Masters before you assume the title."


    "In a year?" Arran stared at Brightblade in astonishment.


    He had not forgotten how he had faced two Masters in Uvar. And while he had won that battle through trickery, the memory of the woman exploding half a mile of treeline with a single gesture still filled him with awe.


    The idea that he could learn to rival such might in a single year seemed not just impossible, but positively ludicrous.


    Seeing Arran''s baffled expression, Brightblade laughed. "It isn''t as impossible as you assume," she said. "In fact, you''re already closer than you might think. While Masters might beat you in magical skill¡ª"


    "And Essence reserves," Snowcloud interjected.


    "Knowledge, too," Arran added.


    Brightblade gave them an annoyed glare, then sighed deeply.


    "Yes, their advantages are many," she admitted. "But you have your own strengths. Your resistance to magic exceeds theirs, as does your physical strength. Develop your strengths and address your weaknesses, and your potential is greater than you realize."


    "But why can''t we become novices?" Snowcloud asked.


    It was clear that she was still displeased with her loss of status, though Arran could not see why ¡ª as far as he was concerned, titles mattered little.


    "Safety," Brightblade replied. "Once you become novices, you will be required to go into the borderlands, and I have little faith in this supposed peace. With the strength of Masters, you will be able to properly defend yourselves."


    "We already spent over a year in the borderlands," Snowcloud countered. "Without anyone protecting us."


    "And how many times did you come close to dying?"


    Neither Snowcloud nor Arran had a reply to that.


    "You will remain in this Valley until you have the strength to protect yourselves," Brightblade said. "I will not allow you to waste your lives ¡ª nor my efforts in training you."


    The tone of her voice made it clear that this was not a matter of debate, and with that, the discussion came to an end.


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    They spent the remainder of the night talking about lighter matters ¡ª Brightblade seemed especially enthusiastic about the food in the Ninth Valley ¡ª but Arran''s mind kept wandering to the journey ahead.


    No matter how he looked at it, matching Masters in less than a year seemed impossible. Yet that was what Brightblade expected of them.


    The next morning, they awoke shortly after dawn. Having to continue their search put Brightblade in a foul mood ¡ª she seemed to take the estate''s failure to appear in front of her as a personal affront ¡ª and they walked silently along the edge of the mountains.


    They spent most of the morning searching, and it was nearly noon when Brightblade''s eyes suddenly went wide with surprise.


    "You have to be kidding me¡­" She looked at an unremarkable curve in the stone before her with a mixture of shock and annoyance.


    It was a location they''d passed at least three times already, but none of them had noticed anything out of the ordinary. And even now, Arran wasn''t entirely certain what it was that Brightblade had noticed.


    "Follow me," she said, starting forward without waiting for their replies.


    Arran soon found that the unremarkable curve in the rock actually concealed a narrow path into the mountains. Precariously twisting and winding its way upward, it could only barely be considered a path, yet that seemed the intent of those who had originally made it ¡ª it was clearly not intended to be found easily.


    They followed the path for nearly an hour, climbing ever higher. But then, suddenly, after taking yet another sharp turn, they emerged in a small valley.


    Barely half a mile long and perhaps two hundred paces wide, a small stream ran through its middle, and the banks on either side of it were filled with shrubs and trees.


    Yet the most eye-catching part of the valley lay at its center, where a large stone mansion stood. Built in a simple but robust fashion, it vaguely resembled a fort, with thick walls that seemed capable of withstanding a great deal of punishment.


    Brightblade looked at the mansion with a satisfied expression. "The Grandmaster did well," she said. "Very well indeed. Come, let''s have a look."


    They quickly made their way into the mansion, and found that it was even larger than it looked. At a guess, Arran thought it could comfortably hold several hundreds of people ¡ª although its dusty state suggested that nobody had entered it in decades, if not longer.


    "This will need cleaning," Brightblade said. "The two of you, get to work on that." With a broad smile, she added, "And while you clean the mansion, I''ll inspect the valley for hidden dangers."


    Arran glared at her back as she disappeared out the door, then turned to Snowcloud. "How do you suggest we do this?"


    "Wind Essence," she replied. "It shouldn''t take more than an hour."


    Relieved, Arran gave her a nod. He had feared they''d have to sweep the entire giant building by hand, the possibility of using Wind Essence not even occurring to him ¡ª another reminder that he''d neglected his magic for far too long.


    With the use of magic, it barely took them an hour to remove the decades of dust that had gathered in the mansion, and if they didn''t exactly leave it spotless, Arran figured the result was good enough.


    Brightblade entered the building again shortly after, with Arran briefly wondering whether she had remained away just long enough to miss the cleaning.


    Yet there was a serious look on her face when she approached them.


    "At the back of the valley," she began, "there''s a path that leads further into the mountains. Under no circumstance is either of you to go there."


    Naturally, this sparked Arran''s curiosity, and he asked, "Where does it lead?"


    "For you? Death." She took a breath, then continued, "The path leads further into the mountains, beyond the formations protecting the Ninth Valley. There are dangers there that even I cannot take lightly. If either of you enters without my protection, you will almost certainly die."


    "What kind of dangers?" Snowcloud asked, her brow furrowed. Although she had grown up in one of the Valleys, she clearly knew no more than Arran about the dangers the mountains held.


    Brightblade shook her head. "That''s no concern of yours. Not yet. For now, all you need to know is to stay away. Understood?"


    She gave Arran and Snowcloud a questioning look, and only when they both nodded in acknowledgment did the tension on her face lessen somewhat.


    "Next," she went on, "I found some old inactive formations around the mansion. Nasty things ¡ª enough to cause even strong mages more than a little trouble. Naturally, I''ve reactivated them."


    She reached for her void bag, and a moment later, she held up two silver coins. There didn''t seem to be anything special about them, except for a large X-shape that had been crudely burned into each of the coins.


    She handed Arran and Snowcloud a coin each, then said, "Keep these on you when you approach the mansion. They contain a sliver of my Essence, and you''ll be able to pass the formations unharmed. If you try to do so without them, the results will be¡­ unpleasant."


    Arran hurriedly nodded in response. Although he had Sensed no sign of any formations when they entered the mansion, anything that Brightblade considered dangerous was something he had no intention of testing.


    "Now, with that handled, I think it''s time for Snowcloud to receive the Tempering she so desperately needs."


    Snowcloud''s eyes went wide with surprise. "Right now?"


    "Right now," Brightblade confirmed.


    She turned to Arran, then said, "You should spend these weeks working on your Destruction Realm. You won''t get this amount of free time again soon." With a slight frown, she added, "If anything dangerous appears in this little valley, hurry back to the mansion. Unless you''re up against an army of Archmages, you''ll be safe here."


    "All right," Arran said. Although he had plenty of questions, it was obvious that those would have to wait until Brightblade finished Snowcloud''s Tempering.


    "Oh, before I forget¡­" Brightblade had already begun to head for the hall, but she suddenly turned back to Arran. "I doubt you''ll be able to keep from practicing those styles you''re learning. If you do, try not to use the same series of techniques more than once."


    Arran gave her a puzzled look. So far, that was exactly what he had been doing. "Why not?"


    "You''re not learning a dance, with a set order of movements," she replied. "Properly learning a sword style means learning to combine its techniques in any order. That''s what you should be practicing ¡ª and it''s something those fools at the House of Swords seem to have forgotten."


    Before Arran could reply, she turned around and left the room. Snowcloud followed behind her, and Arran only had time to quickly say, "Good luck!" before she was gone as well.


    Arran sighed, realizing that he would spend the next few weeks alone in the mansion while Snowcloud underwent her Tempering in the basement.


    Then, he walked out the door and into the valley, finding a quiet spot under a tree next to the stream. It was time to begin studying the seal on his Destruction Realm.

 Chapter 219 A New Approach

    A look of concentration appeared on Arran''s face as he focused his attention, concentrating his thoughts on the seal that Master Zhao had created years earlier.


    The seal was the same as always ¡ª a bafflingly intricate weave of Shadow Essence, as impenetrable as it was complex.


    Yet the seal''s complexity wasn''t what frustrated him.


    Over the years, he had grown to know it as well as he knew his own body ¡ª better, perhaps. Intricate though it was, he knew exactly where every strand of Essence belonged, and exactly how they were all woven together.


    Rather, what left him frustrated was that despite his knowledge of it, the seal still easily resisted his every effort to remove it.


    He had long since tried the methods the Sixth Valley''s Patriarch had shown him to remove it, but none seemed to achieve much of anything. No matter what he did, the seal reformed itself instantly whenever he managed to damage it.


    It was as if the seal had a mind of its own. Or not a mind, exactly ¡ª it more resembled a single-minded will, and one that seemed ingrained in the very weave of Essence itself.


    This will, if it could be called that, rejected any of Arran''s attempts at changing or destroying the seal. Whatever he did to attack it, the seal simply shrugged off the damage and returned to its original state without even the slightest delay.


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    It was maddening ¡ª like trying to carve a statue out of water.


    Still, there was nothing for it but to continue his search for a solution. And without any idea of where to begin, all he could do was study the seal. Perhaps eventually, he would find some weakness he had overlooked.


    He spent three hours sitting aside the stream that ran through the small valley, the tree next to him providing shade as he examined the seal''s many intricate details once more.


    Pleasant and peaceful though his surroundings were, Arran''s mood gradually soured as three hours of study brought him no progress whatsoever.


    The Patriarch had told him the seal contained a sliver of Master Zhao''s insights, and in the months since then, he had recognized what he thought was a hint of this.


    It was as if the seal reflected a fundamental law of reality ¡ª as if its very existence was an indelible feature of the world.


    Yet try as he might, the insight contained within the seal remained inscrutable. He could just barely glean its existence, but beyond that, it refused to reveal even the slightest shred of its secrets.


    At first, he had believed this was a simple shortcoming of his own knowledge ¡ª something he could fix with further study, given enough time.


    But as the months passed, he had begun to suspect that there was another problem. Somehow, the insight within the seal felt incomplete, as if there was another part of it. And worse, he began to think breaking the seal without that missing part might be impossible.


    Perhaps he might find a way around that if he reached the Patriarch''s level of skill and knowledge, but that was little comfort. Doing so would take centuries, if not longer.


    He knew that there was something he was missing, but as for what it was¡­


    Frustrated by the complete lack of progress, he decided to take a break to clear his head.


    After a moment''s thought, he stood up and began to practice the Thousand Cuts style. Difficult though it was ¡ª especially following Brightblade''s advice not to repeat the same series of moves more than once ¡ª at least here, he felt like he made some small process.


    And if the practice was difficult, at least his sword wasn''t actively resisting his efforts.


    He spent half an hour practicing the Thousand Cuts, until the frustration of working on the seal had mostly faded. Then, he ate a quick meal, and set to work on the seal once more.


    Frustrating or not, it was a task he''d have to complete sooner or later.


    But for all his resolve, this attempt at finding a weak spot in the seal fared no better than the previous one. Several hours passed slowly and fruitlessly, with Arran soon feeling like someone trying to carry water in a basket.


    He took another break, then began his work anew.


    By the time the sun set his mind was weary from the effort, and he could not help but feel disheartened as he realized that he had achieved nothing whatsoever. He had gained no knowledge, no skill, no insights ¡ª he had merely wasted time.


    He went to bed with a heavy heart that night, his goal seemingly even further away than it had been in the morning.


    Four days passed like this, with Arran spending each day fully devoting his attention to the seal. Yet for all his efforts, he made no progress at all.


    It was as if the seal was a lock that needed a key to be opened ¡ª some special knowledge or insight that would allow him to defeat it. And without that key, his attempts were doomed to failure.


    Yet the only person who knew the truth was Master Zhao himself, and years had passed since they parted ways. For all Arran knew, he might never meet the man again.


    He had long since examined the things Master Zhao had given him before he left, but none of it was any use. Among the scrolls, amulets, and other resources he had been given, there wasn''t a single one with any information that would aid him in this task.


    Master Zhao''s training wasn''t any use, either. The man had barely even discussed how seals worked when they were together. Instead, he had merely placed several of them on Arran''s Realms, and told him to figure it out himself.


    Arran had figured out the weaker seals quick enough. Although they had first been broken with the help of Realm Opening Pills, he had eventually learned to recreate them almost perfectly.


    Yet the knowledge he had gained from doing so proved little help. The seal on his Destruction Realm was different altogether, and it required something far beyond some skill in Shadow seals to open.


    The thought was enough to leave him hopeless.


    On the fifth day, he felt weary from the moment he awoke, the prospect of spending yet another day achieving nothing weighing heavily on his mind.


    As usual, he headed to the tree beside the stream, and as usual, he spent several hours studying the seal without gaining anything useful.


    When he felt he could go no more, he let out a sigh, then stood up and stretched out, preparing to take a short break by practicing the Thousand Cuts.


    Yet even as he drew his sword, his eyes suddenly went wide.


    "But he did teach me something¡­"


    Arran spoke the words out loud, the realization striking him like a bolt of thunder.


    When they first met, Master Zhao had spent months teaching him nothing but swordsmanship. At the time, he''d believed the man''s only purpose was for him to learn control, to prepare him for learning magic.


    But now, he realized there was something strange about that. From what he''d learned since then, control was something mages acquired while they practiced magic, not before they even started. And even then, swordsmanship was hardly the easiest way to improve one''s magical control.


    Moreover, now that he considered it, the sword style Master Zhao had used was a strange one. At the time, inexperienced as he was, he had thought it was as if Master Zhao''s movements condensed every sword stroke down to its essence.


    But now, he could see that wasn''t quite true. Although the man''s techniques had been trimmed of all excess movement, there had been a strange sense of purpose to them.


    He realized with some shock that what he remembered of Master Zhao''s sword style somehow resembled the sliver of insight within the seal.


    A shiver of excitement ran through his body as he saw a new path ahead. Perhaps he was fooling himself into seeing something where nothing existed, but even so, just the possibility was enough to fill him with anticipation.


    He quickly raised his sword. Then, he began to practice the moves that Master Zhao had taught him all those years ago.

 Chapter 220 Insigh

    Using the techniques Master Zhao had taught him proved far more difficult than Arran had expected. He had thought it would be simple to return to this foundation, but instead, it seemed nearly impossible.


    Over the years, every single one of his techniques had undergone numerous influences, constantly changing as he used them both in practice and in combat.


    His techniques were like a reflection of his growth over the years, bearing the marks of friends and enemies both, every experience shaping his skill and style.


    But now, what he needed was for these influences to be purged from the techniques.


    He took a deep breath, realizing what he had to do.


    First, he identified the techniques he had originally learned from Master Zhao. There were only a few dozen, each of them originally simple yet effective. Combined, they could be barely considered the skeleton of a style.


    When he finished determining which of his techniques originated from Master Zhao, he began to remove the outside influences that had shaped them over the years.


    The first influence he stripped from his techniques was Doran''s. He had learned much from the adept in just a month of training, and as he meticulously purged the adept''s influences from his techniques, he could see them grow simpler ¡ª as well as weaker.


    Next was Brightblade. To Arran''s surprise, despite half a year of training with her, she had barely even left a mark on his techniques, instead merely honing what was already there. This was no accident, he knew ¡ª she had clearly been careful to limit her influence.


    Still, he removed what little she had changed, then moved on to the next target.


    He worked ceaselessly in the hours that followed, performing techniques without pause as he stripped away layer after layer of influence.


    The crazed battle against the army of Body Refiners, his joyous sparring matches against Darkfire, his training with Snowcloud ¡ª each had shaped his skills, and each of these influences he now ruthlessly removed.


    Had anyone been watching him, he would have looked like an expert swordsman steadily losing his skill, growing less competent with each passing hour.


    Engrossed in the slow labor of purifying his techniques, he didn''t notice it when evening fell, and he continuing his work without pause even as the sky grew dark above him.


    Beneath the ink-black mountain sky, he purged more influences, his techniques steadily losing their power and complexity with each step forward.


    The months he had spent training with Jiang Fei at Lord Jiang''s estate, the time he had spent training at the Windsong monastery ¡ª piece by piece he stripped away what he had learned.


    Finally, as the sun began to rise again, all of it was gone. His techniques once more resembled the slow, clumsy movements he had used so long ago, years of growth and refinement stripped away to reveal the foundation Master Zhao had given him.


    Yet as Arran tentatively swung his sword, he found no enlightenment. There was only weakness and inexperience ¡ª the techniques of a beginner, lacking any sort of insight.


    Forehead creased in a frown, he came to a halt.


    He had been certain he would find something useful, but instead, all he discovered were basic sword strokes, awkwardly formed and executed.


    He did not allow himself to be disappointed. Instead, he set to work on practicing this seemingly useless sword style, meticulously executing each movement while silently hoping that some great truth would yet be revealed.


    But in an hour of practice, the only truth he found was that the style was exactly as useless as it seemed.


    He considered this for some moments, and soon recognized his oversight. He had stripped the techniques down to what he had learned ¡ª but that was not the same as what Master Zhao had taught him.


    His original foundation wasn''t formed when he trained under Master Zhao, but many years before that, when his father had first made him pick up a sword. As a guardsman, Arran''s father had expected his son to follow in his footsteps, and much of Arran''s youth had been spent practicing swordplay.


    While he treasured the memories, he could now see that his father''s flawed teachings still pervaded his techniques, shaping his movements and hindering his ability.


    The realization caused him some pain. Some of the happiest moments in his youth had been when his father patiently taught him the sword, but now, his only way forward would be to erase every trace of what he had learned back then.


    Pain or not, he clenched his jaw and set to work once more.


    Stripping his techniques of their foundation proved much more difficult than stripping them of later influences, and he knew that only his years of experience made it even possible.


    Engrossed as he was in the challenging task, the hours passed quickly. He worked through another night, gradually distilling Master Zhao''s teachings from all that surrounded them, steadily carving away everything but the techniques themselves.


    Another night passed without his notice as he slowly drew closer to his goal. By now, any excitement he had felt earlier was long gone. In its place, there was a single-minded focus that bordered on obsession.


    As another dawn bathed the green valley in its bright light, he knew he was finally nearing his destination.


    The techniques he had started out with were long gone, replaced with stripped-down movements that were almost laughably simple. There was no guile or cunning to them ¡ª they were plain to the point of austerity, condensed as if every hair''s breadth of excess movement would cost him a king''s ransom in gold.


    But for all their simplicity, Arran could tell that these techniques were powerful. There was a purpose to them, almost a will. They were created to sever, to cut, to destroy all in their way, brooking neither resistance nor deflection.


    After going days without sleep, he was neither surprised nor pleased with this realization.


    Rather, what he felt was a faint sense of recognition. Although he had not previously realized it, his swordsmanship had contained a trace of this ever since his training with Master Zhao, affecting every strike of his sword over the past years.


    This hidden strength had doubtless saved his life more than once, but now that it had been brought into the open, for the first time he could feel its true power.


    But at this moment, the power was of little interest to him. Because behind it, he could vaguely make out what he had been searching for ¡ª a sliver of insight.


    The insight hidden within Master Zhao''s sword techniques was like the opposite of that within the seal. Where one sought to bind, the other sought to sever. Where one embodied immovable stasis, the other embodied unstoppable movement. Where one attacked, the other defended.


    But different though they were, Arran instantly recognized that both were parts of a greater whole. On their own, neither was something he could understand ¡ª like a sentence ripped in half, the true meaning remained hidden.


    And finally, Arran had both parts.


    The combination formed something that was like a tiny crystal of knowledge within his mind ¡ª a nascent insight into the nature of reality. It was so weak it seemed like it could vanish at any moment, but its presence was unmistakable.


    Fearful of letting it slip away, Arran immediately began to execute Master Zhao''s sword techniques once more, his attention spread between the techniques and the seal.


    He continued this for several hours, and gradually, the crystal of knowledge he had found grew brighter. Studying the two opposing forces, he slowly began to comprehend that they were truly one ¡ª two sides of a coin, neither capable of existing without the other.


    Only when the insight had solidified into something that would not suddenly disappear did he come to a stop.


    He took several deep breaths to clear his mind, then turned his attention to the seal. If he was right, this newfound insight would finally allow him to defeat it.


    He readied himself to attempt it, but stopped himself right before attacking the seal. Recognizing his mistake, he shook his head in frustration.


    While he might have a chance of defeating the seal, he could not do so. Not yet, at least. Once it was gone, he had no confidence in recreating it, and without it, he would no longer be able to draw upon the insight it contained.


    Simply destroying it was not an option.


    He sheathed his sword, then pondered the problem for some minutes. Finally, he came to decision.


    Without delay, he headed for the mansion, then sought out a small room at its back. Simple and lacking both windows and furniture, it was well-suited for his purpose ¡ª he needed a place without distractions.


    He sat down on the floor and closed his eyes. He already knew what he must do ¡ª learn to create the seal himself, then destroy the original only when he was fully confident in recreating it.


    Yet to do so he would need to seal one of his other Realms, and the question of which to choose caused him some difficulty. If he succeeded in copying the seal, whichever Realm he sealed would be cut off until he was able to break it. And although he believed he could do so, the risk was obvious.


    After some moments of thought, he chose his Wind Realm. His Shadow Realm wasn''t an option, and of the three that remained, Wind was the one that mattered least.


    He banished any worries he felt, then began to recreate the seal that had vexed him for so long.


    Almost immediately, he discovered that he need not have worried about closing off his Wind Realm. The seal he created lasted barely a second before it spontaneously collapsed.


    He tried again, and the result was the same. Yet he would not stop now, and after several dozens of tries, he managed to create a seal that lasted just long enough for him to break it.


    Then, he repeated the feat.


    Dozens of attempts soon turned into hundreds, then thousands, and with each new attempt he improved. Yet he was still far from reaching his goal ¡ª so far, neither the creation nor the destruction of the seals contained any of the insights he had gained yet.


    But he did not relent, and gradually, his skill at both erecting and destroying the seals improved. And after countless thousands of attempts, he managed to imbue a shield with the tiniest shred of insight.


    It was too little to provide any true strength to the seal, but to his surprise, the nascent insight he had gained previously seemed to strengthen in response. And soon after, the same happened when he shattered a seal with an insight-imbued attack.


    If he had previously been eager in progressing, now, he grew zealous. Again and again he erected shields only to tear them down moments later, each attempt slightly better than the last.


    His sense of time and place faded as his focus was fully drawn to that ever-expanding spark of knowledge. While his mind continued to erect and shatter endless thousands of shields at the edge of his consciousness, all he could do was marvel at that tiny shred of reality he gradually came to comprehend.


    He did not know how much time passed, nor did he care ¡ª all that mattered was the bright crystal of awareness that allowed him to see a minute part of the world for what it really was.


    Binding and severing ¡ª within these simple opposites lay an ocean of knowledge whose existence Arran had never dreamed was possible, forming a single thread that pervaded reality. And as his comprehension grew, he came to realize that a tug on that thread could shake all of existence.


    Yet as the spark grew brighter, he could sense that this thread was just one of many. He could not see what others there were nor what they did, however, with their existence remaining hidden just beyond the boundaries of his mind.


    This realization filled him with frustration, and he desperately tried to see what lay beyond that horizon. But it was no use ¡ª whatever there was, it remained beyond his reach.


    As his focus moved back to the bright spark of knowledge that now existed in his mind, he became aware that it was no longer expanding. Instinctively, he knew that he had learned all he could.


    He turned his attention to his Wind Realm, and found it was covered by a perfect copy of the seal on his Destruction Realm. He had no recollection of creating the seal, but it didn''t matter. With a single thought, he shattered it.


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    Then, with a second thought, he opened his Destruction Realm.

 Chapter 221 Recovery

    As Arran opened his eyes, his awareness of his body returned in an instant, and the feeling was anything but pleasant.


    He launched into a coughing fit, his throat dry like the sands of a desert. At once, he produced a bottle of water from his void ring and thirstily guzzled it down. That was nowhere near enough to sate his thirst, and a second bottle followed quickly.


    When the second bottle was empty the parched feeling slowly abated, and with his mind no longer overwhelmed by thirst, he took some moments to gather his wits.


    He quickly realized that more time had passed than he expected. The lower half of his face was covered in a thick and itchy beard, and his body felt frighteningly weak ¡ª the result of not eating for weeks or even months, he suspected.


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    While he wondered just how long he had been senseless, he decided there would be time to worry about that later. Right now, his body was desperate for nourishment, and he would have to see to that first.


    He produced a small meal of dried fruits and dragon meat from his void ring, then hurriedly ate it all, washing it down with yet another bottle of water.


    The Dragon''s Ruin wasted no time in absorbing the Natural Essence within the food, and some moments later the feeling of weakness began to subside. Although he was still nowhere near his full strength, at least he no longer felt as if he was on the verge of collapse.


    Thirst and hunger addressed ¡ª at least for the moment ¡ª Arran got to his feet, groaning as he forced his stiff body into action.


    A quick look around the room showed no signs of change, except for a large piece of paper that had been nailed to the door. On the paper, there was a message, scribbled in messy, angular characters.


    STAY NEAR THE MANSION UNTIL I RETURN


    A message from Brightblade, he knew. Both the shoddy handwriting and the frustrating lack of detail were things he recognized instantly.


    That she had already finished Snowcloud''s Tempering did not come as a surprise ¡ª his itchy beard made it clear that he had spent no small amount of time comprehending the insights Master Zhao''s had left him.


    And from the look of it, they had returned to the House of Swords without him.


    Yet these were matters of later concern. Without delay, Arran hurried out of the mansion and stripped off his filthy robe, then stepped into the stream that ran through the small valley.


    The water was icy, but Arran was glad to wash the filth of his skin. After some minutes, he felt like a new man. The robe, he burned ¡ª it was beyond salvaging.


    He took a mirror from his void ring, and as he gazed into it, the sight of his reflection caused him some shock. His eyes were sunken and his cheeks hollow, with his face resembling that of someone on the brink of starvation.


    He had planned to shave his beard, but instead, he merely cut it short. If it wasn''t exactly fashionable, at least it would conceal his emaciated state.


    All of this took him half an hour, and by the end of it, he decided it was time for another meal.


    This time, he ate a large slab of dragon meat, roasted in Fire Essence. The Dragon''s Ruin made quick work of it, and when he finished eating, the weakness that still lingered within his body had subsided further.


    Fully recovering would take longer, but trying to rush it would do him little good.


    And more importantly, now that he was fed and bathed, he was eager to finally examine his Destruction Realm. It had been sealed off years earlier, when he had little understanding of magic.


    But now, with everything he had learned since then, he hoped he could finally figure out how to use it. And if there was any justice in the world, the Realm''s power would match the amount of trouble it had caused him.


    He sat down on the grass next to the stream, a trace of excitement in his eyes as he prepared to study the long-sealed Realm. Then, he closed his eyes and began to examine it.


    The Realm itself was exactly as he remembered it ¡ª a narrow connection to some unknown reservoir, producing a constant trickle of violent Essence.


    Both his Sense and his command of Essence had increased tremendously since the Destruction Realm was sealed, but he found the Destruction Essence was still as difficult to control as it had been before he knew what it was.


    Just moving it within his body was difficult, and gathering enough of it for a spell or attack seemed downright impossible.


    The result was disappointing but not unexpected. Undeterred, he spent nearly an hour poking and prodding the Destruction Essence, trying to figure out to what extent he could make it submit to his will.


    In the end, he found that he could just barely circulate the Destruction Essence through his body ¡ª and that was enough to cause him more than a little excitement.


    If Elder Naran was correct, circulating the Destruction Essence through his body would strengthen his resistance to magic. And from what Arran guessed, it would do so more efficiently than the Essence in Uvar or the Patriarch''s amulet.


    Yet that wasn''t what caused his excitement. Useful though resistance to magic was, the Patriarch''s amulet already gave him a way to train it, and a more effective method would hardly make a big difference.


    Rather, he was excited because he knew this was exactly what he needed. By circulating the Essence, he could further increase his control of it. It would be a slow process, but it was a path ahead.


    And best of all, it wouldn''t require his full attention ¡ª he could train it even while doing other things.


    Still, he spent half an hour practicing the circulation technique with Destruction Essence, just to make sure he had it well in hand.


    When he was satisfied that he could maintain it without effort, he decided it was time to focus his attention on other things.


    He started off by eating yet another meal ¡ª the third in as many hours. The previous two had done him some good, but he was already feeling famished once more.


    At a guess, he thought he would be hungry for a long time to come.


    After he finished the meal, he began to test his magic. He suspected that he could imbue it with his newfound insight, and he was eager to find out whether his suspicion was right. If it was, it would definitely strengthen his magic considerably.


    He tried his spells and techniques one by one, attempting to somehow imbue each of them with the insight he had gained while unsealing his Destruction Realm.


    Yet hard though he tried, all his attempts ended in failure.


    It wasn''t that he was trying to do something impossible. At least, he didn''t think so. Rather, his skill in magic simply wasn''t sufficient. While he could use the spells he knew, he lacked the knowledge to alter them in any meaningful way.


    With a sigh, he gave up.


    There was no way to succeed with his current level of skill, and practice by himself was unlikely to remedy that any time soon. What he needed were teachers, and for that, he would have to rely on Brightblade.


    He had another quick meal while sitting in the grass next to the stream, and when he finished, he switched his attention to sword practice.


    Master Zhao''s techniques, stripped of other influences, provided him with a new foundation ¡ª one far more robust than the previous one. And now, he began to build on that foundation.


    He did not hurry or force himself. Instead, he merely executed the simple techniques Master Zhao had taught him slowly and carefully, repeating them until they felt as familiar as the imperfect versions he had previously used.


    The work was as pleasant as it was easy.


    The spark of insight seemed to guide his movements, and his progress came almost without effort. But even so, he took care not to over-exert himself ¡ª his body had yet to recover, after all.


    He ate when he was hungry and napped when he was tired, enjoying the feeling of the sun on his skin and the grass under his feet as he practiced. And while he trained, he constantly circulated Destruction Essence through his body.


    As his familiarity with the purified techniques grew, he gradually began to improve upon them, drawing upon his experience to adapt them to his needs.


    This, too, proved easy.


    Whenever he introduced an influence that conflicted with the bright spark of insight within his mind, the discrepancy was immediately clear, and he wasted no time in discarding it.


    Still, he found that many of his experiences helped him improve the techniques. His sparring matches against Darkfire, the battle against the Body Refiners, the battles he had fought against novices ¡ª they all helped him refine the basic techniques into ones that matched both his mind and his body.


    When evening fell he was still far from done, but he ceased his labor and retired to the mansion, randomly picking a room to sleep in.


    He continued his practice in the morning, and throughout the day that followed, he made steady progress. More and more, the techniques were beginning to resemble something that could be considered an incipient style ¡ª one of Arran''s own making.


    While it was built on the same insight as the calm and controlled style Master Zhao had taught him, his own version was a very different one.


    It possessed an aura of savagery that the original lacked, along with a hint of ruthlessness. It was a style meant to brutalize enemies, tear their defenses asunder and strike them down without mercy.


    Arran felt some wonder when he saw this, somehow still surprised at the violence that lurked within him. He had known it was there, of course, but seeing it condensed in a sword style still made him frown in puzzlement.


    Yet there was no point in denying it ¡ª the sword style was a product of his mind, and its ferocity reflected an aspect of his personality.


    By the third day, the style had grown into something he knew would be effective in battle, and more so than any of the styles and techniques he had learned previously. Even though it was still far from finished, it was already clear that it had the potential to become staggeringly powerful.


    Pleased with his progress, Arran set to work again, eager to further refine the style.


    But before his second meal of the day, his Shadowsight picked up two approaching figures, both of which he recognized instantly.


    He turned around at once, and was greeted with the sight of Snowcloud and Brightblade. The former stared at him in joyous shock, while a satisfied grin appeared on the face of the latter.


    "Didn''t I tell you he was close to awakening?" Brightblade spoke the words in a confident tone, but Arran could not help but notice the trace of relief in her voice.

 Chapter 222 Reunion

    Snowcloud rushed over to Arran the moment he turned around.


    "You''re so thin!" she exclaimed, concern in her eyes. She reached out and squeezed his arm, and when she felt his emaciated arm, her expression turned to shock. "Are you all right?" she asked in a doubtful voice.


    "I''m fine," he responded. "I was a bit hungry when I woke up, that''s all." He forced a grin, then added, "A few weeks of proper eating, and I''ll be back to my old self."


    It was a lie, of course. He had lost much of his strength, and just regaining it would be a matter of months, not weeks. But Snowcloud looked worried enough already ¡ª she didn''t need to know the extent of the damage.


    Still, she gave him a skeptical look, clearly unconvinced by his words. But before she could say anything, Brightblade spoke up.


    "I take it you succeeded in unsealing your Destruction Realm?"


    Thankful for the distraction, Arran quickly answered her question. "The seal is gone," he said. "Though I don''t know how to use the Realm yet."


    Brightblade nodded thoughtfully. "Good. You met my deadline, and with two months to spare."


    Arran''s eyes went wide with shock. "Two months? Then I''ve been¡­?"


    "You''ve slumbered for ten months," Brightblade confirmed.


    To this, he had no response. He had thought it had taken weeks, a few months at most. But nearly a year? That was far beyond anything he had expected.


    Seeing his stunned expression, she chuckled, then continued, "You certainly fouled up my plans for your training. It''s a good thing I had another student to look after ¡ª and one who is far less troublesome than you."


    Arran cast a glance at Snowcloud. "How did your training go?"


    "I''ve made some progress," she replied humbly, though her eyes betrayed a glint of pride that suggested she had made more than just some progress.


    "No need for false modesty," Brightblade said flatly. "Her achievements have been nothing short of astonishing. Her sword skills now equal the best of the adepts, and only a handful of novices in the entire Valley can match her in magic." With a grin, she added, "But of course, she had an exceptional teacher."


    Snowcloud blushed at the praise, but there was delight in her expression as well.


    "And not just that," Brightblade continued. "I know little of alchemy, but her teachers in the House of Creation won''t stop singing her praises. They''ve already approached the House of Swords to demand that she be transferred to them."


    Arran looked at Snowcloud, impressed that she had achieved so much in so little time. "It sounds like you''ve worked hard."


    Although she seemed pleased with the attention, there was still a hint of worry in her eyes as she faced him. "But what about you? You were gone so long I feared that¡­"


    "As I told you before," Brightblade interrupted her, "he was merely gaining some insights. Now, if you want to help him recover, your alchemical skills will certainly do more good than your worries."


    Snowcloud went wide-eyed at the suggestion. "Of course!" she exclaimed excitedly. "If I use a mixture of windflower and snowroot ¡ª or maybe red milkwort? Bearweed will certainly help¡­"


    It was as if she had instantly forgotten all about Arran and Brightblade, and she hurried off to the mansion while muttering about various herbs and potions. Without looking back even once, she disappeared into the large stone building.


    "That should keep her busy for the next few hours," Brightblade said. "And whatever she concocts will certainly help your recovery ¡ª although the taste might make you wish you had died." The ugly face she made suggested that she had already tasted Snowcloud''s potions.


    Arran frowned, then asked, "So how bad was it really?"


    "You were a few weeks away from dying, if that." Brightblade''s expression grew serious. "I tried to awaken you several times, but without any luck. That you survived at all is a small miracle. From what I gather, you gained a true insight, correct?"


    "A true insight?" Arran frowned. "I don''t know. I gained an insight, but¡­"


    "You saw the true nature of a small part of reality, and right now, that knowledge is like a bright spark within your mind?" Brightblade spoke with a familiarity that could only come from experience.


    When Arran nodded in confirmation, she continued, "That spark is a true insight. It''s rare for even Grandmasters to gain them, and when they do, they spend months if not years in preparation."


    Arran sighed. "I didn''t know about any of that."


    "Of course you didn''t," she replied. "Only a fool would knowingly pursue true insights so lightly. But no matter ¡ª you survived. Now show me what you learned."


    "Show you?"


    Even as Arran asked the question, Brightblade drew her sword, and understanding her intention, he quickly drew his own.


    She gestured for him to move, and a moment later he struck forward, executing several tentative attacks from the style he had developed over the previous days.


    Brightblade effortlessly parried the attacks, then shook her head. "Don''t hold back. Pour your insight into the attacks, and fight as if it''s a real battle."


    Despite her encouragement, Arran hesitated in attacking. He did not yet know the limits of his new style, but he suspected it was far more dangerous than anything he''d previously used.


    Seeing his troubled expression, Brightblade chuckled. "Don''t worry about me. I have my own insights, along with several centuries of experience."


    Arran nodded, then attacked once more ¡ª this time without restraining himself.


    It only took a few moments for him to discover that he had vastly underestimated his newfound power. Even with much of his strength gone, the insight allowed him to strike with a destructive power far beyond anything he had previously possessed. It was as if each blow shaped reality around it, the force of his will making the world bend to his blade.


    Yet if his own power startled him, Brightblade''s ability shook him to his core.


    She avoided his attacks with a speed that seemed impossible, dodging and deflecting even his fastest strikes so quickly his blade might as well be standing still. At times, it seemed like her sword was in several places at once, parrying and striking simultaneously as if to mock the laws of reality.


    She easily could have defeated him instantly, but instead, she merely observed his sword techniques, studying his attacks and testing his defenses as they sparred.


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    After half an hour, when Arran''s forehead was covered in sweat and his muscles felt like they were burning, they finally came to a halt.


    Brightblade looked at him approvingly, not showing the least bit of weariness. "That style of yours has great potential. Once you complete it, few will be able to stand against it. And the insight you gained¡­ I think it combines two opposite principles?"


    "Binding and severing," Arran confirmed. "My old teacher¡­ he hid the binding part within the seal, and the severing part within the sword style he taught me. I was only able to comprehend it when I found both parts."


    There was a look of approval on Brightblade''s face as she replied. "A great gift, shrewdly given. You''ve unknowingly studied the principles for years ¡ª which explains how you were able to gain the insight so quickly."


    "But what about you?" Arran asked. "That style you used¡­ it contains a true insight as well, doesn''t it?" He refused to believe that her ability came from skill alone. No amount of practice would let someone move with such speed.


    "Very perceptive," she said. "My first insight was into the nature of change, and I created a sword style based on that. Once you finish creating your own style, I''ll teach it to you."


    This was something Arran had not expected, and he looked at Brightblade with wide eyes. "If you teach me the style, does that mean I''ll gain the insight as well?"


    She shook her head. "If only it were that simple. Gaining insights is a matter of study, talent, and a great deal of luck. Whether you will learn anything from my style remains to be seen."


    Arran nodded silently. That gaining insights was difficult made sense ¡ª such power would not be easily won.


    "But that''s a matter of future concern," Brightblade said. "For now, focus on restoring your body and completing this new style of yours. I''ll have you remain in this valley for another two months. That will allow you to return just in time to see off Snowcloud."


    "She''s leaving?" At once, Arran''s thoughts about styles and insights were all but forgotten.


    "The world didn''t stop moving just because you were unconscious," Brightblade responded. "Snowcloud became a novice a month ago. Two months from now, she''ll leave to spend a year in the borderlands."

 Chapter 223 Snowclouds Potions

    "You''re sending Snowcloud away?" Arran looked at Brightblade in astonishment.


    "Just for a year," Brightblade replied, her voice calm. "And while she gathers herbs in the borderlands, you can finally learn some magic."


    Arran sighed. He had merely closed his eyes and a year had passed unnoticed. Now, he was beginning to understand just how much had happened in that time.


    While he felt like he had only just arrived in the small valley, Snowcloud had already reclaimed her position as a novice, and would soon depart for the borderlands.


    And that was just the start of it. He had made some connections during his first month in the House of Swords, but he had disappeared before any of those had the chance to grow. When he returned, he expected that he would have to start all over again.


    Still, his biggest concern was Snowcloud. Even if she had made great progress, the thought of her facing the borderlands alone made him uncomfortable.


    "Can''t you send me with her?" he asked. "I''m strong enough to face Masters now, aren''t I?"


    Brightblade shook her head. "Your strength isn''t the issue. You need training in magic ¡ª proper training. Until you get that, you''re not leaving the Ninth Valley."


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    "But Snowcloud¡ª" Arran began.


    "Snowcloud can take care of herself. She''s grown strong this past year. Strong enough to face Masters with confidence. But you¡­" Brightblade looked at Arran, then shook her head. "You need training," she said again.


    It was something Arran already knew. Despite his strength, despite his swordsmanship, despite his newfound insight, the thing he still lacked was real training in magic. And that was something no unexpected good fortune could give him.


    "I do need training, don''t I?" He said the words reluctantly, but there was no way around it ¡ª his skill magic was sorely lacking.


    "You do." A small smile formed on her lips. "And once you''re recovered, I''ll make sure you get it. But for now, let''s spar some more. Exercise will do you good."


    They spent the next hour sparring on the grass in the small valley, the sun shining down on them as Arran honed his new techniques against Brightblade''s skill.


    The exertion allowed him to clear his mind, and if it didn''t exactly erase his worries, at least it offered a distraction from the shock of so easily having missed the passing of a year.


    Yet when Snowcloud finally emerged from the mansion, a look of disapproval appeared on her face the moment she saw Arran and Brightblade sparring.


    "He shouldn''t be fighting," she said sharply as she approached them. "His body needs rest."


    Brightblade shrugged. "I thought some exercise would help him. He''s had plenty of rest already."


    Snowcloud merely gave Brightblade an annoyed glare, then turned to Arran.


    "I''ve made several potions," she said, producing three small vials from her void ring. She handed one of them to Arran. "Drink this one first. It will aid your bloodflow."


    Arran glanced warily at the vial, but Snowcloud expression made it clear that this was not a request. Bracing himself for the worst, he downed the vial''s contents in a single gulp.


    At once, his face twisted in disgust. The liquid tasted even worse than he had anticipated. Bitter and pungent, it vaguely tasted of rotten onions, only far more intense.


    He repressed the urge to gag, then gave Snowcloud a horrified look. "What did you just have me drink?!"


    "It''s a mixture of herbs and some animal parts," she replied. "Now stop whining. You''ll feel the effects soon enough."


    At first, the only effect Arran felt was a strong urge to vomit, but after some moments a warm glow spread through his body, soothing his muscles as if he''d just taken a long, hot bath.


    "I think it''s working," he said with a hint of surprise.


    "Of course it is," Snowcloud replied. She handed him another vial. "This one will help strengthen your muscles."


    Arran sighed, then downed the second vial. The liquid within was at least as disgusting as the previous one, though in an entirely new way. It was thick and sour, with a trace of something he didn''t recognize. Whatever it was, he guessed he was better off not knowing about it.


    He cast a miserable look at Snowcloud. "And the last one?"


    "Just take it," she said, handing the final vial to him. "You''ll see the effect."


    Holding his breath, Arran forced himself to bring the vial to his mouth. Then, feeling more than a little dread, he gulped down the liquid.


    To his surprise, this time the taste was pleasant ¡ª delicious even. And as it filled his mouth, it washed away the foul taste the previous two potions had left.


    This was not something he had expected, and he gave Snowcloud a confused look. "This is¡­?"


    "A herbal tonic," she said. "It stimulates the appetite, and also removes the aftertaste of the other potions."


    Brightblade made an ugly face. "Why didn''t you ever make that for me?"


    "You didn''t need it," Snowcloud responded. "But Ghostblade needs to recover his strength, and he can''t eat if he''s nauseous." She turned to Arran, then continued, "It''s best to eat right after you take the potions, so I suggest you have a meal right now."


    The tone of her voice suggested it was an order instead of a suggestion, but Arran did not object. Sparring with Brightblade had left him hungry, and he had already gone over two hours without a meal.


    Snowcloud and Brightblade joined him in eating, and as they sat in the valley''s green grass, Snowcloud filled him in on everything that had happened over the past year.


    She spoke eagerly about her training in the House of Swords, explaining how she had begun studying the Thousand Cuts style with Doran and Master Kallias. Over the months, they had been joined by several other adepts and even another Master, forming a small group that relentlessly pursued mastery of the Thousand Cuts style.


    Arran smiled wryly when he heard this.


    Had he not lost a year in gaining an insight, doubtless he would have been part of that group as well. Perhaps by now, he would already be on his way to understanding the Thousand Cuts style.


    But while Snowcloud was enthusiastic in talking about the House of Swords, she only truly grew excited when she discussed what she had learned in the House of Creation.


    She spoke at length about its vast libraries and its endless stockpiles of herbs and ingredients, detailing the many recipes she had learned and how they had helped her grow stronger.


    While Arran understood little of what she told him ¡ª his knowledge of alchemy only barely ranged beyond the fact that it existed ¡ª her excitement brought a smile to his face.


    She was a skilled mage and competent fighter, but there could be little doubt that her true passion was the art of alchemy. And from what he heard, she had the talent to match that passion.


    When the conversation eventually moved to Arran''s experiences while he unsealed his Destruction Realm, he found that there was little he could say about it.


    Gaining the insight had been a mind-boggling experience, but it didn''t exactly make for a good story. All he had done was observe a small sliver of reality, and although the knowledge he had gained was staggering, there simply wasn''t any way to truly explain it.


    It was an experience that surpassed words, and his clumsy attempts to retell it only caused a puzzled expression to appear on Snowcloud''s face.


    "True insights aren''t so easily shared," Brightblade finally cut in. "They can only be experienced, not explained. Nor should you try to do so. In fact, you should refrain from mentioning the matter to anyone in the Ninth Valley."


    "He can''t talk about it to others?" Snowcloud looked at Brightblade in confusion. "But it''s just an insight, isn''t it?"


    "It''s a true insight," Brightblade corrected her. "Few Grandmasters ever experience them, and even Archmages treasure those few they have. For an initiate to gain one is unheard of." She turned to Arran, then continued, "Tell no one of this, and do not use your insight in sparring or combat unless you have no other choice."


    "So I can''t use the style I''ve created?" Arran asked, suddenly worried.


    "You can use the style," Brightblade replied. "The style itself only contains a hint of insight ¡ª nothing you couldn''t have gained from normal training. But outside this valley, do not imbue your attacks with insight ¡ª not unless your very life is at stake."


    Arran sighed in relief. The style he created had become the new foundation for his swordsmanship, and hiding it would mean crippling himself. But it seemed that, at least, could be avoided.


    They spent more hours eating and talking after that, continuing well into the evening. Yet pleasant though the evening was, the knowledge that Snowcloud would soon depart cast a shadow over it for Arran.


    The next few days, they spent training, eating, and talking. Snowcloud showed off some of her new skills ¡ª Arran was especially impressed that she had learned the Shadowcloak spell ¡ª and at Brightblade''s urging, she and Arran spent some time sparring against each other.


    When they sparred, Arran discovered that Snowcloud''s progress was remarkable. In just a year, her strength had improved with leaps and bounds, putting her ahead of Arran in his current state. And along with her strength, her swordsmanship had seen astounding improvements as well.


    And yet, for all her progress, the gap between her and Arran had only grown. Now that his foundation had been purged of flawed influences, his swordsmanship had advanced to an entirely new level.


    Moreover, even in its current unfinished state, his new style was staggeringly potent, and as its creator, he had an innate mastery of it. Combining techniques he had refined himself was a matter of instinct rather than training, and the result was powerful beyond expectation.


    "It''s almost scary," Snowcloud said after a bout of sparring. "That insight of yours is really this effective?"


    "I''m not using my insight," Arran replied truthfully. "This is just the style I''ve based on it."


    "Then¡­ when you use your insight¡­" She didn''t finish the sentence, but her eyes held awe and astonishment in equal parts as she stared at him.


    "Even then, I''m still far from a match for Brightblade," he said.


    "That''s terrifying." Snowcloud cast a look at the copse of trees where Brightblade was taking an afternoon nap. "Just how strong is she?"


    Arran furrowed his brow as he considered the question, then shrugged. "I don''t know if I want to find out."


    Half a week passed quickly, and by the end of it, Brightblade and Snowcloud departed.


    Snowcloud loudly protested this, wanting to remain in the small valley, but it was no use. Brightblade insisted that she had to continue her training until she left, spending half of each week in the House of Swords and the other half at the valley estate.


    Before they left, Snowcloud handed Arran two dozen small vials.


    "Take two a day of each," she said. "I''ll bring more when we return half a week from now. And don''t overexert yourself ¡ª your body is still recovering. Also¡­"


    She went on for some time, giving him a list of advice and warnings so long it would have been excessive even for a year-long journey.


    Arran merely smiled in response. "I''ll see you again in four days."


    After Brightblade and Snowcloud left, Arran quickly set to training. His sword style was still far from finished, and he intended to complete it before he returned to the House of Swords.

 Chapter 224 Snowclouds Departure

    Arran spent four days training in solitude, continuing to develop his sword style as his body slowly recovered.


    The work wasn''t particularly taxing ¡ª refining the style involved more exploration than labor, and in the quiet green valley, he could improve it without disturbance.


    The days passed quickly and pleasantly. Each morning, he would bathe in the ice-cold water of the stream, and after that, he would spend the day alternating between practice and eating, with several naps in between.


    He did not follow all of Snowcloud''s advice ¡ª to do so would prevent him from practicing at all ¡ª but he still took care not to overexert himself. While his body was strong, it had suffered much from a year of neglect, and pushing it too hard would only slow his recovery.


    And there was no real need to rush, anyway. Foul though Snowcloud''s potions might taste, their effect was undeniable, and with their aid, Arran felt himself grow stronger by the day.


    Four days passed quickly, and when Brightblade and Snowcloud returned, Arran had already regained much of his strength.


    At least, that''s what he believed ¡ª yet Snowcloud fussed over him as if he was a deathly ill child, seeming even more concerned about his health than she had been before.


    She had brought a new supply of the potions she had already given him, along with half a dozen new ones. While they tasted predictably vile, Arran took them obligingly. Even if he was unsure of what exactly they did, he trusted that Snowcloud knew what she was doing.


    They spent the days that followed training and eating together, but before long, it was time for Snowcloud and Brightblade to depart again. And when they did, Arran once more set to work on refining his sword style.


    This quickly grew into a routine. He would spend half the week with Snowcloud and Brightblade, then spend the other half training by himself.


    Occasionally, when he was alone, he would explore the small valley. What most interested him was the path at its end ¡ª a place where Brightblade said terrible danger lurked.


    He wasn''t foolish enough to actually step onto the path, but several times he spent some hours watching it, curious if he could catch a glimpse of the dangers that lay beyond.


    Yet no dangers appeared. All he could see was a narrow path leading further into the mountains, winding through brush and rock. Eventually, he gave up ¡ª whatever dangers the path held, he could not see them from the valley.


    Snowcloud brought more potions as the weeks passed, creating a stockpile for Arran that would last him months if not longer.


    Although he knew nothing of alchemy, it was obvious that she had to be using massive amounts of ingredients. And from the potions'' efficacy, he suspected few of them were easy to come by.


    One day, he asked, "Doesn''t the House of Creation object to you using so many of their resources?" He had long figured out that must be the source of her ingredients.


    "Their stockpiles are massive," she replied. Seeing Arran''s doubtful look at the response, she shrugged. "They''re complaining, but not too much. They still hope I''ll decide to join them."


    Arran frowned. "But you''re leaving for the borderlands soon. Don''t you need to prepare potions for yourself?"


    Snowcloud shot him a bright smile. "I already have enough for myself to last the next few years."


    If she felt any shame at all for so ruthlessly exploiting the House of Creation''s desire to recruit her, her expression showed no sign of it.


    The remainder of the two months passed far more quickly than Arran would have liked. While he had accomplished his goals ¡ª he fully regained his strength after just a month, and his sword style was all but finished ¡ª some part of him wished that he could have spent years in the hidden valley, dividing his time between leisurely training and spending time with Snowcloud and Brightblade.


    But time marched on, and the date of Snowcloud''s departure rapidly drew closer.


    When two months had barely passed, Brightblade and Snowcloud appeared in the valley on a chilly morning, a full two days earlier than normal. And from their expressions, Arran immediately knew that the moment had come.


    "Time to close off that Destruction Realm of yours," Brightblade said. "We''re taking Snowcloud to the gates."


    Arran did as she said, placing a perfect copy of Master Zhao''s seal on his Destruction Realm. After that, they left.


    They did not hurry as they traveled to the edge of the Ninth Valley, choosing to walk instead of run and spending their nights in comfortable inns.


    After his time in the solitude of the hidden valley, Arran found it strange to be among people again ¡ª especially the dense masses that seemed to fill every corner of the Ninth Valley.


    Yet the closer they came to the Ninth Valley''s gates, the less Arran cared about all of that. Every day, he became more aware of the reality that Snowcloud would soon be gone for a year. And although her strength gave him confidence that she would be in no real danger, he realized that he would miss her.


    Snowcloud, for her part, steadily grew quieter as they neared the Valley''s edge. She had been unusually talkative in the first few days after they left the hidden estate, but as their separation grew nearer, it became obvious that something was weighing on her.


    Several times, it looked as if she was on the verge of telling him something important, but each time, she turned away at the last moment.


    They finally reached the Ninth Valley''s gates on a cold, misty morning, a long line of merchants already waiting to enter the narrow path into the borderlands.


    Brightblade cast a dismissive glance at the line, then led them past it, only coming to a stop when they had reached the gate.


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    "This is where we part ways," she announced. "Snowcloud, I doubt any novice in the history of this Valley has been as well-prepared for her stay in the borderlands as you are, so I won''t waste time telling you to be careful. Don''t do anything excessively stupid, and don''t slack on your training. I''ll see you in a year."


    Despite the firm words, Arran thought he heard a hint of worry in Brightblade''s voice ¡ª the same worry he felt himself. Even if there should be no real dangers, a year was a long time, and the borderlands were unpredictable.


    "I''ll be careful," Snowcloud said, a small smile on her lips.


    Brightblade let out an exasperated sighed that sounded slightly forced. "The two of you, get on with it and say your goodbyes. I don''t have all day."


    Snowcloud turned to Arran, and they faced each other silently. There had been many things Arran wanted to say just a moment earlier, but now, he found himself at a loss for words. Snowcloud was about to leave, and it would be a year before they would meet again. As he looked at her, thoughts raced through his mind, and¡ª


    "Just kiss him already, you fool," Brightblade''s voice sounded.


    Snowcloud suddenly moved forward, embracing him as she pressed her lips against his. They kissed for several seconds, and when she finally stepped back, Arran could see a blush on her cheeks.


    Then, she quickly turned around and hurried away. Before Arran had a chance to gather his wits, she had already disappeared into the pass that led to the borderlands.


    Arran stood speechless for some moments, though a single cheer sounded from along the line of merchants.


    "About time one of you made a move," Brightblade said, a trace of weariness in her voice.


    "I didn''t know she¡­ I mean¡­" The words Arran sought did not appear, and finally, he merely said, "I don''t have much experience with this."


    "I never would have guessed," Brightblade replied flatly. "Now let''s go. There''s work to do."


    She turned around and headed back toward the Valley at a brisk pace, Arran silently following behind her, his mind still filled with thoughts of Snowcloud.


    Yet Brightblade had no intention of indulging his musings, and as they walked, she said, "Your good fortune at the estate has set back your magic training by a full year. We''re going to correct that. Here''s how you will spend the next year¡­"


    Shaking himself from his thoughts, Arran listened intently as she began to speak.

 Chapter 225 Return to the House of Swords

    "My plans for you have changed," Brightblade began. "I won''t have you travel to the estate every week, as I originally intended. Instead, you will spend three weeks of each month training with the Houses. The remaining week, I will instruct you at the estate."


    Arran was not at all pleased with her words. He had not seen much of Brightblade''s strength, but what little he had witnessed was already enough to convince him of her power.


    Unless he was sorely mistaken, there would be only a handful of people in the Ninth Valley who could match her.


    "But can''t you teach me anything they can?" he asked. "And better than them, at that?"


    "That''s what I originally believed," Brightblade replied. "But I was wrong."


    "Wrong? How?" Arran frowned, curious to hear just what power the Houses were hiding.


    "Wait," she said, casting a glance at the people on the road around them. None paid them any attention, but all the same, she eyed them suspiciously. "Let''s find a place where we can speak in private."


    Finding such a place proved easier said than done. Despite the early hour, the road leading from the Valley''s gates was already filled with people, most of them merchants traveling between the borderlands and the Ninth Valley''s capital.


    Eventually, Brightblade found a copse of trees in an empty field about a mile from the road. She gave the area a brief inspection, then sat down, resting her back against one of the trees.


    Arran sat down on the ground opposite her. "You said you were wrong?"


    "Indeed," Brightblade replied. "When we arrived, I believed the Houses were completely separate, offering each other''s students only basic training. But the truth is that when the lesser Houses gain talented students, the greater Houses often try to steal them away. And when students are unusually talented, they will go to great lengths to do so."


    "Like Snowcloud and the House of Creation," Arran said. "They tried to win her over with access to their resources, right?"


    "Not just resources," Brightblade said. "At least, not just the physical kind. They also offer better teachers. In Snowcloud''s case, she received instruction from two Elders within the House of Creation, Archmages both of them."


    "Archmages?" Arran''s eyes widened in surprise, but then, he furrowed his brow. "But you''re an Archmage as well, aren''t you?"


    Brightblade had never explicitly mentioned her rank, but from what he had seen, he could not imagine her being any weaker than that.


    "I am," she confirmed. "But having multiple Archmages teach you will certainly benefit you more than having the aid of just one."


    "So you want me to draw attention within the House of Seals?" Arran asked, beginning to understand her intentions.


    She shook her head. "I want you to catch the eye of the House of Seals, the House of Flames, and the House of Shadows. Awe them with your talent, and as they fight over you, seize everything they have to offer."


    She grinned broadly, as if she was already looking forward to the spectacle.


    Arran stared at her in amazement. Then, after some moments, he finally said, "I think you''re overlooking something¡­"


    "What would that be?" she asked, a curious frown on her forehead.


    "I can''t awe them with talent I don''t have," he said. "You said yourself that my skill in magic is lacking. How will I impress them if I can only barely match an average novice?"


    Brightblade looked at him in disbelief. "You''ve experienced the Patriarch''s spellcasting first-hand, you have Essences reserves that other novices would kill for, you have an Archmage for a teacher, and on top of all that, you have a true insight. And you worry about impressing the other Houses?"


    Arran''s face fell. "But even with all that, my skill at magic is lacking."


    "Of course it is, you idiot," she replied sharply. "You''ve never seriously studied it. But that''s going to change. And if you manage to fail despite all those advantages, then you don''t deserve to be called a mage."


    Arran remained silent. While it was true that he had never seriously trained magic, he had never felt like he had any great talent for it, either. And without talent, all the advantages in the world would not be enough to make him a capable mage.


    Seeing his worried expression, Brightblade let out a sigh. "Magic is about understanding. That you gained a true insight is proof enough that you have the talent. Now, it''s time to put in the work."


    Resisting the urge to point out that he''d had help in gaining the insight, Arran nodded. "I''ll do my best."


    "Good," Brightblade said. "I expect you to give it your all. And when you train with the other Houses, don''t hold back ¡ª I want you to show them your full strength."


    "My full strength?" Arran frowned in surprise.


    Brightblade frowned. "Not your true insight, of course. Nor your Destruction Realm. And certainly not your resistance to magic. In fact¡­" She reached for one of her void bags, then produced a necklace that she tossed to Arran. "Put this on."


    He took a quick look at the necklace. Simple and made out of silver, it held a hanger in the shape of a small silver shield. He put it on, then asked, "What does it do?"


    "It''s a defensive treasure," she explained. "Strong enough to easily block a skilled novice''s attack, or weaken an adept''s."


    While it sounded valuable ¡ª tremendously so ¡ª that Brightblade gave it to him now caused Arran some confusion. The magic of novices and adepts wasn''t something he had reason to fear anymore. "What do I need it for?"


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    Brightblade smiled, then pointed a finger at Arran. A thin Flamestrike instantly shot from her fingertip, reaching him before he had a chance to respond. Yet just before it hit, there was a bright flash of blue light, and the attack dissipated harmlessly.


    "Your training with the House of Flames will involve regular magical duels. You will eventually get hit, and when you do, a priceless magical artifact will be easier to explain than your body''s resistance to magic."


    He touched the necklace''s cool silver, and with a wry smile, he said. "I could''ve used this a few years ago."


    Brightblade shrugged. "It belongs ¡ª or belonged ¡ª to the House of Swords. They were only willing to part with it because I''ve been instructing their leaders. It''s a silly little thing, really ¡ª too valuable for those who need it, and too weak to be of use to the strong."


    Arran couldn''t help but sigh. That seemed to be the way of the world ¡ª wealth only came easily for those who already had it.


    "But we should get going," Brightblade said. "Once we return to the House of Swords, it will take me a few days to arrange your training. After that, your studies will begin in earnest."


    They departed soon after, though not before eating a small meal. Although Arran''s strength had already recovered, he still found himself getting hungry more quickly than before ¡ª a lingering effect of the year without food.


    The journey back to the capital was smooth if somewhat dull.


    The dense crowds on the roads made Arran feel ill at ease, but not so much as to cause him worry. Still, when they finally entered the far less crowded lands of the inner Valley, he breathed a sigh of relief. Given the choice between solitude and endless masses, he would easily select the former.


    From the capital, it only took them a few hours to reach the House of Swords, this time across roads that held few people.


    When they arrived, the gate guards greeted Brightblade with deep bows that showed far more respect than a mere adept warranted. Arran realized that her status within the House of Swords had increased over the past year ¡ª and more than a little, from the look of it.


    Inside the stronghold''s walls, Arran looked around with some interest. The House of Swords was exactly the same as he remembered.


    Most of its lands were filled with large practice fields, upon which thousands of students were training and sparring. Some were practicing magic, but as before, the vast majority were engaged in swordplay, trying to master the many sword styles the House held.


    "I have some matters to attend," Brightblade said. "You should go see Doran and the others ¡ª from what Snowcloud told me, they are quite curious about your progress this past year."


    "My progress?"


    "She told them you were in secluded training," she explained. "Which isn''t all that far from the truth. I imagine they''ll be very interested in your new sword style."


    As Brightblade set off, Arran headed into the practice fields, observing the groups of students engrossed in their training as he passed them. Even if he had only spent a month training in the House of Swords, watching the House''s students train still filled him with a comforting sense of familiarity.


    He found Doran and the other adepts training in the same spot as a year earlier, several dozen of them sparring on a large field of grass, with three Masters observing them and supplying instruction where needed.


    The moment Doran noticed Arran, he broke away from his sparring match and came running.


    "So you''ve finally emerged from seclusion!" he said, an enthusiastic grin on his face. "Come to share the secrets you''ve learned this past year?"


    "Good to see you, too," Arran replied, unable to keep from smiling at the adept''s excited reaction. "Got any new insights into the Thousand Cuts while I was gone?"


    "Many," Doran replied happily. Even as he spoke, his hand eagerly shot toward his sword. "Up for a small match?"


    Arran laughed, glad to see some things had not changed in his absence. "Let''s find out which of us has learned more, this past year."


    He unsheathed his sword and they faced each other, both of them eager to test their progress.

 Chapter 226 To the House of Flames

    Blade bared, Arran slowly circled Doran, search for an opening in his opponent''s defense. Even if it was just a friendly competition, he did not treat it lightly. Bad habits were hard to shake, and any carelessness picked up in training would show itself in battle.


    While Doran used a two-handed grip to hold his sword, Arran used only his right hand. With his strength returned, there was little need for him to use both hands, and his new style somehow seemed more suited for single-handed combat.


    Doran was the first to move. In a quick combination, he launched a series of three strikes, two feints followed by a powerful attack.


    Arran blocked the attack effortlessly, then used Doran''s momentum to make an attack of his own. Before the adept could recover, Arran''s blade already lay against his neck.


    They both stepped back, then began to circle each other once more.


    This time, Arran was the first to strike. In a single quick movement, he struck forward with his blade. Doran parried, but it was as if Arran''s blade cut through the defense, and the blow connected.


    Doran stepped back, a puzzled frown on his face. "How did you do that?"


    "Practice," Arran replied with a grin.


    Of course, the truth was that his new sword style contained a trace of his insight into binding and severing, with the binding part aiding his defense and the severing part strengthening his attacks.


    Several dozen more exchanges followed, all of which Arran won easily. As they fought, the other adepts and their teachers formed a wide circle around them, observing the match. Doran was more skilled than any of the other adepts, and seeing him defeated so easily caused more than a little curiosity.


    If the continued defeats caused the adept any frustration, there was no sign of it on his face. Instead, he fought enthusiastically, eager to test himself against the unfamiliar style.


    Finally, after nearly half an hour, Doran lowered his sword. His brow was covered in sweat, and his movements betrayed a hint of exhaustion.


    "It''s no use," he said. "Seeing that ridiculous beard of yours, I can''t help but be distracted." Despite his weariness, he flashed a broad grin at Arran.


    Before Arran could defend his beard''s honor, Master Kallias stepped forward from the small crowd that had formed around them.


    "This new style you''re using," he said. "Lady Brightblade taught it to you?"


    Arran nodded, unwilling to reveal that he was the style''s creator.


    "You''re fortunate to have so skilled a teacher," Master Kallias said. "That style¡­ I think it contains some traces of insight."


    "I haven''t fully mastered it yet," Arran replied. This wasn''t entirely false ¡ª the style was still unfinished, after all. And to truly master it, he would first have to complete it.


    "You''ll benefit greatly from doing so," the Master said. "But for now, would you mind going a few rounds against me? I''m curious to see what she has taught you."


    Arran happily obliged, eager to test his style would fare against a more skilled opponent.


    They sparred for half an hour, and Arran could not help but be excited by the results. While Master Kallias was a far more capable foe than Doran, but Arran managed to hold his own, claiming victory in nearly half their exchanges.


    This caused the others to grow even more interested. Defeating Doran was no small feat, but matching a Master was a different matter altogether. Even besting a Master once or twice was beyond most of the adepts, and Master Kallias ranked among the strongest of the Masters in the House.


    In the hours that followed, Arran sparred against the others in the group, both adepts and Masters curious to experience the unfamiliar style for themselves.


    The practice was both useful and enjoyable, and with many different opponents to learn from, he made several small improvements to his style.


    When the adepts'' practice session came to an end several hours later, Arran was almost disappointed that it was over already.


    As the other adepts left, Doran walked over to him.


    "Now that you''re back, will you be joining us again? We''ve made good progress in understanding the Thousand Cuts this past year."


    Arran sighed, then shook his head. "Brightblade wants me to study with the other Houses. I don''t think she intends to leave me much time to practice here ¡ª not until she''s satisfied with my progress in magic."


    "Magic?" Doran looked as if he''d just eaten a mouthful of moldy bread. "With your skill at the sword, she wants you to focus on learning magic?"


    Arran shrugged. "I''ve never been much good at it, and she intends to change that."


    "I suppose it can''t be helped, then," Doran said regretfully. "But if you find the time, come train with us."


    They spoke for several more minutes before eventually parting ways. As he left, Arran could clearly tell that the adept was disappointed. Yet Arran had no choice in the matter ¡ª as much as he would have liked to spend the next year improving his sword skills, Brightblade had decided he should focus on magic.


    And, in truth, he knew her decision was the right one. As much as he enjoyed sword play, what needed his attention most were his weaknesses, not his strengths.


    When he arrived at the mansion, he found Brightblade already waiting for him. She was sitting in the garden, a glass of wine at her side and an ancient-looking book in her lap.


    When she saw him, she gave him a bright smile. "Good, you''re here," she said. "And earlier than I expected ¡ª which is fortunate, because your training with the House of Flames starts tomorrow."


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    "Tomorrow?" Arran frowned. "Didn''t you say it would take a few days?"


    He had hoped he would have at least some days to train with the adepts of the House of Swords, but it seemed he wouldn''t even be granted that short respite.


    "I decided to have you join the initiates instead of the novices," Brightblade replied. "That was easier to arrange, and I trust that you will be able to rise through the ranks yourself." She reached for her void bag, then produced a small flame-shaped badge. "You''ll need this to prove your identity."


    Arran suppressed a sigh. Forcing a smile, he said, "I''ll do my best to make you proud."


    "I expect nothing less," Brightblade said, nodding in satisfaction. "Training starts an hour after dawn, so I suggest you head to bed early. The House of Flames is several hours from here."


    When Arran awoke the next morning, the sky outside was still pitch black. Resisting the urge to get back in bed, he wearily ate a breakfast of fruits and dragon meat, then hurried out of the stronghold.


    He ran most of the way ¡ª first to the capital, then to the House of Flames, which was a few miles south of the capital ¡ª but even so, it was well past dawn by the time he arrived.


    Immediately, he saw that the House of Flames was nothing like the House of Swords. Their walled stronghold was far larger, the size of a city, and despite the early hour there were already many mages on the road leading to its gates.


    Most of these wore crimson robes, which Arran guessed were worn by the members of the House of Flames. Arran''s own robe was a simple black one which would have gone unnoticed in most places, but here, it clearly marked him as an outsider.


    When he approached the gate, a crimson-robed guard immediately came toward him. "What''s your business here?"


    "I''m here to train," Arran replied, fumbling for the small badge Brightblade had given him.


    "Rank?" the guard asked curtly.


    "I''m an initiate," Arran said. "I have¡ª"


    "Follow the road to your left," the guard interrupted him, not sparing so much as a glance for the badge. "It''s the hall at the end of the road."


    Without giving Arran a second look, he returned to his post. The affairs of initiates clearly were of no interest to him.


    When Arran entered the gate, and the sight immediately caused him to go wide-eyed. Straight ahead, he saw what looked to be a sizable city, while to his left and right were two roads that led past a series of vast stone halls.


    Arran hurried down the left road, finding it dense with people, all but a few of them in the robes of the House of Flames. As he jostled his way through the crowd he got more than a few angry looks, but there was no time to worry about that ¡ª although he didn''t know the exact time, he knew he was running late.


    The road led past numerous halls that looked mostly identical, and up close, Arran could see that they were built out of large chunks of stone, put together in a way that did not seem entirely natural. Inside the halls, he could Sense the familiar feeling of Essence, though the walls seemed to dampen it.


    The crowds grew less dense as he moved forward, and the people around him looked younger and ¡ª he suspected ¡ª weaker.


    Finally, after a good two miles, he reached the end of the road. There were several stone halls here, and Arran quickly entered the thick doors of the furthest one.


    Behind the doors, he found a single vast space, several hundreds of feet across and at least a hundred feet high. Inside, the stone walls bore many dark scorch marks, but Arran could not see any damage, and he guessed the walls were somehow shielded from magic.


    At the center of the hall stood a large group of people, at least a hundred from what Arran could tell. About half of them wore crimson robes, with the other half wearing robes in other colors ¡ª initiates from other Houses, Arran guessed.


    As Arran approached them, a crimson-robed young man stepped forward from the group. Tall and dark-haired, he was handsome but for the arrogant look on his face.


    "You there! What are you doing here?" the young man called out at Arran.

 Chapter 227 A New Teacher

    "I''m here for training," Arran said.


    The young man looked at him with barely veiled disdain. From his appearance and demeanor, Arran guessed he was a novice, albeit an unusually arrogant one.


    Oddly, he wasn''t wearing a sword. Perhaps this was meant to show he didn''t need weapons, but to Arran''s eyes, it just looked like a silly affectation.


    "You''re late, newcomer," the novice said sharply. "What''s your House?"


    "I''m with the House of Swords," Arran replied calmly, ignoring the young man''s hostile tone.


    "The House of Swords?" The novice sneered. "A barbarian come to learn magic? What''s next, dogs learning to speak?"


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    Some snickers sounded from the group of initiates.


    "You have a problem with my House?" Arran asked.


    It was clear the novice meant to cause trouble, but he might as well take the bait ¡ª he had no intention of training with what were obviously the least-skilled initiates in the House of Flames.


    "A problem? Not at all." A thin smile formed on the dark-haired youth''s lips. "It''s inspiring to see savages try to uplift themselves," the novice mocked. "Of course, aspiration won''t compensate for your lack of skill."


    "So it''s a fight you''re looking for?" Arran had no wish to exchange insults with the arrogant little git. If the young man was desperate for a beating, he would gladly administer one. "Very well. Step up."


    His response seemed to take the novice by surprise, and a look of puzzlement flashed across the young man''s face.


    "You think you can stand against a novice of the House of Flames?" Despite the confident words, the novice''s tone carried a hint of hesitation. It seemed he had expected the insults to go unchallenged.


    "Let''s find out," Arran replied. "Or do you lack the confidence to face an initiate?"


    The novice stepped forward. Though he seemed reluctant to fight, he could not back down now ¡ª not against an initiate who had directly challenged him.


    "You have made a grave mistake," he said. Expression grim, he began to gather Essence for an attack.


    Yet before he got a chance to attack, Arran launched a Flamestrike, thick as an arm and shimmering with power. He had prepared for the attack the moment he saw the novice''s attitude, and now, grabbing Essence and launching it at the young man in front of him only took an instant.


    His opponent hastily created a Wind Shield when he Sensed Arran''s attack, but the sloppy defense was torn apart by the force of the impact, and he staggered backward in shock.


    Before the young man could recover from the impact, a second attack struck ¡ª a Battering Force spell that sent his body flying. With a loud thud, the novice crashed into the wall three dozen paces behind him.


    As the House of Flames novice slumped to the ground, some gasps sounded from the initiates who were watching the fight.


    Suddenly, a woman''s voice sounded from the side of the hall. "Efrin, go check on him!"


    At once, another novice rushed forth from the group of initiates, coming to a halt neat to the motionless young man. After a short inspection, he visibly relaxed ¡ª Arran''s opponent was injured, not dead.


    Arran turned toward the woman who had spoken. Her presence was no surprise ¡ª he had noticed her the moment he stepped into the hall, sitting quietly as she observed the initiates.


    And if he had guessed correctly, she was an adept rather than a novice.


    She walked over to Arran unhurriedly, and as she approached, he gave her a studious glance.


    She wore the crimson robes of the House of Flames, though unlike the novice, there was a sword at her side. At a guess, Arran thought she was of age, though perhaps a year or two younger. With long brown hair and a calm but confident expression, she was attractive, though not unusually beautiful.


    "An impressive display," she said when she reached him, sounding slightly amused. "Initiates who can best our novices in a contest of magic are rare ¡ª and ones from the House of Swords all the more so."


    Arran shrugged. "I knew he was weak."


    She gave him a curious look. "How so?"


    "The House of Flames wouldn''t have talented novices train other Houses'' initiates," Arran said, glancing at the group of initiates. More than a few looked at him and the woman with nervous expressions, though none of them spoke. "Not the ones who haven''t shown any potential, at least."


    She nodded thoughtfully. "Why do you believe this group hasn''t shown any potential?"


    "If they had, you wouldn''t have them train under a little shit like that," Arran replied with a shrug. "But that''s the reason you''re here, isn''t it? To spot initiates with talent, and lead them to greener pastures?"


    "And they say the House of Swords is filled with mindless brutes." She laughed, then said, "I''m Anthea ¡ª Adept Anthea, to you. Come with me."


    She headed for the door, ignoring the novices and initiates behind them. Arran followed her, though not before casting a last glance at the injured novice. The young man had awoken and was now groaning in pain, doubtless having suffered a broken bone or two.


    As they stepped onto the road, Anthea gave Arran a studious look. "So what''s your name? And why aren''t you a novice yet? You have obviously learned the Flamestrike spell well enough to become one."


    "I''m Ghostblade," Arran said. "As for my rank¡­ my teacher wants me to build a stronger foundation before I advance."


    "Curious," Anthea said. "Very curious. The House of Swords doesn''t usually value magic that much."


    Arran shrugged. "My teacher is unusual."


    "Clearly." Anthea looked around for a moment, then began to head up the road. "Follow me. I''ll find us a vacant hall, so I can test your skills for myself."


    It didn''t take her long to find an empty hall, and after she led him inside, she gave it a quick inspection, then nodded. "Good enough. Now, show me what you can do."


    "Show you?"


    "Cast some spells," she said. "Not at me, please. Aim for the far wall."


    Arran turned to face the wall, then quickly gathered Essence and began to launch spells. First a Flamestrike, then Battering Force, then a Windblade. With a thought, he added a fireball as well ¡ª it was a simple technique rather than a spell, but he didn''t exactly have a large repertoire.


    When he finished, he turned to Anthea. "Enough?"


    "Keep going," she replied, gesturing at the wall. "Don''t stop until you run out of Essence."


    With a nod, Arran turned back to the wall, then began to cast his spells once more. For over half an hour, he cast spell after spell, battering the wall with a barrage of magic. None of his spells managed to damage the wall in the slightest, and he understood that, as he had suspected earlier, it was somehow strengthened against magic.


    As he cast his spells, Anthea observed him quietly, her expression betraying neither satisfaction nor disappointment.


    When Arran finally finished, she nodded thoughtfully. "Your skill is lacking, but your strength is good and your Essence reserves are amazing. How long have you been using magic?"


    Arran thought for a moment, then said, "About six years, although I spent most of that time focusing on swordsmanship and Body Refinement."


    "Six years?" She raised an eyebrow, and for several seconds she said nothing, merely looking at Arran as if she were appraising a horse. Finally, she said, "Very well, I''ll take you as a student. Give me your badge."


    He did as she said, producing the small flame-shaped badge Brightblade had given him. She put the badge away, then took out another one that was almost identical to the first, except colored bright crimson. This, she handed to Arran.


    "With this, you hold the privileges of a novice. An outsider, mind you ¡ª so don''t start any more fights with any members of our House. Not unless I give you permission."


    "All right," Arran said, surprised by how smoothly everything had gone.


    "Since we have an empty hall all to ourselves, I will start your training immediately." Anthea frowned. "First, I''ll teach you some spells ¡ª having just three offensive spells is pathetic, even for an initiate."


    At this, Arran felt some excitement. "You''re going to teach me new spells?"


    Anthea nodded in response. "We''ll start slowly ¡ª for today, I think twelve is a reasonable target."


    Arran''s eyes went wide with shock at her words. "You want me to learn twelve new spells? In a day?!"

 Chapter 228 Forms

    Arran looked at the adept in astonishment. Each spell he knew had taken him months to learn properly, and now she expected him to learn twelve of them in a single day?


    It wasn''t just impossible; it was madness.


    Anthea smiled in amusement at his bewildered expression. "The spells I''m talking of aren''t like the ones you know," she explained. "They''re Forms ¡ª basic elements you can combine to create more complex spells. Observe."


    She held up her hand, and Arran could Sense that she was gathering Fire Essence. A moment later, a bright-red ball of Fire appeared above her hand.


    "Condense." As she spoke the word, the ball of Fire grew smaller and brighter, its color changing into an intense yellow that bordered on white.


    "Soar." The ball of fire instantly flew from her hand, moving toward the wall at an incredible speed.


    "Ram." She spoke the final word right as the ball of fire forcefully crashed into the wall, where it left a blackened scorch mark.


    Arran watched the display in fascination. Each of the separate Forms was simple, barely qualified to be called a spell. Yet together, they formed a complete spell, if not a particularly powerful one.


    "It''s like using sword techniques in a combination," he said, suddenly wondering why nobody had ever taught him this before. "And you can use this to create whatever spells you want?"


    The thought of it astounded him. The spells he had learned so far could only be mastered as a whole, and the only way to learn one was to learn it all at once.


    By comparison, this method seemed far easier. The Forms themselves seemed simple enough, and if creating new spells was just a matter of combining them, then learning magic would be far easier than he had anticipated.


    "As long as you know the proper Forms, there isn''t a spell you can''t cast," Anthea replied, visibly pleased with Arran''s excitement. "Though I have to warn you ¡ª there are many Forms, and learning to combine them correctly will require a great deal of practice."


    The warning did not deter Arran in the slightest. Even if there were thousands of Forms, if they were all as simple as this, learning all of them would still be quicker than mastering even a single normal spell.


    "You''re going to teach me twelve of these Forms today?"


    "That''s my intention," Anthea replied. "Let''s started with the first, Condense. You already know how to condense Essence for simple techniques like fireballs, but the Form is slightly different. Watch closely¡­"


    She spent the next quarter-hour explaining and demonstrating the Form, with Arran watching intently as she detailed its specifics.


    He soon realized that the Form wasn''t as simple as he had initially believed. While it resembled the basic technique of condensing Essence, it was far more precise, each time using an exact series of steps to create the same weave of Essence.


    After Anthea''s demonstrations, it took Arran nearly an hour to grasp the Form. That was slower than he had wanted, but it paled compared to learning a real spell. And if his teacher was right, he would be able to use it in numerous combinations.


    "That''s good enough," she finally said. "Mastering it will require a great deal of practice, but for the moment, we''ll move on to the next Form ¡ª Soar."


    It took Arran another hour to learn the Soar Form. Like Condense, it was simple but highly specific, clearly intended to achieve the exact same result each time.


    "Consistency is the foundation of working with Forms," Anthea explained. "To combine them, the individual elements have to be exactly right."


    Arran nodded in understanding. In some ways, it reminded him of sword styles, which allowed well-practiced techniques to be forged into powerful combinations.


    "Next, let''s move on to the Ram Form," Anthea continued. "You can use it to imbue a combination with a final wave of power, right before it hits a target. Like this¡­"


    She explained the Form in detail, and it took Arran another half hour to learn it.


    When he thought he knew it well enough, he asked, "The Forms you''ve taught me so far, can I try combining them?"


    "Of course," Anthea replied with a pleased nod. "It will take you some tries to get the combinations right, but you should be able to handle it."


    Eagerly, Arran set to work.


    Focusing his mind, he gathered a moderate amount of Fire Essence in his hand, forcing it to Condense when there was enough of it. The result was a fist-sized orange fireball, still fully within his control.


    Satisfied with the effort, he then made it Soar toward the wall ¡ª only to see it instantly dissipate in mid-air.


    "Try again," Anthea said. "And this time, focus on performing both Forms exactly as I taught you. Even the slightest imperfection will cause the combination to fail."


    Several dozens of failed attempts later, Arran succeeded in creating his first combination ¡ª an orange fireball that hit the wall with all the power of a warm breeze, not even leaving a scorch mark behind.


    "Add the Ram Form," Anthea said. "That will lend some power to the attack."


    Arran began to practice once more, and nearly an hour later, he finally achieved success in combining the three Forms he knew into a single attack.


    It wasn''t a particularly impressive display. It took half a minute just to create the combination, and it struck the wall with a force far weaker than even a normal initiate''s fireballs would have.


    Yet Anthea observed his efforts with clear excitement. "You''re talented," she said in a cheerful voice. "Most people take days to create their first real combination."


    Arran felt some excitement as well. Although the result was too weak to be of any practical use, having a result at all in just half a day of training was nothing short of astonishing.


    With a normal spell, it would have taken weeks just to reach this point, and then months more to do anything useful. If the Forms already yielded such results after a few hours, Arran could barely even imagine what he could achieve in a few months of training.


    The whole thing seemed almost too good to be true.


    He repeated the feat nearly two dozen times, keen to confirm that his success hadn''t been a mere fluke. Yet the result held, and though the combination was still slow and weak, he could tell that he was on the right path.


    Finally, Anthea motioned for him to stop. "That''s enough for now," she said. "You''ve earned a break. Let''s get some food in town, and we''ll continue after that."


    Arran happily agreed. Despite the motivation that came with rapid progress, practicing magic was exhausting ¡ª far more so than sword training.


    They left the training hall, then headed toward the town at the center of the House of Flames. Or rather, the city. Because Arran soon discovered that unlike the House of Swords, the House of Flames held a proper city, and a sizable one at that.


    The streets were lined with stores, shops, and restaurants, crowds of crimson-robed mages slowly walking past them. There weren''t nearly as many people as in the capital, but with every person here being at least a reasonably talented mage, there could be little doubt that the House of Flames was a tremendously powerful force.


    "It''s like a city of mages," he said ponderously, curiously looking around as they walked.


    "We''re the second-largest House in the Valley," Anthea said, some pride in her voice. "Before the truce, the House of Flames was the Valley''s main fighting force. But you already knew that, of course."


    "I didn''t," Arran replied. "I''m from the Fourth Valley. I only arrived here a year ago."


    "The Fourth Valley?" Anthea''s tone held more than a little surprise. "Then you''ve actually experienced real battle? Against mages?"


    "I have," he confirmed.


    Naturally, the brief reply wasn''t nearly enough to satisfy her curiosity, and Arran found himself spending the next half hour answering questions about the things he had encountered in the borderlands.


    He answered what questions he could, making sure not to reveal anything she should not know. Aside from the borderlands, Anthea was most interested in the magical methods used in the other Valleys. Here, Arran had no need to feign ignorance. As an initiate, he had little experience with the Valleys'' different approaches to magic.


    Somewhere in between asking questions, Anthea found them a small restaurant that served surprisingly tasty grilled meat and vegetables. From the Essence Arran could Sense being used in the kitchens, he surmised that the cooking here wasn''t done by any natural means.


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    Arran ate with gusto, emptying three full plates in short order. The morning''s training had been strenuous, and he now eagerly replenished his lost energy. In between bites, he answered Anthea''s questions, though his thoughts were focused more on food than on magic.


    Yet as he picked the final scraps from his third plate, a voice sounded behind him.


    "Caught another one, have you?"


    Arran turned to the person who had spoken, and saw that it was a middle-aged man whose angular face bore a severe expression.


    "Master Linos." Anthea greeted the man politely, but more than a hint of hostility could be seen in her eyes.


    "It''s bad enough that you''re wasting your own talent on a dead-end path," the man continued. "But do you need to lead others astray, as well?" He turned to Arran. "What she has failed to tell you is that these Forms of hers are useless. Nobody can use them ¡ª not as anything more than feeble tricks."


    "Elder Nikias could¡ª" Anthea began.


    "Elder Nikias died half a century before you were even born," the man interrupted her. "And nobody since has mastered the method he created. Not your master, not you, and certainly not the initiates whose time and talents you''ve wasted with this futile pursuit. The method died with its creator, and it''s time you accept that."


    Anthea gave the man a hateful stare, but she did not respond, and he turned to Arran.


    "You''re the initiate who bested one of our novices this morning, correct? Come visit me once you realize the truth. I can provide you with proper training ¡ª talent like yours should not go to waste."


    Without a second look at Anthea, the man turned around and left the restaurant.


    "That vile¡­" Anthea muttered in anger as she stared at the departing Master''s back.


    Arran, however, found himself filled with concern. Ignoring the risk of further upsetting Anthea, he asked, "What he said, is it true?"


    "It''s not!" she said sharply. Yet after a brief moment of hesitation, she continued, "At least, not exactly." She shook her head. "Let''s return to the training halls. I''ll explain it to you on the way back."

 Chapter 229 Form and Function

    Arran finished the last scraps on his plate before they left the restaurant. If the morning turned out to have been a waste of time, at least he''d gotten a good meal out of it ¡ª well worth half a day''s work, he thought.


    That Anthea''s Forms concealed hidden downsides was disappointing, but it didn''t come as a complete surprise to Arran. From the start, the whole thing had sounded too good to be true.


    But even if Anthea''s Forms were as useless as Master Linos had said, it was only a minor setback. The man had offered to take Arran as a student, and having a Master for a teacher would certainly be beneficial.


    Still, he would give Anthea a chance to explain the situation. The idea of Forms was too appealing to simply ignore.


    They left the restaurant after Arran finished the last of his meal, heading back into the stronghold''s busy streets. And as they set off toward the training halls, Anthea began to speak.


    "Before I start," she said, her voice uncomfortable, "understand that I did not intend to hide this from you. I would have told you in a day or two ¡ª once you''d seen the potential of Forms for yourself."


    Arran nodded, understanding her intentions. He could not fault her for not telling him everything at once. It would hardly make sense for her to scare off prospective students before giving them a reason to stay with her.


    "So what''s the truth, then?" he asked calmly.


    Seeing that he wasn''t upset, she gave him a relieved look. "The Forms were indeed created by Elder Nikias. He was one of the most powerful mages in the Valley, a legendary hero in the wars against the Hunters."


    There was a flash of excitement in Anthea''s eyes as she spoke, as if the mere mention of Elder Nikias caused her heart to beat faster.


    "He took only a handful of students," she continued, "but those he took all became powerful mages. They mastered spells impossibly fast, their skill shocking the entire Valley. There wasn''t a single mage in the Valley who wouldn''t have given his left hand to study under Elder Nikias."


    Her words sparked Arran''s curiosity. From what she said, the Elder should have been exceptionally powerful. "What happened to him?" he asked, curious to hear what could have brought down someone so powerful.


    Anthea let out a sigh. "Elder Nikias and his students were the Ninth Valley''s most formidable champions against the Hunters," she said. "In a long series of battles, they drove the Hunters back further and further, eventually pursuing them out of the borderlands."


    Arran nodded silently, understanding that this story would not end with a glorious victory.


    Another sigh passed Anthea''s lips, and she continued, "It was a trap. The Hunters sacrificed hundreds of their own to draw out Elder Nikias, while keeping their main force in reserve. When the trap was finally sprung and their full numbers bore down on Elder Nikias, he killed thousands more."


    She shook her head mournfully. "Still, it wasn''t enough. In the end, the Hunters'' numbers prevailed. Both the Elder and his students were killed."


    For some moments, Arran remained quiet. He looked at the crimson-robed mages walking on the streets around them, their movements showing only the careless ease of people who''d never faced serious threats.


    It was hard to believe that just half a century earlier, the Ninth Valley had been at war against enemies so formidable that even the strongest Elders were killed.


    Finally, his thoughts returned to Elder Nikias and his students. "So the Elder''s methods died with him?"


    "Not entirely," Anthea replied. "One of his students survived ¡ª my teacher. She was barely a novice at the time, too weak to go to war. After the battle, she was the only one in the Valley who still knew anything of the Elder''s methods."


    Arran creased his brow in thought. "If she knew his methods, didn''t others in the Valley try to learn them from her?"


    "Of course," Anthea said, a wry smile on her lips. "The House of Flames spent decades trying to recover the Elder''s lost secrets. But my teacher was only a novice when he died, and she only knew a sliver of his methods ¡ª too little to be of use. After decades of fruitless efforts, people simply gave up."


    Arran glanced at her. "But you didn''t."


    "My teacher never stopped trying to learn the Elder''s secrets," Anthea said. "When I became her student, decades later, she had already rebuilt some small part of his methods. I saw the promise of the Forms, so I decided I would help her reclaim their full strength."


    "Has she had any further success?" Arran asked.


    With a dejected sigh, Anthea shook her head. "A decade ago, she traveled beyond the borderlands, to become a Master. She never returned. Since then, I''ve been on my own."


    Arran gave her a puzzled look. "I thought the Ninth Valley''s borderlands were safe?"


    "They are," she replied. "But those who wish to become Masters must travel beyond the borderlands, and many never return from that journey."


    Although this raised even more questions for Arran, those would have to wait. They had reached the vast practice hall where they had spent the morning, and now, it was time to see what training in the Forms could achieve.


    Interesting though Anthea''s story was, Arran''s concern was the method''s usefulness, not its history.


    "Can you give me a demonstration?" he asked. "Without holding back?"


    "Of course," Anthea said, albeit with some hesitation in her voice. "I''ll show you the Battering Force spell you used earlier, but using Forms instead of the real spell."


    She raised her right hand, jaw clenched in concentration as she gathered Force Essence.


    Some moments later, Arran could Sense that she was beginning to create Forms for the spell. She didn''t shape the Forms one by one. Instead, it was as if she created them all at once ¡ª a much faster way of working than the one Arran had used.


    Yet even so, several breaths passed before the spell was complete. And when she finally launched it at the wall, Arran saw that it was far weaker than the one he had launched at the arrogant novice that morning.


    He shook his head in disappointment.


    It was a pathetic showing even for a novice, much less an adept. If this was all that could be achieved with Forms, then they were truly useless.


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    Not only was the spell too weak to be worthwhile; it was also excruciatingly slow. In the time it took Anthea to cast a single Battering Force using her Forms, Arran could have launched half a dozen of them ¡ª and each would have been far stronger than Anthea''s attempt.


    Seeing Arran''s disappointed expression, Anthea looked at him with a mixture of sadness and embarrassment.


    She clearly understood that her demonstration had failed to convince him ¡ª though if this was all she could achieve with Forms, then she should have expected his reaction.


    "Wait," she said hastily. "You have to understand¡­ The real strength of Forms is their versatility." She cast a worried look at Arran, then went on, "For example, I''ve never learned that Windblade spell of yours. But look¡­"


    Quickly, she began to gather Essence once more, then spent several moments creating a number of Forms. Again, the spell was formed far too slowly, and it struck the wall with even less power than her previous spell had contained.


    Yet Arran''s eyes instantly went wide with shock. Not because of the spell itself ¡ª lacking both power and speed, it was as useless as the previous one ¡ª but because he recognized an unmistakable trace of insight in the spell''s final Form.


    And strangely, what he recognized wasn''t his true insight into Severing. At least, not exactly.


    Rather, it was something he had experienced on his path into gaining that true insight ¡ª a flawed and imperfect step along the way, something he had discarded almost immediately after he discovered it.


    It was because the experience was still fresh in his mind that he recognized it. A few more years, and he probably wouldn''t have noticed it at all.


    Yet now, the realization filled him with excitement.


    "The Forms you used for that spell," he said, turning to Anthea, "teach them to me."


    She briefly looked puzzled, but then, her expression became hopeful. "Of course," she said. "First, you start with the Condense Form¡­"


    One by one, she explained the Forms. Two of them, he already knew ¡ª Condense and Soar. There was a third, Blade, which shaped Essence into a blade of Essence. This would normally have interested him, but now, he could only focus on the fourth ¡ª the Cut Form.


    He quickly understood that this was the Form that contained a trace of the incomplete insight, and the entire Form had clearly been built around it, almost as if the Form was meant as a way to study the insight.


    Using the Cut Form required learning the Blade Form first, and Arran spent well over an hour studying both the complete spell and its constituent Forms.


    Anthea taught him patiently. Although she still seemed confused at his sudden enthusiasm, she did not voice her questions ¡ª whatever it was that had sparked his interest, she accepted it gladly.


    When Arran finally got to the Cut form, he found that his insight made learning it simple.


    In just a few minutes he mastered most of it, much to Anthea''s astonishment. Moreover, his version also easily surpassed Anthea''s in power.


    While the Form didn''t reflect a true insight into Severing, it seemed to be a purposely crafted step along the way. And if the first step existed, then there could be more powerful ones, as well.


    Arran turned to Anthea, hoping that she would have the answer.


    "Are there more advanced versions of this Form?" If his suspicion was correct, there would be several versions, with the stronger ones more fully reflecting the insight.


    "More advanced?" Anthea looked at him with wide eyes. "How did you know? My teacher¡­ she said Elder Nikias had stronger versions of all the Forms."


    "And you know them?" Arran''s voice trembled with excitement as he asked the question.


    She sighed, then shook her head. "They were all lost when the Elder died. My teacher only ever learned the basic versions. She hoped she could eventually recreate the stronger ones herself."


    It took Arran a great deal of effort not to curse in frustration.


    He couldn''t be certain, but if every Form had stronger versions, then they might all hold paths to true insights. And if that was the case, then the Forms were far more valuable than he could have imagined.


    "The Elder," he began, "did he leave any writings? Scrolls, or memory amulets?"


    Again, Anthea shook her head. "If he had any, they were in his void bags when he died, left behind on the battlefield."


    Arran swallowed hard. "Where is this battlefield?"


    A regretful look in her eyes, Anthea replied, "You''re not the first to have that idea, but it''s no use. The battlefield is a deadly wasteland, filled with so much unbound Essence that even Grandmasters and Archmages cannot survive it for more than a few minutes."


    "Unbound Essence?" A wide grin formed on Arran''s lips, and he could only barely stop himself from bursting into laughter.


    Anthea gave him a nonplussed frown. "What''s so funny?"


    "I might be able to study the Forms with you," Arran replied. "I''ll just have to discuss it with my teacher, first. In fact, I should leave right away ¡ª I''ll meet you at the gate tomorrow."


    Before she could respond, Arran had already left the training hall, and he broke into a run as he headed to the gate.


    The crimson-robed mages on the roads looked at the laughing initiate in confusion as he passed, but he ignored them. If his luck held, he might just have discovered a treasure greater than anything they could imagine.

 Chapter 230 Brightblades Vow

    "It''s settled then." There was a happy smile on Brightblade''s face as she spoke. "For the next year, you''ll spend two days each week studying Forms. And when you become a novice, you''ll seek out the battlefield where Elder Nikias died and recover his lost treasures."


    Arran eyed his teacher suspiciously. "Just like that?"


    He was glad that she agreed to his plans, but the whole thing seemed entirely too easy. She had listened attentively when he told her about the day''s events, but she hadn''t shown even the least bit of surprise. It was almost as if¡­


    "You knew!" Arran exclaimed, eyes wide with shock. "This whole thing¡­ You planned it!"


    "I did no such thing," Brightblade replied calmly. "I may have heard a story or two about Elder Nikias''s legendary methods, but I certainly did not encourage you to seek out that girl. That you visited the House of Flames when she was scouting initiates was a simple matter of good fortune ¡ª though, truth be told, she is rather predictable."


    Arran gave her a baffled look. It was abundantly clear that she somehow had set up the entire thing, making sure that he would meet Anthea. Yet now, she tried to pretend otherwise, albeit halfheartedly.


    "Furthermore," Brightblade continued, "that you insist on having her as your teacher is no fault of mine. Your choice to ignore my warnings is unfortunate, but there is nothing I can do about it ¡ª you''re a grown man, after all."


    "Warnings?" Arran frowned. She had given him no warnings whatsoever. "What warnings?"


    Brightblade shrugged. "That you risk wasting a year of training, that you''ll learn a useless method, that you might die trying to find the Elder''s lost writings ¡ª that, and whatever else Snowcloud might blame on me."


    Finally, Arran began to understand the situation. "She knows about the Forms?"


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    "She spent a year studying in the Ninth Valley," Brightblade said. "Naturally, she heard about its legends. And she knows you well enough to understand that you would be drawn to this one like a moth to a flame." She scowled, then added, "Which is why she made me vow to keep you from pursuing it."


    "Then why would you encourage me?" Arran raised an eyebrow in puzzlement.


    "I''m not encouraging you," she replied. "But if I did, it would be because she''s wrong. The chance of success, small though it is, easily outweighs the risks. The Forms hold tremendous potential, and not to pursue so grand a prize would be folly."


    At these words, Arran sat up in attention. "What kind of potential?"


    While he saw plenty of promise in the Forms, he could hardly be considered an expert on magic. Brightblade''s opinion, on the other hand, would reflect centuries of knowledge. Whatever she saw would be worth knowing.


    "The idea of combining insights into spells is nothing new," she began. "Every mage who advances far enough eventually tries it. Even I have spent several years developing a similar method."


    To illustrate her point, she formed a spell in her hand ¡ª a tiny sword of fire, barely the size of a finger and made from a negligible shred of Essence. Yet when she shot it at the ground, it left a large black scar in the otherwise immaculate grass, half a dozen paces long and several feet deep.


    Arran looked on in awe. He had Sensed that she''d used only a minute sliver of Essence ¡ª too little to even leave a mark on the grass, had he been the one wielding it. "You did that using insights?"


    Brightblade nodded. "The problem, as you undoubtedly noticed, is that the method is too slow to be useful in battle." A twinkle of excitement formed in her eyes as she continued, "Yet this Elder Nikias somehow found a way to remedy that."


    "The power¡­" Arran cast a glance at the deep scar her spell had left in the grass. "You barely used any Essence, yet the spell was already so strong."


    "Spells imbued with insights are far stronger than those without it," Brightblade confirmed. "You can imbue normal spells with insights as well, of course, but doing so is far more difficult, and the results aren''t anywhere near as impressive."


    Arran furrowed his brow. When Anthea had shown him the Forms, the spells she created were embarrassingly weak. But now, he understood that Forms cast with the proper insights could surpass normal spells. And unlike Anthea, he already had a true insight.


    "I had another thought," he said. "From what Anthea told me, Elder Nikias''s students progressed far more quickly than others. But if the Forms are built on insights¡­ could it be that Elder Nikias''s methods helped them develop insights, as well?"


    Brightblade smiled. "That''s my suspicion ¡ª and my hope. If it''s true, you would help not just yourself by recovering the Elder''s writings, but Snowcloud and myself as well. And in time, you might transform the entire Shadowflame Society."


    At this, Arran''s expression grew serious. "Then I''ll do all I can to succeed."


    "Indeed you will," Brightblade replied. "And your first step should be to strengthen your resistance to magic. For that, you must use the Patriarch''s amulet every day. When we travel to the hidden estate, you can use that other Realm of yours."


    She did not name his Destruction Realm outright. Even if she had warded their mansion at the House of Swords from prying eyes and ears, that was a secret she still guarded cautiously.


    "I''ll get to work right away, then." A year seemed like a long time, but Arran had little doubt that the battlefield would test his limits. After all, if it wasn''t exceptionally dangerous, the Ninth Valley''s mages would have searched every inch of it long ago.


    Brightblade nodded in approval. "You should. Tomorrow, you''ll spend another day in the House of Flames. After that, you''ll see the other two Houses ¡ª first the House of Shadows, then the House of Seals. Take care to study their teachings well. Your offensive spells won''t progress much this coming year, so whatever else you can learn will be even more important."


    "I understand," Arran said, producing the Patriarch''s amulet from his void ring. Yet before he could begin using it, Brightblade interrupted him.


    "One last thing," she said. "Have the House of Flames girl instruct you in the Shadowflame spell. It wouldn''t do to ignore your offensive magic entirely, even if your main focus is on learning these Forms."


    Arran responded with a short nod, then set to work with the Patriarch''s amulet, spending several hours circulating its violent energies through his body.


    The next day, Anthea reacted with excitement at the news that he would continue his studies with her. Although she seemed slightly disappointed that he would only study with her for two days a week, her joy at gaining a student easily outweighed it.


    In the span of a day, he learned a dozen new Forms ¡ª the target he had failed to reach the day before. Many of those resembled the ones he already knew, and with each new one he learned, his progress was a little faster.


    This time, there was no combining the Forms. Anthea insisted his first step should be to learn all the Forms she knew, and there were well over a hundred of those ¡ª enough to keep him occupied for several weeks, if not more.


    Arran did not complain about this. While he was eager to see what combinations he could make, anything he created would be embarrassingly weak and slow. And he knew that wouldn''t change until he recovered the writings of Elder Nikias.


    It was late afternoon when they finished the day''s work on the Forms, and after that, Anthea spent several more hours instructing Arran in normal spells.


    He quickly found that the Shadowflame spell was still far beyond him, but Anthea did her best to teach him its foundation nonetheless. The lesson lasted until an hour after nightfall, with the adept insisting that Arran also practice his other spells.


    Focused though she was on Forms, Anthea seemed to have no intention of ignoring the rest of his education altogether. As she told it, improving his skill at magic would also aid him in understanding the Forms.


    During the lesson, Arran quickly learned that his teacher was exceptionally skilled. He had believed her obsession with Forms would have prevented her from matching others in conventional magic, but the opposite proved to be the case. She was as skilled as any adept he''d ever seen, if not more so.


    He was pleasantly surprised to discover this, but at the same time, it left him wondering why she cared so much about having him as a student.


    She did not know about his plan to recover Elder Nikias''s writings, and other than that, he could not imagine being able to provide her with much help in her studies. The gap between them was simply too large for that.


    Finally, no longer able to contain his curiosity, he asked, "With your skill in magic, what use do you have for me? I thought you''d be an average mage, but¡­" He hesitated as he glanced at her, then continued, "With someone like you working on the Forms, what can I add?"


    Anthea smiled. "Two pairs of eyes see more than one. Even if you''re not skilled just yet, just having someone else experience the Forms provides another perspective." She glanced at the ground, and when she looked up again, her smile had faded. "Of course, that''s not the only reason. There''s another matter I have to consider."


    "What is it?" Arran asked.


    "If something happens to me, the Forms will be gone forever," she said. "With the Elder''s death, most of his knowledge was lost. And when my teacher disappeared, much of what still remained vanished with her. If I die¡­"


    Arran listened silently. While Anthea''s dedication in preserving this knowledge was alien to him ¡ª he had only ever cared about keeping himself and his friends alive ¡ª he could not help but feel a newfound respect for her.


    She clenched her jaw, then continued, "I''m the last person preventing the Forms from fading into history, and it''s on me to ensure that doesn''t happen. Knowledge like this cannot be allowed to disappear."


    There was no need for her to explain the situation any further. Arran now understood her motivation ¡ª not just in taking him as a student, but also in continuing her study of the Forms despite the lack of results.


    It was a great sacrifice, he realized. If she''d used her efforts to study normal magic, she''d doubtless be far stronger than she already was. With her talent, she could likely already have become a Master.


    It was late in the evening when Arran returned to the House of Swords, and inspired by Anthea''s passion for her studies, he spent much of the way back practicing the Forms he had learned ¡ª though, to avoid drawing attention, he used Shadow Essence rather than any of the other kinds. This made the Forms invisible to others, while also preventing him from doing any damage to his surroundings.


    Back at the mansion, he found Brightblade sitting in the gardens, as usual holding a glass of wine in her hand and some ancient book in her lap.


    "I assume everything went well today?" she asked when she noticed Arran approach.


    He nodded in response. "Anthea is more skilled than I expected ¡ª not just at Forms, but at magic in general."


    "She was one of the greatest talents of her generation," Brightblade replied. "Until she began to study the Forms, at least. But enough about that. Spend a few hours using the Patriarch''s amulet, then get some sleep."


    She took out a small badge, then tossed it to Arran. "Your training with the House of Shadows starts tomorrow."

 Chapter 231 The House of Shadows

    Arran arrived at the House of Shadows just after dawn, a good half hour before his training was supposed to start.


    He had awoken two hours earlier, intent on not being late on his first visit to another House. While being late on his first day in the House of Flames had caused him no problems, he had no wish to further test his luck.


    The road from the House of Swords had been easy to follow ¡ª straight north to the capital, then further north to the House of Shadows. There were plenty of people on the road despite the early hour, many of them traveling to and from the capital.


    This time, Arran did not stand out as much as before. It seemed that unlike the House of Flames, the House of Shadows had no specific dress code. Most of the people he saw near the House of Shadows wore subdued colors, but other than that, nothing about their appearance announced their House.


    At the gate, he found a long but orderly line, where mages patiently waited to be let into the walled stronghold. Though the line held many people, it moved quickly, and it wasn''t long before it was Arran''s turn to enter the stronghold.


    "Your name, House, and badge, please," one of the guards at the gate said as Arran approached. Pale and slender with dark hair that held more than a few spots of gray, the man more resembled a clerk than a guard.


    "Ghostblade, of the House of Swords," Arran replied, handing the man the badge Brightblade had given him.


    The guard briefly examined the badge, then gave Arran a friendly smile as he handed it back. "We were expecting you." He motioned at one of the other guards, who stepped forward at once. "Leandros here will see you to your teacher."


    "Very well," Arran said, though he could not help but frown in wonder. He was supposed to be a lowly initiate come to train ¡ª certainly not someone worthy of being given an escort.


    As he followed the guard into the stronghold, he was immediately surprised at what he saw. Where the House of Flames held a city, it seemed that the House of Shadows actually was a city. There was no sign of training fields or halls, just long stone-paved streets lined with houses and numerous small parks and gardens.


    "It''s your first time here, correct?" the guard named Leandros said, a friendly smile on his face as he spoke to Arran.


    "It is," Arran confirmed. He looked around, then asked, "Where are the training grounds?"


    "We don''t have those, exactly," Leandros replied. "There are some halls and fields at the far end of the stronghold, but we do most of our training in small groups, at our own quarters. You''ll find that studying Shadow magic is best done with quiet surroundings."


    They traversed the city''s streets at a calm but steady pace, and as they made their way, Arran could not resist the temptation to inspect his surroundings with his Shadowsight.


    What he found didn''t exactly shock him, but it still left him surprised. Among the people walking the streets, he could detect more than a few Shadowcloaked figures, deftly maneuvering through the masses.


    "Is it normal for there to be this many Shadowcloaked people on the streets?" he asked.


    Leandros''s gave him a curious look. "You''ve already mastered the Shadowgaze technique?"


    "I call it Shadowsight," Arran replied. "I don''t know if it''s the same thing."


    After several minutes of comparing their techniques, Arran found that his Shadowsight was indeed what the House of Shadows called Shadowgaze. There were some minor differences, but other than those, the two techniques were the same.


    "I''m impressed," Leandros said. "Not many initiates have enough Shadow Essence to use that technique. But to get back to your question, it''s quite common for our mages to practice Shadowcloaks and other spells in the city ¡ªassuming they don''t cause trouble, of course."


    It took Leandros a quarter-hour to lead Arran to his destination, during which he chatted amicably about the House of Shadows and the city. And as Leandros spoke, Arran looked at his surroundings, finding himself more than a little impressed.


    The city was pleasant, beautiful even. It lacked the dense masses of the capital and the utilitarian appearance of the House of Swords, instead resembling a wealthy village with luxurious houses, green gardens, and many small shops. Except, of course, that it was the size of a city, and not a particularly small one.


    They eventually arrived at a small house that was mostly obscured by a large garden, filled with numerous trees, plants, and flowers. Arran recognized none of these, but he suspected that Snowcloud would have been filled with excitement had she been there.


    "Here we are," Leandros said. "You''ll find your teacher inside. Her name is Oraia, and although she''s only a novice, you would do well not to underestimate her ¡ª she''s one of the most talented mages in the House, if not the entire Valley."


    He bade Arran goodbye, then quickly turned around and headed back in the direction of the gate, doubtless to guide some other visitor into the city.


    Arran took a glance at the garden, then stepped inside, following the narrow path that led to the front door of the small house. As he looked around, he could tell that the garden had been given a great deal of attention ¡ª someone had clearly spent many hours grooming it to perfection.


    When he knocked on the door, there was no immediate answer, and after waiting for a minute or two, he tried again.


    "Just a moment!" a girl''s voice sounded from inside.


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    Another two minutes passed with Arran waiting patiently, but then, the door swung open, revealing what was easily the most beautiful woman he had seen in his life.


    She was young ¡ª several years younger than Arran ¡ª with long, brown hair, delicate features, and large, dark eyes. Her smooth skin held a slight tan, and as she looked at Arran, there was a small but impossibly perfect smile on her face.


    "You must be Ghostblade," she said. "You''re earlier than I expected ¡ª I hadn''t finished dressing yet."


    "I am," Arran said. "Ghostblade, I mean. I¡­ I was sent here for training?" He stumbled over his words as he looked at the woman in front of him, taken aback when he realized that she wasn''t wearing a robe but a short, form-fitting dress that emphasized her ample curves.


    "Come in," she said. As Arran did so, she continued, "From what I''ve heard, you must be quite talented. You defeated the strongest adept in the House of Swords last year, didn''t you?"


    "I¡­ eh¡­" Arran hadn''t expected her to know anything about him, and briefly, he found himself at a loss for words. "I did," he finally said.


    "No surprise, with those broad shoulders of yours. I bet you must be really strong." She flashed him a wink, then asked, "Would you like some tea?"


    Arran felt his cheeks flush at the compliment, but he tried to keep his composure. "Sure," he said. Feeling he should say something more, he added, "The guard who led me here said you''re one of the most talented mages in the House of Shadows."


    She frowned briefly, but her smile returned an instant later. "He exaggerated," she said. "I''m just a novice, with just a small bit of talent. I just hope I''m skilled enough to be of use to you."


    "I''m sure you are," Arran replied, finding himself unwilling to hurt her feelings. "I don''t know much about Shadow spells, so I''ll be glad for anything you can teach me."


    "Then I''ll do my best." As she spoke, she poured him a glass of tea. "But you already have an outstanding teacher, right? I''ve heard she matched a Grandmaster in combat despite only being an adept herself, and if the stories from the House of Creation are true, her other student is almost as impressive as you are."


    At this, Arran frowned. Despite his surprise at Oraia''s beauty, he could not fail to notice that she seemed to know entirely too much about him and his companions. "It sounds like you know a lot about us."


    "I''ve just heard some tales," she replied, giving him a bright smile. "We don''t get many outsiders in the Ninth Valley, so rumors spread quickly ¡ª especially when they''re about handsome warriors like yourself."


    Again, Arran frowned. Unwilling though he was to admit it, it was clear that the girl''s friendliness was an act ¡ª and a clumsy one, at that.


    "Perhaps we should start studying," he said, a hint of coldness in his voice.


    Oraia looked at him with a trace of disappointment in her eyes. "Very well," she said, the forced cheeriness suddenly gone from her voice. "Let''s find out if you have any talent."

 Chapter 232 A Step Into Shadow

    "Do you have any experience with Shadow spells?" Oraia looked at Arran with questioning eyes.


    "A little," he replied. "I know how to use Shadowsight ¡ª what you call Shadowgaze ¡ª and I have some small experience with Shadow seals."


    A hint of surprise flashed across Oraia''s face, but it disappeared in an instant. "It seems there''s some truth to the rumors." Her earlier bright smile had already returned, and she continued, "Let''s start with something simple, first."


    Arran nodded, curious to see just what could be achieved with Shadow Essence. While he knew about the Shadowcloak spell, his own experience in using Shadow was limited to using it for Shadowsight and creating seals.


    Her expression turning serious, Oraia took a small spoon from her void bag, then placed it on the wooden table. "The real Shadowcloak spell is exceptionally difficult," she said. "But there are other, simpler spells that can prepare you for learning it."


    She pointed her finger at the spoon and, almost instantly, it grew blurry. While it hadn''t quite disappeared, it was now vaguely translucent, and from a distance it would be difficult to notice.


    As Arran looked at the small spoon in wonder, Oraia explained, "This spell is limited to small objects, and only if they aren''t moving. Its basic structure, however, is similar to that of the Shadowcloak spell ¡ª albeit much simpler."


    "Then learning this will help me learn Shadowcloak?" Arran asked.


    He already felt some excitement at the thought of learning to become invisible ¡ª with his strength and swordsmanship, what he needed most was a way to close the distance between enemies and himself. And for that, invisibility would be invaluable.


    "Eventually," Oraia replied. "But for now, focus on learning this spell. Since you can''t see my Shadow Essence, I''ll demonstrate it again, this time using Wind Essence."


    Once more, she pointed her finger at the spoon and silently cast a spell.


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    There was no visible effect this time ¡ª the spoon remained on the table, looking as solid as ever.


    Yet while Arran''s eyes saw no change, his Sense detected an intricate pattern of Wind Essence forming around the spoon. At a glance, he understood just how hard learning the Shadowcloak spell would be ¡ª even this simplified version was nearly as complex as the Flamestrike spell.


    Oraia demonstrated the spell half a dozen times, giving Arran ample opportunity to see how it worked. But even so, he soon recognized he lacked the skill to even attempt it.


    With an amused glance at Arran''s troubled expression, Oraia handed him a scroll. "That was just a small demonstration," she said. "This scroll contains the details of the spell ¡ª your first step will be to study it carefully, until you understand the theory. After that, you can begin work on casting the spell itself."


    "Thanks," Arran responded absently, both his eyes and mind already firmly fixed on the scroll in front of him.


    Pretty though Oraia might be, his interest in her had waned once he realized her friendliness was a mere act. And, more importantly, no amount of beauty could compare to the prospect of approaching his enemies undetected.


    The thought of using the Shadowcloak spell in battle brought a grin to his face as he studied the scroll. Occasionally, he would reach out with his hand to try out the patterns described within, but other than that he sat motionless, eyes completely fixed on the scroll in front of him.


    As the hours passed, Oraia would sometimes talk to him, but he mostly ignored her. Every once in a while she would ask a question, but he would respond with just a nod or a shrug, his attention fully focused on understanding the spell.


    He wasn''t normally as diligent a student of magic as Snowcloud or Jiang Fei, but this was different ¡ª here, there was a clear reward at the end of his studies, and an exceptionally useful one at that.


    From time to time, he noticed familiar patterns within the spell. Some parts resembled aspects of the seals he knew, while others resembled parts of the few spells he had mastered. There were similarities with some of the Forms, too, though not enough to be helpful.


    His hard work gradually brought him results, albeit small ones. He wasn''t quite ready yet to attempt the full spell, but he could feel that he was steadily getting closer. Just a few more hours of study, he thought, and he could begin to make some real attempts.


    "It''s past midnight," Oraia''s voice suddenly sounded.


    Arran looked up. "What? I only just¡­" He didn''t finish the sentence. While he had thought it was only barely noon, he now noticed the darkness outside the windows. "It''s that late? Already?"


    "No wonder you''re so talented," Oraia said in a soft voice. "I''ve never seen anyone study like that. You barely even moved the entire day."


    Arran shrugged, slightly embarrassed now. "I was just intrigued by the spell," he said. "I don''t usually study like this."


    While he had studied hard, this was hardly normal for him ¡ª usually, he had trouble just spending an hour or two focused on a single spell.


    Oraia nodded, though she seemed unconvinced. "You should eat something," she said. "And after that, get some rest. I have a spare bedroom you can use."


    "I can''t," Arran instantly replied. "I have to return to the House of Swords ¡ª if I don''t, my teacher will wonder where I am."


    "I already sent word to her earlier tonight," Oraia replied. "And I picked up some food, as well."


    Arran frowned. He hadn''t noticed Oraia leave, but then, he hadn''t exactly paid her much attention. "Still," he said, "I should return¡ª"


    "Don''t be ridiculous," Oraia interrupted him, sounding slightly annoyed. "If you leave now and return by dawn, you''ll barely be able to get three hours of sleep. Use my spare bedroom, and at least you''ll get enough rest to study tomorrow."


    After a moment''s thought, Arran gave her a nod. "I suppose you''re right," he said. "But¡­ you said something about food?"


    Absorbed as he was in his studies, he had ignored his hunger through the day. But now, it had returned with a vengeance, and he suddenly felt absolutely famished.


    Oraia quickly filled the table with a wide assortment of food, and Arran dug in without hesitation.


    "I assume you made good progress today?" Oraia asked as he ate.


    Arran briefly put aside the chicken leg he was eating, then replied, "Pretty good. With a bit of luck, I should be able to start practicing the spell tomorrow."


    Oraia''s eyes went wide for a moment, but then, she smiled. "Don''t be too hasty," she said. "It usually takes novices several months of study before they''re able to begin casting the spell. Even with your talent, I doubt two days will be enough."


    "I guess we''ll see," Arran replied. Though he was excited about learning the spell and continuing his path toward casting the Shadowcloak spell, he was in no hurry to finish. For now, he would merely study as hard as he could, and hope for the best.


    He went to bed shortly after the meal, and exhausted as he was from the day''s studies, he fell asleep in moments. Yet even in the final few moments before his consciousness faded, his thoughts were filled with images of walking a battlefield unseen.

 Chapter 233 Shadow and Swords

    It was late morning when Arran awoke. He had slept longer than usual, and it took his mind some moments to fully shake off the drowsiness of a long night''s sleep.


    His dreams had been vivid that night, filled with shreds of the Shadow spell he had studied so assiduously the previous day. In his dreams, using the spell had come easily, and he had used it to blur not just spoons but entire castles and even mountains.


    Yet the excitement he had felt on mastering the spell now caused him some disappointment when he awoke and realized none of it had been real.


    Still, even if the memory was false, the motivation it gave him was entirely real. He let out a final deep yawn, then got out of bed, already eager to continue his studies.


    He found the house empty, and after a short search, he discovered that Oraia was sitting in the garden, drinking a cup of tea while looking through some scrolls.


    The elegant dress she had worn the previous day was gone, replaced with a simple black training robe. There was a slender sword at her side that hadn''t been there before, and on the whole, she almost looked like an entirely different person.


    When she saw Arran, she gave him a friendly nod. "I figured you needed the rest, so I didn''t wake you this morning." She gestured at a small table beside her, then said, "There''s tea and food. You can continue your studies after you''ve had breakfast."


    "Thanks," Arran replied. He sat down on a chair beside the table, then piled several meals worth of food on a plate. Though the food was simple ¡ª fresh bread, butter, eggs, honey, and fruits ¡ª he was still hungry from the previous day, and he ate eagerly.


    "Before you get back to studying," Oraia said once he finished the meal, "perhaps we can have a small sparring match? I''d like to see for myself just what kind of skill allows an initiate to defeat adepts."


    Arran happily agreed, and they faced each other on an empty patch of grass at the center of the garden.


    They sparred for half an hour, and although Oraia didn''t pose a serious challenge to Arran, he found himself impressed with her skill. Her style was fast and deceptive, with numerous feints and distractions hiding lightning-quick but accurate attacks.


    "You''re good," he finally said, voice filled with approval. "Even in the House of Swords, I don''t think any of the novices could match you."


    She wiped some sweat from her brow. "You''re better," she stated matter-of-factly. "But perhaps I can even the odds with magic, if you''ll allow it?"


    "Of course," Arran replied. Although there wasn''t much he could learn from facing a less-skilled opponent, he wouldn''t deny Oraia the opportunity to learn from him.


    Once more they faced off, swords drawn as each waited for the other to make a move.


    They stood motionless for some moments, but then, just as Arran was about to attack, Oraia suddenly blinked out of existence.


    Had Arran not long since learned to use his Shadowsight during fights ¡ª even sparring matches ¡ª her invisible attack would have given her an easy victory. But now, Arran parried it as easily as he would any of her other attacks, winning the exchange with a second stroke of his sword.


    Oraia became visible again as she stepped back. "You always use Shadowgaze during fights?"


    "I''d have died long ago if I didn''t," Arran replied flatly.


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    "Then I''ll have to try something else." Oraia immediately attacked once more, but this time, only her sword disappeared, while the rest of her body became a blur.


    Arran defeated her again, but several dozen more exchanges followed, with the novice using all sorts of combinations of spells to obscure and conceal both her weapon and her movements.


    None of this achieved much, however, as Arran didn''t allow his Shadowsight to slip for even a second. Within a distance of fifty paces, there was nothing that could escape his notice ¡ª not without a way to obscure his Shadowsight, at least.


    When Oraia finally came to a stop, her forehead was covered in sweat, and her cheeks were flushed from the effort. "I''m done," she said. "I''m out of Shadow Essence." She took several deep breaths, then asked, "But how is it that you maintained your Shadowgaze all this time? Your Essence should have run dry long ago."


    Arran responded with a shrug. "My Shadow Realm is pretty strong."


    In truth, he could have continued like this for hours. The Realm Opening Pills had given him a massive reserve of Shadow Essence to begin with, and years of almost constantly using his Shadowsight had increased that even further.


    Oraia slightly raised an eyebrow as she gave Arran an appraising look. "It will serve you well once you learn more spells," she said after a moment. "If your talent is even half as impressive as your Essence reserves, the House of Shadows would be glad to have you."


    "I''ll get back to studying, then," Arran said. "So we can discover whether I have any talent for Shadow spells."


    He naturally had no intention of joining the House of Shadows, but he could not say so outright ¡ª if Brightblade was correct, showing sufficient talent might cause the House of Shadows to try to persuade him to their side with gifts and resources.


    "I suppose you''re right," Oraia replied, though something had changed in the look she gave Arran. While she had acted like a flirtatious young girl the previous day, now, she treated him more like an equal.


    After a brief rest, Arran set to work studying the scroll once more.


    He could tell that he was gradually gaining a better understanding of the spell it described, but the few tentative attempts he made at casting it convinced him that he would need to spend more time studying it.


    Throughout the day, Oraia was there to answer his questions and give him advice when he needed it. Yet despite her efforts, her help proved to be of little use ¡ª she could only see Arran''s attempts when he used Wind instead of Shadow Essence, and he lacked the skill at using Wind Essence to fully demonstrate his understanding of the spell.


    Nevertheless, he made good progress, and when early evening came he was satisfied with the day''s work. Perhaps the goal wasn''t quite as close as it had seemed the previous day, but he knew he was steadily getting closer to reaching it.


    "You can take the scroll along," Oraia said as he was getting ready to leave. "If you have a few free hours on your hands, some extra practice before we meet again won''t hurt. I''ll be able to give more useful advice once you master this first spell, but the first step is one you''ll have to take yourself."


    "All right," Arran replied. "If I find the time, I''ll try to get in a little more practice."


    It was late evening when he arrived back at the House of Swords, where Brightblade welcomed him with a broad grin.


    "Had a good time?" she asked, giving him a wink. "Rumor is they had you train with Oraia ¡ª more than a few of the Valley''s young men are seething with jealousy, even in the House of Swords."


    Arran furrowed his brow. "What are you talking about?"


    "The House of Shadows uses many methods to gain information," Brightblade explained. "Some less subtle than others. And faced with a girl as pretty as that, few young men can resist revealing their secrets." She chuckled, seeming more than a little amused by the whole thing.


    With this, Oraia''s behavior during the previous day suddenly made more sense to Arran, and he quickly detailed the two days'' events to Brightblade. When he finished, he added, "You could have warned me, though."


    Brightblade shook her head. "There was no need. Most of the youths in this Valley learn magic to impress girls. But you¡­ you''re learning it to protect your life. You wouldn''t be so easily distracted by a pretty face."


    "I suppose you have a point," Arran admitted. Oraia''s beauty had affected him, but certainly not enough to make him throw caution to the wind. But then, he furrowed his brow. "But what about Snowcloud? When she studied with them, did they¡­" He didn''t finish the sentence, though the thought brought a scowl to his face.


    "They tried," Brightblade said. "Though the poor boy they sent after her ended up with a broken nose."


    At this, Arran smiled in satisfaction. Even the thought of some handsome House of Shadows novice trying to flirt with Snowcloud had caused him to feel a brief stab of jealousy.


    Brightblade laughed when she saw his face, but then, her expression turned serious again. "You should get some rest now," she said. "Tomorrow, you''ll be visiting the House of Seals ¡ª and this time, I expect you to leave a lasting expression on your first day."

 Chapter 234 The House of Seals

    The next day saw Arran depart from the House of Swords well before dawn, some weariness in his steps as he made his way along the dark road. It wasn''t the early hour that bothered him ¡ª with his Shadowsight, he could easily find his way even during the darkest night.


    Rather, what made him feel weary was the prospect of spending another two days studying magic.


    The previous four days hadn''t been nearly as bad as he feared. If anything, they had been more productive than he initially expected. Reasonably speaking, he had absolutely no reason to complain, and plenty of reason to be excited.


    Yet despite his encouraging results, he found that studying magic left him more tired than practicing swordsmanship ever had.


    Physical exercise drained his body, but afterward, he''d always feel satisfied with the results. Magic, however, drained his mind. And if there was any satisfaction to be had from his progress, he was too exhausted to enjoy it.


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    And that was after just half a week of studying, with a full year still ahead of him.


    Still, there was nothing for it but to endure. Perhaps things would get better once he got used to the unfamiliar activity.


    And even if his aptitude for studying failed to improve, he comforted himself with the thought that a year was hardly a long time. He had spent nearly as long comprehending a single insight, after all.


    The thought wasn''t quite enough to reassure him, but it would have to do.


    He had avoided seriously devoting himself to magic studies for a long time, but there was no way around it now ¡ª even ignoring Brightblade''s commands, he understood that he would ultimately benefit from taking the task seriously. And if he didn''t, he had little doubt that he would eventually pay a hefty price for it.


    He didn''t allow himself to dwell on these thoughts, however. Doing so would change nothing, other than causing him worries he didn''t need.


    Instead, as he traveled across the dark road leading to the capital, he used Shadow Essence to practice the Forms.


    Using Shadow Essence produced no visible results, but it was a good exercise, both to learn the Forms and to improve his control over Essence. Neither of these things came as easily as he would have liked, and a few hours of additional practice each day would go a long way in helping him progress more quickly.


    Moreover, training like this meant the time he spent on travel wasn''t wasted entirely ¡ª something he had quickly realized would be an issue in the year to come.


    With all the strongholds being miles apart, merely getting from one to another took entirely too long. And if he had to do so every day, he would need a means of using that time.


    He arrived at the capital before first light, finding the wide streets still quiet. While there were already a decent number of mages about even at this early hour, the capital was large enough that a few hundred people on the streets hardly made a difference.


    Finding the road to the House of Seals proved easy. As the largest House in the Ninth Valley, the way toward it was clearly marked ¡ª a broad paved road that was lined with trees, more than a few people already traveling along it.


    Arran made his way down the road without hurry, continuing to practice the Forms as he walked. Using Shadow Essence, his efforts drew no attention, and he got nearly an hour of training in before he finally reached his destination.


    It was half an hour after dawn when he reached the House of Seals, and with a single glance, he realized that the stronghold was vast ¡ª much larger than the other Houses he had visited.


    Its thick, high walls stretched to either side of the gates as far as the eye could see, but despite the walls'' height, at least a dozen tall towers could be seen stretching up from the city behind them. Each of these was taller than any of the buildings in the capital, and Arran had little doubt that there would be more out of sight.


    The opened gate, meanwhile, itself was at least as impressive as the walls around it. Nearly two dozen feet high and twice as wide, it looked like it was made to accommodate entire armies marching through.


    Although there presently were no armies around, the entrance was well-guarded, with half a dozen mages checking the passing travelers, and several dozen more keeping a close watch on the road ahead. Anyone trying to enter uninvited would not have an easy time of it, that much was obvious.


    But Arran did not have to worry about that, and he approached one of the guards.


    "First time here?" the man asked as he inspected Arran''s badge. When Arran answered in confirmation, he gave a thorough explanation of where to find the initiates'' training facilities.


    Although the directions seemed needlessly detailed, Arran discovered that they were no mere luxury when he passed through the gate some moments later.


    If the House of Flames was vast, then the House of Seals was gargantuan. The road ahead of the gate led to a large city that featured dozens of large towers, and on either side of it, training grounds stretched far into the distance, large stretches of land filled with parks and gardens in between them.


    At a glance, it looked as if someone had combined the House of Swords, the House of Flames, and the House of Shadows all in a single stronghold large enough to hold half the Valley''s mages.


    Seeing the sheer size of the stronghold, Arran immediately hastened his step. He''d believed he was well in time for training, but that belief now faded. Even with the guard''s directions, he suspected he would have to hurry not to be late ¡ª his destination was on the southwestern end of the stronghold, almost directly opposite the main gate.


    This meant the distance was not a short one, but at least it gave him plenty of opportunity to get a first impression of the House of Seals, and he did so eagerly as he hurried along the road.


    It was immediately that the House of Seals was very different from the other Houses he had seen.


    The House of Swords had plenty of training fields but few of the large stone halls that spellcasters used, while the situation in the House of Flames was the exact opposite. Yet the House of Seals had both in abundance, with plenty of mages already using them even this early in the morning.


    From this, Arran surmised that the House of Seals wasn''t as single-minded in its pursuits as the other Houses, which treated disciplines other than their own with something close to disdain.


    While a quick look wasn''t nearly enough to draw any firm conclusions, he thought the explanation made sense. Just walking through the vast stronghold, it seemed qualitatively different from the other Houses ¡ª like a separate Valley rather than a mere faction.


    Yet he didn''t have a chance to give it any more thought, because as the sun kept rising, his time was starting to run out.


    Fortunately, the guards'' directions proved accurate, and it wasn''t long before Arran arrived at his destination ¡ª a series of large stone buildings that more resembled palaces than training halls, with large groups of initiates and novices moving between them.


    Finding the right building was a simple matter of asking one of the novices, and Arran breathed a sigh of relief when he stepped inside ¡ª well on time, with a good ten minutes to spare.


    Within the building, he found a large hall filled with initiates. There were well over a hundred, standing silently as they waited for the day''s lessons to begin. After a moment''s hesitation, Arran joined the group.


    He ignored the initiates as he waited, instead studying his surroundings. The hall was spacious even with the large group of people it held, easily a hundred paces across. And along its sides were several doors, evenly spaced and currently closed.


    At the far end of the hall stood a small group of mages. Their leader was easy to recognize ¡ª a gray-haired man with angular features and a well-groomed beard who looked upon the initiates with a lofty confidence that suggested he was at least a Master.


    Surrounding the man were a dozen other mages. Three of these looked to be in their thirties, and from their calm but self-assured demeanor, Arran guessed them to be adepts. The rest were younger, around Arran''s own age. Novices, most likely.


    Other initiates entered the hall as he waited, more than a few of their faces flushed with exertion. Apparently, he wasn''t the only one who had rushed to arrive in time.


    The crowd doubled in the last few minutes, but the new arrivals soon slowed to a trickle, coming to a complete halt only a moment later.


    With the last of the initiates inside, the gray-haired Master cast a satisfied look upon the group.


    "Welcome, all of you," he said in a powerful but calm voice. "I see there are several new faces among us today. Newcomers, please remain here. The rest of you, head to your classrooms."


    At once, the initiates flooded from the hall and through the doors at its sides, the adepts and all but one of the novices following behind them. When the hall had emptied, the only people remaining were the Master, a single novice, and a small group of initiates.


    The Master gave the group a friendly smile, likely meant to ease their nerves. "Today, you will set your first steps on a wondrous journey," he said in a practiced voice. "The path of seals is a difficult one, but its rewards are great. Work hard, and your efforts will be repaid a hundredfold."


    He scraped his throat, then continued in a more casual tone, "Ozluk here will instruct you today. Any questions you have, he''ll be glad to answer. Good luck, to all of you."


    Evidently satisfied with the introduction, the man turned around and walked off, disappearing through one of the doors at the end of the hall.


    "Well then." The novice named Ozluk cast a look at the small group of initiates in front of him, his expression betraying some nervousness. "Follow me, please."


    He guided the initiates through one of the doors at the side of the hall. Behind it, Arran found a large semicircular room, with raised rows of wooden seats in the back and a lectern on a small stone stage at the front. The room held a faint whiff of mustiness.


    Arran and the other initiates sat down on the wooden seats, their small group barely enough to fill a fifth of the empty spaces. As they sat down, Ozluk stood behind the lectern, eying the group nervously.


    "All right," he said. "First, I''ll give you a short introduction about seals, formations, and related magics. Then, after our midday break, we can have some fun practicing." He let out a shrill laugh, though it came to an abrupt end when he noticed none of the initiates joined in.


    Arran suppressed a weary sigh. He had no intention of being there longer than a few hours, but even spending that long listening to the hapless novice would be unpleasant.


    "Everyone ready?" the novice asked. No answer came, and he continued, "Now, about seals¡­"

 Chapter 235 A Small Bit of Talen

    "As most of you know," Ozluk began, "seals come in many varieties. They can create anything from formations like the ones protecting our Valley to wards that block sound from entering a room ¡ª a godsend if you share quarters with roommates as noisy as mine."


    A flash of disappointment crossed his face when none of the initiates laughed at the joke, but he continued undeterred. "But that''s only the beginning. Enchantments also use seals, albeit different ones from the ones you''ll be learning." He looked around the room. "Anyone from the House of Creation here today?"


    If there were any mages from the House of Creation, they had no desire to be called upon, and after several seconds of uncomfortable silence, Ozluk continued his speech.


    Arran only listened with half an ear as the novice spoke.


    While he had been surprised to learn that enchantments used seals, he already knew much of what the novice told them. Although he hadn''t studied seals formally, the time he had spent comprehending Master Zhao''s seal had given him an intimate understanding of how they worked.


    An hour passed with Arran learning little he did not know already, and several times, he had to stop himself from correcting the novice.


    He was supposed to draw attention, but correcting their teacher on minor details would not achieve what he wanted. He needed something bigger ¡ª something that would get him out of the classroom and away from the prattling novice.


    "Now, let me give you a few demonstrations," the novice finally said. "To give you a general impression of what can be achieved using seals."


    At once, Arran sat up in attention. This was his chance to make a mark.


    Ozluk gestured at the small stage behind him. "The first seal I''ll show you is a formation that can block others from passing it. With a few minutes of work, you can prevent even an adept from easily breaking through."


    A look of concentration appeared on the novice''s face as he wiggled his fingers, spending several minutes creating a small formation made of Force Essence. When he finished the work, he turned back to the initiates, a triumphant look on his face.


    Arran, however, found himself decidedly unimpressed. Simple though the formation was, he could tell that it was riddled with flaws ¡ª which made it perfect for his plan.


    "Now, as you can see, I used Force Essence to create¡ª" Before the novice could finish the sentence, Arran interrupted him.


    "Your formation is flawed," he said. "The pattern isn''t closed, so it''ll barely last even an hour, if that."


    Without giving the startled novice a chance to react, he stood up and walked toward the small stage, using the opportunity to give the formation a closer look. "Furthermore," he continued, "there are several weak spots within it. Just a single strand of Essence in the right place can collapse the entire thing."


    He reached out and shot a thin strand of Force Essence at one of the formation''s weak spots. Exactly as he said, the entire pattern collapsed in an instant, the Essence that made up the formation dissipating harmlessly.


    Arran took no pleasure in humiliating the novice so publicly, but he needed to make an impression big enough to get him out of this classroom, and this was the only way he was sure would work.


    "Who are you?" The young man stared at him wide-eyed, face pale with shock.


    "Ghostblade. I''m from the Fourth Valley." Some murmurs of surprise sounded among the initiates, but Arran ignored them. "That formation you attempted needs a tighter pattern to be effective. Like this¡­"


    Although he had only seen the formation once, Arran had no trouble copying and improving it. He had comprehended Master Zhao''s seal, and compared to that, Ozluk''s effort was like a stick figure drawn in sand by an unusually clumsy toddler.


    He spent some time getting the pattern right, the biggest obstacle being his control over Essence rather than the formation itself. But creating seals didn''t require nearly as much control as casting spells, and a few minutes later he stepped back, mostly satisfied with his creation.


    The formation was nowhere near perfect, but it lacked any of the obvious flaws that had plagued the previous version. Unless a skilled mage attacked it, it could easily last years rather than hours.


    "That¡­ not even my teacher can do that¡­"


    Arran had almost forgotten about the novice as he worked on the formation, but now, he saw that the young man was staring at him in utter astonishment.


    Some moments passed as the novice''s eyes darted between Arran and the formation. Finally, he blurted out, "Should you be here?"


    From his bewildered expression, it was clear that he thought his classroom was no place for someone who could create a formation like the one before him.


    "Probably not," Arran replied. "But the Master said that newcomers should come with you, didn''t he?"


    "This¡­" The young man was at a loss for words, obviously unsure of how to handle the unexpected situation. Finally, he shook his head. "This is a mistake. I''ll have to talk to him."


    The tremble in his voice suggested that he was far from eager to disturb the Master, but reluctant or not, he exited the classroom in a hurry.


    A small but satisfied smile appeared on Arran''s face as the novice departed. If all went well, it wouldn''t be long before he had a more suitable teacher ¡ª hopefully, one skilled enough to satisfy Brightblade''s demands.


    Of course, things would have been much simpler if he could have approached the Master before the lesson, but that hadn''t been an option. Even if the man wouldn''t have dismissed him as just another arrogant initiate, he wouldn''t have been able to show his talent.


    The unfortunate truth was that despite Arran''s insight into seals, he lacked the knowledge to display it properly. The only seals he knew were Master Zhao''s Shadow seals, and he couldn''t show those to others.


    But soon, that would change.


    Arran paid no attention to the other initiates as he waited for their instructor to return. Though he could hear some whispers in the classroom, he ignored them. His goal was to impress Masters, not initiates.


    Several minutes passed silently before the door finally opened once more, revealing the gray-haired Master who had welcomed the initiates that morning. Behind him stood the novice named Ozluk, his face worry-free now that he had found someone else to handle the situation.


    The Master entered the classroom without speaking, his eyes focused on the formation Arran had created. He studied it for nearly ten minutes, a look of concentration on his face as he appeared to inspect every strand of Essence it held. Then, finally, he turned to Arran.


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    "You created this?" The man''s voice was calm, though it held a hint of curiosity.


    "I did," Arran replied.


    "Come with me," the Master said. He frowned briefly before adding, "But remove that formation first, please ¡ª we can''t have Ozluk here unable to use the stage."


    Arran did as the man said, though not without feeling slightly puzzled. Simple as the formation was, removing it should only be a single breath''s work for a Master.


    They stepped out of the classroom a moment later, and as Ozluk closed the door behind them with a relieved expression, the Master turned to face Arran.


    "That was an impressive display," the man said, his gaze calm but studious as he looked at Arran. "Few mages ever master that seal to such an extent, and none of those I met were initiates ¡ª not until today, at least. You must have spent years studying it."


    "I gleaned some small insights from my former teachers," Arran replied. "But I never studied this particular seal ¡ª I merely copied what Novice Ozluk showed me."


    At this, the Master''s eyes widened slightly. "You''re claiming you copied that seal from a single look at Ozluk''s efforts?" His voice held a mixture of curiosity and disbelief.


    "I did," Arran said truthfully.


    "Then let''s put your talent to the test." The man pointed his hand toward the ground, then spent the next two minutes crafting a formation. It was only slightly more complex than the one Ozluk had made, though it held far fewer flaws. "Try to copy this."


    Arran silently nodded, then did as the Master said.


    Copying the formation was a simple matter, and as he did so, he removed the most obvious flaws he saw within it. While he could not tell what exactly the formation was supposed to do ¡ª something involving deflecting Essence, he suspected ¡ª he was confident that his version was no worse than the Master''s.


    Even before he finished, however, the gray-haired man began to work on another formation. It was slightly more complex than the previous one, though still simple enough for Arran to copy without much effort.


    More formations followed, however, each more complicated than the previous one. Arran did his best in copying them, but after the first dozen he could tell that he was approaching the limits of his skill ¡ª both in controlling the Essence required and in understanding the seals'' patterns.


    Yet before he reached his limit, the Master came to a halt, then began to inspect the many formations that now filled the large hall at the center of the building.


    Finally, he raised his head again, then gave Arran an intrigued stare.


    "Most curious," he said. "Remove your formations, then follow me. There''s someone we need to visit."

 Chapter 236 A New Teacher

    The gray-haired Master guided Arran through the city at a calm but steady pace, moving through the crowds that filled the streets with the confidence of someone who expected others to make way for him.


    He spoke little as they walked, his eyes focused on the path ahead. Occasionally, he would give small nods to people they passed, though more commonly others would give polite bows or nods when they saw the Master.


    At least, Arran assumed he was a Master ¡ª so far, the man had not even introduced himself, much less revealed his rank.


    Nor did the man show any interest in Arran''s identity, for that matter. Although he had studied Arran''s formations with great curiosity, he showed no sign of wanting to learn anything about their creator.


    Perhaps he was content with whatever the novice had already told him, but even so, it caused Arran a vague feeling of unease. For a mage to encounter an unusually talented initiate and not be the least bit curious about his background was more than a little strange.


    Still, Arran did not worry too much. He had followed Brightblade''s instructions in drawing attention, and if anything went awry, he was confident that she would intervene.


    He did not ask any questions of the Master leading him through the city ¡ª if the man wanted to talk, he would doubtless do so without prompting. Instead, he looked around him, observing the city and its buildings.


    While busy, the city wasn''t quite as crowded as the capital had been. And if the House of Seals held stores, restaurants, and taverns similar to those in the capital, they certainly weren''t nearly as vulgar in trying to draw attention to themselves.


    There were no sparsely dressed women in front of the taverns here, nor merchants shouting about the supposed quality of their wares. The streets were calm and clean, peaceful despite the many people walking upon them.


    This wasn''t too surprising, Arran thought. The House of Seals should hold plenty of powerful mages, more than a few of whom would likely take offense at anyone behaving badly with their House''s stronghold.


    Barely a quarter-hour after they''d left the training building, Arran realized with some joy that they were heading toward the part of the city that held most of the large towers he had spotted from outside the stronghold''s walls.


    That had to be a good sign, he thought. The people inhabiting these towers should be the House''s most powerful and influential mages. Grandmaster and Archmages, or perhaps even Elders.


    The thought of gaining an Elder for a teacher brought a grin to his face which grew even wider when he imagined how Brightblade would react to such news.


    She had told him to leave a lasting impression, but he very much doubted even she could have expected such an outcome. Brightblade was hard to impress, but if he won an Elder for a teacher on his first day in the House of Seals, even she should be surprised.


    Yet his grin faded several minutes later, when he realized that the Master wasn''t guiding him to the towers but past them.


    He sighed quietly, now feeling slightly foolish for his earlier thoughts. An Archmage for a teacher was too much to expect, much less an Elder.


    Still, he was confident his performance would at least earn him a Master as an instructor, and that should be good enough ¡ª especially after only a single morning''s work.


    He cast a regretful look at the towers as they passed them, but then, he turned back to the road ahead.


    It wasn''t long before they left the dense inner city behind, moving into a neighborhood at the far end of it that was filled with large, walled mansions. Few people could be seen on the streets here, and if the city proper was peaceful, this area was positively quiet.


    The walk was a long one, but finally, the gray-haired Master came to a halt in front of one of the walled mansions. A single mage was guarding the gate, and the Master approached the man calmly. "Is she in?"


    "She is," the man replied. "But what business do you have with her?"


    "I found an initiate with some unusual talents," the Master said. "I thought she might be interested in taking him as a student."


    The guard cast a glance at Arran. "He doesn''t look all that special, to me. But all right ¡ª you can find her in the back gardens."


    He opened the gate, and after a polite nod, the Master stepped past him, with Arran following close behind.


    The first thing Arran noticed beyond the mansion''s walls was that the building was much smaller than he had expected. Perhaps half the size of Brightblade''s mansion in the House of Swords, it looked simple and comfortable ¡ª the kind of house the wealthier merchants of Riverbend had lived in.


    The garden, however, was a different matter. Unexpectedly large and slightly wild, it almost looked more like a forest than a garden. Yet it didn''t look neglected, exactly ¡ª rather, it seemed like the wild appearance was a deliberate choice, made by someone who preferred the wilds over the city.


    The Master guided Arran along a narrow dirt part through the garden that led around the mansion, and some moments later, they arrived at what resembled a wide forest clearing with tall grass and numerous flowers.


    At the center of the clearing stood a woman. Gray-haired and clad in a slightly worn brown robe, she didn''t seem particularly remarkable. If Arran had seen her on the streets of the city, he barely would have noticed her.


    The only thing about her that was at all unusual was the ageless look her face held. Though her hair made it clear she wasn''t young, her face alone could have belonged to either a thirty-year-old or an eighty-year-old, with no way to tell which it was.


    She looked at them impassively when they stepped into the clearing, seeming not at all surprised at their arrival.


    "Gavriel," she said, giving the Master a small nod. "What brings you here?"


    The Master ¡ª Gavriel, apparently ¡ª responded with a short bow. "A student," he replied. "An initiate, actually, but one with remarkable talents. He arrived this morning¡­"


    He spent several minutes detailing the morning''s events, telling her who Arran was ¡ª information he''d gotten from the novice, obviously ¡ª and explaining how Arran had first copied the novice''s formations, and then the ones he had created himself.


    The woman listened with a calm expression that held only a hint of interest. "Most curious," she said when Master Gavriel finished speaking. "But these formations of yours, couldn''t he have studied them beforehand?"


    "Impossible," the gray-haired man replied. "Several of them were ones I created myself, and haven''t yet shown to others. That he copied them was due to insight, not study."


    "Interesting," she replied. "I suppose I''ll have to test his abilities for myself. You can return to your other students."


    Master Gavriel moved to leave, but just as he was about to leave the clearing, he turned around with a grin on his face. "I told you there was gold hiding amid the mud."


    "So you did," the woman replied, a small smile on her lips. "And I thank you for your efforts."


    As the gray-haired Master left the clearing, the woman turned to face Arran. "Do you have any skill at destroying formations?"


    "Some," Arran replied. "Why?"


    "Creating formations relies largely on skill," she replied. "But destroying them is a better test of insight and raw talent. Now, I will create a series of formations for you to destroy. Don''t hold back, please ¡ª if you do, I will know."


    Without any further words, she set to work crafting several formations within the clearing.


    Immediately, Arran knew her skill exceeded that of Master Gavriel. She worked faster, and while her formations held various flaws, it was obvious that the weaknesses were placed there deliberately.


    Arran briefly frowned, already impressed with what he saw, but then he set to work undoing her efforts.


    The work was easy at first. Even if he did not know any of the formations, all of them held obvious flaws that could be exploited easily, and he destroyed the patterns one by one, removing them as quickly as the woman created them.


    Yet it wasn''t long before the formations grew more complex and the flaws within them smaller. Though Arran still managed to destroy them, the task grew harder by the second, and each new formation took him longer to dismantle.


    As he continued the work, he found himself relying more and more on his insights ¡ª something he would rather not fully reveal.


    "Don''t hold back on using your insights," the woman said calmly, almost as if she''d heard his thoughts. "I want to see the full extent of your talent."


    Arran froze up when he heard the words, but only for a second.


    There was nothing he could do about it now. If he held back, the woman would certainly grow suspicious. With a quiet sigh, he did as she said, drawing fully upon his insights ¡ª or almost fully, as he still hid his true insight.


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    He continued destroying formations for what seemed like an eternity, each one he broke quickly replaced with a stronger one. Even using his insights the task steadily became more difficult, and after several hundreds of broken formations, he found his progress grinding to a halt.


    "That''s enough, for now," the woman said.


    Arran stood up and glanced at the sky, surprised to see that it was already late afternoon. He had spent hours breaking formations, and the realization brought a sudden wave of weariness to his mind and body.


    "How did I do?" he asked, wiping away the sweat that covered his brow.


    "I suspect you already know the answer to that question," the woman replied, a small smile on her lips. "But yes, you did well ¡ª well enough to become my apprentice. I suspect you''re lacking in knowledge, but your talent is unmistakable. With proper guidance, your path will be a bright one."


    "Your apprentice?" Arran''s eyes widened in shock. An apprentice wasn''t a mere student. If he became the woman''s apprentice, he would have to move to the House of Seals. "I can''t accept that," he blurted out. "I already have a teacher."


    "It wasn''t a request," the woman said calmly. "You will become my apprentice."


    Arran shook his head, feeling a slight sense of panic. "My teacher," he said hurriedly, "she won''t accept it ¡ª and neither will the House of Swords."


    "The choice isn''t theirs to make," the woman replied. "I won''t let talent like yours go to waste, and in this Valley, my word is law."


    Arran''s mouth nearly fell open when he understood the meaning of her words. He had intended to make an impression, but this¡­


    He stared at the woman in astonishment. "You¡­ you''re the Matriarch?"


    "Correct," she answered. "And from this day onward, you will be my apprentice."

 Chapter 237 Reunion

    Arran looked at the woman in front of him. The Ninth Valley''s Matriarch. The single most powerful person in the entire Valley. The leader of the House of Seals. And, as far as she was concerned, his new mentor.


    He took a deep breath as he looked her in the eyes. Then, suppressing his nerves, he replied.


    "No."


    "No?" She raised an eyebrow. "You would refuse me? The Matriarch of the very Valley you''re standing in?"


    "I would." Arran''s voice was firmer this time, his earlier fear fading now that the decision was made.


    Years ago, before he had any of his current strength and experience, he had rejected Panurge''s attempts to forcibly take him as an apprentice. If he could stand up to a supposed god even then, how could he let himself be cowed by a mere mage now?


    Moreover, even if his refusal angered the Matriarch, there was little she could do about it. She had plenty of status and power, but incinerating a talented initiate from another House would hardly be a good look. It would weaken the Valley, offend the House of Swords, and make her seem like a madwoman ¡ª which, hopefully, she wasn''t.


    Reassured by these thoughts, Arran faced the Matriarch calmly.


    Yet though he had been prepared for her to be angry, what he saw in her eyes was unexpected ¡ª a faint glint of amusement.


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    "Why?" she asked, sounding curious rather than offended.


    "Why?" Arran repeated the word sheepishly, unprepared for the question. He had expected annoyance or a cold dismissal, not calm curiosity.


    "Other than you, there isn''t a single initiate in this Valley who wouldn''t jump at the chance to become my apprentice," she said. "But you rejected my offer like a week-old piece of bread. Why?"


    "I already have a teacher," Arran replied uneasily. "I''m a member of the House of Swords, and I''m training with the other Houses as well." The explanation was a weak one, but it was all he had.


    "There is no need for you to leave the House of Swords," the Matriarch replied. "You''ll have two Houses ¡ª unusual, but hardly unheard of. As for your instructors in the other Houses, I will have them teach you here. That will save you some much-needed time to spend on your studies."


    Arran paled slightly. In a few words, she had disarmed all his objections ¡ª at least, those he could mention publicly.


    A slight smirk crossed her lips. "You''re worried that I will try to uncover your secrets?"


    At this, Arran felt a stab of panic. Even if she hadn''t discovered his secrets just yet, that she knew he had them was bad enough.


    "Don''t look so surprised," she said. "Talent like yours isn''t something one is born with. Doubtless you''ve had more than a few lucky encounters ¡ª your skills contain traces of insight from several powerful mages. But that is no concern of mine. I have no interest in delving into your past. My goal is to develop your talent."


    Arran was unsure of whether to feel relieved or concerned at her words, and he stared at her wordlessly, trying to figure out whether she was speaking the truth.


    "Still unconvinced?" she asked. "I''ve already addressed your concerns. What else is keeping you from accepting my offer?"


    He took a slow breath as he tried to come up with an answer. With everything she had already offered, refusing would be more than a little suspicious. And even if she felt no desire to delve into his past, if he maintained his refusal without giving a reason, that just might change.


    "My teacher," he finally said. "I can''t accept your offer unless she agrees."


    Following Brightblade''s orders had gotten him into this mess, and now, he quickly decided that she would have to be the one to solve it. Any further attempts he made to deflect the Matriarch''s offer would only worsen the situation.


    "Very well," the Matriarch said. "Tell me her name, and I''ll send for her."


    "Adept Brightblade," Arran responded, silently wondering whether he''d made the right decision.


    A servant appeared in the clearing only moments later, summoned by the Matriarch through means Arran could not discern. She gave the man some quick instructions, and as he left, she turned back to Arran.


    "While we wait, you can show me what other talents you have," she said. A sword appeared in her hand, and she continued, "As a member of the House of Swords, I assume you know how to handle a blade. Show me."


    Arran reluctantly drew his sword and faced her, and a moment later, she attacked.


    It was immediately obvious that the Matriarch''s skill with the sword was exceptional, and in just a few exchanges Arran found himself on the defensive, driven back with each attack she made.


    Yet after just a handful of exchanges, she stepped back, an annoyed expression on her face.


    "Stop trying to mask your insights," she said. "I already told you I have no interest in unearthing your past. But if you continue to conceal your abilities like this, I will start to wonder just what you''re hiding."


    Arran sighed in frustration. She had seen through his ruse with ease. Naturally, he hadn''t used his newly created sword style, instead relying on his old techniques. But apparently, that wasn''t enough to fool the Matriarch.


    He briefly considered refusing to continue, but then decided against it. Her remark hadn''t been made in jest, he knew ¡ª if he refused to show his skills, she would certainly grow even more suspicious than she already was.


    "All right," he said. "Let''s try again."


    They faced each other once more, and this time, Arran used his own sword style. He refrained from using his true insight, but other than that, he fought using his full ability.


    He knew that doing so was risky. From the style, the Matriarch might deduce that he had a true insight, which was one of the things Brightblade had urged him to hide.


    Yet he had no better choices available ¡ª refusing to fight would be even more suspicious.


    As they crossed swords again, Arran was surprised to find that using his own style, he could just barely match the Matriarch. And she didn''t appear to be holding back, either.


    In his matches against Brightblade, there was always a hint of concealed strength hiding just below the surface. But against the Matriarch, there was no such hint. As far as he could tell, she was fighting as well as she could.


    Faced with an equally skilled opponent, Arran quickly became engrossed in their swordplay. Each exchange was a challenge, and if his opponent got the better of him more often than not, the difference between them was small enough that it didn''t matter.


    They continued for over an hour, with Arran soon growing excited at the match. Before, he had lacked a good comparison for his own skills, and now, he grinned in wonder at his abilities. The Matriarch''s skill was exceptional, and if he could match her, then so was his own.


    Finally, the Matriarch lowered her sword, a hint of weariness on her face.


    "I can see why you joined the House of Swords," she said, gazing at Arran with narrowed eyes. "It seems your talent isn''t limited to seals. And your insights¡­ once you develop those, there are few who could stand in your way."


    Arran responded with a polite smile, though inside, he felt more than a little relief. Perceptive though the Matriarch might be, it seemed that swordplay wasn''t one of her strengths, and as far as he could tell, she had not recognized his true insight.


    "Now, let''s see if you''re as skilled a mage as you are a swordsman." The Matriarch''s sword vanished from her hand as she spoke. "Show me what spells you know."


    This time, there was no need for Arran to hide his abilities. What little he knew of magic was nowhere near enough to arouse suspicion, and after just a few minutes, a disappointed expression appeared on the Matriarch''s face.


    "I suppose nobody''s talents cover everything," she said. "But that''s no excuse for ignoring your studies. Once you start your training under me, you will¡ª"


    She went silent mid-sentence, then turned to the edge of the clearing, eyes wide with surprise.


    Arran turned as well, and a moment later, he sighed in relief. Brightblade had arrived ¡ª and hopefully, she would be able to handle the problem.


    "Dao Liang Jie?" The Matriarch''s voice sounded through the clearing, filled with wonder. "What are you¡ª" She briefly went silent, then asked in a puzzled tone, "You''re his teacher?"

 Chapter 238 An Agreemen

    "Good to see you too, Rhea," Brightblade replied, her expression calm as she looked at the Matriarch. "And yes, that''s my apprentice you''re trying to steal."


    The Matriarch''s surprised faded somewhat, though she still seemed more than a little puzzled. "When did you arrive in the Valley?"


    Brightblade frowned briefly, then answered, "About a year ago."


    "And you didn''t think to visit an old friend? Even in her own Valley?" The Matriarch spoke softly, her expression troubled.


    "Are we still friends?" Brightblade''s tone held some sharpness as she asked the question, as if some old but unforgotten anger lurked just below the surface.


    The Matriarch sighed. "I like to think so. What happened back then¡­ I had no choice. I had to protect my Valley."


    "Yet others answered the call," Brightblade said in a cold voice. "Others with their own Valleys to protect."


    "They weren''t fighting a losing war at the time." The Matriarch clenched her jaw as she spoke, and her eyes showed a hint of anger. "You have no idea how close the Ninth Valley came to falling ¡ª none of you do. The Hunters¡­ there were thousands of them, tens of thousands. Over half the Valley''s mages died in the wars."


    Finally, Brightblade''s expression softened. "I suppose you had your own war to fight. And he got his revenge ¡ª even without your aid." Eyebrow slightly raised, she added, "Though I wonder at the price you paid for this peace of yours."


    The Matriarch gave her a wry smile. "There was a price, but for the Valley''s survival, I had to pay it. Losing the borderlands was better than losing everything. You will understand once you have your own Valley to protect."


    Brightblade made an ugly face. "I have no intention of becoming a Matriarch. Too much responsibility." With a shrug, she continued, "And even if I wanted to, I never had much talent for seals."


    "I think we both know that''s a lie," the Matriarch responded flatly. "What you lack is training, not talent. If you want to, I could help you¡ª"


    "Absolutely not," Brightblade interrupted her. "It''s bad enough that you''ll be teaching my apprentice. I have no intention of joining him."


    "You''ll allow it?" The Matriarch cast a surprised glance at Arran. "You''ll let me teach him?"


    "That was always the plan," Brightblade replied. "Though I did not intend for him to catch your eye quite as soon." She rolled her eyes at Arran. "You couldn''t remain inconspicuous for just one day, could you?"


    Arran had listened quietly as the two women spoke, but now, an indignant expression appeared on his face. "You told me to draw attention!" he said loudly. "You said I had to make a lasting impression!"


    "I suppose I did, at that." Brightblade gave him a flat stare. "I didn''t expect you to take it this far, though."


    She had stood at the edge of the clearing as she spoke with the Matriarch, but now, she walked toward its center, closing the distance between her and the other two.


    Facing the Matriarch, she said, "So yes, I''ll allow it. But I do not intend to simply hand him over to you." She glanced at Arran and narrowed her eyes. "We''ll share him. He could do with two teachers ¡ª the heavens know he needs some proper study."


    The Matriarch frowned, but after a moment''s hesitation, she gave Brightblade a nod. "Very well. But he''ll need a mansion near mine. I can''t have him waste his time traveling from House to House. And something needs to be done about his magical skills. It''s clear that he''s ignored his studies to a disgusting degree. I suggest we¡­"


    The two women discussed Arran''s training for some time, making all sorts of plans ¡ª none of which they thought needed any input from Arran himself.


    As he heard them speak, he gradually grew pale with worry. Just having what were likely the two most powerful women in the Valley was concerning enough by itself, but from what he could tell, they intended for him to spend every waking moment studying.


    After half an hour, they had finished planning out every second of Arran''s training for the next year ¡ª a year he feared would involve precious little sleep ¡ª and they faced each other with satisfied smiles. Whatever their differences, planning apprentices'' lives was apparently something they agreed on.


    "I''ll have Ghostblade shown to his new quarters," the Matriarch said to Brightblade. "But perhaps you could remain here a little longer? A long time has passed since we last spoke, after all."


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    "All right." Brightblade replied, then turned to Arran. "I suspect you have some questions for me, so I''ll visit you tonight."


    Arran nodded silently. In truth, he had more than a few questions, the main one being who she actually was. Because from what he had heard, he very much doubted that she was a common Elder.


    A moment later, a mage stepped into the clearing. He gave the Matriarch a respectful bow, then asked, "You called for me?"


    "This is my new apprentice," the Matriarch said with a gesture at Arran. "He needs a place to stay ¡ª have him take the nearest mansion along the road to the city."


    The man looked at her uncomfortably. "Matriarch," he said. "That mansion belongs to Elder Niklas."


    "But this Valley belongs to me," she replied sharply. Yet after a brief sigh, she continued, "He''s been pestering me about getting one of the city''s towers for some time now. Give him one of those."


    "Of course, Matriarch," the man said. "Young master Ghostblade, please come with me."


    Arran followed the man along the path through the gardens, relieved to be away from the Matriarch and Brightblade. Between the two of them, he had little doubt they had the power to torch the entire Valley.


    Halfway through the Matriarch''s gardens, the mage came to a sudden halt, turning to face his Arran.


    "So you''re the Matriarch''s new apprentice," the man said, a thoughtful look on his face. "I don''t know whether to envy you or offer my sympathies."


    "Your sympathies?" Arran looked at the man with a frown.


    "It''s been a long time since she took an apprentice," the man replied. "But even now, the rumors persist."


    "What rumors?"


    The man hesitated, then answered, "She''s not known as a forgiving teacher. Effective, certainly. But kind¡­" He silently shook his head.


    Without a further word, the mage set off again, Arran following behind him.


    The man''s words caused Arran some small concern, but he didn''t worry too much. Even if the Matriarch was a harsh teacher, he was Brightblade''s apprentice as well, and she surely wouldn''t allow the Matriarch to be too hard on him.


    After they passed through the gates of the Matriarch''s walled mansion, the mage guided Arran down the road, coming to a halt at a gate half a mile further. Two guards stood in front of the gate, and as the mage approached them, they gave him a questioning look.


    "The Matriarch has business with the Elder?" one of them asked, his tone suggesting that this wasn''t a common occurrence.


    "She does," the mage replied curtly. "Take us to him, please."


    The guard did as told without any further questions, guiding both the mage and Arran past the gate and into the mansion''s walled gardens without hesitation.


    The gardens were large and well-kept, Arran saw, but what immediately drew his attention was the mansion at their center. It was positively vast, almost like a small palace than a mere mansion, and although it wasn''t overly ornate, it had an air of elegance and refinement.


    It barely took the guard a minute to lead them to the building, and once they stepped inside, Arran immediately saw that the interior matched the exterior. It was spacious and well-made, with a large entry hall from which numerous doorways led to smaller hallways.


    The guard led them through one of these, and a few minutes later, they arrived at a large wooden door, which the man gave a polite knock.


    "Enter!" a voice sounded from inside a few seconds later.


    Inside, Arran found a roomy office with many bookshelves, all of them filled to the point of bursting. The office''s large windows showered the room in sunlight, and at its center stood a massive wooden desk, behind which sat a kindly-faced old man with a gray beard and bushy gray eyebrows.


    The old man took a single glance at the mage who had brought Arran there, then asked, "The Matriarch has business with me?" His frown suggested that the news wasn''t exactly welcome.


    "She does," the mage replied. "This is her new apprentice," he said, gesturing at Arran.


    The old man gazed at Arran for some seconds. "You have my congratulations," he finally said, though his eyes showed pity rather than cheer. "But why did she send you here?"


    "The young master requires accommodations," the mage explained. "And she has chosen your mansion for him."


    "She wants her apprentice to stay with me?" The old man glanced at Arran again, obviously puzzled.


    "She wants her apprentice to stay in this mansion," the mage corrected him. "But without you. You are expected to leave immediately."


    "She what?!" The old man''s eyes held a mix of shock and fury at the unexpected news. "She''s throwing me out of my own home?!"


    "Of course," the mage continued hurriedly, "she wouldn''t simply seize your mansion without offering a replacement. There is a tower available within the city, which is yours if you accept it."


    "She¡ª" The old man''s voice still held more than a little anger before the mage''s words sank in. But then, his anger melted away in an instant, a joyous look replacing it. "She did, did she? It''s about time. I¡ª" He glanced at the mage, then swallowed whatever words he''d been about to say. "I am most grateful for her kindness. I''ll have my servants clear this place at once."


    A pensive look crossed his face as he looked at Arran. "Young man, while my servants clear the mansion, perhaps you would enjoy a small tour of your new home?"

 Chapter 239 A Palace of Ones Own

    Arran eagerly accepted the Elder''s offer to show him the mansion. He could still scarcely believe that the palatial manor house would soon be his, and the prospect of exploring it filled him with excitement.


    He had grown up the son of a simple guard, lucky just to have a bedroom of his own. Yet now, he was casually granted a mansion bigger than those of even the wealthiest merchants in Riverbend.


    It was a place he would once have thought fit for kings and princes, and the idea that it would be his seemed almost absurd.


    Of course, he knew the mansion wouldn''t truly belong to him ¡ª a single word from the Matriarch and it would be taken away. But even so, at least for the moment, it was his. And if he was hardly preoccupied with luxury, he wouldn''t reject it, either.


    It took the Elder a few minutes to set his servants to work clearing the mansion, and there were far more of them than Arran had expected. At a glance, he thought there were dozens if not more, though he had no idea where they had been hiding earlier.


    "You have so many servants here," he said with a puzzled glance at the Elder.


    The Elder laughed in response. "A place such as this requires a sizable staff," he replied. He let out a small sigh, then added, "You will find your own servants struggle just to keep it clean."


    "My own servants?" Arran looked at the Elder awkwardly. "I don''t have any servants."


    The mage sent to accompany him by the Matriarch coughed softly. "Naturally, a full detail of servants and guards will be arranged for you," he said, his tone suggesting that this wasn''t a matter to be discussed in polite company.


    "Now then," the Elder said, his voice loud as he changed the subject. "You must be anxious to see your new home. Let''s have a look, shall we?"


    Arran responded with an eager nod, and with that, the old man began to show him the mansion.


    It wasn''t long before Arran found himself shocked by the sheer size of it. He''d already seen that the building was large, of course, but only now did he begin to understand just how massive it actually was.


    There were numerous offices, bedrooms, dining rooms, sitting rooms, studies, libraries, and a plethora of other spaces whose purpose eluded him. From what he could tell, the building could easily accommodate hundreds of people ¡ª and that was without including the servants'' quarters, which would fit hundreds more.


    Yet that was only the beginning.


    "Now that you''ve seen the upper levels, let''s take a look at the lower levels," the Elder said. "I suspect you will find those more interesting ¡ª and a fair bit more useful, as well."


    The Elder guided them to a steep stone staircase in an inconspicuous corner of the mansion''s bottom floor, then said, "This is the main path into the basement, though not the only one. Actually¡­"


    He frowned, then produced a small amulet from a void bag and handed it to Arran.


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    "This details the more discreet paths within the building. I suppose I no longer require it." As Arran accepted the amulet, he gestured at the staircase. "Follow me."


    He began to descend the staircase, Arran following close behind.


    The staircase was far longer than Arran had expected. The basement the Elder had mentioned was located at least several hundreds of feet below the mansion, buried deep within the rocks of the mountains.


    They finally reached the bottom of the staircase, finding a hallway. Although it was shrouded in darkness, Arran''s Sense and Shadowsight told him that the space was vast, hundreds of paces across with dozens of doors on either side of it.


    The Elder waved a hand, and a moment later numerous small crystal orbs lit up along the sides of the hallway, illuminating the area in a soft light.


    "There are several things here that will be of interest to you," he said, then began to detail the facilities in the basement ¡ª though, to Arran''s eyes, it was more of a dungeon than a basement.


    There were half a dozen training rooms, each featuring strong wards that would allow a mage to train without worry of causing damage. If the Elder could be believed, even an Archmage would struggle to destroy them.


    The basement also held a small library, a study, an alchemical laboratory, and various other features, along with two dungeon cells ¡ª both empty, to Arran''s relief.


    Yet while some of it would certainly be useful ¡ª especially the training rooms ¡ª Arran could not help but think the Elder had exaggerated the basement''s value. For all intents and purposes, it merely seemed to be adding more rooms to a mansion that had plenty of them already.


    The Elder glanced at him, an amused glint in his eye. "You seem unconvinced," he said, smirking slightly. "But there''s one more thing you should know."


    With a gesture at their surroundings, he continued, "All of this was built below the Valley''s wards. Nobody can spy on you here ¡ª whatever happens here is hidden even from the Matriarch." He shot a glance at the mage who accompanied them, then hurriedly added, "Not that you need to hide anything from her, of course."


    Arran nodded thoughtfully, already considering the many ways he would be able to use the place. He would have to ask Brightblade if the Elder was correct, of course, but if he was, then the dungeon would be exceedingly useful.


    There was one thing the Elder hadn''t yet mentioned, however. At the end of the hallway lay another staircase that led even deeper into the ground.


    "What''s down there?" Arran asked.


    The Elder''s expression instantly turned uncomfortable. "That," he said slowly, "leads to the Depths. One of my predecessors built it, though for what reason I cannot say. Naturally, it''s warded every bit as well as the Valley itself, though I would still suggest staying clear of it."


    The words meant little to Arran, but he sensed the subject was one the Elder would not gladly discuss any further. Another question for Brightblade, then ¡ª one among many.


    "But let''s not linger here any longer," the Elder said. "I still have to show you the gardens, and I expect you will particularly like the hot spring. Come along."


    Without any further words, the old man led the small group back up the stairs.


    The gardens turned out to be everything Arran could have hoped for. There were several large training fields that were perfect for practicing swordsmanship, along with a handful of wide patios among the well-kept plants and trees.


    As the Elder had predicted, Arran was especially pleased with the hot spring. He could Sense that its steamy waters were brimming with Natural Essence, and as Elder Niklas explained, they supposedly held additional restorative properties as well.


    "But I think I''ve shown you all need to know," the Elder finally said. "My servants should be just about done clearing out the mansion, so I won''t take up any more of your time. Doubtless, we''ll see each other again soon enough."


    He said some more words in goodbye, though his voice held more than a hint of impatience. It seemed that he was eager to take possession of his new tower in the city.


    Arran, for his part, was every bit as eager to see the old man leave. The day''s events had left him weary, and he could barely wait to be left alone.


    It still took the Elder and his many servants some time to clear out the mansion ¡ª though they left behind a large amount of furniture and several libraries worth of books ¡ª but finally, the last of them walked through the gate.


    Only Arran and the mage sent by the Matriarch remained behind, and as they walked the mansion''s grounds, the man gave Arran a studious look.


    "I suspect you would like some time to adjust to your new surroundings," he said. "It will take me some hours to gather a detail of servants and guards, but until then, get some rest. Once your training starts, I expect you will have little opportunity for that."


    He turned to leave, then briefly glanced back at Arran. "You like women, right?"


    "What?" Arran gave the man a non-plussed stare. "I suppose so, but why¡­"


    He had no chance to finish the sentence, however, as the man had already left.


    While the mage''s final question caused him some confusion, he quickly set the matter aside. If this was his last chance to rest before his training began, he would make good use of it. Without a second thought, he headed to the hot spring.


    He sighed contentedly when he slid into the hot water, feeling its Natural Essence nourish his body. Whatever the months ahead would bring, at least he would be able to spend his free time in comfort.


    Between the eventful day and the warm embrace of the hot spring, the relaxation proved too much for Arran ¡ª within seconds, he felt his mind slipping, and just a few moments later he was fast asleep.

 Chapter 240 Brightblades Background

    "Wake up!"


    It took Arran a few moments to gather his wits. When he opened his eyes, he saw that dusk was only barely beginning to fall. Yet although only a few hours could have passed, he felt as if he had spent an entire night fast asleep.


    Brightblade was standing next to the hot spring, looking at him with a raised eyebrow. "You shouldn''t sleep in there," she said. "You could drown."


    Arran responded with an annoyed glare. A moment earlier, he''d been immersed in dreams of treasures and palaces, and being pulled back into the real world so suddenly was far from pleasant.


    Yet Brightblade had no sympathy to spare. "Put on some clothes," she said. "We have matters to discuss, and little time."


    As she turned around and walked away, Arran let out a deep yawn, then stretched out his body. He really did feel as if he had slept an entire night ¡ª perhaps even several.


    After dressing himself he headed into the gardens, where Brightblade had already found a comfortable wooden chair on the patio.


    "Take a seat," she said. "I''ve put up wards, so we can speak freely."


    Arran did as she said, and as he sat down, Brightblade looked at him with an uncharacteristically serious expression.


    "To answer your first question," she said, not giving him the chance to actually ask it, "my real name is indeed Dao Liang Jie. Snowcloud and I are distant cousins, which is one of the reasons the Patriarch entrusted me with her safety."


    Arran nodded thoughtfully, not entirely surprised by the revelation.


    Brightblade had already said as much when they first met Grandmaster Solin in the House of Swords, and although her words had contained more than a little deception at the time, the best lies were those grounded in truth.


    "What about you and the Matriarch?" he asked. "What''s the history between you two?"


    "It''s a long story," Brightblade answered. "But the short of it is that my father was Fourth Valley''s Patriarch, and Rhea was his student. When he was killed, I called upon her to help avenge him." She paused, then said in a cold tone, "She didn''t come."


    It took Arran a moment to process all of this. "I''m sorry," he finally said. "About your father."


    "I''m all right," she replied. "I''ve had a few centuries to get over it." She smiled wryly, then said, "Though if anyone ever tells you that time heals all wounds, they''re lying."


    Arran couldn''t help but agree with her. Years had passed since his father had died, but even if the pain had dulled, the wound was still there. "Did you get the people who killed him?"


    "I did," Brightblade said with a nod. "I had help, of course ¡ª Elder Naran, the Sixth Valley''s Patriarch, and several others aided me. None of those responsible escaped with their lives."


    "Who were they?" Though Arran could tell that the subject was not one that Brightblade wanted to discuss at length, he could not help but wonder what enemies could have been strong enough to kill a Patriarch.


    "They called themselves the Immortal Horde," she said, her expression one of utter contempt as she uttered the name. "An army of mages, several hundreds of thousands strong. They murdered a path halfway across the world before they came upon the Shadowflame Society."


    Arran tried and failed to imagine what an army of hundreds of thousands of mages would look like. His brow creased in thought, he asked, "You killed them all?"


    "I exterminated them like the vermin they were," Brightblade confirmed. "But enough about the past. We should discuss the future ¡ª your future, specifically."


    Briefly, Arran gazed at the shadow-filled gardens around them. Between his unexpected promotion, the vast mansion, and Brightblade''s background, it had been easy to forget that the day''s events would have lasting consequences.


    When he turned his eyes back to Brightblade, he felt some trepidation at what was to come. "What does she want?"


    If the Matriarch wanted to train him, her motivation surely wasn''t a passion for magic. There had to be something behind it ¡ª something she valued, either for herself or for the Valley.


    For several seconds, Brightblade remained silent, as if she was deciding whether or not to tell the truth. Finally, she spoke, a severity in her voice that told Arran the matter was an important one.


    "She believes you have the potential to become a Patriarch. And she intends to make sure you fulfill that potential."


    "A Patriarch?" Arran looked at Brightblade wide-eyed, disbelief written across his face. "She''s insane. I''m barely even a mage."


    "You have an unusual talent for seals and formations," Brightblade said. "And in protecting the Valleys, these things matter more than magical skill. A single formation can hold back an entire army ¡ª several of them, if its creator is especially gifted."


    "But I''m an initiate," Arran countered. "Even if I''m talented, it will be decades before I can do anything useful."


    Brightblade nodded. "Correct. But to Rhea, you''re a lump of raw iron, to be forged into steel. And she will do so mercilessly. If the pressure breaks you or you fail to meet her expectations, she will discard you as easily as she found you. But if you persist, your strength will grow with leaps and bounds."


    Arran looked at Brightblade curiously. "It sounds like you approve."


    "I do," Brightblade replied flatly. "Up to a point. A single outstanding mage is worth a thousand mediocre ones, and if you can endure her methods, they will offer you a path to excellence."


    "And if I can''t?" Arran asked. He wasn''t worried about buckling under the pressure, but whether his talent would suffice was another matter.


    "Then I''ll help you find a different path." Brightblade said with a shrug. "Rhea''s weakness has always been her quickness in casting away anything with even the hint of a flaw. Should she do that with you, the loss will be hers."


    At this, Arran shot Brightblade a grateful smile. Even if she hadn''t been a frighteningly powerful mage, her loyalty would make her a friend worth having.


    "But I suggest that you try your hardest to benefit from her teachings," Brightblade continued. "The Society faces many threats, some of them far beyond anything you have encountered so far."


    "Like the Depths?" Arran asked, remembering what Elder Niklas had told him earlier that day.


    At once, Brightblade''s expression turned serious. "Who told you about that?"


    Arran hurriedly explained what the Elder had shown him earlier that day, and as he spoke, a scowl formed on Brightblade''s face.


    "Those utter fools," she said when he finished. "Show me this dungeon, right away."


    When they entered the mansion, Arran found that there was something disquieting about it now that it stood empty. Although their steps echoed through the quiet hallways as they headed toward the staircase to the dungeon, the rest of the building seemed unnaturally quiet.


    But although the quiet made him uncomfortable, he quickly dismissed the feeling. After having faced an actual dragon, he could hardly let himself be frightened by a quiet house.


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    Once they reached the dungeon, Brightblade immediately hurried toward the staircase leading further down, coming to a halt about ten paces from it. For several minutes she stood there silently, a look of concentration on her face while her eyes remained fixed on the stone staircase before her.


    Finally, she turned around again. "It''s safe," she said in a relieved voice. "The wards are strong enough to keep anything from coming up."


    "What''s down there?" Arran asked, his curiosity sparked.


    "Danger," she replied curtly. "And for you, death."


    Arran furrowed his brow, remembering the path into the mountains at Brightblade''s estate. "Does it have anything to do with that warded path at your estate?"


    "It does," she confirmed. "But for now, that''s all you need to know. I''ll explain it in due time."


    "And when will that be?" Arran asked, his curiosity not at all satisfied by her sparse replies.


    "When you''re ready to become an adept," she said. "But until then, don''t even think about coming near these stairs." She looked around as she spoke, only now seeming to notice her surroundings. "The rest of this place, however¡­ that will come in useful. Unless I''m sorely mistaken, this dungeon should shield you from any prying eyes."


    "Then I can use my Destruction Realm here?"


    Brightblade hesitated briefly before giving him a nod. "It should be safe enough, as long as you''re the only one around. Of course, whether you''ll have the time once your training starts is another matter."


    They headed back up the stairs as they spoke, yet when they arrived in the mansion proper, they found it was no longer silent. A large number of voices could be heard coming from the main hallway, and they quickly made their way toward the source of the commotion.


    When they stepped into the main hallway, Arran saw that it was filled with people, fifty if not more.


    "There you are," a voice sounded, and the mage who''d accompanied Arran to the mansion stepped forward from the crowd.


    "These," he said, gesturing at the crowd, "are your new guards and servants."


    Arran stared at the group in confusion. There wasn''t a single woman among them. All were men, and more than a few looked like bandits or mercenaries rather than servants. Had he encountered the group anywhere else, he would have taken them for a band of raiders.


    "These are the servants you found me?" he asked, feeling more than a little puzzled as he eyed the men before him.


    "You have a busy time ahead of you," the mage replied, his expression flat. "I made sure not to include anyone who might prove a distraction."


    As Arran gave the man a bewildered stare, Brightblade burst into laughter.

 Chapter 241 A Final Night of Res

    It took Brightblade some moments to stifle her laughter, after which she shot the mage a broad grin. "My other student will be most grateful for your efforts in protecting his chastity," she said, voice still trembling with barely suppressed mirth.


    Arran, for his part, gave the mage an annoyed scowl.


    It wasn''t that he had hoped to have a mansion filled with nubile female servants. The thought had barely even crossed his mind. Perhaps it held a certain appeal, but it wasn''t something he had expected to happen ¡ª not seriously, at any rate.


    What irked him was that the mage had thought such unusual measures necessary. As if he was some lecher who would forget all about his training the moment he saw a pretty face.


    Not that he would mind having a few pretty faces around, of course. And how much of a distraction could a few friendly maids be, really?


    "I''ll be taking my leave," Brightblade interrupted his musings. "Ghostblade, remember what I told you tonight. We''ll see each other again soon. Until then, I''ll leave you in the capable hands of your new housekeepers."


    With that, she headed out the door, still snickering as she left the mansion.


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    "I''ll take my leave as well," the mage announced. "Before I go, here''s your monthly allowance of Essence Crystals."


    He handed Arran a small void bag, and Arran''s heart nearly skipped a beat when he inspected its contents. There were close to a thousand Essence Crystals within the bag ¡ª a fortune that would shock even Grandmasters.


    Seeing Arran''s startled expression, the mage explained, "The Lady Matriarch intends for your progress to be rapid. There are diminishing returns in using such amounts of Essence Crystals, but she believes the gains to be worth the cost."


    His tone suggested he disagreed with the Matriarch, though he did not say so outright.


    Naturally, Arran did not question the Matriarch''s command either. While he thought the gift an obscene waste of resources, he would gladly accept any help he could get. And if the crystals would be better spent aiding the progress of a few hundred novices, that was no concern of his.


    "The Lady Matriarch expects you at dawn," the mage said, already turning around to leave. "Don''t be late." He stepped through the doorway a moment later, leaving Arran behind with a large group of guards and servants.


    Briefly, he found himself at a loss. Not only didn''t he know any of these men, he didn''t even know what he was supposed to have them do. Yet they looked at him with expectant eyes, as if they were expecting orders.


    Luckily, the awkward silence lasted only a moment, as one of the men stepped forward. Burly and bald, with a wicked scar along the side of his jaw, he looked more like a brigand than a mage or servant.


    "Name''s Jovan," the man said with a stiff bow. "I''m your new steward."


    Arran felt a sense of familiarity at the man''s accent. "Ghostblade," he replied. "You from the Empire as well?"


    "Aye," the bald man said, his expression instantly warming up. "Used to be a caravan guard, before I joined the Valley. Most of us here are imperials, though there''s a few borderlanders as well."


    "You''re mages?" Arran asked. Though they didn''t look the part, he could Sense a faint trace of Essence on several of the men.


    "That we are," Jovan confirmed. "I''m an adept, and so are your guards. The rest''s an even mix of initiates and novices."


    Arran frowned briefly. "Then you''re with the House of Seals?" he asked, unsure of whether the House would have its own members become servants.


    At this, the man let out a sharp laugh. When he saw Arran''s puzzled expression, he explained, "Valley folk don''t easily accept outsiders. They''ll allow just about anyone to become initiates, but when it comes to joining their precious Houses¡­" He shook his head.


    Now, Arran began to understand the situation. "That''s why you''re working as servants?"


    "Just so," Jovan replied. "Hard as hell to progress when all you got are the crystals you make yourself. Doesn''t help either that the teachers charge an arm and a leg just for training."


    Although he felt a touch of anger at how these men were treated by the Valley, Arran kept it in check. There was an opportunity here, he realized.


    "What are you getting paid?"


    "Four crystals a month for me and the other adepts," the burly man answered. "Novices get two, and initiates get one. The pay is decent enough, all considered."


    Arran frowned as he looked around at the men standing in front of him.


    Then, raising his voice, he spoke. "I''ll add double what you''re getting right now, for each of you. There''s just one condition: you''ll be working for me. Not the mage who recruited you, not the House of Seals, and not the Matriarch ¡ª just me. Any objections?"


    No objections came. Instead, joyous looks appeared on the men''s faces as they realized their pay had just been tripled. And while it still wasn''t as much as talented members of the Houses would get, it would be invaluable to their progress.


    Of course, Arran had no illusion that this would be enough to win their loyalty. But it was a first step, and there would be plenty of time to truly earn their trust later.


    That he would have to do so, however, was a certainty.


    Even if he could trust the Matriarch ¡ª something he still had doubts about ¡ª becoming her apprentice would earn him plenty of fresh enemies.


    For all his sudden status within the Valley, he was still an outsider. That he was given a position like this would not sit well with everyone, and there would be trouble sooner or later.


    Using his servants would be an obvious choice for any enemies he gained, and it was a weakness he wanted to address before it could be exploited.


    It took him several minutes to hand out Essence Crystals to the servants, their eyes lighting up with excitement as they received their unexpected bonus.


    The cost was high ¡ª just over a hundred crystals, all told ¡ª but Arran felt no regret in paying it. A hundred Essence Crystals might be a small fortune to others, but it barely made a dent in his wealth.


    With the crystals handed out, the men eagerly set to work readying the mansion. After just a few moments, only Arran and Jovan remained in the hallway.


    "Smart man," Jovan said. "After that, I reckon most of them won''t sell you out for a mug of ale at the tavern. Though I can''t promise another mug or two won''t do the trick."


    Arran grinned, understanding that the man had easily read his intentions. "Any ideas on how to defeat that second mug?"


    "Give them training," the bald man answered promptly. "Good teachers are hard to come by outside the Houses. Get them some proper instruction, and they''ll be in your debt."


    "I''ll see what I can do," Arran said, although he feared the request might be difficult to fulfill. Handing out crystals was easy, but getting other mages to give up their time might prove troublesome.


    "Appreciated," Jovan replied. "But I should return to my duties, before the others do any damage that can''t be undone. Before I go, Lord Ghostblade, is there anything you need?"


    Arran thought for a moment, then said, "Have someone wake me up half an hour before dawn."


    As his steward set off to direct the servants in readying the mansion for its new owner, Arran headed into the gardens.


    Between the nap in the hot spring and his anxiety at whatever the morning would bring, he knew he would not be able to sleep just yet. So instead, he set to work absorbing Essence Crystals.


    He had no idea what to expect for the next day, but improving his control of Essence certainly wouldn''t hurt. And although he was long past the point where Essence Crystals could still bring rapid progress, he would take any advantage he could get, no matter how small.


    He spent several hours absorbing Purified Essence, burning through a good hundred crystals ¡ª another fortune gone forever. But his void ring still held thousands of crystals, and he was pleased to feel that he''d made some progress, insignificant though it was.


    Yet as he finished, he realized he still didn''t feel the slightest bit tired.


    After a brief moment of hesitation, he decided to head to the hot spring. If this was his last night of rest, he might as well enjoy it.


    He sat in the hot spring for an hour or two, not thinking of anything but the stars above his head. When he eventually closed his eyes, it only took an instant before the world faded around him and he was deep asleep.

 Chapter 242 The First Day of Training

    "Lord Ghostblade!"


    Arran awoke with a start. When he opened his eyes he saw that the sky was still dark, but among the shadows surrounding the hot spring, Jovan''s burly figure could be seen.


    "What is it?" Arran asked, still groggy with sleep.


    "You said to wake you half an hour before dawn," the man''s voice came. "And you shouldn''t sleep in there. Might drown if you''re unlucky."


    As Arran exited the hot spring and dried himself off, he asked, "Did you get any sleep tonight?"


    "A few hours," Jovan replied, though his weary tone suggested otherwise. "Mansion''s just about done, though. Should be all ready when you return tonight."


    Arran yawned as he stretched his body. "I suppose I might as well go now. It couldn''t hurt to be a bit early."


    "Can''t train on an empty stomach," his steward said. "Eat something, first. I didn''t know what you like, so I had the cooks prepare you some different things."


    That proved to be an understatement. Set out on a table in the gardens, Arran found a large buffet with over twenty different dishes, holding everything from grilled meat to freshly baked bread. There was enough to feed a dozen people, if not more.


    With a glance at Jovan, he said, "While I appreciate the effort, I doubt I''ll be able to finish all of that."


    Jovan grinned broadly. "Don''t need to worry about that. Anything you don''t want, me and the boys will deal with."


    Arran ate his fill and then some, silently thanking the Matriarch''s mage for his choice of cooks as he tasted the food. Whatever else the months ahead would bring, at least he wouldn''t have to worry about going hungry.


    He left the gardens a quarter-hour later, Jovan already hungrily eying what remained of the feast.


    The walk to the Matriarch''s estate was a short one, and he arrived at the gate with time to spare. While the sky above the mountains to the east was already beginning to lighten, the sun had yet to rise.


    Two guards stood guarding the gate, neither of whom Arran recognized. But they had clearly expected him, and as he approached, one of them asked, "Young master Ghostblade?"


    Arran gave a nod in response, though not without noticing that neither of these guards appeared to be imperials or borderlanders. The Matriarch''s own servants, he guessed, would likely be members of the House of Seals.


    The guard who had spoken quietly led Arran into the gardens surrounding the Matriarch''s mansion, guiding him to a vast clearing amid the trees. The moment they arrived, the man promptly turned around and headed off, leaving Arran behind.


    The circular clearing was over a hundred paces across, its ground paved with heavy stones that looked old but not the least bit weathered. And surrounding it stood several buildings with thick walls and small windows, their design simple but sturdy.


    There was no sign of the Matriarch yet, and Arran spent several minutes exploring the area. From what he could tell, these were training grounds, with both the open space and the buildings around it built to withstand powerful magic.


    The Matriarch appeared some minutes later, wearing a simple brown robe similar to the one she had worn the previous day. Her gray hair was bound back, and although her expression seemed calm and friendly, Arran now recognized that there was an air of authority to it.


    "Good, you''re here," she said. "Over the next few weeks, you will learn the contents of these amulets, and learn them well." She handed him two memory amulets. "Take a look."


    He was taken aback by her brusque manner. While he hadn''t expected them to spend hours getting acquainted, he''d thought they would talk for at least a few minutes. But it seemed she wasn''t willing to waste even that much time.


    Still, it didn''t matter. He was there to train, not to become her friend.


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    He hurriedly inspected the amulets, and as he did, his eyes went wide with shock. One described hundreds of spells, while the other described at least as many seals and formations.


    Yet the brief flash of panic he felt faded a moment later as he inspected the spells and seals themselves. They were all exceedingly simple, almost ridiculously so. None seemed to be of much practical use, but he couldn''t find even a single one he wouldn''t be confident in performing himself.


    "I can already do all of this," he said, brow creased in wonder. If the Matriarch wanted him to learn magic, this hardly seemed like a challenging start.


    "I should hope so," she replied. "These are all children''s exercises. Your task, however, is not to perform them but to learn them. You will master them, memorize them, learn their strengths and weaknesses, and find ways to improve them."


    She reached out and handed him another two memory amulets, which he quickly found were both empty, then continued, "And you will keep meticulous notes of everything you do and learn."


    The panic Arran had felt earlier now returned in an instant. "I have to do that for each of these spells and seals? And I only have a few weeks?"


    "Correct," the Matriarch said. "You lack the foundation that comes with proper training, but more importantly, you don''t know how to study. My first step will be to remedy that shortcoming. Now, let''s get to work."


    The first spell they covered was one that sent a slight breeze across a distance of a few paces. As simple as it was useless, it only took Arran a single try to cast successfully.


    Yet although Arran was satisfied with his effort, the Matriarch was unimpressed, and he spent half an hour casting it over and over again before she was finally satisfied.


    That was only the start of it, however, as he found himself spending the hour that followed meticulously studying the spell, analyzing every single strand of Essence it contained and recording the results in one of the two empty memory amulets.


    "That will do, for now," the Matriarch finally said. "Next, we will try a formation."


    Another hour passed as Arran went through the same steps again, this time learning and analyzing a seal whose only purpose was not to fall apart. He found the seal easier to dissect than the spell, though only slightly so.


    While finding its weaknesses barely took him a single breath, the Matriarch insisted that he learn every last detail of the seal, while also recording everything he found in the remaining empty memory amulet.


    Half the morning had already passed by the time Arran finished his work on the seal, and already, he felt exhausted. He was unused to this type of focus, and maintaining it for hours on end took no small toll on his mind.


    "I have matters to attend to," the Matriarch announced when he finished. "You are to continue your work here. I will check in on you occasionally to review your progress."


    Arran took a brief pause to rest after she left, but then quickly set to work again. Weary though he was, he knew the day was still far from over.


    In the hours that followed, he slowly made his way through the first few spells and seals described in the memory amulets.


    His progress was painfully slow, but worse was that each time the Matriarch appeared, it suffered a setback. Because whenever she inspected his work, she made him redo any parts of it that did not meet her standards.


    And her standards, he found, were far from lenient.


    Other than a small break to eat at midday, Arran worked without pause until nightfall, his progress slowly improving as he grew more used to the unfamiliar type of practice. And as he grew more used to it, he began to see the merits of the Matriarch''s methods.


    Studying spells with this level of care yielded an understanding far beyond what he would gain from simply casting them. And while these spells were simple enough that the difference barely made a difference, he suspected that using the same method on real spells would have greater effects ¡ª albeit at the cost of spending much more time in learning.


    Still, he was glad when night came and the Matriarch returned once more. The day had been long and tiring, and he was eager to see it end.


    "You did well," the Matriarch said after she inspected his work of the previous hour. "As I suspected, your current state owes more to a lack of instruction than it does to a lack of talent. Given sufficient time and training, you might find yourself surprised at your achievements."


    Arran smiled in relief, glad to find that the training was nowhere near as harsh as he had feared. "Then I''ll continue at dawn tomorrow?"


    The Matriarch shook her head. "Dao Liang Jie ¡ª Brightblade ¡ª insisted that you continue your training with your old teachers. The next two days, you''ll spend the mornings training with your teachers from the House of Swords. I expect you back here at midday."


    "All right," Arran replied cheerfully. The teachers in question, he guessed, would be Doran and Master Kallias, and a morning of training with them would be a welcome break from studying spells and seals.


    "For now," the Matriarch continued, "finish your work here, then return to your mansion."


    "Finish my work?" Arran looked at the gray-haired woman in confusion. As far as he could tell, he was all done for the day.


    "You have done well today," the Matriarch said, "but you aren''t finished yet. You are to finish work on a dozen spells and seals each. After that, you can return to your mansion."


    "A dozen each?" Arran stared at the woman in disbelief. "But that will take me all night!"


    "Then I suggest you work faster," she replied flatly. Then, without any further words, she turned around and left.


    As the Matriarch disappeared into the shadows, Arran found himself speechless. Yet he quickly realized that standing around would do him no good, and with a deep sigh, he resumed his work.


    Perhaps if he worked hard enough, he would be able to finish in time to get at least a few hours of sleep.

 Chapter 243 Effor

    Arran continued his studies well into the night, slowly working his way through the spells and seals the Matriarch had given him to learn.


    He did not rush the work. Doing so would simply mean he''d have to do it again the next day, likely in addition to whatever impossible task she''d give him next.


    Instead, he forced himself to remain focused as he worked, analyzing the spells and seals to the best of his ability and carefully recording his progress in the two empty memory amulets he''d been given.


    As the night progressed so did his weariness, but at no point did he consider giving up.


    Leaving would be easy enough, of course. Brightblade had made it clear that if he failed to meet the Matriarch''s demands, the woman would cast him aside without hesitation. At that point, he would be able to return to the House of Swords to resume his original training.


    Yet allowing that to happen would rob him of an opportunity the likes of which few other mages ever got. And if his own servants were desperate just to have capable instructors, how could he pass up the chance to learn from the Matriarch herself?


    And so, he labored on, neither slacking nor complaining. His talent might yet fail him, but if he fell short, it wouldn''t be for lack of effort.


    Still, motivation only went so far, and he struggled as the night advanced. And the wearier he grew, the slower the work progressed.


    When he finally completed his task it was well past midnight, with just a few more hours to go before dawn.


    He made his way back to his mansion with weary steps. When he arrived, he found two guards at the gate, their faces vaguely familiar from the previous night. They bowed as they greeted him, and if they felt any curiosity at his late return, their faces showed no sign of it.


    As he passed through the gate, he quickly decided against entering the mansion. Just finding a decent room would take half an hour ¡ª time he would rather spend sleeping.


    Instead, he headed for the hot spring. Just a few hours of sleep in there had felt like an entire night, and even if that was just his imagination, he would gladly settle for the illusion of rest right now.


    Before he entered the hot spring, however, he had a quick meal of dragon meat, accompanied by several of the potions Snowcloud had left him. They might do little for his weary mind, but they could help blunt any effects the lack of sleep would have on his body.


    When he slipped into the hot spring some minutes later, he was asleep in seconds.


    He awoke to the sound of Jovan''s voice some hours later.


    "You shouldn''t¡ª" the man began as Arran got out of the water.


    "I could drown," Arran interrupted him. "I know. What time is it?"


    "Half an hour before dawn," Jovan said. "Didn''t know whether you needed waking, but I figured I''d better not take any chances."


    "Thanks," Arran said. Then, after a yawn, he asked, "Is there any breakfast?"


    He was glad to hear that there was, and he soon discovered that his cooks had surpassed their efforts of the previous day. This time, there was no need to hurry, and he took his time in eating, enjoying the variety of dishes that had been prepared for him.


    Doran and Master Kallias arrived shortly before dawn, both of them looking at their surroundings with wide eyes as they entered the gardens.


    They eagerly accepted Arran''s invitation for breakfast ¡ª there was more than enough even if they''d brought another dozen people along ¡ª and as they tasted the food, Doran gave Arran an envious look.


    "Think the Matriarch needs any other apprentices?" he asked. "I could do with a place like this."


    "You could try asking," Arran replied. "Though I think you might find her methods unpleasant."


    Doran cast a regretful glance at the mansion in the distance, then shrugged. "I suppose I never had much talent for seals, anyway."


    The three began their training after finishing breakfast, spending half their time on the Thousand Cuts and the other half on Arran''s style. Teaching it to the other two wasn''t just a way to repay them for coming ¡ª he found that instructing others helped him develop it further.


    The morning passed quickly, and they ended their training half an hour before midday. The training hadn''t exhausted Arran in the slightest. Rather, he found that the exercise reinvigorated him.


    "I have a favor to ask from the both of you," he said as they finished their practice. "A big one."


    "What is it?" Master Kallias asked.


    "My servants need training," Arran explained. "And I would like to ask the both of you if you could spend the afternoon instructing them."


    "Those cooks of yours, will they be making more food?" Doran asked, grinning widely.


    "As much as you want," Arran replied.


    "Then I''m in."


    Master Kallias, however, hesitated in answering. Yet after a few moments of thought, he gave Arran a short nod. "Since we''ll be here tomorrow as well, it makes sense to spend the night at your residence. Very well, I''ll see what I can teach these servants of yours."


    Jovan reacted excitedly to the news, assuring Arran that he would make sure the servants'' efforts would not disappoint.


    Arran could only take the burly man''s word for it ¡ª he was expected at the Matriarch''s mansion.


    The afternoon went much as he expected. Though the Matriarch was pleased with his efforts of the previous night ¡ª she found only a handful of things he had to redo ¡ª her approval did not translate into an easier schedule for Arran.


    Once more, he found himself working deep into the night. Yet he did so stoically, not the least bit tempted to give up.


    The next morning, Doran looked at him with some concern. "When did you return?"


    "A few hours ago," Arran replied.


    "You weren''t kidding about the Matriarch''s methods," Doran said, a frown on his face. From his expression, it seemed any envy he felt for Arran''s new position had disappeared entirely.


    Like the previous day, Arran spent the morning training with Doran and Master Kallias before heading to the Matriarch''s estate.


    Again, his studies lasted well into the night. Although his speed in analyzing the spells and seals was increasing, the Matriarch''s demands increased right along with it.


    The next two days, he spent his mornings studying with Anthea. She was displeased that he would no longer have full days to study the Forms, but her mood lightened when he told her that she could teach his servants how to use the Forms ¡ª as long as she spent an equal amount of time instructing them in conventional magic.


    After that, there were another two mornings he spent studying with Oraia.


    She was particularly interested in both his new position and the Matriarch, asking far more questions than the others had. Yet although he tried to use that to rope her into teaching his servants, she flatly refused the offer.


    Perhaps it was for the best, Arran thought. From the way his servants looked at her, he feared she could win their loyalty with a single smile if she so wished.


    And then, the cycle began anew.


    Arran spent three weeks studying like this, every waking hour that he didn''t spend with teachers from the other Houses taken up by his studies with the Matriarch.


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    Between the hot spring and Snowcloud''s pills, he managed to persist through the constant lack of sleep, though only barely. And even if he only had the mornings to train with the other Houses, he did make some progress in learning about Shadow magic and the Forms.


    Yet the bulk of his time went to the Matriarch''s teachings, and there, his results were spectacular.


    Both the spells and the seals she had him study were completely useless, but in studying them his understanding of magic advanced rapidly. And that wasn''t the only thing that advanced. Perhaps even more importantly, he finally began to get an idea of how to study spells properly.


    Previously, he had approached spells like inscrutable incantations to be learned through brute memorization. It was a method that worked ¡ª after a fashion ¡ª but one that made learning spells both slow and painful.


    Now, however, he began to understand more of how spells worked ¡ª and how best to learn them. And if that was only a first step, at least it was a step on the right path.


    After three weeks of near-constant training, he was almost surprised to find that he had covered all the spells and seals within the memory amulets he''d been given. The other two amulets, meanwhile, now held detailed descriptions of all that he had learned.


    When he informed the Matriarch that he was done, she gave him an approving smile.


    "Well done," she said. "And right on schedule, too."


    "On schedule?" Arran looked at her in confusion.


    "Brightblade and I agreed that while I would instruct you for three weeks of every month, she would have you for the remaining one. This coming week, you''re hers to teach."


    "You planned all this?" When he realized that the Matriarch had planned out his progress so accurately, Arran could not help but be surprised.


    "Of course," she replied calmly. "Although I was a few hours off, so you may want to hurry. Brightblade should have arrived at your mansion about two hours ago, and patience has never been a strength of hers. We will continue your training a week from now."


    Arran found himself speechless for a moment, but then, a broad smile appeared on his face.


    If he would spend the next week training with Brightblade, he''d finally get a chance to have a good night''s sleep. And if he was lucky, she''d want to focus on swordsmanship rather than magic.


    "One last thing," the Matriarch said. She handed Arran a scroll, then continued, "This is an Earth Realm Scroll. I expect you to have opened an Earth Realm when you return."

 Chapter 244 Destruction Essence

    When Arran returned to the mansion, he found Brightblade already waiting for him in the gardens.


    Contrary to what the Matriarch had predicted, she did not seem the least bit impatient to leave. This, Arran attributed to the opulent meal sitting on the table in front of her.


    Though he had yet to meet his cooks, he once more decided that they were worth their weight in Essence Crystals.


    Brightblade greeted him with a cheerful wave. "I heard your first month went well," she said, expertly cutting the meat from a roast chicken as she spoke.


    "Well enough," Arran replied. "Though I don''t know how much longer I can keep this up. I''ve barely slept a wink over the past few weeks."


    "It''ll get better," Brightblade said. "Now that you''ve shown your commitment, she''ll ease up a bit."


    "Then this first month was just a test?" Arran asked. If that was the case, it had been a thorough test indeed.


    "Not just a test." Brightblade paused to take a bite of food, then continued, "She also wanted to improve your foundation before having you learn more useful skills."


    "And that''s done now?" Arran asked hopefully.


    "In a month?" Brightblade scowled. "Don''t be ridiculous. Building a proper foundation will take you the rest of the year, if not longer. But starting next week, Rhea should begin teaching you things you can actually use."


    Arran felt some excitement at those last words. While his studies over the past month had increased his understanding of magic and how to learn it, the spells and seals he had studied were decidedly useless.


    He had learned at least two dozen different spells to light a campfire ¡ª something that could easily be achieved using only raw Fire Essence. And those spells were among the more practical ones. Many others had no purpose at all, serving only to illustrate various methods of weaving Essence.


    Still, even if Arran was eager to learn more magic, he was glad that the week ahead would offer a change of pace. Having spent the past month engrossed in learning magic, he was anxious for a break.


    "What are your plans for the coming week?" he asked, curious to hear what Brightblade had in mind for him.


    "We''ll discuss that when we arrive at the estate," she replied. "Now pack your things and get ready. We''re leaving in a quarter-hour." She glanced at the food in front of her. "Maybe half an hour."


    It took Arran only a few minutes to make preparations. With everything he owned already stored in his void ring, all he had to do was instruct Jovan to send out messengers to his teachers, informing them that he would be gone for the week.


    The man looked somewhat dejected when he realized there would be no training for the servants that week, but he did not complain.


    "I''ll try and make sure the mansion doesn''t burn down while you''re gone," he said with a grin. Yet a moment later, his expression turned serious. "Get some rest this week. You need it."


    Despite the man''s rough exterior, it seemed he had a caring side as well.


    Arran promised he would take the advice ¡ª he certainly intended to get all the rest he could ¡ª and after he said his goodbyes, he returned to Brightblade.


    Although he was ready to go, she took another half hour to finish her meal, unwilling to leave even the slightest scrap behind. Only when everything was gone did she announce that they would leave.


    The journey to the estate was long, taking nearly half a day even though they ran at full speed. Neither of them spoke much along the way, and when they spoke, it was of trivial things.


    Arran could tell that there were matters Brightblade wanted to discuss, but it was equally obvious that she would only do so when she was certain nobody could overhear them. And so, his curiosity would have to wait until they were at the estate.


    They arrived early in the evening, and Arran once more found himself impressed with how well the estate was hidden. Even knowing the path, he would not have discovered it easily.


    As they walked into the small green valley, Arran glanced at Brightblade. "So what is it you wanted to tell me?"


    "I''ve been doing some reading," she replied, a glint in her eyes. "About Destruction Realms."


    As soon as the words left her lips, Arran stopped in his tracks. In an anxious tone, he asked, "Did you find anything?"


    Years had passed since he first learned he had a forbidden Realm, but he still knew frustratingly little about what it actually did. He had learned that it was a Destruction Realm and that it could help him train his resistance to magic, but other than that, the Realm''s powers remained a mystery to him.


    "The main thing I discovered is that surprisingly little is known about Destruction Realms," Brightblade said. "Although they appear within the Society every once in a while, there are no records of Destruction Essence being used in any spells. Their primary use, as far as I can tell, is to strengthen one''s body against magic."


    Arran let out a disappointed sigh. "You didn''t find anything?"


    "That''s not what I said," she replied, a small smile appearing on her lips as she spoke. Then, she reached down and picked up a head-sized rock from the ground, which she tossed to Arran.


    Arran caught the rock and looked at it, but neither his eyes nor his Sense revealed anything special about it. As far as he could tell, it was just a random rock. "Am I supposed to do something with this?"


    "Sit down, then channel Destruction Essence into it," Brightblade said. "You''ll see what happens soon enough."


    He did as she said, though he had to unseal his Destruction Realm first. Then, as Destruction Essence began to trickle into his body, he focused his will and directed it toward the rock.


    Controlling the Destruction Essence was difficult. So far, he had not yet succeeded in even expelling it from his body, though he had never tried to channel it directly into an object. In his previous attempts, he had tried to use it like Fire Essence, trying ¡ª and failing ¡ª to control it as he expelled it from his body.


    Channeling it directly into an object proved a simpler task, however.


    All it required was for him to guide the Essence to his hands and into the rock. And while doing so with Destruction Essence was still harder than casting complex spells with other types, it was something that he could handle.


    It took a quarter-hour before he succeeded in guiding a thin stream of Destruction Essence into the rock, but to his disappointment, there was no immediate effect.


    "Keep at it," Brightblade said when she saw his disappointed expression.


    Arran continued to guide Destruction Essence into the rock, a stream so thin it could barely be Sensed. Half an hour passed without anything happening, and although if Brightblade had told Arran to keep going, he began to lose hope that his efforts would achieve anything.


    But then, in an instant, the rock began to crumble. A second later it broke into pieces, then collapsed into a cloud of thin dust that was carried away by the wind.


    Though it was a result, Arran found himself unimpressed. He could achieve the same thing with his hands, and in a single breath rather than half an hour.


    Moreover, in a fight, he couldn''t see this being of any use ¡ª not unless he faced an unusually patient enemy.


    "That''s it?" he asked, unable to fully keep the disappointment from his face.


    "That''s it," Brightblade confirmed. "But its power is greater than you realize. The effect is slow, but no material can withstand it. Given time, Destruction Essence eventually wears anything down. That''s why there are no Realm Scrolls for it ¡ª imbuing a scroll or amulet with Destruction Essence will destroy it, no matter the material."


    Arran frowned. "My body can withstand it."


    "Indeed," Brightblade said. "Which has some interesting implications. The reason for that might be that it is a part of you, or perhaps your body has merely grown accustomed to it." She shrugged. "Or maybe you can''t withstand it after all. Maybe your body will meet the same fate as that rock and eventually collapse into dust."


    "Has that happened to anyone?" Arran looked at Brightblade uneasily, unsure whether she was joking.


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    "Not that I know of," she replied. "But as I said earlier, surprisingly little is known about Destruction Realms. In the records, no mages with a Destruction Realm were long-lived, but their deaths were all violent ones ¡ª a common fate for Ninth Valley mages during the wars."


    After a moment''s thought, Arran shrugged. "I suppose I''ll find out."


    Even if her words were hardly reassuring, there was no point in worrying about things he had no answer to. And either way, his best choice was to continue on his current path ¡ª whatever threats or obstacles he faced, strength and knowledge could only help in defeating them.


    "That you will," Brightblade said. "But enough about that. My other reason for bringing you here was to aid your training. We will start with a review of your studies so far."


    "A review?" Arran asked, hoping that she meant something different from what he suspected.


    Brightblade gave a sharp nod in response. "Despite what Rhea might believe, you are my apprentice first and foremost. Thus, it is on me to ensure that you are learning properly. Now, show me what she has taught you so far."


    "Everything?" Arran''s face fell at the prospect, and he could not help but suspect that Brightblade''s motivations weren''t anywhere near as noble as she claimed. Rather, he vaguely suspected that she was unwilling to be outdone by the Matriarch.


    "Everything," Brightblade confirmed.

 Chapter 245 A Brief Respite

    Brightblade''s review proved to be exactly what Arran had expected.


    She spent three days going over every spell and seal he had learned, evaluating his progress in excruciating detail. And whenever she encountered a gap in his knowledge, she smugly corrected the Matriarch''s oversight.


    That her main concern was with one-upping her old friend was obvious, but Arran benefited all the same. Even if he had initially been reluctant to spend even yet time learning magic, he soon discovered that Brightblade''s insights were extremely helpful.


    She was every bit as knowledgeable about magic as the Matriarch, and if her lessons weren''t quite as structured and organized, at least she did not have him study past nightfall.


    Still, Arran rejoiced when they finished with the last of the spells.


    Brightblade might be more pleasant as a teacher than the Matriarch, but after a month of working incessantly on the useless spells and seals, he desperately needed a change of pace.


    Fortunately, Brightblade appeared to sense his exasperation, and when Arran completed his work on the final spell, she said, "Take the evening off. Tomorrow, we''ll practice some swordplay."


    At this, Arran breathed a sigh of relief.


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    He spent the evening doing little of anything. While he experimented with his Destruction Realm for a bit, he did so without pushing himself. He casually turned a dozen rocks and two old enchanted swords to dust, then abandoned the pursuit for the time being.


    Instead, he read the Earth Realm Scroll, then used Destruction Essence to quickly open the Realm. If nothing else, at least it could do this ¡ª no small benefit, since it would have taken him days or even weeks otherwise.


    He awoke at dawn the next morning, then spent the day practicing swordplay with Brightblade.


    Facing her was both challenging and enjoyable. He struggled to match her even if she hid most of her strength, but the exertion did him good. And when he went to bed that night, it felt as if much of the stress from the previous month had been washed away.


    The remaining days, she instructed him in the Shadowflame spell and several simpler variants of the Shadowcloak spell.


    While he was supposed to learn these things from Anthea and Oraia, Brightblade correctly surmised that the Matriarch had left Arran little time to focus on other matters, and she resolutely set to work on correcting that.


    Brightblade''s help proved invaluable.


    With her guidance, it barely took him a day to learn the Shadow spell to conceal objects. And while the spell itself wasn''t especially useful ¡ª it only worked on small objects, and only if they didn''t move ¡ª it was more progress than he''d made in a month of training with Oraia.


    The Shadowflame spell, however, proved a different matter. While Brightblade''s explanations certainly helped his understanding of it, the spell was frustratingly complex. Even after his improvements over the past month, he knew that his current level of skill was far from enough to learn it.


    And that was only half the problem. The other half was that the spell required him to merge Shadow and Fire Essence, and no matter how often he tried, the task seemed utterly impossible.


    When he told Brightblade of this, she nodded in response. "It''s impossible," she confirmed. "But with enough practice, even the impossible can be achieved."


    Her cryptic words were of little help to Arran, but he kept practicing all the same. He had experienced the Patriarch using the spell, and from that, he knew it could be done.


    And then, the week came to an end. They left shortly after dawn on the final day. Arran had expected that Brightblade would want to make full use of every hour she had available, but when he asked her about it, she shook her head.


    "Some rest will help you," she explained. "Rhea''s methods are effective, but pushing you too far will only slow your progress."


    Naturally, Arran had no objections to this decision. Whatever rest he could get, he would gladly take.


    They traveled back into the Valley at a casual run, taking several breaks to eat along the way. Without a need to hurry, Arran took his time to enjoy the scenery as they journeyed through the Valley.


    Away from the capital, the Ninth Valley was mostly forest, allowed to grow wild everywhere but on the roads. Only the occasional mansion or estate could be found in the area, and in several hours of travel, they only encountered a handful of other travelers.


    It was a pleasant environment, to Arran. The densely populated parts of the Valley still filled him with a sense of unease, and if this wasn''t exactly a true wilderness, it was close enough to


    They parted ways near the capital, with Brightblade returning to the House of Swords as Arran made his way back to the House of Seals.


    Arran arrived at his mansion not long after, the guards at the gate bowing politely as he entered the walled gardens.


    Almost immediately, he was approached by Jovan. How the man had learned of his return Arran did not know, but it was clear that he had been waiting.


    "Lord Ghostblade," the steward said, raising his hand in greeting. "You look much better," he added after giving Arran an appraising look.


    "I took your advice and got some rest," Arran replied with a grin.


    "Good," Jovan said. "Now, allow me to take you to your friends. They are already waiting for you in the gardens."


    "My friends?" Arran gave his steward a confused look, and some moments later he was surprised to find Doran and Anthea sitting in the gardens, enjoying what looked to be a particularly elaborate meal.


    "What are the two of you doing here?" he asked, looking at them curiously.


    "We came to welcome you back, of course," Doran replied with a bright smile. "Nobody likes to return to an empty home, after all."


    Arran gave the adept a skeptical look. "You''re here for the food, aren''t you?"


    "That, and the mansion," Doran confirmed with a nod. "This really is much better than my own place. And I figured your servants could do with some extra training while you were gone."


    "What about you?" Arran asked as he turned to Anthea. While Doran''s actions hardly surprised him, he doubted Anthea would have come just to enjoy some luxury.


    "You gave me dozens of students, all of them eager to study the Forms," she replied, only a hint of embarrassment in her voice. "I could hardly have them go a week without training."


    "So did the two of you spend the entire week here?" Arran asked.


    From the way they sat in the gardens, he doubted they had only just arrived. They looked entirely too comfortable for that.


    "Most of it," Doran said. "I went back a few times to teach the novices, but¡­" He looked around at the luscious gardens. "You can hardly blame me for preferring this place over my own. And you weren''t using it."


    Arran didn''t blame him in the slightest. While the adepts'' presence came as a surprise, he was glad to have some familiar faces around the mansion.


    He took a look at the table, then joined the two adepts in their meal. There was far more food than Doran and Anthea could handle, and it would be a shame to let it go to waste.


    When they finished the meal a while later, Doran gave Arran a thoughtful look. It was clear that there was something on his mind.


    "What is it?" Arran asked.


    Doran hesitated in answering, but then, he spoke in a serious voice. "The servants," he began, "you should give them a demonstration of your skill. So far, they''ve only caught some glances of your training. It would help if they saw your power with their own eyes."


    "My servants?" Arran looked at the adept in confusion. "Why the sudden concern about them?"


    "You''ve been treating them like students rather than servants," Doran replied. "And if they are to be your students, they should know what their master is capable of."


    Arran considered Doran''s words for a moment, then decided he had a point. "What do you suggest?"


    "A simple match," Doran said. "Jovan, could you gather the guards and servants?" The bald man nodded eagerly and hurried off, and Doran turned to Anthea. "You come as well. We''ll need all the help we can get."


    Some minutes later, Arran found himself on a large field of grass, facing Doran, Anthea, and all but a handful of his guards and servants.


    "You want me to fight all of you together?" he asked Doran, now understanding what the adept had in mind.


    "I do," Doran replied. "Though I doubt that will be enough to even the odds."


    His words caused some skeptical looks among the guards and servants, though none of them gave voice to their doubts.


    "Very well," Arran said, unsheathing his sword. "Let''s begin."


    Whatever doubts the servants had lasted only a few seconds. As Doran had predicted, the odds were on Arran''s side, and heavily so. Only the adepts among his opponents proved any challenge at all, but even they barely lasted seconds.


    The fight came to an end within minutes, with Doran the last to fall.


    Arran could have defeated them even faster, but he had taken care not to injure any of his opponents ¡ª it was a demonstration, after all, not a real battle. And while practice injuries were hardly unusual, he did not want to risk injuring any of his cooks. Their work was far too important for that.


    Doran demanded a rematch even as he got back to his feet, the wide grin on his face suggesting that he savored the chance to fight a superior opponent.


    Arran obliged, quickly securing another victory without too much effort.


    Yet after showing his skill to the servants, all of them were eager to see more of it, and the sparring matches soon turned into a training session that lasted until evening.


    It was an outcome Arran didn''t mind in the least. Spending a long afternoon casually sparring and teaching swordsmanship was as relaxing an activity as he knew of, and when nightfall approached, he felt even more refreshed than he had when he returned.


    Still, he retired to his quarters long before midnight. The next day would bring more training with the Matriarch, and even if the first month had been a test of his resolve, he had little doubt that the second month would bring its own challenges.

 Chapter 246 Shields

    Jovan woke Arran an hour before dawn the next day, though this time with a knock on his door rather than an admonition not to sleep in the hot spring.


    He ate breakfast by himself. While both Doran and Anthea had spent the night in the mansion''s guest quarters, neither of them had awoken yet, and he did not begrudge them a good night''s sleep ¡ª not enough to have Jovan wake them, at least.


    More than that, however, he enjoyed the quiet time before the day began in earnest. Another three weeks of study lay ahead, and he treasured the opportunity to spend some moments doing absolutely nothing.


    But the quiet breakfast soon came to an end, and as he headed for the Matriarch''s mansion, he prepared himself for the day ahead. Whatever the Matriarch had in store for him, he had no doubt it would be difficult.


    He found her at the training grounds in her garden, already waiting for him as the first light of day shone down upon the trees around the large stone circle.


    "I trust your training with Brightblade went well," she said in a calm voice that betrayed neither disapproval nor encouragement. She handed him a void bag, then continued, "Before we start your studies for the day, take this."


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    Arran accepted the bag, and a quick scan with his Sense revealed that it contained an ample supply of Essence Crystals along with three memory amulets.


    The crystals were welcome but unnecessary ¡ª he still had hundreds left from the previous month, along with the thousands he''d already had before that. The amulets, meanwhile, he expected would contain his study materials for the month ahead.


    "Two of the amulets contain information on various shields and wards," the Matriarch explained. "We will begin your work on those later this month. The remaining one contains various beginner spells that make use of Earth Essence. I expect you to begin studying those immediately in your free time."


    Arran rejoiced at her words. If she expected him to study in his free time, it meant she intended for him to have free time ¡ª a considerable improvement over the previous month.


    "You will find," she continued, "that Earth Essence is quite different from the types of Essence you already know. Rather than allowing you to summon its element directly, it allows you to control matter that already exists in this world. This makes it considerably slower to use, but it brings advantages, too. Observe."


    She walked toward the edge of the stone-paved circle, then raised her right hand. Barely a second later, a thick earthen wall shot up from the ground outside the circle.


    She turned back to Arran. "A shield like this surpasses Force and Wind shields in strength. An attacker has to defeat not just the Essence that binds it, but also the material from which it is made. And if you withdraw your Essence, the physical object will remain, albeit in a far weaker state."


    Arran Sensed that she withdrew her Essence from the wall, but just as she had said, it remained standing even without Essence supporting it.


    "However," she continued, "being a physical object, seals and formations can be used to bolster it. Watch closely."


    Again, she raised her hand, then began to create a seal that enveloped the earthen wall. The work took her over a minute, but then, she lowered her hand once more.


    Arran did not study the seal to know it was powerful. Its complexity was obvious ¡ª well beyond anything he could do ¡ª and the strands of Essence from which it was made ran through every inch of the wall, like a framework to strengthen and support it.


    "Needless to say, a well-prepared mage with an Earth Realm and a strong knowledge of seals is a force to be reckoned with," she said. "Given enough talent and time to prepare, there are few enemies who pose a threat."


    "Does it work on stone?" Arran asked, his curiosity not yet satisfied.


    "It does, after a fashion," the Matriarch replied. "Earth and stone are similar enough that Earth Essence can be used to control stone, though a Stone Realm will achieve better results. Naturally, I will provide you with one of those, eventually."


    Arran furrowed his brow in thought. "What about metal? Can it be controlled like that?"


    If metal could be controlled similarly, then a Metal Realm would have obvious uses in combat. Being able to control enemies'' swords would be invaluable.


    "It can''t," the Matriarch said. "Metal Essence is wholly different. It allows one to change rather than control the material ¡ª but the process is slow, and is mainly useful in enchantment. But that''s a matter for a different time. For now, your mind should be focused on today''s studies."


    Arran nodded, though he could not help but be slightly disappointed.


    The Matriarch walked back toward the center of the stone circle, then faced Arran again.


    "Now," she said, her eyes narrowed as she looked at him. "What did she teach you?"


    It soon emerged that the Matriarch was every bit as petty as Brightblade. She spent the better part of the week going over everything Brightblade had taught Arran in ridiculous detail, intent on discovering and fixing even the slightest oversight.


    When she learned that Brightblade had begun teaching him the Shadowflame spell, she frowned in disapproval.


    "Ridiculous," she said. "You are nowhere near ready to learn that. But¡­" She shook her head, then sighed. "If she''s already teaching it to you, there''s nothing for it but to fix whatever mess she''s making."


    While the Matriarch''s care in poring over Brightblade''s teachings was excessive to the point of absurdity, it benefited Arran no small amount. Being exposed to the conflicting views and insights of two powerful mages meant his knowledge grew rapidly.


    Only after the Matriarch had dealt with Brightblade''s teachings did she continue with the rest of Arran''s studies, teaching him various simple Earth spells and seals before moving on to proper shields and wards.


    Naturally, he took efforts not to reveal the extent to which he had opened his Earth Realm, and if his progress was a bit too fast to be normal, the Matriarch showed no interest in it. She had said she did not intend to delve into his past, and as far as Arran could tell, it was a promise she meant to keep.


    When he finally began his studies into shields and wards, Arran immediately found himself intrigued.


    With his physical strength and skill in close combat, a way to defend himself from ranged attacks was exactly what he needed. And if his talent wasn''t quite extraordinary, he made up for that it in effort and enthusiasm.


    Still, a single month wasn''t anywhere near enough to cover the subject, and Arran spent the next three months engrossed in it, studying shields and wards until even his dreams were filled with them.


    His visits to Brightblade''s estate and the constant rivalry between his two teachers allowed his skills to advance at a rapid pace, and with each passing month, his understanding of magic grew markedly.


    Doran and Anthea watched his rapid progress with astonishment.


    Since they were at his mansion more often than not, they regularly trained together, and although the gap in magical ability between them and Arran was large ¡ª they were adepts, after all ¡ª it grew smaller by the day.


    Oraia, on the other hand, witnessed his development with what could best be described as horrified awe.


    Arran had a considerable talent for Shadow magic to begin with, and since Brightblade had decided to instruct him in it, the Matriarch had naturally followed suit. Moreover, the years Arran had spent studying Master Zhao''s Shadow seals and his near-constant use of his Shadowsight meant he was well-practiced in controlling Shadow Essence.


    This allowed his skill to advance with leaps and bounds, and each of his training sessions with Oraia left her glancing at him as if he was a monster.


    It barely took him two months before he learned how to conceal small moving objects, and he immediately put this to use to conceal his void ring.


    The amount of Essence this required was small enough that he could maintain it indefinitely, and the exercise of maintaining it even while training other things further helped his progress.


    All considered, Arran was more than satisfied with the situation. His studies were intense but productive, and even if he had little free time, after the first month the Matriarch no longer pushed him beyond his limits ¡ª though she still took care to ensure he never fell short of them, either.


    After yet another week at Brightblade''s estate, Arran found himself walking back to the House of Seals with a feeling of calm contentment. The weather was sunny and the roads not too full, and he knew that there would be a good meal and a soft bed waiting for him back at the mansion.


    But then, he Sensed something he hadn''t encountered in a long time ¡ª the hurried gathering of Essence that came before a serious attack. And even in the split second before the attack was launched, he could Sense that there were a handful of different sources, each of them with considerable power.


    After months studying shields, Arran instinctively responded by raising a thick earthen wall from the ground. A mistake, he knew even as he finished the spell ¡ª Earth Essence was too slow to defend against an unexpected spell.


    He barely had time to utter half a curse as half a dozen streaks of white-hot Fire Essence slammed into his body, hitting him at the same moment he completed the shield.

 Chapter 247 Ambush

    Half a dozen attacks all struck Arran at once, and there was a bright flash of blue light around him as Brightblade''s amulet was suddenly overwhelmed with Essence.


    Against such an onslaught of magical energy, the amulet failed in an instant, barely even weakening the attacks before they hit. None of the attackers were weak, and their combined power was far beyond anything the amulet could defend against.


    But if the streaks of Fire Essence easily tore through the amulet''s defenses with ease, Arran himself was a different matter.


    Years of strengthening his resistance to Essence paid off in an instant as half a dozen attacks only barely scratched his skin. He knew immediately that his attackers were adepts, and he was long past the stage where adepts posed a serious threat.


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    Still, he allowed the impact to fling him to the ground, at the same time releasing the Essence he''d used to create the earthen wall. Fooling his opponents into thinking they''d killed him would buy him only a moment or two, but they were moments he could well use.


    If this was the extent of the ambush, he had little to worry about. But if there was a stronger mage among his enemies, the situation could prove dangerous.


    He spread out his Shadowsight even as he hit the ground, quickly noting the people nearby. There were three people on the road, all hurrying away from the sudden battle ¡ª bystanders, and ones he had noticed long before the attack.


    But across the road, in the underbrush, he now detected six figures who had somehow escaped his notice earlier. His enemies. And they were moving forward hurriedly.


    That there were six reassured him. It meant there wasn''t a stronger opponent lying in wait, ready to strike if the others failed.


    "We got him," a low voice hissed, the anxious tremble it held unmistakable. "Let''s go!"


    "Check if he''s dead," another replied, his tone more confident. "After¡ª"


    The man stopped mid-sentence as he Sensed the Force Shield Arran created, and an instant later, his eyes went wide with shock when the foe he had thought defeated came rushing toward him.


    Arran did not bother to draw the sword at his side. Instead, he summoned the starmetal sword from his void ring, making it appear directly in his hand.


    To their credit, none of the adepts hesitated in launching attacks as he dashed toward them. But it was no use. While their magic easily tore apart his Force Shield, the truth was that he didn''t need it ¡ª his body was many times stronger than any shield he could create.


    The last of the adepts to speak was the first to die, Arran''s blade cleaving his body from shoulder to waist. Even as his body slumped to the ground another of his comrades died, head and body falling to the ground two paces apart.


    Arran raised and lost another two Force Shields as he cut down a third adept, with more futile attacks striking him before he could create another shield.


    The fourth adept seemed to understand something was amiss, and rather than wasting effort on useless magical attacks, he drew his blade.


    It was the right move, but the wrong opponent ¡ª against Arran''s superior strength and swordsmanship, he barely lasted a second before he staggered backward with blood gushing from a deep wound in his chest. Another second and he fell to the ground, already dead.


    Just two adepts remained, and by now, neither of those had much fight left in him.


    One turned to run, and Arran was almost surprised that the Flamestrike he shot at his fleeing opponent burned a large hole straight through the man''s back.


    His final opponent, meanwhile, fell to his knees, eyes filled with fear. "Don''t kill me! I will tell you who¡ª"


    He didn''t get the chance to finish the words, as his throat was pierced by Arran''s sword mid-sentence, killing him instantly.


    As much as Arran wanted to know who was behind the attack, he could not let the man remain alive. He had seen Arran''s resistance to magic, and that was a secret Arran did not want revealed.


    His opponents all dead, Arran prepared himself for the worst part of the fight.


    He braced himself, then rammed the pommel of his sword into his own ribs, and twice more into his face for good measure. He groaned in pain, then carefully sat down on the ground, clutching his broken ribs.


    Just a few moments later, one of the travelers who had earlier fled so fearfully returned to the scene. Now that the battle was over, his courage had clearly recovered.


    "What happened?" he asked, his voice trembling slightly. "Are you all right?"


    "An ambush," Arran responded between clenched teeth, his agony only partly feigned. "Get the guards."


    "The guards!" the man said. "I will get the guards!" At once, he dashed off in the direction of the House of Seals, not giving Arran so much as a second look.


    As Arran waited for the guards to arrive, he quickly searched his attackers'' void bags, though he was disappointed to find they contained nothing that suggested a reason for the attack.


    It was obvious that these were House of Seals adepts, but other than that, there wasn''t a single clue about why they had attacked or whose orders they had followed in doing so.


    There wasn''t enough time for a more thorough investigation, Arran knew. The House of Seals was barely a quarter-hour away even at a casual pace, and the guards would arrive in minutes.


    With a sigh, he sat down again, and began to replay the attack in his head.


    That the adepts had taken him off guard caused him no small amount of frustration. Perhaps he hadn''t been as careful as he should have been, but his Shadowsight should have caught them well before they attacked.


    That it hadn''t meant there was a way to defeat it, and that was something he would need to fix sooner rather than later.


    Equally frustrating was the mistake he had made at the start of the fight. He had instinctively raised an Earth Shield ¡ª too slow a defense for an attack he could already Sense was coming. It was a mistake borne from too much study and too little sparring, and one he would have to address.


    Although it made little difference now ¡ª none of his shields had anywhere near the strength of his body ¡ª it was the type of bad habit that could one day kill him.


    The guards arrived some minutes later, nearly two dozen of them, led by a severe-looking woman who looked at the bodies strewn across the ground with piercing eyes.


    Next to her was the nervous man who had left some minutes earlier. His face was now red with excitement, and he was gesticulating wildly with his arms. "I told you it was true! I Sensed it myself! They flung all kinds of magic at him, and he was making shields as quickly as they could break them!"


    The woman silenced the man with a gesture as she turned to face Arran.


    "What happened here?" she asked, her calm voice holding a touch of coldness. Clearly, she wasn''t quite convinced that Arran was the victim rather than the attacker.


    "It''s as he said," Arran replied. "I was ambushed. Got a bit banged up, but I''d say they got the worst of it."


    "Aren''t you the Matriarch''s new apprentice?" one of the guards asked, wide-eyed as he stared at Arran.


    "That I am," Arran replied, giving the man a bloody smile.


    In an instant, the guards'' leader lost her previous calm expression. "You two," she barked at two of the guards, "bring word of this to the Matriarch. Now!"


    As the two guards hurried off, she turned back to Arran. For some moments, she stared at him anxiously, appearing unsure of what to say. But then, she creased her brow, as if a thought had suddenly occurred to her.


    "If you''re the Matriarch''s new apprentice," she began uncertainly, "aren''t you an initiate? How did you¡­"


    Her voice trailed off as she looked at the bodies surrounding them, and Arran understood what she was thinking. How could a single initiate possibly defeat half a dozen mages?


    His shields and self-inflicted wounds had fooled the only witness brave enough to return, but the guardswoman clearly had a sharper mind.


    "I had protection," he said, holding up Brightblade''s amulet. The small piece of metal had lost its previous luster, turned to a dull gray by the attacks. "A defensive amulet. Though I doubt it still works after this. Between that and my shields, I just barely scraped through."


    "A defensive amulet¡­" The woman looked at the small amulet in wonder. "I''ve never seen one of those before. Though for the Matriarch''s apprentice, I suppose it makes sense¡­" Her earlier puzzled expression now faded away, the explanation sufficient to satisfy her curiosity.


    Silently, Arran hoped the explanation would suffice for the Matriarch as well, though he had some doubts about that.


    "Let''s get those injuries of yours looked at," the woman said. Then, with a sharp look at the guards, she said loudly, "Secure the area until the Matriarch''s people arrive."

 Chapter 248 After The Battle

    The guardswoman spent some time fussing over Arran''s injuries, but to little effect. It was obvious that her talents lay in areas other than healing, and minor though Arran''s self-inflicted injuries were, her best efforts only succeeded in making them worse.


    Her increasingly uncomfortable expression suggested that she was aware of this, but it did not stop her from trying to help. Arran guessed that with the Matriarch''s apprentice before her, she didn''t dare be seen doing nothing.


    Arran reluctantly accepted the unhelpful attention. If he was to play the part of a shocked initiate who had just barely escaped death, he couldn''t seem too confident.


    When the Matriarch arrived a short while later with several dozens of mages following behind her, there was a look of relief on the guardswoman''s face. At once, she left Arran''s side and hurried toward the Matriarch.


    "Lady Matriarch," she began. "There was an ambush. When we¡ª"


    The Matriarch cut her off with a gesture. "My apprentice will tell me what happened." Paying no further mind to the guardswoman, she approached Arran, then knelt beside him. "Are you all right?"


    Arran nodded. "Other than a few bruises, I''m fine."


    The Matriarch frowned, clearly not content to take his word for it. She reached out with her right hand and placed it against his chest, and briefly, a look of concentration appeared on her face. "You have three broken ribs."


    "I''ve had worse than that," Arran replied truthfully. "A few days of rest, and I''ll be all healed."


    The Matriarch looked him in the eyes for several seconds, her eyes betraying concern. But then, she sighed, and her expression softened. "I suppose so," she said. "But tell me what happened. In detail."


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    Arran did as she asked, describing the attack in as much detail as he could. Yet rather than reveal his resistance to magic, he attributed his survival to Brightblade''s amulet, exaggerating its power more than a little.


    The Matriarch listened intently as he spoke, and when he finished, she nodded thoughtfully. "This amulet. Show it to me."


    Arran handed her the amulet without hesitation, silently hoping that she would not see through his lies. Deceiving someone of her strength was the last thing he wanted to do, but there was no other choice ¡ª not without revealing his true strength.


    By now, he trusted the Matriarch enough that he would have done so gladly, but the secret was one that Brightblade had instructed him to keep.


    The Matriarch studied the amulet for several moments, and from the scowl that appeared on her face, Arran feared that his deception had failed.


    Finally, the Matriarch shook her head. "It''s gone," she said in a regretful tone. "I''m afraid that not enough of the enchantment remains for me to restore it."


    "That''s a shame," Arran said, taking care to hide his relief. "But it served its purpose."


    "You don''t understand," the Matriarch replied in a sharp tone. "A treasure like this¡­ Even an amulet that can protect against novices'' attacks is a priceless artifact. But this¡­" She shook her head ruefully. "Brightblade will not take its loss lightly."


    Arran stared at her in disbelief. He had just suffered an attempt on his life, but the Matriarch seemed more concerned with the loss of an amulet. That he had never been in any real danger hardly mattered ¡ª she didn''t know about that.


    Moreover, even if his attackers now lay dead on the road, there was no reason to believe they didn''t have more powerful backers. And although Arran had little reason to worry about adepts, he wasn''t nearly as confident in his chances against a group of Masters ¡ª or worse.


    "That''s what you''re worried about?" he asked. "The amulet?"


    As the Matriarch took her eyes off the now-useless item, there was a brief look of confusion on her face before understanding dawned in her eyes.


    "Your safety is more important, of course," she said. "But you survived the attack. And there won''t be another."


    "How do you know?" Arran asked, not at all convinced by her reassuring words. He had been attacked within the Valley, in broad daylight, barely a quarter-hour from the Matriarch''s own House of Seals. That people dared do such a thing even here suggested that the Matriarch''s ire was hardly a sufficient deterrent.


    "I will make sure of it," she replied. Though she spoke softly, her voice carried a hint of something dark. Not anger, exactly ¡ª something more dangerous than that.


    Arran briefly considered asking her what she was planning, but he quickly thought better of it. Whatever the Matriarch had in mind would become clear soon enough, that much was obvious.


    "Now, you should return to your residence," the Matriarch said. "I will send along several mages to protect you until I can be certain there are no more threats."


    "All right," Arran said, keeping his expression calm despite the unwelcome news.


    In truth, having the Matriarch''s people guarding him was the last thing he wanted. To have strangers look over his shoulder as he trained would be no small hindrance. But he couldn''t refuse the offer ¡ª not without drawing the Matriarch''s suspicion.


    "Kephas, Galene," the Matriarch called out. At once, two of the mages from her group stepped forward, a man and a woman. She faced them with a severe expression, then said, "I entrust the both of you with the safety of my apprentice. Do not let him out of your sight ¡ª not until this threat has been dealt with."


    The two mages nodded as one, their eyes immediately turning to Arran. When he returned their gaze, he found that their eyes held a hint of power ¡ª the kind of thing he''d only ever seen in the strongest of mages. Though he couldn''t be certain, he thought they would be Grandmasters at the least, though more likely Archmages.


    The Matriarch turned back to Arran, then said, "Return to your residence and take the week to recover. We will resume your studies once you are fully healed."


    She took some moments to provide Arran''s new guards with instructions, then spent several more minutes urging Arran to rest properly until he was healed. While there was little need for the advice ¡ª his injuries were already healing and would be gone before the end of the day ¡ª he appreciated her concern all the same.


    The way back to the House of Seals was short and familiar, but the two mages accompanying Arran treated it like an expedition into dangerous territory, constantly wary of hidden dangers. For this, he could not blame them ¡ª he had been attacked in a place that should be as safe as any in the Valley, after all.


    Their expressions only eased when they passed through the House''s gates, and even then only slightly. While the idea of an attack within the stronghold was ridiculous, it was obvious that they were not inclined to take any chances.


    When they arrived at Arran''s mansion, they found both Jovan, Doran, and Anthea already waiting at the gate, concern written across their faces.


    Arran explained what had happened as they made their way into the gardens, with their looks of worry only fading once they were certain that Arran was fine.


    As he told the events, however, something that almost resembled amusement appeared on Doran''s face.


    "They sent adepts?" he asked incredulously. "Against you?"


    While Doran didn''t know about Arran''s resistance to magic, the two of them had sparred often enough that he knew all too well how easily Arran could take down an adept.


    "They intended to kill me before I could respond," Arran replied. "Though I suspect they misjudged their target."


    At these last words, he gave Jovan a grateful smile. There could be little doubt that the attackers had tried to gain information before committing to their plan, and from the result, it was clear that they had failed to do so.


    Jovan shrugged, though with a hint of embarrassment on his face. "I told the boys to keep their mouths shut, is all. Figured you wouldn''t want the entire Valley to know about your skills."


    "And a good thing you did," Arran said. "But now, let''s eat ¡ª fighting always makes me hungry."


    Jovan quickly had the cooks prepare a lavish meal, rich with meat and poultry, which he claimed would help Arran heal faster.


    "How long will they be staying here?" Anthea asked as they ate, casting a furtive glance at the two mages the Matriarch had sent to protect Arran. Both had declined to join the meal, instead silently keeping watch from a few dozen paces away.


    "At least a week," Arran said. He fervently hoped it wouldn''t be more ¡ª already, their presence was beginning to make him uneasy.


    Barely an hour had passed when Brightblade arrived, hurrying into the gardens with an expression that contained worry and fury in equal parts.


    "Tell me what happened," she said to Arran as she approached. "The rest of you, begone. Now!" Doran, Jovan, and Anthea immediately did as she said ¡ª her tone brooked no objections. Yet the two mages didn''t move even a single step, instead looking at Brightblade with suspicious eyes.


    "I said, begone!" Brightblade roared. And as she spoke, Arran could Sense her seize a terrifying amount of Essence.

 Chapter 249 Questions of Power

    In a mere moment, Brightblade seized so much Essence that it nearly caused Arran''s mouth to fall open in shock. The amount was staggering ¡ª enough to level half a city, he feared. And certainly enough to wipe away his mansion without even the slightest trace remaining of either the building or those within it.


    Yet if she intended to intimidate the two mages, her actions seemed to have the opposite effect. At once, they began to gather Essence as well. Perhaps it wasn''t quite as much as Brightblade had managed, but there were two of them, and they had the backing of the entire House of Seals.


    Their reaction didn''t cause Brightblade even the slightest hesitation. "Begone," she repeated, her voice now eerily calm. "Or die."


    She drew her sword in a single fluid movement, and as it left its sheath, it began to glow with a bright white light, so intense that Arran had to squint not to be blinded.


    But that was merely the beginning. An instant later, the glow spread from Brightblade''s sword to her body, enveloping her completely in what looked to be white fire so hot it could melt stone.


    As the flame enveloped her, Arran was surprised to find he could no longer Sense the Essence she held. That the power was still there was obvious, but not the slightest shred of it leaked into the world. Instead, it was as if all of it was contained in Brightblade and her sword.


    If her earlier display of power had not intimidated the two mages sent by the Matriarch, this new ability proved a different matter. The woman looked at Brightblade in shock, but the man''s eyes showed something else besides ¡ª recognition, Arran realized.


    "We were sent by the Matriarch to¡ª" the woman began in a nervous tone, doubtless trying to defuse the situation.


    Yet she was interrupted by the man even as she spoke. "We will take our leave," he said sharply. Then, he bowed slightly. "Lady Brightblade, we apologize for any offense we may have given."


    The woman looked at him in bewilderment, but before she could speak he silenced her with a firm shake of his head, then took her by the shoulder and led her away. Whatever it was he had recognized, it was something he had no intention of facing.


    Arran looked at the two mages as they made their way out of the gardens, still unsure of what had just happened. When they had disappeared a few moments later, he turned his attention back to Brightblade.


    She was already back to her old self, not a trace of the white flames remaining. And if the display had cost her any effort, none of it could be seen on her face ¡ª she seemed no different from normal, though the amused smile on her lips suggested that she was pleased with the outcome.


    "What was that?" Arran asked. The magic she had used was unlike anything he had seen before, and there was no doubt in his mind that it was powerful.


    "A warning," Brightblade replied.


    Arran sighed, understanding that she had no intention of telling him about this new ability. Even if she had grown more forthcoming with answers since he gained his true insight, there was much she still kept from him.


    Asking more directly would yield no better results, so instead, he decided to focus on a different matter ¡ª one that puzzled him nearly as much.


    "The Matriarch sent those two to protect me," he said. Though he was certain she knew this already, he was curious to hear what explanation she had for her actions. To demand that the Matriarch''s followers leave was one thing, but to offer them threats was something different entirely.


    "Rhea can''t protect you," Brightblade replied. "Nor can her lackeys. Now hold your tongue until I''ve put up some wards. We have no need for listeners in the conversation ahead."


    She spent several minutes creating a series of formations around them, each of them intended to block prying eyes and ears.


    Arran watched her closely as she worked. He had grown more familiar with seals and wards over the past months, and although Brightblade''s formations were still far beyond him, his knowledge was now sufficient to get an inkling of her capability.


    And to his eyes, she seemed every bit as skilled as the Matriarch.


    When she finished the work, she turned her attention back to Arran. "Take a seat," she said. "There is much we have to discuss."


    Arran sat back down at the table that still held several meals worth of food, though any hunger he felt was long forgotten. Just the number of wards Brightblade had placed made it clear that the things she wished to discuss were important ones.


    Brightblade took a seat as well, and as she did, she said, "Before anything else, tell me exactly what happened ¡ª down to the smallest detail."


    Arran did as she said, recounting the day''s events to the best of his ability. This time, he told everything, including both how he defeated the adepts and his attempt to deceive the Matriarch.


    Brightblade listened silently as he spoke, her forehead creased in thought as he detailed the battle. His lie about the amulet brought a small smile to her face, but one that lasted barely a second. She asked no questions, contenting herself with listening.


    When he finally finished telling her all he could remember, Brightblade gave a thoughtful nod. "It is as I feared," she said in a pensive tone.


    "As you feared?" Arran gave her a questioning look, unsure of what to make of the cryptic statement.


    "Rhea does not rule this Valley," Brightblade said. "I already suspected it for some time, though I hoped I was wrong. But today''s events prove that my suspicions were correct. Perhaps she once controlled this Valley, but if she did, those days are long gone."


    "But she''s the Matriarch," Arran countered. "Doesn''t that make her the Valley''s ruler by definition?"


    "Not all the Valleys'' leaders are created alike," Brightblade began. "Some rule with an iron fist, controlling even the smallest things that occur in their Valleys. Others are content to leave their Valleys'' everyday affairs to the Elders, only stepping in when needed. And some¡­ some rule only in name, serving as little more than figureheads for the Elders behind them."


    She paused for several moments, her gaze wistful as she stared into the distance. Finally, she turned her eyes back to Arran. "Rhea, I fear, belongs to this last group."


    Arran creased his brow as he considered Brightblade''s words. Even ignoring the Matriarch''s title, from what he had seen of her power, it was hard to imagine her being anything other than the Valley''s absolute leader. "How do you know that?"


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    Brightblade responded with a disapproving frown. "You should know the answer to that," she said.


    Still, she continued, "None would have dared attack her apprentice so brazenly if she truly controlled the Ninth Valley. To do so would be more than foolish ¡ª it would be suicide. But whoever sent those adepts felt no such fear."


    Arran had wondered who would dare attack the Matriarch''s apprentice, but he had not yet considered the full implications of the attempt on his life. And although the thought wasn''t a pleasant one, he could not deny that Brightblade''s reading made sense.


    Yet while it explained why others would dare attack him, it did little to clarify why they would want to do so in the first place.


    So far, the only reason he could think of was envy, which hardly seemed sufficient for half a dozen adepts to risk both their lives and the Matriarch''s ire. Even if she didn''t fully control the Valley, there would be little point in needlessly provoking her.


    "But who was behind the attack?" he asked. "And why did they attack me?"


    "Those are far better questions," Brightblade said. "And ones I cannot answer with certainty. But¡­"


    Another frown crossed her face before she continued, "I can venture a guess. Matriarchs'' apprentices are seldom destined for mediocrity, and their choice often means a choice of direction for the entire Valley ¡ª a change to its balance of power. The direction you represent, I suspect, is one of which your would-be assassins'' masters disapprove."


    "And what direction would that be?" Arran asked, unable to fully keep the doubt from his voice. While he would not deny that he had some talent, it hardly seemed enough to affect the entire Valley.


    Yet Brightblade looked at him with confident eyes as she spoke. "War, my dear boy," she replied. "You represent war."

 Chapter 250 Questionable Plans

    "War?" Arran stared at Brightblade in disbelief. "I represent war?"


    What she said was plainly ridiculous. He was a mere initiate. Perhaps more powerful than most mages, but the Ninth Valley held people far more powerful than him ¡ª Grandmasters and Archmages, all with power far beyond anything he could wield.


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    He did have other powers ¡ª more than a few, in truth ¡ª but as far as he knew, only Brightblade and Snowcloud were aware of those.


    To the rest of the Valley, he might seem exceptional, but certainly not so much as to cause the valley to go to war. The very idea was absurd.


    Yet Brightblade merely looked at him with a calm expression. "No need to look so startled," she said. "It''s hardly surprising that others might draw such a conclusion."


    "But I''m just an initiate," Arran said. It wasn''t much of an argument, but then, her claim was so outlandish he found it hard to think of a reply.


    "You''re an outsider," she said. "Where the Ninth Valley''s younger generation has only ever known peace, you have experienced real battles, defeated enemies stronger than mere bandits. You have faced the true dangers of the borderlands."


    "The same is true for all outsiders," Arran countered. "Not to mention every mage over fifty in this Valley."


    Given mages'' extraordinary lifespans, there would be many thousands within the Ninth Valley who still remembered the wars against the Hunters. Whatever Arran had experienced in a few short years of traveling the borderlands, he doubted it could compare to years of actual war.


    Brightblade merely gave him a calm glance, then continued, "Once here, you joined the House of Swords ¡ª one of the few Houses whose members could stand against the Hunters. On your very first day, you ¡ª a mere initiate ¡ª matched its most promising adept. After which you promptly disappeared into secluded training, only to emerge a year later with the skill to match Masters in swordplay."


    To this, Arran had no response.


    Everything she said was true, and these were not the kinds of things one could expect to go unnoticed. Of course, Arran had known this already, but now, he began to think that he had underestimated just how suspicious his actions had been.


    But even so, this did little to convince him of her earlier claims. Even if he was suspicious, it hardly meant he represented war ¡ª whatever that even meant.


    Yet Brightblade wasn''t done yet.


    "Then, you decided to study the Forms," she continued. "A foolish endeavor, most would argue. But it is the path walked by the last mage to pose a serious threat to the Hunters. And to a talented young mage who intended face them again, the path might be a tempting one."


    Arran frowned, but he said nothing.


    "All of these things could be easily explained as the delusions of a young but overambitious mage, of course. There are many of those in every Valley. But when the Matriarch chose you as an apprentice¡­" Brightblade paused briefly, her eyes focused on Arran in a manner that almost made it seem like she was studying him.


    Though her piercing look made Arran uncomfortable, he remained silent. By now, his earlier certainty was beginning to fade, and he felt no small anxiousness at what else Brightblade was about to tell him.


    She continued speaking a moment later, a gravity to her voice that had been absent before.


    "It wouldn''t be far-fetched to think a failing Matriarch would want to groom a successor. Someone to win the war she failed to win, to hold the power she failed to hold. A champion to grant her a legacy. Someone who, with half a century of training, could achieve the things she never achieved."


    At this, Arran swallowed hard. Not just because of the idea that the Matriarch might want him as a successor, but also because he had no intention whatsoever of spending the next half-century in the Ninth Valley.


    "The Matriarch didn''t know about those things," he said, anxious to find a different explanation. "When she took me as her apprentice ¡ª she didn''t know about any of it."


    "Didn''t she?" Though Brightblade''s voice was neutral, her eyes suggested she thought otherwise.


    Arran paled slightly at her words. He had believed it had all been a matter of luck, but now, doubt began to rise in his mind. When he arrived in the House of Seals, he had believed it was merely his talent that got him sent to the Matriarch. But what if she had already been expecting him?


    It took him a moment to suppress the panic that was growing inside of him, and as he calmed down, more questions arose in his mind.


    "But why would they try to kill me?" he asked. "Even if everything you say is true, why would people try to kill me? Even if they believe the Matriarch is grooming me to lead the Valley against the Hunters, wouldn''t that be a good thing?"


    "Not everyone is keen to restart a conflict that lasted for centuries and killed half the mages in the Valley," Brightblade replied in a flat voice. "Even if they believed success was possible, many would think the price too high."


    To this, Arran had no response. With the Valley as peaceful as it was, only a fool would choose to wage an unnecessary war. And if the price for keeping the peace was a single murder, it would be a price well worth paying.


    Brightblade nodded as she saw understanding dawn in his eyes. "But of course," she continued, "your enemies'' motives may not be quite as selfless as that. The Matriarch''s successor might not be as pliable as she is, and the Elders who currently hold power may be unwilling to give up their hard-won influence."


    "But I''m only an initiate," Arran said in a dejected voice. "They have nothing to fear from me."


    "Not yet," Brightblade replied. "And if you were them, would you allow the spark to grow into a fire? Or would you snuff it out before it had a chance to become a threat?"


    Arran had grown up the son of a guardsman, and the curse he uttered was enough to make Brightblade''s eyes go wide with shock. Then, in a low voice, he asked, "So you''re saying that half the damn Valley has reason to want me dead?"


    "More or less," she replied. "Probably more, given how many would die if the wars were reignited."


    "Then we have to leave," Arran said. "At once. If the Matriarch can''t protect me¡­ We can be in the borderlands a week from now. Once we find Snowcloud¡ª"


    "Not so fast," Brightblade interrupted him. "Rhea can''t protect you, that much is true. But she isn''t your only teacher." A small smile appeared on her lips.


    "You?" Arran looked at Brightblade in confusion. "I know you''re strong, but if half the Valley''s Elders have reason to want me dead, I doubt even you can protect me."


    "Do you?" Brightblade''s smile turned into a grin. "You think I cannot protect my students?"


    Her grin grew wider as she spoke, and Arran could not escape the feeling that whatever she had in mind, it was something that would shake the Valley''s very foundations. "What are you planning to do?"


    "You are but a distant threat," she said. "And a small one, at that. I intend to give them more immediate things to worry about."


    The cryptic answer only strengthened Arran''s misgivings, but try as he might, she refused to give any further explanation about the matter.


    Instead, she turned her attention to a completely different matter ¡ª the amulet. Arran had all but forgotten about it, but the subject seemed to cause Brightblade no little glee.


    "So she believes it stopped the adepts'' attacks?" she asked in a tone that almost seemed eager. "And the enchantment was completely destroyed?"


    Arran nodded, unsure of what she was getting at. The amulet had been a priceless artifact, but Brightblade seemed almost excited at its destruction.


    "Excellent," she said. "I couldn''t have planned it better myself."


    A frown on his face, Arran stared at her in confusion. "Why are you so happy about it?"


    "You were attacked in her Valley," Brightblade said. "Naturally, she will have to give you a replacement of equal value. And items that can stop adepts'' attacks are beyond priceless ¡ª whatever she takes out of the Valley''s treasuries, it should be most useful."


    Once more, Arran found himself astonished by Brightblade. Just a few moments earlier she had been discussing matters of life and death, and now, she was eagerly anticipating the opportunity to cheat the Valley out of its treasures.


    He gave her a wary look, then sighed deeply. Whatever she had planned to draw attention away from him, he had little doubt that it was nothing good.

 Chapter 251 A Fruitless Search

    Brightblade remained at the mansion in the following week, providing Arran with protection from any would-be assassins. There was no sign of any enemies, however, and instead, she spent much of her time making a valiant effort to eat all the food his cooks could prepare.


    This proved a battle she could not win. Voracious though her appetite might be, it was no match for the cooks'' tireless efforts. If she devoured a roast chicken, they would bring a beef roast. If she fought her way past that, an entire roast pig would be brought out. It was a challenge she could not defeat, but she faced it eagerly.


    Arran, meanwhile, spent most of the week training.


    He had been told to rest and recover by the Matriarch, but his only real injuries were self-inflicted, and even those were fully healed by the end of the first day.


    That wasn''t quite enough to reassure Jovan ¡ª rough though he looked, the man really did worry too much ¡ª but Arran could not bring himself to spend a week doing nothing at all.


    Much of his time, he spent in the dungeons, practicing magic. Brightblade had set up a series of wards that blocked all but Arran from entering the area, and in the solitude of the dungeons, Arran could safely use his Destruction Realm.


    He made keen use of this opportunity. While he could do little with Destruction Essence but increase his resistance to magic by moving it through his body, that was exactly what he needed.


    The adepts'' attack had proved that there was no shortage of mages who wished him harm, and even if these attackers had been weak, others might not be so easily defeated. To face future threats confidently, he needed every advantage he could get.


    As he trained, he found himself surprised at his own progress over the past months.


    While he practiced various spells and shields, he circulated Destruction Essence through his body, maintained his Shadowsight, and concealed his void ring with Shadow Essence ¡ª and discovered that doing all these things at once took surprisingly little effort.


    Controlling Essence no longer felt like juggling water. Instead, it was beginning to feel natural ¡ª like the Essence was an extension of his body, rather than a slippery alien substance.


    The change had been a gradual one, and in his relentless training over the previous months, there had been little time to contemplate it. But now that he had a week to himself, he found himself startled at the difference.


    Still, practicing magic was not all he did.


    Every day, he would spend several hours sparring and training with Doran, Anthea, and his servants, studying both his own style and the Thousand Cuts. While the others could not match his skill, instructing them provided valuable insights, their questions and struggles helping shape his own progress.


    Brightblade did not join in any of the training. Although she occasionally observed and offered comments ¡ª some helpful, others mocking ¡ª Arran could tell that her mind was focused on other things.


    She showed no outward signs of concern, but he knew her well enough to know that she was worried. For all her power, this situation was a dangerous one ¡ª even for her. The whole Valley was involved, and no mage could stand against an entire Valley.


    The days passed slowly as they waited for news ¡ª the quiet before the storm, Arran thought.


    While he could not venture beyond the mansion''s walls himself ¡ª Brightblade would certainly not allow it ¡ª he learned from Jovan that no serious talk of the attack had spread through the Valley.


    There had been some rumors, but no more than that. And rumors hardly meant anything. If Jovan could be believed, the peaceful Valley saw far more rumors of murder than it saw actual murders, with bored servants and students always eager to share even the unlikeliest tales.


    No word came from the Matriarch, either. She sent no complaints about Brightblade''s treatment of her mages, nor did she inform Arran of any progress in finding those responsible for the attack.


    That was unexpected, but not so much as to cause him worry ¡ª and, at any rate, worrying would not have accomplished much of anything.


    Toward the end of the week, an unexpected group of visitors arrived at the mansion ¡ª mages from the House of Swords, come to see Brightblade.


    Arran recognized only some of them, but that was no big surprise. While he had arrived at the House of Swords over a year ago, he had spent little time among its members.


    Doran, however, clearly knew who they were, and he stared at the group with undisguised wonder in his eyes.


    "Those are our House''s leaders," the adept explained in a quiet voice. "All of them, from what I can tell."


    The group spent several hours at the mansion, talking to Brightblade in the privacy of one of the mansion''s many chambers. While Arran was curious to hear what they were discussing, neither he nor Doran was invited to the talks.


    He could have objected to this ¡ª it was his mansion, after all ¡ª but he quickly decided against it. Interfering with whatever Brightblade was trying to achieve would be foolish, especially if his reason was merely to satisfy his curiosity.


    When the group said their goodbyes some hours later, Arran thought he saw a subtle change in their behavior. While they weren''t overly formal, it was as if there was a certain reverence in their attitude toward Brightblade now ¡ª something beyond the respect with which they treated her usually.


    Yet curious though he was, Brightblade refused to reveal anything about what had transpired during the talks. That she had been successful, however, was obvious ¡ª the pleased grin on her face told as much.


    More quiet days followed after that, with Arran engrossing himself in training to take his thoughts off his concerns. There had still been no word from the Matriarch, and that concerned him ¡ª if she had found those responsible, she would surely have told him about it.


    Then, at long last, the Matriarch arrived. It was early in the morning when she came, only barely past dawn, and she entered the mansion without either servants or guards at her side.


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    Arran and Brightblade were eating breakfast in the garden as she entered, and the moment he saw her, Arran knew the search had not gone well.


    She looked weary, almost haggard. There was little sign of her usual self-possessed confidence, and her expression held no small amount of frustration.


    "I take it you haven''t found those responsible for the attack?" Brightblade asked calmly.


    "There have been¡­ obstacles." The Matriarch shook her head. "The House''s Elders refuse to believe their students could have done such a thing. Some of them¡­" She paused and looked at Arran, her gaze carrying a hint of shame. "Some of them have demanded that I put you on trial for murdering six adepts."


    Arran clenched his jaw as he resisted the urge to punch the Matriarch in the face.


    Not only had the useless woman failed to take action against his attackers; she had allowed him to fall into even more danger. He felt no concern about the danger, just anger. Anger at both the Matriarch and the Valley''s Elders. Anger at the Valley itself, even.


    Yet before he could give voice to his frustration, Brightblade spoke up.


    "Convene a meeting of the Valley''s Elders," she said in an icy tone. With a look of barely veiled contempt at the Matriarch, she added, "You can still do that much, can''t you? I will speak for the boy."


    The Matriarch shook her head in response. "Even if I summon the Elders, you are not an Elder ¡ª you cannot speak for him, and if you do, they will not listen."


    "I am an Elder," Brightblade said calmly. "As of last week, I am Blademaster of the House of Swords, and by extension an Elder of the Ninth Valley."


    "You¡­" The Matriarch looked at Brightblade in confusion. "The House of Swords hasn''t had a Blademaster in decades. You mean to tell me¡­?"


    Brightblade shrugged. "I''ve been teaching the House''s leaders for some time now. Accepting the position was a mere formality."


    Despite her ragged appearance, a smile crossed the Matriarch''s lips. "I''ve always known you''d grow roots one day," she said in a soft voice. Then, more firmly, she continued, "I will do as you ask. There will be a meeting tomorrow. With you the ruler of a House, the others cannot easily ignore your words."


    Brightblade gave the Matriarch a slight nod, her earlier contempt softened if not gone completely.


    The Matriarch departed soon after, and a pensive expression appeared on Brightblade''s face as she watched her old friend leave.


    She was silent for some moments, but finally, she said, "Do not judge her too harshly. I fear her position is even weaker than I thought. Though how¡­" She stopped mid-sentence. "No matter. I will find the truth eventually. For now, the situation is handled."


    Arran gave Brightblade a suspicious look. He wasn''t surprised that she had taken over the House of Swords ¡ª that she could take it if she wanted was obvious from the day of her arrival.


    Rather, he had his doubts about her intentions for the meeting. Unless he had badly misjudged her, she intended to offer the Elders more than just words.

 Chapter 252 Facing the Elders

    After the Matriarch left, Arran and Brightblade finished their breakfast in silence. That Brightblade had no intention of sharing her plans was obvious ¡ª although Arran made a tentative attempt to question her about it, she simply cut him off with a small but firm shake of her head.


    That usually wouldn''t have sufficed to dissuade him from asking further questions, but today, there was an unusual severity to her eyes. And although she showed no other signs of concern, just that was enough to tell Arran she was more than a little worried.


    It was a rare thing for Brightblade to show even the slightest hint of worry, and that she did so now could only mean her plan was a risky one, with the outcome still uncertain.


    Still, Arran did not give himself over to pointless fretting. Instead, he passed the day training his sword skills, calming his thoughts by focusing on the familiar movements of practice.


    Even if the situation was not one he could resolve with his sword, just feeling its heft in his hands as he practiced provided a sense of control. Amid the intrigue and treachery of Valley politics, it was good to be reminded that the world still held things as simple and reliable as the steel of a sharp blade.


    Late in the afternoon, two messengers from the Matriarch arrived, one for Arran and one for Brightblade. Both carried the same message: that there was to be a meeting of Elders the following day, and that their presence was required.


    They already knew about the meeting, of course, but Arran realized that there would be dozens of messengers all over the Ninth Valley delivering the same message to the Valley''s Elders.


    Whatever Brightblade''s plan was, it had been set into motion, and there would be no stopping it. Now, all that remained was to see where it would lead.


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    Arran''s sleep was troubled that night, filled with dreams of faceless Elders scheming against him, and he awoke the next morning feeling more tired than he had before going to sleep.


    Fortunately, a hearty breakfast and some hours in the hot spring proved more refreshing than the night had been, and by midday, he felt rested and prepared for whatever the day would bring ¡ª as prepared as he could be without knowing what he would face, anyway.


    That his weariness had passed by then was a good thing, too, because not long after midday, Brightblade approached him.


    "It''s time," she said.


    Arran looked at her in wonder. She was wearing formal white robes, but if her intent was to look venerable, the unusual outfit achieved the exact opposite. The white robes were ill-fitting and awkward, like the kind of thing a fresh novice might wear when summoned by an Elder.


    Even a simple training robe would have been better. There were enough strong mages who looked down on finery and formality, with strength and training the only things they cared about. And in a training robe, she might be seen as one of those.


    But this¡­ Arran frowned in puzzlement. To his eyes, she looked every bit the part of a young, inexperienced mage, nervous at the thought of even meeting a single Elder. Her youthful looks were no help here, either ¡ª to someone who didn''t know her, she would barely look older than Arran himself.


    Yet he understood that Brightblade was no fool. If she had chosen to dress like this, it would be intentional.


    His suspicions were confirmed when Brightblade looked at Arran with barely veiled amusement. "Doesn''t it almost make me look like a young girl again?"


    Arran was in no mood for levity, and he gave her a flat stare. "What do you expect me to do at the meeting?"


    "I expect you to keep your mouth shut," she replied. "Those old foxes are crafty, and they will use your words against you if given even half a chance. Only speak if it''s absolutely necessary."


    To this, Arran had no objections. Even ignoring his distaste for politics, his time at the Ninth Valley had been spent studying magic, not learning about its Elders.


    He gave Brightblade a short nod, and with that, they set off toward the meeting.


    The Elders'' meeting hall was in the House of Seals, and although Arran did not know exactly where, Brightblade knew the way already.


    The hall was less than a quarter-hour away from Arran''s mansion, the route leading them through a series of wide paved streets that were lined with opulent stores and mansions.


    Still, for all the grandeur along the way, Arran nearly found himself speechless when they arrived.


    Some part of him had expected the hall to be just that ¡ª a hall, though perhaps a large one. But instead, he found a grand palace, its thick walls seemingly hewn from a single giant slab of marble and covered in numerous intricate carvings. Although it was well over a hundred feet tall, it had been constructed with such attention to detail it almost resembled an ivory carving.


    "Not exactly subtle, is it?" Brightblade said as they approached.


    Arran did not answer. He was too busy taking in the spectacular sight.


    They reached the entrance a moment later. There were over a dozen mages guarding it, but although Arran recognized none of them, their leader clearly knew who they were. He quickly waved them inside with a small bow that was polite if not exactly friendly.


    Inside, they found a large hall that was already filled with mages. Arran briefly thought that these were the Elders, but then he saw that this chamber led to another one, and realized that this was merely the antechamber. The mages here, he realized, would merely be the Elders'' students, stewards, and other hangers-on.


    Well over a hundred pairs of eyes shot their way as soon as they stepped into the hall, but Brightblade ignored them entirely, continuing onward at a steady pace without giving the mages so much as a glance.


    The crowd parted as they walked forward, hushed whispers sounding around them. While the mages might not know who they were ¡ª or why they were even there ¡ª it was clear as day that they were heading for the main hall, where only Elders were allowed.


    Although the massive wooden doors leading to the main hall were closed, they were otherwise unguarded. But then, with the Valley''s Elders all gathered inside, there was little point in having guards ¡ª anyone who did not fear the Elders would certainly not be deterred by mere guards.


    Brightblade casually waved her hand, and the massive doors swung open with a loud creaking sound. She gave Arran a glance, then said softly, "Remember, don''t speak unless you have to."


    As they stepped into the main hall, Arran was immediately surprised at the number of people inside. There were well over a hundred, probably even twice that.


    If all of these were Elders ¡ª and they must be ¡ª then the Ninth Valley held several times as many Elders as the Sixth Valley. An astonishing number, even if he suspected the Sixth Valley''s Elder might be stronger than there.


    There was no time to give it any further thought, however, as all these Elders'' eyes turned toward Arran and Brightblade as soon as they entered the hall. And this time, ignoring the curious looks wasn''t so easy.


    These were the Valley''s most powerful and influential mages, and Arran had no doubt that their decisions today would have major repercussions for his future. Yet he could not let the pressure get to him ¡ª not now, with his future at stake.


    He swept his eyes across the large hall as calmly as he could, and only now did he realize that there was a broad dais at the end of the hall, with the throne that stood upon it holding the Matriarch.


    "Step forward, Ghostblade," she said loudly. Although she sounded every bit as confident as she had in the past, Arran could not shake the memory of the previous day. The Matriarch had looked fragile to the point of breaking, and if she was like that just a day earlier, he suspected this confidence was a mere front.


    "Go," Brightblade said, her voice barely more than a whisper.


    Clenching his jaw, Arran did as she said, moving forward through the crowd of Elders with what he hoped was a calm and dignified expression.


    As he approached the dais, he cast some curious looks at the Elders, and quickly realized that they were divided into groups. There was one group in the crimson robes of the House of Flames, another group he thought consisted of members of the House of Shadows, and many more from various smaller Houses within the Valley.


    However, the largest group consisted of the House of Seals Elders, and these, Arran recognized instantly.


    There were over three dozen of them, all gathered near the right edge of the dais that held the Matriarch. Yet with a second look, Arran realized that the group itself seemed to be split into smaller groups.


    The smallest of these held just over half a dozen mages, and they stood closest to the Matriarch. Arran instantly recognized three of the mages among this group.


    Two caused him little surprise ¡ª the two mages the Matriarch had sent to accompany him, who had been driven away by Brightblade. Yet the third was unexpected ¡ª the mage who had first taken him to the Matriarch, whom he had believed to be a mere Master. Incorrectly, it appeared.


    All the mages in this group paid at least as much attention to Brightblade as they did to Arran. Doubtless, word of her earlier display had spread among them.


    The other two groups, however, only had eyes for Arran. Both of them were roughly the same size, and he had no idea what caused them to stand a pace or two apart in the hall. All he knew was that their eyes were focused on him, and that their expressions seemed far from friendly.


    When he reached the dais, the Matriarch gestured for him to stand beside her, and she flashed him a brief encouraging smile as he did so.


    But a moment later, her expression turned back to a practiced calm and confidence, and she turned her eyes toward the crowded hall.


    "Elders of the Ninth Valley," she began in a severe voice. "As some of you already know, there was an attack on my apprentice just over a week ago. Six adepts of my own House attempted to murder him, in broad daylight and barely a stone''s throw away from the House of Seals. Since then, I have¡ª"


    "Lies," a voice interrupted her.


    With a glance, Arran saw that the word had come from a middle-aged mage who stood among the most distant group of House of Seals mages. He was handsome, with a sharp but cold face beneath his brown hair, and he was dressed in fine, dark-gray robes with golden embroidery,


    "Elder Heran," the Matriarch began. "If you could please remain¡ª"


    Again, the man interrupted her. "I will not hold my tongue. Two of my students were brutally murdered, and now, one of their killers dares claim he is the victim? Preposterous!"


    Clenching his jaw, Arran locked eyes with the Elder. A hint of malice crossed the man''s face, but Arran felt no fear. Rather, he felt a cold rage, along with a trace of regret ¡ª regret that he wasn''t yet strong enough to cut the man down where he stood.

 Chapter 253 Offending an Elder

    The Elder''s accusation caused a shocked silence within the hall. He had not only accused the Matriarch''s apprentice of murder, but had also claimed the Matriarch had lied about the attack.


    That was more than just a threat to an apprentice; it was a direct challenge to the Matriarch''s power. And even if the Matriarch''s position was weak, the startled looks on the other Elders'' faces made it clear that such open disrespect was still unexpected.


    Yet rather than attacking the man for his insolence, the Matriarch merely gave him a frustrated stare. "Elder Heran, what right do you have to make such claims?"


    "Lady Matriarch," the Elder replied, somehow managing to make the title sound like an insult, "what other explanation could there be? Had my students wished to kill this apprentice of yours ¡ª this initiate ¡ª they would have turned him to ashes in an instant. Yet here he stands, alive and unharmed."


    There was a satisfied smile on his face as he spoke, and Arran wondered if the man cared at all about his lost students. They had died following his orders ¡ª of that, Arran was certain ¡ª but he seemed more interested in achieving his goal through other means than in mourning their deaths.


    "My apprentice had a protective amulet," the Matriarch said. "One that shielded him from magic attacks. Had it not been for that small bit of fortune, his attackers likely would have succeeded."


    "A protective treasure?" The Elder sneered. "And one strong enough to stop adepts'' attacks? In the hands of an initiate?" He turned his eyes to Arran. "I should very much like to see such a priceless treasure. Where is it now?"


    At the mention of the amulet, the eyes of many of the Elders in the hall lit up. In particular, the group Arran suspected came from the House of Creation looked on with great interest, the mention of treasure seeming to interest them more than the attack.


    "The amulet was destroyed in the attack," the Matriarch said, a hint of regret in her voice. "A loss for which our House will have to offer compensation."


    Elder Heran snorted in derision, and he was joined by more than a few incredulous guffaws from the others in the hall. For this, Arran could not blame them. It really sounded almost too convenient to be true. Which, of course, it wasn''t ¡ª the actual amulet had been considerably weaker.


    "Such a timely loss," the Elder said, a slight smirk on his lips. "And we are to take it on faith alone that your apprentice just happened to have such a priceless treasure?"


    "I gave it to him."


    Brightblade''s voice came from the back of the hall, but rather than its usual confidence, it now held a hint of fear. From her tone, one could have believed her a panicked novice rather than a frightfully powerful Archmage.


    As she spoke, the gathered Elders instantly turned to look at her, clearly curious who this newcomer was. Elder Heran, however, seemed unsurprised.


    "You are his old teacher, are you not?" he asked. "The adept who joined our Valley last year?"


    "I am, Lord Elder," she replied, far more respectfully than the man deserved. "When my student and I joined the Valley, I gave him the amulet as protection."


    "Ridiculous!" the Elder exclaimed. "We are to believe that you gave a mere initiate a priceless treasure? And that it was conveniently destroyed in the attack?"


    "Lord Elder," Brightblade responded in a shocked voice. "You can''t think I''m lying to you?!"


    "I know you are lying," the Elder said sharply. "And you will be punished for these ridiculous falsehoods. As will your student."


    At that moment, the Matriarch spoke up, though her voice held a hint of desperation. "There were witnesses to the attack ¡ª witnesses who confirmed my apprentice''s story."


    "And where are these witnesses now?"


    This time, the one who spoke was an older woman, standing next to Elder Heran. Tall and gaunt, she had a pale face that looked almost skeletal, with thin gray hair and piercing eyes.


    "Elder Danae," the Matriarch said. "The witnesses, they¡­" She sighed, then continued, "We no longer have them. They disappeared not long after the attack, and I fear they have fallen into the hands of those who ordered it."


    The look she gave the woman made it clear that she had little doubt about who that might be.


    Arran, for his part, almost groaned in frustration. While his enemies had come to the meeting fully prepared, it seemed the Matriarch had failed on every front. There was no need to guess what fate the frightful mage who had found him after the attack had suffered ¡ª by now, it was doubtful that anything more than a pile of ash was left of the poor man.


    "Another convenient coincidence," Elder Danae said. "But as luck would have it, there was another witness. Three of my students were among the group that was murdered, but the heavens saw it fit to save one of them. Alkaios, step forward."


    At her words, a thin young man stepped out from behind her. Dark-haired and almost as pale as his mistress, he had a nervous expression, and he almost trembled as he looked at the Elders in the hall, all of whose eyes were now firmly focused on him.


    "Tell us what happened," the woman said. "Tell us what you saw with your own eyes."


    "I¡­" The young man''s eyes nervously darted around the room, and he briefly fell silent. "I¡­ My friends and I, we were traveling back to the House of Seals when we were attacked by two mages. I Sensed that one of them was stronger than we were, and I fled as the fighting started."


    "Can you tell us who these two mages were?" Elder Danae asked, her face not betraying the slightest hint of emotion.


    "I can," the adept replied, a tremble in his voice. "They were the ones who attacked us." He raised a hand, first pointing at Arran, then at Brightblade. "They are the murderers." As he finished speaking, he gave the Elder a questioning glance, almost as if he wanted her to confirm that he had given the right answer.


    Yet although the blatant lie seemed transparent to Arran, it caused a murmur of shocked whispers to spread through the hall. Perhaps the adept''s words on their own would not be enough to convince the gathered mages, but with the backing of two Elders, it was a different matter.


    "You claim I killed your students?" Brightblade exclaimed, sounding both shocked and fearful. "Why would I do such a thing?!"


    "That is easy to explain."


    A tall, broad-shouldered man stepped forth from among the House of Seals Elders. He was bald, with a strong jaw and a face that carried several large scars. And as he stepped out from the group, he looked around the hall with a commanding expression.


    "My fellow Elders," he began, his voice forceful. "Our Valley has been deceived. This woman¡ª" he paused to point at Brightblade "¡ªis not who she says she is. She joined the House of Swords just over a year ago, supposedly an adept. Yet immediately, she proved to have a Master''s skill."


    He gave the Matriarch a contemptuous look. Then, he stepped onto the dais, facing the group of Elders within the hall.


    "But that unlikely talent was mere trickery," he continued. "My sources in the House of Swords have informed me that she is in truth a Master, departed from her own Valley because she lacked the talent and skill to advance further. So she came here, to us, to gain the benefits and guidance reserved for the most talented mages by posing as an adept."


    Arran frowned. If the man actually had any sources in the House of Swords, then they had clearly withheld more than a bit of information from him.


    Yet Brightblade replied nervously, "But even if I am not an adept, why would I want to murder your students?"


    If anything, the question helped the Elder''s case. Between her nervous tone and her refusal to deny his claims, even Arran could have been convinced of her guilt had he not known the truth.


    "The six adepts you killed," the Elder said, "were among our most talented students, all of them destined to become Elders. Likely, one could have become Patriarch eventually. By murdering them, you paved a path to power for your apprentice ¡ª a path that would eventually benefit you, as well."


    Arran looked at the man in disbelief. The story was clearly ridiculous, so flimsy it seemed like it would fall apart at the slightest breeze. And yet, the Elders in the hall now looked at him with distrustful eyes.


    "You are correct," Brightblade said loudly, all fear and hesitation suddenly gone from her voice. "I am not an adept ¡ª the one truth among the pile of lies the three of you have told today."


    She stepped forward, the Elders around her looking at her warily eyes. She answered their glances with a steel gaze, her earlier fearful persona now completely gone. Then, she spoke again.


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    "My name is Dao Liang Jie, daughter of Dao Zhen, Patriarch of the Fourth Valley. I am an Archmage of the Shadowflame Society, Blademaster of the House of Swords, Elder of the Fourth, Sixth, and Ninth Valleys, and destroyer of the Eternal Horde."


    The words caused a rush of whispers to pass through the hall, and the Elders stared at her with shocked expressions. Whatever they had expected her to be, this certainly wasn''t it.


    "I came to this Valley to guide my students in peace," she continued. "But instead, I was greeted with lies, slander, and insults."


    At this, the gathered Elders fell silent, many now looking at her uncomfortably.


    Contempt in her eyes, she turned to the three Elders who had spoken during the meeting. "The three of you have offered me no small amount of offense today," she said. "And for that, I demand satisfaction."

 Chapter 254 Brightblades Challenge

    The hall fell silent at Brightblade''s words. The gathered Elders had already been shocked at her identity, and now she had openly challenged not just one but three of them.


    And not just any three, Arran knew. There could be no doubt that these were among the most influential Elders within the Valley. Otherwise, they would not have dared provoke the Matriarch so openly ¡ª not even if her position was weaker than it should be.


    The bald Elder looked at Brightblade uncomfortably. Just moments earlier, he had behaved as if he was the Elders'' ruler, but now, his scarred face had gone slightly pale.


    "Lady Dao," he said in a fearful tone, "you intend to challenge all three of us to duels?" He sighed regretfully. "There is no need to go that far. This matter is a simple misunderstanding. As teachers, we were too slow in recognizing our apprentices'' misdeeds."


    "Indeed," Elder Danae interjected, her forced attempt at a humble expression as unnatural as it was insincere. "We were blinded by our faith in our students. And my last remaining apprentice offered me only lies ¡ª lies which I accepted despite my better judgment, my mind addled with the grief of losing the others."


    She shook her head, then turned her eyes toward the adept who had accused Brightblade of killing his fellow students. "But now, I understand what really happened."


    The thin young man barely had time to look surprised before his body was engulfed in fire. He screamed loudly as the flames consumed his flesh, the smell of burnt meat filling the hall as the Elders quietly looked on. His screams died quickly, however, and his charred corpse toppled to the ground a few breaths later.


    Arran felt some pity as he looked at the adept''s smoldering remains. The young man had falsely accused both him and Brightblade, but it was doubtful that he''d had any choice in the matter. More likely, he was given orders he could not refuse, only to end up being executed for following them.


    Yet his interest in the dead adept disappeared instantly when Brightblade spoke up.


    "Roasting an adept will not undo the insults you have offered me," she said contemptuously. Then, with a trace of mockery in her tone, she added, "But there is no need for three duels. A single one will suffice ¡ª even together, I hardly think the three of you should pose much of a challenge."


    Her words caused an immediate change in the bald Elder''s expression. Where he had looked humble and fearful just moments ago, his earlier haughty look now returned at once.


    "If you insist on being unreasonable, then we have no choice but to accept your challenge." The man spoke confidently now, and it was hard to believe that he had been groveling just seconds earlier. "We will face each other tomorrow at midday."


    "Then I suggest you do not waste this night," Brightblade replied. "It will be your last."


    She spoke casually, as if she was discussing dinner plans, not even the slightest trace of concern to be heard in her voice.


    The Matriarch, however, gave her a worried glance. "Are you certain of this? There is no shame in¡ª"


    "I am certain," Brightblade interrupted. "Tomorrow, the insults I have suffered will be addressed."


    "Then it is decided," the Matriarch said, her tone regretful. Then, in a louder voice, she continued, "Tomorrow at midday, Elder Brightblade will face Elder Heran, Elder Danae, and Elder Straton in a duel sanctioned by the Valley, to resolve any enmity that exists between them. Inform your Houses that any member of the Shadowflame Society who so wishes is allowed to observe the duel and stand witness."


    Though the Matriarch spoke in a somber voice, the talk of a duel brought glints of excitement to the eyes of more than a few of the Elders in the hall. While few of them were young and each held a venerable position within the Valley, the prospect of seeing powerful mages do battle apparently still made their hearts beat faster.


    Arran, however, found himself concerned rather than excited.


    Brightblade seemed confident, but the same held true for her opponents, and the Matriarch was visibly worried. And no wonder. How could facing three Elders alone be anything but dangerous, even for someone as powerful as Brightblade?


    "Work on warding the dueling grounds will begin immediately," the Matriarch continued. "I myself shall oversee it. Each of the Houses present here is asked to select an observer, so that none may accuse the Valley of giving either side an unjust advantage."


    It took the various Houses several minutes to choose representatives. The smaller Houses had an easy time of it, since many of them only had one or two Elders present, but the larger ones had short ¡ª albeit heated ¡ª discussions on the matter. It seemed that observing the preparations was considered an enviable thing, although Arran could not understand why.


    A short while later, a sizable group of Elders had gathered around the dais, a representative from each House now standing there.


    "Finally," the Matriarch went on, "I invite the opposing parties to each select two observers, as well."


    The three Elders from the House of Seals chose first, quickly selecting two mages from among their own group. Arran didn''t like the look of either of them, though that had more to do with their allies than with their appearance ¡ª had he been strong enough, the entire group would have long joined the adept in the afterlife.


    Next, it was Brightblade''s turn. There were no other members of the House of Swords present, but she cast a quick glance around the hall, then said without hesitation, "I would like to ask the House of Flames and the House of Shadows to observe on my behalf."


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    The hall had been filled with quiet whispers after the Matriarch asked the Houses to choose observers, but now, the spacious room instantly went silent once more, with stunned looks appearing on many of the Elders'' faces.


    The House of Seals Elders looked scandalized, but before any of them could object, a crimson-robed man stepped forward ¡ª a House of Flames Elder. He was tall and broad-shouldered, with long hair and a short beard, both gray with just a few streaks of black remaining.


    "I will observe on behalf of Lady Brightblade," he said in a harsh voice. "And I will ensure that no foul play will interfere with her victory." As the words left his mouth, he cast a hostile look at the three House of Seals Elders, a viciousness to his eyes that suggested he would have gladly fought them himself.


    Arran blinked in surprise. He did not know about any relation between Brightblade and the House of Flames, but it seemed she could count at least one of their Elders as an ally. He had no time to consider the matter further, however, because a second voice sounded only a moment later.


    "The House of Shadows remains neutral in this matter."


    The voice came from a black-robed woman who had stepped out from the House of Shadows delegation. Her hair and eyes were as black as her robe, contrasting sharply with the unusual pallor of her ageless face.


    "But," she continued, "I am willing to observe the preparations and guard against any mischief."


    Brightblade gave her a brief nod in response, though her expression contained a hint of disappointment. Both of the Elders joined the group that had formed around the dais, but Brightblade wasn''t done yet.


    "I suggest that the Matriarch''s apprentice be allowed to watch the preparations," she said. "It will benefit his studies, and serve as a first step toward repaying him for the attack and false accusations he has suffered."


    The outraged looks among the House of Seals Elders suggested that this was no ordinary proposal, but the gray-haired mage from the House of Flames preempted any objections they might have.


    "An excellent suggestion!" the man said in a loud voice. "The boy has suffered much at the hands of our Valley, and through no fault of his own. A glimpse of our secrets is the least we can offer in compensation. I shall take it upon myself to accompany him."


    Brightblade offered the Elder a friendly smile ¡ª the first she had shown since they had entered the hall. "Then I believe everything is arranged," she said. "I shall take my leave and prepare for tomorrow''s duel."


    Without any further words, she turned around and headed toward the exit.


    The sudden departure left the hall in silence, but the Matriarch spoke a moment later, "As Elder Brightblade said, all arrangements have been made. Those of you chosen to observe the preparations, please remain here. All others are dismissed."


    Dismissing over a hundred Elders proved more involved than that, however, and half an hour passed as various Elders approached the Matriarch to ask all sorts of questions. Most of these concerned Brightblade and Arran, yet others seemed completely unrelated to the situation.


    The Matriarch answered the questions for a time, but eventually, even her ample patience reached its limit.


    "Enough!" she said. "Any further questions can wait until after the duel. There is work to be done!"


    As the hall slowly emptied, Arran looked at the Elders who remained, and saw that they had split into four groups. There was one group gathered around the Matriarch, another gathered around the two mages his enemies had chosen, and a third, larger one ¡ª the ones who remained neutral, he thought.


    Yet a group had gathered around Arran himself, as well. Over half a dozen Elders stood surrounding him and the Elder from the House of Flames, alternating between chatting among themselves and casting hostile glances at the group led by the House of Seals mages.


    While Arran was glad to have allies at his side, he found himself wondering just why they were there. Because impressive though Brightblade might be, he doubted that it was her charisma that had won them over.


    Instead, it appeared they had inadvertently joined one of the Valley''s factions ¡ª or perhaps not so inadvertently, given how well Brightblade had planned out her actions. But while he had obviously become embroiled in the Valley''s politics, he had yet to find out his allies'' shared purpose.


    His thoughts were interrupted by the Matriarch''s voice. "Let us depart," she called out. "We have less than a day to set up the wards for the duel, and achieving that will be no easy task."


    She stepped down from the dais and headed toward the exit, several dozens of Elders following behind her. When they reached the antechamber, the Elders quickly passed instructions to their students and associates who still remained there, then hurried after the Matriarch.


    The procession of Elders drew many looks as they passed through the House of Seals, and uncomfortably many of those were aimed at Arran. This was only natural ¡ª it was rare for an initiate to travel with even a single Elder, much less dozens of them ¡ª but it still made him uncomfortable.


    From this moment on, he realized, what little anonymity he had left in the Valley would be a thing of the past. Whatever happened, he would be recognized wherever he went.


    But that was a distant matter. Right now, his only real concern was the duel ahead. If Brightblade lost, unwanted fame would be the least of his worries.

 Chapter 255 The Dueling Grounds

    Arran could not help but feel relieved when the Matriarch led the group of Elders out of the House of Seals. Among the others, he stood out like a sore thumb, a single initiate surrounded by dozens of Elders.


    Or rather, a pretend initiate. In truth, Arran easily had all the skills to become a novice already, along with power that far surpassed that rank. He wasn''t sure whether he could rival Masters yet, but if he couldn''t, that level of power was already within his reach.


    And yet, compared to the Elders surrounding him, he might as well be a fresh initiate. A disheartening thought ¡ª especially because some of them would rather see him dead than alive.


    Yet he had new allies, too, one of whom gave him a studious look as they left the House of Seals behind.


    "Your teacher is a brave woman," the crimson-robed Elder said.


    "She is," Arran replied. There was no need to ask whether the man meant the Matriarch or Brightblade. "Though I don''t understand why she challenged all three of them."


    "Because she''s no fool," the Elder said. "Had she challenged them separately, they would have declined the challenge. Shame is easier to bear than death, to most people."


    "They could have declined?" Arran frowned. It hadn''t yet occurred to him that the three could have simply walked away from the challenge. "Just like that?"


    The Elder let out a mirthless chuckle. "Of course. The Valley could hardly force its members to fight each other. Had they refused the challenge, that would have been the end of it."


    Arran nodded in understanding. "So this was the only way for her to fight them, Elder¡­?" He blanched as he realized he didn''t even know his supposed ally''s name.


    "Theron," the Elder said, not the least bit offended that Arran didn''t know who he was. "And you''re correct. Had she not offered a fight they were confident in winning, they would have simply rejected the challenge and walked away. But now¡­ if she wins, she will do the Valley a great favor."


    Arran looked at the man in puzzlement. "A great favor?"


    The man hesitated, but only briefly. "There exists a disagreement within the Valley," he said. "Some of us believe that the Valley needs to focus on rebuilding its strength, preserving the peace but without bending the knee. Others, however¡­"


    He paused, his expression turning dark as he glanced at the group of men and women led by the House of Seals Elders. "Others believe that we should preserve the peace at any cost. That we should avoid even the appearance of rebuilding our strength, for fear of provoking our old enemies. And the three Elders your teacher challenged stand at the head of that group."


    "The Valley isn''t rebuilding its strength?" Arran found this hard to believe. From what he had seen, the number of young mages within the Valley was absolutely staggering. Given time, many of those would eventually grow strong.


    "Not the way it should," Elder Theron replied. "We have mages in droves, yet all but a few follow the same path that already brought us defeat once."


    "You believe the Valley should learn to counter the Hunters," Arran said, now understanding the Elder''s intention. "Focus on creating new techniques and methods that will be more effective against them."


    "Exactly!" the man replied, nodding vigorously as he spoke. "We do not seek a new war, but we need to be prepared for one all the same. Only strength can deter our enemies from renewing their aggression."


    Arran nodded, more to avoid offending the man than because he agreed. The truth was that he knew too little about the situation to know whether the Elder had the right of it, but this was hardly the proper time to voice his doubts.


    "What if she loses?" he asked instead, turning to a matter that mattered far more to him than the Valley''s future.


    "Even if she loses, at least one or two of them should die¡ª" The Elder stopped talking mid-sentence, realizing that this was not the right answer. He shook his head. "I am confident in her strength. But if she suffers some unforeseen misfortune and loses the duel, I will offer you shelter within the House of Flames. There, you will be safe from our enemies."


    "Thank you," Arran said, though he had no intention of taking the Elder''s offer. If his worst fear came to pass and Brightblade lost the duel, he would be out of the Valley as soon as he could ¡ª and hopefully before any of his enemies realized it.


    "But I am confident in her chances," the Elder continued. "And when she wins, your own status in the Valley will change as well. At the very least, my House should get more involved in your training. I think¡­"


    The man continued speaking for some time, evidently already planning to insert himself into Arran''s training. Arran, however, only listened with half an ear. Even if he now understood part of Brightblade''s plan, his worries had only grown.


    She was strong, of course, but whether she was strong enough to defeat three of the Valley''s strongest Elders¡­ that was a different matter, and one which Arran wasn''t nearly as confident about as he would have liked.


    The journey to the dueling grounds took nearly an hour, which various other Elders also used to introduce themselves to Arran. He answered them as politely as he could, though he could not escape the notion that if Brightblade won the duel, his time in the Valley would change a great deal ¡ª and not necessarily for the better.


    Then, at last, they arrived at the dueling grounds.


    At once, Arran was surprised at the sight. Rather than the small field he had expected to see, what lay before him was over a mile of flat grasslands, surrounded by a series of small hills.


    "Is this¡­" he began, uncertain which part of the spacious area would actually hold the duel.


    "These are the dueling grounds," Elder Theron said. "The duel will take place across this entire area." Seeing Arran''s wide eyes, he chuckled. "This will a duel between Archmages ¡ª the magic used will be enough to turn a smaller area to glass."


    Arran responded with a slight nod. Now that he gave it some thought, it made sense. While he had not personally witnessed truly strong mages unleashing their full powers, what he had Sensed during the battle between the Sixth Valley''s factions was enough to tell him it would be devastating.


    As he imagined what the duel might look like, he saw that the Matriarch and the Elders she had brought along herself were all heading to different corners of the vast area.


    "Pay attention," Elder Theron said, somewhat unnecessarily. "They are about to start work on the wards that will contain the magic used in the duel. These are among the Valley''s most complex and powerful secrets, and even if you won''t be able to understand them, just seeing them should benefit you."


    It took the Matriarch and her helpers some time to get into position, but once they did, they began their work immediately.


    In an instant, Arran could Sense that the entire area was filled with thick streams of Essence, locking together in a pattern nearly as intricate as Master Zhao''s seal. He almost immediately recognized that there were more than a few similarities between the two, though he could see many differences as well.


    He watched for over an hour, amazed at how perfectly the different mages'' efforts combined into a single giant formation. From what he could tell, they needed to work in near-perfect harmony ¡ª otherwise, the pattern would unravel in an instant.


    "See how the different strands of Essence reinforce each other?" Elder Theron said in a soft voice. "When completed, it will redirect the force of attacks over the entire formation, making it all but impossible to break."


    Arran nodded silently, already familiar with the principle. Yet there was something else, as well ¡ª something he hadn''t encountered before.


    "It looks like the formation is supposed to direct energy inward?" he said after some time, trying to make sense of what he was seeing.


    "Good eye," the Elder replied, sounding slightly startled. "The formation will absorb the energy of any attacks that don''t destroy it, allowing it to grow stronger over time."


    Arran had heard of the principle before, but he had never seen it laid out before him in such a grand formation. And now that he could study it, he found himself engrossed in the spectacle, even the imminent duel briefly forgotten.


    There was a principle at work here, he knew ¡ª a principle related to the absorption of magic. And although he couldn''t quite grasp it entirely, understanding was steadily growing in his mind as he watched thick strands of Essence being woven together into a giant pattern.


    The sensation came to an end disappointingly quickly. Although he had gained some understanding of how it worked, he realized his knowledge of magic was still insufficient to fully comprehend it.


    "No wonder you attract such teachers."


    When Arran looked up, he was surprised to see Elder Theron staring at him in what appeared to be astonishment. And he wasn''t the only one ¡ª even though the Matriarch and her helpers were still working on the formation, the other Elders'' attention was focused squarely on Arran. Some looked puzzled, some stunned, and more than a few had looks of envy in their eyes.


    Arran frowned, and his frown only deepened when he realized that the sun wasn''t where it was supposed to be. It should be close to setting, but instead, it looked as if it had risen just a few hours ago.


    With no small amount of shock, Arran realized that it was late in the morning. An entire night had passed while he observed the formation being made, his surroundings completely forgotten as he gained a new understanding.


    "You gained an insight, didn''t you?" Elder Theron asked, though his tone suggested that he already knew the answer.


    "I did," Arran replied. There was no point in denying it ¡ª all the Elders present clearly understood what had happened. And although he had gained an insight, it was an incomplete one ¡ª not like the true insight he had gained from Master Zhao''s seal.


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    Yet he knew that the true insight was what had allowed him to recognize this ¡ª a small, incomplete glimpse at the nature of reality itself. Now that he knew what to look for, finding it proved easier than he could have imagined.


    "It seems you have no small amount of talent," Elder Theron said. "Some of us Elders have struggled for centuries to recognize the power behind this formation, and many still haven''t succeeded." The slight smirk on his lips suggested that he was not among those.


    "I suppose I got lucky," Arran said, shrugging awkwardly.


    "Luck is as much a part of talent as skill," the Elder replied. "Though the most important thing is training." He gave Arran an appraising glance. "We really should look into your training once the duel is over. Your current teachers are skilled, but additional help might still benefit you."


    Once more Elder Theron began making plans for Arran''s future, and once more Arran found himself nodding along while only barely paying attention.


    Midday was approaching rapidly, and already, a stream of mages was flooding onto the hills surrounding the dueling grounds. There were thousands, and although the Elders paid them no attention, Arran realized that their presence meant the duel wasn''t far off.


    Brightblade hadn''t come yet, but he knew she would be there in minutes. Yet while he was certain of her arrival, the question of whether she would leave again filled him with an unease that bordered on panic.

 Chapter 256 The Duel

    As midday came closer, the hills around the dueling grounds steadily filled up with mages. At a glance, Arran thought there were tens of thousands of them, and more kept arriving with each passing minute.


    The three Elders who would face Brightblade arrived as well, a large group of other mages following behind them. It was clear that they had many allies, both in the House of Seals and in the other Houses.


    Arran stayed well away from the group. Giving them the chance to seek a confrontation would be foolish. It would hand them a way to get to Brightblade through him, and for no good reason.


    Instead, he swallowed his anger and turned away from the group. Brightblade would put them in their place soon enough.


    More mages gathered around Arran and Elder Theron as well, however. Some of these merely gave friendly nods and smiles, but others came over to introduce themselves, and a few even approached Arran to discuss his plans after the duel.


    Most of them understood quickly that Arran was not in any mood to talk, but a few insisted anyway. In particular, a burly man from the House of Fists was adamant that Arran train with him when the opportunity arose.


    Yet as the man was talking to Arran, Brightblade arrived.


    Arran had expected her to be alone, but instead, she approached the dueling grounds at the head of a long procession of House of Swords mages. From what Arran could tell, it seemed like none had been left behind ¡ª there were thousands and thousands of mages, with even the initiates having joined the group.


    At the head of the group, right behind Brightblade, were the strongest mages. Arran recognized Grandmaster Solin and Elder Kallias, along with others whose names he did not know even if he had seen them before.


    When the front of the procession reached the group that had formed around Arran, Brightblade briefly greeted the strongest mages there, then immediately turned to him.


    "Follow me," she said curtly. "We need to speak."


    Without waiting for a response, she headed toward one of the few empty spots that still lay around the dueling grounds, then put down a strong ward that would stop others from seeing them.


    "Take this," she said, handing Arran a small bag.


    "What''s¡ª" Arran began.


    Before he could finish the question, Brightblade continued, "This void bag contains a number of my belongings. It''s bound to me, but if I die, the bond will disappear and you will be able to open it."


    "If you die?" Arran looked at her with wide eyes. While he had known the duel was dangerous, some part of him had still believed that she had some trick up her sleeve ¡ª some way to guarantee victory. But instead, she seemed to consider death a real possibility.


    "If I lose the duel," she went on, "do not linger here for even a second. Do not mourn me or try to avenge me. Head to my mountain estate immediately ¡ª the wards there should buy you some time. Take the contents of my bag, then follow the path into the mountains. It will be dangerous, but they will have put up guards at the Valley''s gates."


    Arran stared at her wordlessly, still shocked that she thought she might die. But when his mind calmed a bit some moments later, he asked, "Didn''t you tell me that path only lead to death?"


    She nodded, her expression severe. "If you follow that path, with your current strength, you will likely die. But it will give you a better chance than staying in the Valley."


    Arran swallowed hard. "Do you have to do this? Can''t we just leave the Valley?"


    Brightblade responded with a firm shake of her head. "Even if I wanted to, it''s too late for that. But this fight¡­" She sighed. "It''s necessary. Not just for your future in the Valley, but for the Valley''s own future as well. If I don''t fight, or if I lose, the Ninth Valley will fall. And sooner rather than later, I suspect."


    At this, Arran knitted his brows in thought. He knew it had to do with the things Elder Theron had told him, but from what Brightblade now said, it seemed the situation was far more serious than he had believed.


    "Still," he said, unwilling to accept the situation so easily. "Isn''t there some other way? Something that doesn''t have you risk death?"


    "Some fights cannot be avoided," she responded. "This is one of those. And if this Valley is to survive, I fear it will not be the last."


    Arran barely understood what she was talking about, but with a heavy heart, he nodded. "Just be careful."


    Brightblade grinned in response, though the grin looked a bit forced. "I have no intention of throwing my life away," she said. Then, more confidently, "And I am not so easily defeated."


    All Arran could do was nod and hope that she was right. Because although there were many other questions he wanted to ask, a quick glance at the sky told him that it was already midday.


    "It''s time," Brightblade said. "With a bit of luck, we''ll be talking again soon enough."


    She flashed him a last smile, then started toward the dueling grounds. As she left, Arran found himself at a loss for words. While there were many things he wanted to say, all the words that came to mind seemed trivial now ¡ª unfit for the situation.


    "Good luck," he finally said in a soft voice, too late for Brightblade to hear him.


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    He didn''t leave immediately. For some moments, he merely stood there in silence, watching Brightblade as she approached the dueling grounds. The feeling was far worse than what he felt when going into battle himself ¡ª at least then, he controlled the situation.


    But now, all he could do was hope, and trust in Brightblade''s strength. Yet no matter how much he tried, it wasn''t enough to silence the uneasy feeling that crept through his body.


    "Come."


    The sudden voice startled Arran, but when he turned around, he saw that it was Elder Theron.


    "Let''s return to the others," the Elder said. "Standing here alone and worrying won''t help. What happens next is up to her, and she''s strong enough to win this."


    Arran nodded, trying to convince himself that Elder Theron was right despite the doubts he felt as they walked back to the others.


    The strongest mages from the House of Swords and the most powerful of Elder Theron''s allies had taken up the top of one of the hills surrounding the dueling grounds, and Arran now joined them there, his eyes fixed on the flat grasslands ahead.


    While the mages had been talkative earlier, now, all but a few had gone silent, and they looked the grasslands that would soon be consumed by battle with both anticipation and worry in their eyes.


    Arran, for his part, frowned in wonder. The duel hadn''t begun yet, but Brightblade and her opponents had already entered the battlefield, and the scene looked deceptively peaceful.


    The dueling grounds were vast, and on them stood four people. Brightblade was by herself, a lonely figure in the distance, surrounded by nothing but flat grassland. And a mile further stood her opponents, the three of them spread a few dozen paces apart, standing still as they waited for the battle to begin.


    They stood like that for several minutes, but nothing appeared to be happening. The Matriarch didn''t step forward to begin the fight, and neither Brightblade nor her opponents showed any sign of attacking.


    Puzzled, Arran leaned over to Elder Theron. "When does it start?" he asked in a soft voice.


    "It already has," the Elder answered. "They''re just waiting to see which of them will be the first to reveal their hand."


    The answer didn''t make much sense to Arran. He had thought attacking first would give an advantage, but instead, both sides appeared to be in no hurry to launch the first attack. Why this was, he did not know ¡ª but then, there was much he still didn''t understand about magic.


    They stood there for a quarter-hour, barely showing even a single movement the entire time. But then, suddenly, Arran Sensed it ¡ª Brightblade''s opponents seizing a staggering amount of Essence, so much that his eyes briefly grew blurry.


    In the corners of his eyes, Arran saw that more than a few of the mages lower on the hills had collapsed from the sudden pressure of Essence.


    He paid them no attention ¡ª all that mattered now was the duel, and he trembled at the thought of what attack Brightblade''s opponents were about to launch with such power.


    There was no need to use his imagination. Barely a breath later, a violent mass formed before the three Elders, a giant ball of fire and lightning a hundred paces across, roiling with power. And even as it formed, it shot toward Brightblade.


    Arran felt a surge of nausea when he saw it. The energy was terrifying ¡ª enough to flatten a mountain. And there was no time for Brightblade to evade the attack.


    The mass of Essence struck her like an avalanche bearing down on a village, tearing through ground and rock alike as it engulfed her, the sound of the impact shaking the hills around the dueling grounds.


    The power was too much to be contained in so small an area, and a wave of violent Essence surged forth toward the hills, charring the ground where it went. Yet then, it came to a sudden halt as it hit the Matriarch''s formation. The energy caused a brief flicker in the formation, but it held strong, if only barely.


    Arran had no eyes for any of this. His attention was fixed on the area where Brightblade stood ¡ª the area where the attack had been strongest, and which was now filled with a dense smoke that obscured it from view.


    Then, a sudden streak of bright white light surged forth from the smoke. Barely as thick as an arm, it radiated power as it shot toward the three Elders, moving so fast it could barely be seen.


    Too fast for the Elders to counter, as well ¡ª because Arran now saw that Elder Heran''s upper body was gone. It had happened too quickly to see, the Elder defeated before Arran had even registered the attack.


    Almost instantly, half a dozen more streaks of light shot toward the two remaining Elders. Yet although they moved faster than Arran could see, they were somehow blocked by invisible shields, glancing off the air just paces away from their targets.


    Another streak of white light shot out, just slightly slower than the others had been. Arran thought it was another attack, but as it reached the Elders, he realized it was Brightblade herself ¡ª enveloped in white flame and moving impossibly fast, her blinding blade already lashing out at Elder Danae.


    If the Elder had recognized the attack before Arran, it was still too late ¡ª her body fell to the ground before she could even move, cleaved from head to waist by Brightblade''s sword.


    But even as another Elder died, Brightblade''s body was suddenly flung several hundreds of paces backward, struck by some invisible force. And although she got up again instantly, Arran realized with shock that she seemed unsteady on her feet, as if the attack had shaken her.


    "Just Straton remains," Elder Theron said softly. "Now, the true duel begins."

 Chapter 257 A Fight To The Death

    Arran felt a surge of worry as he saw Brightblade sway on her feet. She had seemed invincible just a moment earlier, moving with an impossible speed, but now she looked vulnerable. Hurt, even.


    Her opponent wasted no time in exploiting the opening. Seeing a chance, the Elder launched a barrage of attacks ¡ª numerous streaks of fire and lightning that shimmered with power, each of them soaring toward Brightblade with staggering speed.


    For a moment, Arran feared that was the end of it. The attacks were too many, too fast, too powerful.


    But just as the first streak of lightning was about to hit, there was a flicker in the air before it. The attack was suddenly deflected, sent flying into the distance. It crashed into the formation surrounding the dueling grounds a moment later, sending a ripple through the air before it dissipated.


    Another attack came only a fraction of a second later, however. She deflected this one as well, but it came even closer than the first to hitting her. And even before it crashed into the formation, it was followed by yet another attack.


    In the space of a few seconds, dozens of attacks rained down on Brightblade, violent bolts of Essence with terrifying power. And while Brightblade somehow managed to block them all, each new attack came closer to hitting her.


    The first attacks had been stopped several paces in front of her, but now, they came within an arm''s length of her body. And still, the onslaught continued undimished. At this rate, it was a matter of seconds before she would be hit.


    Arran clenched his jaw as he watched, desperately wishing there was something ¡ª anything ¡ª he could do. But even if he could get past the formation, the power used here was too much for him to make a difference.


    Some of the deflected attacks hit the ground instead of the formation, and each of those tore a deep scar into the earth, dozens of paces long and several feet deep. Even with Arran''s resistance to magic, a single attack like that would rip through his body with ease.


    He nearly screamed in frustration as he saw that Brightblade''s opponent stepped up his attacks, with the man clearly sensing that he was on the verge of victory. There was no chance for her to recover, much less launch a counter-attack ¡ª she was already struggling to defend herself.


    Then, she was hit.


    She moved her hand just a second too late, the attack already striking her as a shield formed behind it, too late to make a difference.


    Yet as the ball of seething fire and lightning struck her body, there was a brief but blindingly bright flash of light, and she staggered backward ¡ª hurt, but still alive.


    Arran felt a surge of relief, but it lasted only a second. She had miraculously survived the first attack, but more followed behind it. Her opponent had seen his chance, and he had no intention of wasting it.


    Again she was struck, and again she staggered backward. There was no blocking the attacks now ¡ª a rain of fire and lightning bore down upon her, driving her back further and further, her movements weaker with every step she took.


    Suddenly, Arran felt a hand on his shoulder. "There''s nothing you can do," Elder Theron''s voice came.


    Arran blinked as he realized that his hand was on his sword, his body tense as he subconsciously moved to attack, with only the Elder''s hand holding him back. Another second, and he would have rushed onto the battlefield.


    Though he took his hand off his sword, he was unable to relax his body ¡ª not with Brightblade on the verge of being defeated.


    Meanwhile, the barrage of attacks on Brightblade continued unceasingly, the onslaught slowly driving her toward the edge of the formation. Arran wanted to scream for her to move, to evade, to do anything but stand there as she was battered with fire and lightning.


    It was no use.


    The way she moved was familiar to Arran. He has seen it in his own enemies, in the final moments before they died. They were the movements of someone whose defense was failing, shaken beyond recovery, on the verge of collapse.


    Her opponent saw it as well, and the man''s attacks became slower and more powerful as he prepared to strike a final blow.


    Arran screamed in frustration when Brightblade was hit directly by a sphere of bright yellow fire, her body flung backward as the force of the explosion tore a deep crater into the ground.


    She somehow got to her feet again, but far too slow ¡ª another devastating attack crashed into her before she was even fully standing, and again she was flung to the ground.


    This time, she struggled to get up. And as she lifted her injured body off the ground, her opponent seized the chance to launch his most powerful attack yet, a violent mass of fire and lightning, seething with power.


    The attack soared toward Brightblade with a sickening roar, seeming too powerful to block even if she had not been on the verge of falling already. There was nothing she could do as the attack bore down on her with a thunderous crash, the earth rent apart for hundreds of paces around her.


    There was a final bright flash of light, and then ¡ª nothing.


    As the dust settled, there was no sign of Brightblade. Where she had stood now lay a giant crater, so deep it seemed like a wound in the earth itself.


    Arran looked on in horror, his eyes frantically searching for Brightblade. But then, in the corner of his eye, he saw an unexpected flash of movement.


    Something flying through the air ¡ª a shiny head-sized rock, he thought briefly, before realizing that this was no rock.


    His eyes shot toward the Elder, then went wide with shock and joy as he saw the Elder''s headless body collapse to the ground, Brightblade impossibly standing behind him.


    Arran could not fathom how she had done it, but he didn''t care. She had won, and that was all that mattered. He instantly rushed forward, Elder Theron no longer able to hold him back.


    The intense relief he felt turned back to worry a moment later, however, as Brightblade collapsed to her knees next to her opponent''s body.


    And as Arran rapidly approached her, he now saw that she was covered in wounds, her robe torn, with fresh blood covering her face and body.


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    Driven by fear, Arran was the first to reach her. At once, he saw that she was in a terrible state. Any one of her injuries would be enough to kill a strong mage, and she had dozens of them.


    He knelt down by her side immediately, and as he did, she opened her eyes.


    "I got them," she said in a weak voice, flashing him a bloody smile.


    Then, her eyes closed again, and her body went limp.


    Arran was forcefully shoved aside a second later by a gray-haired woman he did not recognize. "Healers! Now!" the woman barked loudly.


    More mages came, crowding around Brightblade as Arran watched silently, hoping against hope that she could be saved. Some people tried to speak to him ¡ª Elder Theron, perhaps? ¡ª but he ignored them, his attention fully consumed by his worry for Brightblade.


    For more than a half-hour, the mages around her cast all sorts of spells on her, none of them the least bit familiar to Arran. There was nothing for it but to accept it ¡ª even his trust in the Ninth Valley had been worn down to a sliver, he knew nothing about healing magic, and these strangers were the best chance she had.


    The longer they continued the work, the more Arran''s spirits sank. Brightblade''s state had been dire to begin with, and now, it seemed like the last shred of life that remained within her was slipping away.


    Suddenly, the gray-haired woman stood up. She briefly looked at the crowd of mages surrounding them, until finally, her eyes found Arran.


    A small smile formed on her lips as she looked at him. Then, with a warm expression, she said, "She''s going to make it."

 Chapter 258 Aftermath

    Brightblade looked longingly at a grilled leg of lamb that was sitting just out of her arm''s reach, one among several dozens of meticulously prepared dishes that sat before her on the table.


    "Could you get that for me?" she said. "My body is still weak from that terrible fight I fought for you. And with my injuries, I just don''t have the strength." She sighed woefully as she looked at Arran.


    He gave her a brief glare, but he stood up all the same, then walked over to the piece of meat and carefully deposited it on Brightblade''s plate. He owed her that much, at least.


    "Could you carve it up, as well?" she asked. This time, she was unable to keep a smile from flashing across her face.


    Arran sighed, but he did not complain. Although Brightblade was taking full advantage of the situation, she had earned the right to do so. Even if she had no real need for Arran''s assistance anymore.


    Just two weeks had passed since the duel, but Brightblade''s recovery in that time had been nothing short of miraculous.


    Right after the battle, her injuries had been grievous ¡ª deep wounds, broken bones, and bruises that covered her body from head to toe. It had taken a full day before she even regained consciousness, and when she finally came to, she was in a pitiful state.


    During the first few days, the Valley''s best healers had cared for her day and night, using every shred of Essence they had to mend her broken body. And their ceaseless efforts had paid off. Barely three days after the duel, she was already back on her feet, albeit unsteadily.


    After that, with the help of Arran''s dragon meat and Snowcloud''s pills, her progress had been dramatic. It only took half a week before she insisted on resuming Arran''s training, and by now, a stranger would be unable to see that she had suffered serious injuries just weeks earlier.


    Still, her recovery had a long way to go yet, and Arran knew that months would pass before she fully regained her strength. But even this was far beyond anything he could have expected, and he would do whatever he could to help her further along the way to a full recovery.


    As Brightblade finished the grilled leg of lamb ¡ª her third that morning ¡ª she stood up from the table. "We should spar for a bit," she said. "You could do with a bit of practice."


    Arran gave her a flat stare. "Weren''t you feeling too weak to get your food just a moment ago?"


    "The meal helped," she replied cheerfully. "And some light exercise will help me recover faster."


    With a sigh, Arran followed her to the training fields in his mansion''s gardens. There was no point in objecting ¡ª once Brightblade''s mind was set, there was little he could do to change it. Especially when it came to training.


    Just a moment after they arrived at the training fields, however, Jovan approached at a jog.


    He greeted Brightblade with a bow ¡ª one noticeably deeper than the ones he had given her before the duel ¡ª then turned to Arran.


    "Lord Ghostblade," he said. "Gifts have arrived from the House of Fists and the House of Leaves, and their Elders would like to know when you could meet them." Somewhat uncomfortably, he added, "Their messengers are currently waiting at the gate, in anticipation of your reply."


    Arran frowned. "Put the gifts with the others, and tell the messengers what I said before: that I will send word when I am ready to meet the Elders."


    "Of course, Lord Ghostblade." Jovan gave Arran a nod and Brightblade another bow, then hurried off again.


    As his steward departed, Arran sighed in frustration. Over the past two weeks, he had received gifts and invitations from dozens of different Houses, some of which he hadn''t even known existed until they contacted him.


    "You''ll have to meet with them sooner or later," Brightblade said as she unsheathed her sword. Not waiting for a reply, she immediately launched a quick attack at Arran.


    Arran barely managed to draw his sword and fend off the attack, then quickly took several steps back, dropping into a defensive stance. "Is it really necessary for me to meet them?"


    Brightblade darted forward, then struck a deceptively powerful blow that opened a gap in Arran''s defense. A quick flick of her sword brought the blade against Arran''s throat, and she calmly stepped back.


    "My win. And yes, it''s necessary. Given your new position, all the Houses will want to forge ties with you. Rejecting them will earn you no small number of enemies in the Valley."


    Before he replied, Arran launched a rapid series of blows at Brightblade, though she deflected them all with ease. Without pause, she responded with several quick counter-strokes, the last of which struck Arran in the chest.


    Arran stepped back, then let out another sigh. "I don''t even know what my position is."


    "Of course you do," Brightblade said. With a few swings of her blade, she drove Arran back several paces. "You are the heir apparent to the Ninth Valley''s Matriarch."


    Hearing the words said so openly caused Arran a brief moment of distraction, which Brightblade exploited to strike another blow to his chest.


    "My win again," she said. "And there''s no escaping it now. The Matriarch''s position has been strengthened by the death of her strongest detractors, and with you her apprentice, the same goes for your own position."


    She didn''t mention her own role, but then, there was no need to say it out loud. Brightblade had slain three of the Valley''s strongest Elders, and as her apprentice, Arran''s status had skyrocketed as well.


    In fact, it almost seemed like the Houses were more interested in him than in Brightblade ¡ª perhaps, Arran thought, because the awe they felt for Brightblade included more than a little fear. To the Houses'' leaders, attempting to win over her apprentice might seem the safest approach in appeasing her.


    All of this left Arran in a position that was as enviable to others as it was unwelcome to him.


    Rather than being able to train quietly, he now stood at the center of attention, with no end to the number of powerful strangers trying to win his favor.


    He glanced at Brightblade and launched another series of attacks, slower and more deliberate this time. They crossed swords for several minutes before she inevitably got the better of him again.


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    "So what should I do?" he asked, rubbing his shoulder where she had struck him with the flat of her blade.


    "Practice your swordplay more, for a start," she replied with a grin. But her expression turned serious a moment later, and she continued, "Give them what they want. Meet with them, then accept the gifts and training they will offer you. Your training will benefit from their help, and you might even gain some allies."


    She attacked again before Arran could reply, and for the next half hour, they sparred in silence. Despite her injuries, Brightblade was more than a match for her student, and Arran''s forehead was covered in sweat when they finally ended the training.


    He quickly changed into a clean robe, and as they headed back to the mansion, he gave Brightblade a curious look. "How did you do it?"


    She responded with an innocent smile. "Do what?"


    "Win the duel," Arran replied, knowing that she understood exactly what he meant ¡ª he had asked the question nearly every day over the previous week, with Brightblade deflecting it as deftly as she deflected his sword. "That defense of yours, and your final attack¡­ I still don''t understand how either of those things is possible."


    He half-expected Brightblade to dodge the question once more, but instead, she gave him an appraising look.


    Yet the answer he hoped for didn''t come. Instead, she said, "I will explain it to you once you become an adept. By then, your knowledge of magic should barely be enough to understand the answer."


    It was more of an answer than she had given him previously, and though it did nothing to satisfy his curiosity, he nodded in acknowledgment. Even if he had to wait for an answer ¡ª and longer than he would have liked, at that ¡ª he knew that it was more than she offered the Ninth Valley''s Elders.


    "Let''s eat a quick meal," she continued. "After that, we''ll pay Rhea a visit."


    "We''re seeing the Matriarch tonight?" Arran asked. While the Matriarch had visited several times to check on Brightblade in the days after the duel, there had been little sign of the woman over the past week.


    "We are," Brightblade said. "It''s time for you to resume your training in earnest, and I''ll need to discuss with her how we''ll involve the other Houses." Then, with a slight grin, she added, "And there''s still the matter of the amulet ¡ª a debt I expect her to repay with interest."

 Chapter 259 The Matriarchs Plans

    Before Arran and Brightblade stepped out of the mansion''s gate, Jovan insisted that they take an escort of four guards. This seemed unnecessary to Arran ¡ª the Matriarch''s residence was barely a stone''s throw away, and if they were attacked, four adepts would hardly make a difference ¡ª but Jovan was adamant all the same.


    "Lord Ghostblade," he said with a serious frown, "it would not be right for you to go unescorted. Not with your status."


    Arran sighed, then gave his steward a short nod. "Very well."


    He sighed not because there''d be an escort on the short walk to the Matriarch''s residence, but because he knew that, from this moment on, there would be an escort whenever he stepped outside his mansion''s gates.


    As the guards joined them on the way to the Matriarch''s mansion, Arran glanced at one of them. A tall, light-haired man with broad shoulders, he was one of the more talented swordsmen among the guards.


    "How''s your work on the Thousand Cuts coming along?" Arran asked. He still regularly instructed his guards and servants in sword skills, and this seemed as good a time as any to check on their progress.


    The man gave him a surprised stare. "It''s going well, Lord Ghostblade," he stammered. "I''ve mastered the movements, and Doran is helping me learn the transitions."


    Arran nodded. "Keep up the work, but don''t neglect your sparring." While the man was talented, he had a tendency to focus too much on theory and too little on testing his skills.


    The Matriarch''s mansion was only a couple of minutes away, but that was enough time for Arran to check on all four guards'' progress, as well as offer them some advice on their weaker areas.


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    Brightblade observed all this with an amused smile, but to Arran''s relief, she made no comments about the blind leading the blind. If anything, it seemed that she approved of Arran''s attempts to aid his guards'' training.


    They left the four guards behind as they entered the gate to the Matriarch''s mansion, after which one of the Matriarch''s guards led them through the gardens and into the mansion itself.


    They found the Matriarch in a large stone chamber. It was sparsely decorated, featuring only a wooden desk, several chairs, and a large number of bookshelves, each of them completely filled with ancient-looking tomes.


    The Matriarch was seated behind the desk, several thick books opened in front of her and a look of concentration on her face. Yet when Arran and Brightblade entered the chamber, her eyes immediately lit up.


    "There you are!" she said in a cheerful voice. "I was expecting you to stop by any day now." As she turned to Brightblade, a brief frown crossed her forehead. "Are you recovering well?"


    "As well as can be expected," Brightblade replied. "It will take a few more months before the last of my injuries are completely healed, but there should be no lasting harm."


    "Good," the Matriarch said. She gestured at two chairs in front of the desk. "Please, sit down. We have much to discuss."


    Even before they were fully seated, she asked, "Ghostblade, I take it the Valley''s Houses have already contacted you?"


    Arran nodded, though he couldn''t help but frown at the Matriarch''s change in demeanor. It was as if she was an entirely different person, suddenly filled with energy and purpose.


    "You will have to meet them," she said. "I suggest you host a banquet in two weeks'' time. Something to subtly announce your changed status to the Valley." She turned to Brightblade. "Yours, as well."


    Brightblade had looked on calmly so far, but now, a deep crease formed on her forehead. "What exactly are you planning, Rhea?"


    "I''m appointing you Commander of the Valley," the Matriarch said. "There hasn''t been one in several decades, but the time has come for change."


    At this, Brightblade''s frown deepened further. "Commander of the Valley? Do you intend to¡ª"


    "I do not intend to go to war," the Matriarch interrupted her. "But the Valley must be prepared nonetheless. And no one here is better suited to that task than you. Work on a new stronghold has already started. There, you will begin training a new generation of mages for whatever threats the future brings us."


    "We''re moving to a new stronghold?" Arran looked at the Matriarch in surprise, though after a moment''s thought, he did not mind the idea at all. Moving away from the House of Seals would certainly be welcome, especially if it meant more training with Brightblade.


    "Not you," she replied. "You will remain where you are, so that I can continue teaching you."


    Arran stifled a sigh, instead giving the Matriarch a silent nod that he hoped did not fully reveal his disappointment.


    "However," the Matriarch continued, "the estate adjacent yours has recently lost its owner, and I''m having its lands added to yours. The result should make for a residence befitting your new status."


    A frown crossed Arran''s face when he realized that he had spent months living next to one of his enemies ¡ª one of the three Elders Brightblade had slain, most likely. A threat whose existence had completely escaped his notice.


    But whoever had owned the estate was now dead, and Arran turned his attention back to the matter at hand. And while the idea of a larger estate sounded good, he quickly realized that the gift would be a burden rather than a blessing.


    "My estate is large enough already," he said after a moment. "There''s no need for more land."


    His mansion could easily accommodate several times the number of people who lived there already, and the lands surrounding it were more than sufficient for his needs. Any more, and his servants would struggle just to maintain the estate.


    The Matriarch shook her head. "Previously, your estate was large enough," she said. "But the other Houses will want to be involved in your education, and the teachers they send will require proper accommodations. Not to mention the other students ¡ª I suspect several new buildings will be needed to house them all."


    "Other students?" Arran stared at the Matriarch in puzzlement. He had known things would change, but from the sound of it, her plans went far beyond anything he had foreseen.


    "The other Houses will send a number of their most talented students to join you in your training," she explained. "To benefit from the teachers who will instruct you, but more importantly, to forge ties for the future. If you are to succeed me one day, then you should have allies among the Valley''s future leaders."


    This was the first time she had stated her intentions directly, and although Arran had already known about her plans for him, the words still came as a surprise ¡ª one every bit as large as the shock he felt at the prospect of having a group of other students move into his estate.


    Yet after giving it a bit of thought, he realized she was right. If this was to be his path ¡ª and it seemed it would be ¡ª then he would certainly need allies. Preferably ones who could help him better understand the Valley''s politics.


    Brightblade, however, looked at the Matriarch with narrowed eyes, an inscrutable expression on her face. "What are you planning, Rhea?" she finally asked.


    "I''m simply safeguarding the Valley''s future," the Matriarch replied firmly. She shook her head, then continued in a softer voice, "What you did¡­ it changed the balance of power in the Valley. For better or worse, we have taken the first step on a new path. All I can do now is prepare the Valley for what lies ahead."


    "Do the Valley''s Elders approve of this?" Brightblade asked.


    "Theron agrees fully," the Matriarch said. "And where he leads, the House of Flames follows. The House of Creation remains neutral, as always. And the House of Shadows¡­" She shrugged. "Apate was always difficult to read. But they have not voiced any objections."


    "And the House of Seals?" Brightblade asked the question calmly, though not without a hint of distrust in her voice.


    "I finished the work you started," the Matriarch responded, not the slightest bit of emotion showing on her face. "The Elders who remain are all loyal."


    Arran''s eyes widened at her words as he understood their meaning. The Elders she suspected of disloyalty had been purged, and he very much doubted they had merely been demoted or banished.


    He had not expected such decisiveness ¡ª or ruthlessness ¡ª from the Matriarch, and he now realized that his previous view of her was incorrect. With her enemies in the House of Seals gone, he now saw that her true nature was far more dangerous than he had realized.


    There was no chance for him to further ponder this unexpected change, because, at that moment, the Matriarch turned her attention back to him.


    "Next, we will have to discuss your training," she said. "And before anything else, it is time that we finally address your Destruction Realm."

 Chapter 260 Treasures

    "So you knew." Brightblade''s calm statement suggested that she was not at all surprised, even if Arran was still staring at the Matriarch with wide eyes.


    "I suspected it for some time," the Matriarch said. "And when he survived that attack, my suspicions were confirmed."


    "What gave it away?" Brightblade asked, her expression one of mild curiosity rather than alarm. It seemed she didn''t believe the matter a serious problem. Or, if she did, she did an excellent job of hiding it.


    "You allowed him to study the Forms," the Matriarch explained. "It''s not unusual for young mages to be interested in those, but their teachers generally put a quick stop to that ¡ª and rightly so. Yet you allowed him to continue."


    The Matriarch cast a short glance at Brightblade, and when no objection came, a pleased smile formed on her lips.


    "That can only mean one thing," she continued. "You intend to have him recover Nikias''s writings. And venturing into that battlefield will require an exceptional resistance to magic ¡ª something that can only be gained in very few ways."


    Brightblade nodded. "Well-reasoned. So what are your thoughts on the plan?"


    "It''s risky," the Matriarch said. "It is questionable whether Nikias ever wrote down his secrets. And even if he did, the Hunters will have looted the battlefield long ago. Their resistance to magic may not rival that of someone with a Destruction Realm, but it is far from negligible."


    "There is no reward without risk," Brightblade replied with a shrug. "But what of the Forms? If he succeeds, is the reward worth the effort? There wasn''t much to be found in the Valley''s libraries ¡ª certainly less than I would have expected."


    The Matriarch hesitated in answering as she furrowed her brow in thought. "That question is more complicated than you might think," she finally said. "That Nikias had few students wasn''t a matter of pride or arrogance. In truth, few were suited for his methods. Though I suspect Ghostblade''s chances might be better than most."


    "How so?" Brightblade asked.


    "The Forms rely on insights as much as they rely on skill and knowledge," the Matriarch answered. "For most of Nikias''s prospective students, that proved an insurmountable obstacle." She turned her eyes to Arran. "But then, perhaps you are more suited for such a path?"


    There was a knowing look in her eyes that made Arran wonder if she had discovered his true insight as easily as she had discovered his Destruction Realm. If she had, it wouldn''t surprise him in the slightest.


    Yet if she knew, she did not seem to think the matter merited further discussion. Instead, she turned back to Brightblade, then continued, "If the writings exist and he can find them, and if the path suits him, learning it would certainly be of no small benefit to him."


    "Then he will continue to study the Forms," Brightblade said. "If nothing else, it''s a good way to further familiarize him with the principles of magic."


    "Agreed," the Matriarch said with a nod. "Though we will have to ensure he continues to learn proper magic, too. And with the other Houses getting involved, he will need a strict schedule. What I propose is that¡ª"


    Brightblade and the Matriarch spent the next half hour discussing their plans for Arran''s training, setting out a schedule that wasn''t just strict but positively brutal. They did not ask for Arran''s input ¡ª apparently, his wishes weren''t among their concerns.


    Arran slowly paled as he listened to them speak. From the sound of it, they meant his every waking moment to be filled with study, practice, and training, with little time for anything else.


    Yet the more he heard, the more he began to think they were wrong. For all the meticulousness with which they crafted a schedule, it lacked the kind of free practice and sparring that helped him most in truly grasping spells and techniques.


    "No."


    Arran was almost surprised to hear the word come out of his mouth. He had not intended to go against his teachers. But even as he spoke, he realized it was necessary.


    "No?" The Matriarch raised an eyebrow as she looked at him.


    "This schedule ¡ª it won''t do." Arran''s voice grew firmer as he continued. "I need the evenings to myself. You said the other Houses would send students of their own, correct?"


    The Matriarch gave a brief nod, and Arran continued, "Sparring with them will help me more than a few extra hours of study. Besides, studying magic won''t do me any good if I don''t know how to use it."


    The Matriarch sighed gave Brightblade an exasperated look. "I suppose it shouldn''t surprise me that he''s taken on his teacher''s bad habits."


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    Brightblade, on the other hand, looked at Arran with an expression that suggested approval more than anything else. "He isn''t wrong," she said. "And if he is to be trained for battle, experience is certainly every bit as valuable as knowledge."


    The Matriarch grudgingly accepted the argument, and the two women spent another quarter-hour adjusting Arran''s training schedule.


    His joy at having his evenings to himself didn''t last long, however, as he soon realized that the new schedule didn''t seem all that different from the previous one. The main change, as far as he could tell, was that he would have less time to do exactly the same things.


    Still, he didn''t complain. Having witnessed the devastating power of magic in Brightblade''s duel, he understood well enough that he would have to learn it one way or another. And if his schedule would be grueling, it was also an opportunity that other mages would kill for.


    When the two finished their planning, the Matriarch looked at Arran with narrowed eyes.


    "Is this new schedule to your liking?" she asked in an overly sweet tone that held a slight undercurrent of menace.


    "It''ll do," Arran replied, flashing her a cheerful smile.


    The Matriarch might be powerful, but any attempts to intimidate him were doomed to failure ¡ª if she wanted him to succeed her, she surely wouldn''t harm him. Not too badly, at least.


    The Matriarch appeared to realize this as well, and she continued in a normal voice, "Since your status in the Valley is no longer a secret, we''ll need to do something about your servants as well. I will arrange to have them replaced with¡ª"


    "My servants stay," Arran interrupted her, his tone sharp. He had more faith in his servants than in anyone else within the House of Seals, and he had no intention of letting them be replaced by people he neither knew nor trusted.


    The Matriarch looked nonplussed, but after a moment, a hint of annoyance appeared in her expression. Being rejected twice in the span of half an hour seemed more than she would bear.


    Yet before she could voice her displeasure, Brightblade spoke up. "If you wish for him to be your successor, you can''t fault him for being strong-willed." She grinned, then added, "And with cooks like his, replacing them could only be a step backward."


    Brightblade''s words caused the annoyance in the Matriarch''s expression to fade, but her confusion remained. "Why do you wish to keep them?"


    "I''ve worked hard on winning their loyalty," Arran answered truthfully. "And I trust them more than I would their replacements."


    "Trust is a dangerous thing," the Matriarch said. "But very well. You will need more servants, however ¡ª maintaining your new estate will require no small amount of labor."


    "Then I will let my steward recruit them," Arran said. He had already decided that he would let Jovan recruit men and women from the outer Valley, imperials and borderlanders if possible. They would be grateful for the work, and doubly so for the training they would get.


    The Matriarch gave him a reluctant nod. "Then our business for the day is nearly included. One matter remains, however¡ª"


    "A replacement for the amulet," Brightblade interrupted her, grinning broadly.


    The Matriarch gave her a dark look. "Indeed. The amulet that supposedly protected him from the attacks of half a dozen adepts, only to fail just as the battle concluded." She glanced at Arran. "A priceless treasure, used to protect someone who needed no such protection."


    "Perhaps the amulet wasn''t quite as powerful as I said." Brightblade shrugged. If having the deception revealed caused her even the least bit of embarrassment, she showed no sign of it.


    "Perhaps," the Matriarch replied. "But he does need protection, and to that end, I have gathered some¡­ replacements."


    She shot another glare at Brightblade, then produced three items, which she laid on the desk before her. There were a ring and an amulet, but Arran''s eyes immediately shot toward the third item, which was a fine chain shirt that looked as if it was fashioned out of silver.


    Yet to Arran''s disappoint, the Matriarch held up the amulet first.


    "This," she said, "is useless. But it will give off a pretty little flash of light if you get struck by a magic attack. In your training, you can pretend it''s protecting you when you get hit by an attack."


    She handed the amulet to Arran, then picked up the ring.


    "This is one of the Valley''s most treasured artifacts," she said, a hint of reverence in her voice. "You are to keep it concealed using Shadow Essence at all times, and none of the Elders within the Valley must know that you have it."


    Arran frowned. "What does it do?"


    "It slowly gathers Essence from your surroundings," she explained. "When you suffer a sufficiently strong magical attack, it will use that Essence to create a shield. Given time to gather strength, it can block even the full strength of an Archmage ¡ª but each use will fully deplete its reserves, and days will pass before it can be used again."


    Arran could only barely stop himself from gasping in awe. This wasn''t just a treasure; it was a life.


    Against a strong mage, this ring could mean the difference between life and death. It would allow him to close the distance and strike before his opponent could launch a second attack.


    As the Matriarch handed Arran the ring, she repeated, "Don''t let anyone else see this. A treasure like this will spark the greed of even the wealthiest mages."


    Yet as Arran accepted the ring and put it on, Brightblade frowned deeply. "Where did you get this?"


    "It was taken from a defeated Hunter," the Matriarch replied. "One of their commanders. A prize the Valley spent no small amount of blood in winning."


    "The Hunters have magical treasures?" This was the first time he had heard of that, and it came as a surprise. Until now, he had thought they relied on similar techniques as the ones he used to resist magic.


    "Among other things," the Matriarch confirmed. "Although their physical attributes are every bit as dangerous as their treasures."


    Arran listened with interest. He knew far too little about the Hunters ¡ª especially now that he had joined a Valley which had waged numerous wars against them.


    But the Matriarch did not elaborate. Instead, she picked up the silvery mail shirt from the table and handed it to Arran. He was surprised to find that it was far heavier than it looked.


    "You should wear this under your robes," she said. "It''s made from starmetal, and it will offer decent protection against both magic and blades. It will do little to protect you from an arrow to the face, but it will stop a blade to the chest."


    "Another Hunter''s treasure?" Arran asked. From what he had seen of mages so far, it seemed like most of them had little interest in armor ¡ª a foolish oversight, he believed.


    "Correct," the Matriarch replied. "Though nowhere near as rare as the ring. Armor like this can be found on most of them."


    "Perhaps there''s a lesson for us in that," Brightblade said, her expression pensive.


    "Perhaps," the Matriarch said. "But since you are the Valley''s new Commander, I will leave it to you to decide what to make of it." After a brief moment of silence, she continued, "I believe that concludes our business for the day. Ghostblade, I expect you to host a banquet for the Valley''s Elders in two weeks. We will resume your training after that."


    They spent some more minutes saying their goodbyes, after which Arran and Brightblade departed.


    Yet almost as soon as they stepped out of the mansion, Brightblade shook her head. "There''s something she''s not telling us," she said, a deep frown on her forehead. "And I don''t expect it to be something pleasant."


    "You think she plans to betray us?" Arran spoke in a soft voice, since they were still in the Matriarch''s gardens.


    "No," Brightblade replied. "I imagine it will be far worse than that."

 Chapter 261 An Heirs Estate

    As Arran returned to the mansion with Brightblade, he repeatedly tried to ask her about her fears concerning the Matriarch, but to no avail.


    "All you need to know is that the danger is far from past," she finally said. "As for what that danger actually is, it''s too soon for me to speculate. Just keep your eyes open."


    The words did as little to satisfy Arran''s curiosity as they did to reassure him, but she refused to say anything more about the matter. But then, from the sound of it, all she had was a gut feeling.


    Back at the mansion, Arran immediately sought out Jovan, who was both surprised and delighted when he heard that he was to recruit another fifty servants and guards. It was a task Arran would have found daunting, but his steward only seemed pleased at the prospect of having another fifty people under his command.


    "All men again?" Jovan asked before he set to work, looking at Arran with narrowed eyes.


    Arran shook his head. "Just try to find borderlanders and imperials, if you can. Talented ones, if possible."


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    Jovan gave him a firm nod in response. "That won''t be a problem."


    Arran''s steward had only barely left when an unexpected guest arrived ¡ª the Matriarch''s steward, this time.


    "Lord Ghostblade," the man said with a respectful bow. "I am to show you the new additions to your estate." He flashed an unctuous smile, then added, "I expect you will find them most pleasing."


    The expectation soon proved false, however. Because when Arran laid eyes on the lands that would be added to his own, pleasing definitely wasn''t the word that came to mind.


    Overwhelming, perhaps. Excessive, certainly. And, more than anything, outrageously impractical.


    The estate was several times as large as Arran''s own, and its lands consisted entirely of meticulously maintained gardens, filled with carefully arranged flower beds in various bright colors, grandiose gold-plated fountains, and endless paths paved with stones laid down in intricate patterns.


    To Arran''s eyes, the result was as ugly as it was opulent ¡ª bad taste run wild, allowed to grow unrestrained for untold decades.


    "All of this will have to go," Arran said after a brief inspection.


    "Lord Ghostblade?" The steward looked at him with shocked eyes, as if he had just heard something highly inappropriate.


    "The gardens," Arran clarified. "They''ll have to go. I won''t have my servants waste their time maintaining all of this, and when the other students arrive, I will need larger training grounds."


    "As you say, Lord Ghostblade," the steward replied, though his expression suggested that he thought the decision bordered on heresy. It seemed the man actually liked the tacky display.


    Next, they inspected the mansion, and Arran was unsurprised to find it every bit as gaudy as the gardens had been.


    Several times the size of his own mansion, it was filled with needless ornaments and decorations, seemingly thrown together without any regard for maintaining a consistent style.


    The steward gave Arran a suspicious look. "If you wish, we can adjust the mansion to your needs before you move here."


    "Move here?" Arran cast a glance at the large building, then firmly shook his head. "I''m staying in my old mansion. This place¡­" He looked at it again, then shrugged. "I suppose my new teachers will need accommodations."


    The steward smiled in relief, apparently glad that the building would be left untouched. "They will certainly appreciate such well-decorated quarters," he said. "But of course, several new buildings will need to be constructed for the students."


    "I trust you can handle that task," Arran replied.


    He had little faith in the steward''s taste, but the matter wasn''t worth his attention. He would not spend time in the students'' quarters, and if the result was as ugly as he suspected it would be, the students would just have to live with it.


    After finishing the inspection, Arran cast a final irritated look at the hideous gardens, then quickly made his way back to his mansion. There, he instructed Jovan to hire an additional hundred servants.


    He nearly groaned at the thought of how many Essence Crystals it would cost, but there was no other choice ¡ª his new estate was large enough that even two hundred servants would only barely be enough.


    Then, finally, with the Matriarch''s steward readying the new parts of the estate and his own steward recruiting new servants and preparing the banquet, Arran focused his attention on what truly mattered ¡ª training.


    Witnessing Brightblade''s duel had taught him many lessons, several of which were as unwelcome as they were necessary.


    He now understood that his resistance to magic would do precious little in stopping a powerful magical attack, and he recognized that relying on it too much could only end badly. Perhaps it would eventually grow strong enough to let him shrug off even Archmages'' attacks, but that day was still far away.


    The Matriarch''s ring provided some protection, yet it would only stop a single attack. That might give him a fighting chance against a strong mage, but a determined enemy would certainly not give up after a single try.


    The truth was that unless he improved his magical skills, he would always be an easy target for truly strong mages. And now that he had become the Matriarch''s heir, he had little doubt that he would find new enemies sooner rather than later.


    Driven by necessity, he resumed his training again immediately, determination making him study even harder than before. And although there were two more weeks to go until the banquet would be held and his new teachers would arrive, he would not let even that time go to waste.


    Brightblade clearly approved of his newfound zeal, and she often observed him as he trained, offering advice when needed.


    "It seems like you''re finally beginning to understand the value of magic," she said after the first week, as Arran took a short break in between the morning''s training sessions.


    "I understand the value of not dying," Arran replied. "But those techniques you used in the duel¡­ you will teach them to me when I become an adept, right?"


    "I will teach them to you when you''re ready to learn them," she answered. "And I expect you will be an adept by then."


    Arran frowned as he understood her meaning. If she deemed him ready before he became an adept, she would not wait for him to gain the title.


    That knowledge motivated him to work even harder, and he spent every minute he could spare either in his mansion''s dungeons or in the training fields, endlessly practicing the shields and wards he had learned during the previous three months.


    Two weeks passed quickly like this, and Arran was almost surprised when the day of the banquet came. He had left the preparations up to Jovan, and other than the occasional question about the food arrangements, the man''s efforts in preparing the banquet had escaped his notice entirely.


    Yet on the morning of the banquet, he found that no small amount of work had been done. Already, the rich smell of food pervaded the mansion and its surroundings, and the gardens nearest the mansion were abuzz with activity as servants rushed to finish their final few tasks.


    The sheer scale of it surprised Arran, however. He had expected to receive a few dozen guests at most, but the preparations suggested that far more guests were expected to come.


    It took him some minutes to find Jovan, and when he did, he found the man red-faced and sweating, clearly exhausted even if an eager smile still remained on his face.


    "Jovan," Arran said uncertainly. "This banquet¡­ just how many people did you invite?"


    His steward briefly frowned. "Let''s see¡­ All the Valley''s Elders and Archmages, of course, along with any worthy Grandmasters. Naturally, I also invited any of your teachers who do not fall into those groups. And obviously, I invited the students who will be joining you, along with any others whose position warrants it."


    Arran paled slightly at the reply. "How many people in total?"


    Jovan''s expression turned thoughtful, and after a few moments, he replied, "Two thousand, give or take a few hundred. Though I''ve prepared for an additional thousand, just to be safe."

 Chapter 262 Gifts

    The first guests arrived just after midday, a delegation of some two dozen mages from the House of Swords.


    Arran recognized several of them, but even without that, their House was obvious at a glance. It was common for mages from all Houses to wear swords, but these men and women all moved as if the weapons were part of their bodies ¡ª even the adepts and novices at the back of the group.


    They were led by Grandmaster Solin, and the man immediately greeted both Arran and Brightblade with joyful enthusiasm.


    "Congratulations!" he said. "To both of you! To think that just a year ago, we were one of the lesser Houses, not a single Elder among us. And now, two of our own have taken such positions within the Valley!"


    Arran greeted the man warmly. Even if he had spent little time in the House of Swords, it was always good to see so friendly a face. And if the Grandmaster considered him a true member of his House, that was a good first step toward gaining more allies in the Valley.


    "Of course," Grandmaster Solin continued, "we have brought you a gift as well, as a token of our continued friendship."


    With a careful gesture, he produced a long, straight dagger. It was a vicious weapon, meant to kill, and Arran''s eyes lit up as soon as he saw it.


    "It''s beautiful," he said as he examined the blade. Though it looked ancient, it was sharp as a razor, with several enchantments strengthening the steel.


    "We would have given you a sword," Grandmaster Solin said, "but you already have several that match anything our House possesses. This should be more useful to you."


    Arran nodded thoughtfully. Even if he had no use for it, he would have to find one.


    But he soon noticed the group had gone silent, and when he raised his eyes from the blade, he saw an expectant look in Grandmaster Solin''s eyes.


    It took him a few seconds to understand the situation, and when he finally did, an awkward expression formed on his face.


    Yet at that moment, Jovan stepped forward, and he produced a long, slender sword from his void bag.


    "Lord Ghostblade has had me procure this blade for you," he said. "It was forged over a thousand years ago by an Elder of the House of Creation, and its edge has claimed the lives of several Hunters."


    With a slight bow, he handed the sword to Grandmaster Solin.


    The Grandmaster spent some moments inspecting the word, and as he did, a broad smile formed on his face. "Excellent blade!" he finally said, visibly pleased with the gift.


    "A servant will escort you to your table," Jovan continued, waving over a servant who was standing nearby. "Lord Ghostblade''s cooks have spent the week preparing a wide variety of dishes, so please, do not hold back in enjoying their efforts."


    Arran looked at Jovan with a furrowed brow, and when the House of Swords mages were out of earshot, he asked, "Where did you get that sword?"


    "I''ve had gifts prepared for all the Houses," the steward replied. "You wouldn''t want to insult them, after all."


    At this, Arran frowned. Although he was more than a little grateful that Jovan had addressed the oversight, just the sword had already been a valuable treasure. If there were similar gifts for all the Houses, the cost would be staggering. "How did you pay for all of that?"


    "The Matriarch provided crystals to cover both the banquet and the gifts," Jovan replied. "Though enough remain to cover your servants'' payments for the next half year." He shot Arran a glance, adding, "I told you about this a week ago, but you seemed preoccupied with your studies."


    "Huh." Arran now vaguely recalled hearing something about Essence Crystals the previous week, though he hadn''t paid it much attention at the time. "I appreciate it, though. You really have a talent for all this."


    Jovan shrugged. "It''s not so different from leading a group of bandi¡ª mercenaries in the Empire. Maintaining good relations with the local nobility is necessary, if you want to work unhindered."


    Arran didn''t fail to notice Jovan''s brief slip of the tongue, and he was not at all surprised to hear that the man had once led a group of bandits. If the man''s skill as a steward was any indication, he certainly would have been an effective leader.


    There was no chance to further explore the matter, however, because as they spoke, the next group arrived.


    If the group from the House of Swords had been easy to identify, this new group was impossible not to recognize. There were three dozen mages, each dressed in the deep crimson robes of the House of Flames.


    At the head of the group was Elder Theron, and he was every bit as friendly in greeting Arran and Brightblade as Grandmaster Solin had been ¡ª perhaps slightly more so when it came to Brightblade, Arran noticed with a frown.


    More gifts were exchanged ¡ª with the Elder bringing one for Brightblade as well ¡ª and Arran found himself even more pleased with Elder Theron''s gift than he had been with the dagger.


    The House of Flames had gifted him a thick book filled with detailed advice and suggestions for learning various magic spells, and although it wasn''t quite as flashy as the dagger, Arran knew he would have no trouble finding a use for it.


    After that, a series of other Houses followed, all of them bearing gifts for Arran. He politely thanked each of them, after which Jovan had servants guide the mages to the long rows of tables that filled the gardens.


    Among the gifts were more than a few swords and enchanted robes, and although Arran accepted them with suitable gratitude, they did little to arouse his interest. Yet there were more unusual gifts as well, and among those, two immediately stood out.


    The first of these came from the House of Fists. Their leader was the burly Elder had met before the duel, and the man had a proud expression as he presented Arran with a pair of spiked starmetal knuckles.


    Arran looked at the weapons with both wonder and delight. They were as brutal as they were ridiculous, and on feeling their weight in his hands, he could not help but wonder how badly even a single punch with one of these would injure an enemy.


    While he could not imagine these weapons ever being useful ¡ª not compared to a good sword, at least ¡ª some small part of him hoped he would get the chance to put them to use.


    The second gift that stood out, however, was one he instantly knew would be useful.


    Given by the House of Creation, it was a full set of enchanted steel plate armor, its pieces crafted to protect nearly every inch of the body.


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    It was something more befitting a warrior than a mage, but when Arran saw it, his eyes went wide with joy. While it couldn''t be casually worn ¡ª not without drawing the attention of every person who saw him, at least ¡ª he knew at once that it would be invaluable on the battlefield.


    He was already difficult to injure, and with this additional protection, many enemies would pose no threat whatsoever no matter what they tried.


    Yet there were more mages to greet, and for several hours, Arran welcomed the many guests as gracefully as he could. Jovan proved a big help with this, firmly but politely sending the more talkative guests off to the tables. Brightblade, however, had no such patience ¡ª after the first hour, she simply walked off, presumably toward the kitchens.


    Then, at last, the final guest arrived ¡ª the Matriarch, accompanied by a group of mages from the House of Seals.


    With a single glance, Arran could tell more than a few of the House''s Elders were missing, and he realized just how many of them had fallen to the Matriarch''s purge.


    Yet despite the bloody work that still lay fresh behind her, there was only a warm smile on her face as she approached Arran. "It seems you''re managing well," she said. "But I hope you''ll forgive me for briefly interrupting the festivities. There are some announcements that need to be made."

 Chapter 263 Festivities

    When Arran walked into the gardens with the Matriarch, the sheer number of people there caused him some surprise. Even if he had spent hours personally welcoming all of the groups, he only fully realized just how many people were present when he saw them all together.


    And these weren''t just any people, either. They were the Valley''s most powerful and distinguished mages, along with many of their most promising students.


    An attack here would cripple the Valley for countless generations to come, perhaps even weaken it to the point of collapse. And all it would take was a few bottles of poison.


    Arran paled slightly as he considered the idea, and he found himself glad that Brightblade had paid frequent visits to the kitchens to get some early tastes of the banquet''s delicacies.


    But then, perhaps that wasn''t her only motivation. Perhaps she had recognized the risk, and had taken actions to counter it. Knowing Brightblade, Arran would be surprised if she hadn''t.


    The arrival of the Matriarch in the gardens did not go unnoticed. At her side, Arran saw that all the mages'' eyes turned to them as soon as they approached, with looks that held a mixture of curiosity and trepidation.


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    This was wholly different from how the Elders had reacted to the Matriarch two weeks earlier. Back then, most had only shown her the respect required for her rank, and nothing more.


    But more than a few Elders had vanished since then, and now, the Elders met her eyes far less confidently. Fear, it seemed, was an effective substitute for respect.


    There was a dais at the back of the feasting grounds, and it was here that the Matriarch led Arran. As she stepped upon it she motioned for him to follow, then took a quick glance around, and called out, "Commander Brightblade, please be so kind as to join us."


    Brightblade stepped out from the crowd a moment later, quickly finishing the last piece of some pastry as she stepped onto the dais.


    The Matriarch greeted her with a small nod, then turned her eyes back to the crowd. She stood silently for several moments, letting her eyes wander over the gathered mages, until finally, she spoke.


    "A time of change is upon us," she began, her voice loud enough to reach even those mages farthest from the dais. "Today, we have gathered to welcome my chosen heir, and with us stands the new Commander of the Valley."


    She briefly paused, and a few cheers and claps could be heard from the crowd.


    "But these steps are just the beginning," she continued, her expression hardening as she spoke. "Half a century of peace has seen our Valley grow weak, and to continue on this path is to invite war. Only by regaining our strength can we deter our enemies. And to that end, I have three announcements to make."


    No cheers sounded this time. While the mages in the crowd had already known about the changes in Arran''s and Brightblade''s positions, they were now told that there would be more changes, and they awaited the Matriarch''s next words with wary eyes.


    "First," she said, "the Houses'' most talented students are to join my heir in training. Many of you are already aware of this, but those Houses who have yet to choose students for this task are ordered to do so with no delay."


    Some grumbles sounded at this, more than a few of the Elders appearing unhappy at being ordered to do something they intended anyway. But the Matriarch continued, "These students will receive the guidance of all of us ¡ª both their training and their loyalty will belong first to the Valley, and only then to their own Houses."


    At this, several gasps and complaints rose from the crowd. Having their students join Arran in training was one thing, but to relinquish control over them was a step beyond that ¡ª and one that the Houses clearly had not intended to take.


    Yet the Matriarch ignored the protests, and the sound of her voice drowned out the dissatisfied murmur.


    "Second," she said, "a new stronghold has been erected for Commander Brightblade. There, she will begin training the Valley''s mages for battle. All Houses are to send a tenth of their numbers to this Stronghold tomorrow. All who are sent will train under Brightblade''s command for a year, after which they will be replaced by a new group. Any mages she chooses to become part of her personal guard, however, will remain under her command."


    This time, several shouts of indignation came from the crowd. If the Matriarch''s first announcement had displeased the Elders, this one angered them ¡ª it was an open attack on the Houses'' autonomy, as well as their own power.


    "Silence!" The Matriarch''s voice thundered through the gardens. "These are orders, not requests. Any who refuse or object will be stripped of their rank and banished from the Valley."


    Her tone made it clear that this was no empty threat, and the crowd went silent at once.


    The Matriarch looked at the gathered mages, and when she was satisfied that none dared speak, she continued her speech.


    "Third," she said, "the Valley has wasted its resources for too long. No more. Starting tomorrow, the Houses are ordered to take in anyone in our Valley with even the slightest shred of talent and provide them with proper training. The Valley has hundreds of thousands of such mages, and by next month, I expect each of them to have joined a House. The leaders of any House that fails to do its part in this endeavor will face consequences."


    This time, no noise came from the crowd. Instead, there was only a stunned silence.


    And no wonder, Arran thought. He had seen how many mages there were in the outer Valley. Allowing any who wanted to join the Houses would easily triple the Houses'' numbers, and burden them with the training of numerous initiates and novices.


    "Lady Matriarch." A calm voice sounded from the crowd, and with a glance, Arran saw that it came from an Elder ¡ª the woman from the House of Shadows who had refused to represent Brightblade in inspecting the dueling grounds.


    "What is it, Apate?" The Matriarch looked at the Elder with an emotionless expression.


    "These announcements¡­" The woman hesitated, then continued, "Do you mean to lead us to war against the Hunters?"


    It was an obvious question, even to Arran. From what the Matriarch had announced, it sounded like she did not just intend to rebuild the Valley''s strength. Rather, it sounded like she was preparing for war.


    "I do not." The Matriarch spoke plainly, and in a calm voice. "But I do mean to prepare us for one. We have grown weak ¡ª weak enough to become a target for our enemies. It''s only a matter of time before they seize the opportunity, and as things stand, we have no hope of victory."


    At these words, a shocked murmur ran through the crowd.


    The Ninth Valley''s weakness was a public secret, known by many but rarely mentioned. Yet with the Matriarch discussing it so openly, the Elders could no longer ignore it ¡ª they would finally have to face the unwelcome truth.


    It took several minutes for the whispers to end, and the Matriarch waited patiently. When the area finally fell silent again, she spoke once more.


    "I trust that all of you will take these announcements to heart, and carry out my orders immediately," she said. "But any further discussion of these matters can wait until tomorrow. Tonight is a night of celebration, so please, enjoy the festivities."


    Her final words were as absurd as they were unexpected, and Arran watched in amazement as she stepped down from the dais and headed to one of the tables.


    A quick look at the crowd confirmed that after the Matriarch''s announcements, the mood was anything but festive, and after a moment''s hesitation, Arran stepped down from the dais as well. He had expected he would have to give a short speech, but with the gloomy expressions on the Elders'' faces, he very much doubted that the few jokes he had prepared would be well-received.


    Brightblade followed behind him, and as she caught up, she gave Arran an amused look.


    "Rhea was never much fun at parties, even when she was young," she said with a shrug. "You could hardly expect a few centuries to change that."

 Chapter 264 Effor

    Arran spent the remainder of the banquet making a valiant effort in being a proper host. Yet after the Matriarch''s announcements, most of the guests were filled with gloom and worry, and what was supposed to be a celebration ended up more resembling a funeral.


    The only bright spot was the food. As always, Arran''s cooks had done better than anyone could reasonably expect, and several Elders subtly inquired whether he would be willing to part with them ¡ª for a generous price, of course.


    Arran politely but firmly rejected any such requests, though he reminded the Elders that anyone teaching at his mansion could enjoy his servants'' cooking for as long as they remained. Even with the Matriarch''s orders, it wouldn''t hurt to give the Valley''s most powerful mages an additional reason to help him train.


    He spent the rest of the day making conversation with his many guests. This was something he hardly had a natural talent for, but he acquitted himself of the task as best he could. And if he didn''t exactly win any new friends, at least he got through the banquet without offending anyone.


    Still, he was glad when the evening came to an end. Between politics and training, he much preferred the latter.


    That was a fortunate thing, too, because, at the Matriarch''s orders, his training resumed the very next morning. While work on the training grounds had not yet finished and many students had yet to arrive, she made it clear that she did not wish him to waste any more time.


    And so, his studies began once more.


    There were about two hundred students in total, with as many again yet to arrive. These students didn''t all train together ¡ª even for teachers as skilled as the Valley''s Elders, that would have been too much to handle. Instead, they visited their various teachers in groups of one or two dozen, spending several hours studying a particular discipline before moving on to another teacher.


    Arran was the lone exception to this. Although he spent half his time studying with various groups of students, many of his teachers also provided him with several hours of personal guidance every week, to address the many gaps that still remained in his knowledge of magic.


    That proved no needless luxury. Now that he had other students to compare himself to, Arran soon discovered that his accomplishments in magic were middling at best.


    While he wasn''t the worst among the novices, there were many whose skills far surpassed his own. As for the adepts, there was no need to even mention the vast gap that existed between his skills and theirs.


    This apparent disparity between Arran''s skill and his privileges initially caused some grumbles among the other students. Though none dared show any hostility, it was obvious that they could not fathom why so average a student would be chosen as heir to the Matriarch.


    Arran recognized that he could not allow this resentment to fester. Even if it did not cause problems just yet, over time it could turn into something more dangerous ¡ª especially if he were to succeed the Matriarch one day.


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    Unwilling to let this continue, he approached Jovan near the end of the first week.


    "Have the other students visit me tonight," he said. "All of them."


    "Lord Ghostblade?" His steward looked at him suspiciously.


    "I''m having a little training session," Arran explained. "And I would like the others to join in."


    Any doubts the others had about his abilities disappeared that night, with a series of sparring matches showing his fellow students exactly what the difference between a warrior and a mage was.


    That their magical skills exceeded his made little difference. His skill at shields was sufficient to close the distance between him and even a strong adept, and once he closed the distance, the fights invariably ended in seconds.


    Few of the students were left uninjured that night, but Arran''s display had its intended effect. After that night, none still questioned his talent, and if any of them still felt resentment, they hid it carefully.


    There was an unintended effect as well, however, with the demonstration causing many of the other students to develop an interest in swordsmanship. Not only did the number of students taking lessons from the House of Swords teachers rise drastically, many even began to appear when Arran instructed his servants in swordplay.


    Somewhat to Arran''s surprise, many of the most diligent students in swordsmanship turned out to be among the most accomplished mages in the group. Rather than being demoralized by having their weaknesses exposed, they were zealous in addressing them, practicing their swordplay with every bit as much fervor as they studied magic.


    Arran had previously believed that their skills owed as much to talent as they did to effort, but now, he began to suspect he had been wrong.


    The realization helped him a great deal. He had always suspected that his talent in magic was mediocre at best, but if the real difference between the strong and the weak was effort rather than talent, then he had the means to achieve greatness.


    Encouraged by both this new realization and his memories of Brightblade''s duel, he set to work with all the passion he could muster, refusing to waste even a moment that could be spent on study and training.


    Each day, he awoke before dawn, then studied until the fall of evening. And although the evenings were his own, he spent those on training as well, either practicing his sword skills in the training grounds or retreating to the dungeons to practice his magic while circulating Destruction Essence through his body.


    Though the schedule he set for himself was brutal ¡ª even more so than the one set out by the Matriarch ¡ª the thought of complaining never occurred to him.


    With as many Essence Crystals as he could use and the personal guidance of both the Matriarch and the Valley''s Elders, he had an opportunity that others could only dream of. And although his relentless efforts left him weary, he would not waste the chance before him.


    If the other students studied hard, he would train harder. Each day, he studied until his mind could bear no more, then cleared his mind by training until his body reached its limits as well.


    Those few hours he did not spend either studying or training, he sat in the hot spring, eating dragon meat as he recovered from the day''s labor.


    That was not enough to fully fend off the ever-encroaching exhaustion, but any weariness he felt, he wore like a badge of honor, a token that he was doing all he could.


    Months passed like this, and his efforts soon began to pay off.


    Each week, he surpassed more of the novices, with others slowly falling behind him. And if many were still far ahead of him, the gap between them was shrinking by the day.


    His tireless efforts did not go unnoticed. While his strength might have impressed the other students, his efforts truly earned their respect.


    Every single one among them knew the burdens of training, and they had no difficulty recognizing just how grueling Arran''s self-imposed schedule was.


    Yet unexpectedly, Arran found himself gradually beginning to enjoy it. Even if he worked harder than he ever had before in his life, he was excited to see his skills progress rapidly. And each time he learned something new, the feeling of accomplishment grew stronger.


    His first major victory came after barely three months of training.


    His skill with Shadow Essence had always been among his greatest strengths, and the fury with which he trained had seen that skill increase rapidly.


    He had learned a series of increasingly complex versions of the Shadowcloak spell, then practiced them endlessly, maintaining them every waking moment until they became as familiar to him as his swords.


    Then, one morning, a House of Shadows Elder informed him that he was ready to attempt the full version of the spell.


    Arran initially thought it was far too soon for that final step, but he obliged nonetheless. And although it took him several hours of failed attempts, he was stunned to discover that he could finally create a true Shadowcloak.


    The spell was ruthlessly complex, as it consisted of many overlapping patterns of Shadow Essence, each of which needed to be maintained separately to achieve the full effect. Yet even if it took all of Arran''s concentration to do so, he found that the task was no longer beyond him.


    That his version was far from perfect did not matter. Now that he knew the spell, fully mastering was simply a matter of more practice. And although that would take more months of ceaseless training, such an effort no longer seemed like an insurmountable obstacle.


    He devoted much of his time to practicing the spell in the months that followed, and as a result of his efforts, his proficiency at it steadily increased.


    Yet although the achievement filled him with joy, he was already eying a bigger target, and one that would be vastly more difficult to learn.


    Among all the spells taught in the Society, there was one that stood above all others. The spell for which the Society had been named ¡ª Shadowflame.


    Learning this spell qualified one to become an adept, and although Arran doubted that Brightblade would allow him to take that title so easily, he suspected ¡ª and hoped ¡ª that learning it would get her to reveal at least some of her secrets to him.


    Arran had already been exposed to this spell several times. He had experienced the Sixth Valley''s Patriarch casting it to great effect while using his body, and both the Matriarch and Brightblade had spent a significant amount of time instructing him in it.


    But even so, learning it proved no small obstacle.


    Unlike the spells he already knew, Shadowflame used two different types of Essence, merging them together to create something different ¡ª a mixture of Essence that contained aspects of both components.


    And it was this step that proved nearly impossible for Arran. Because even though he knew what to do in theory, any actual attempts he made at merging the two types of Essence failed miserably.


    He did not let the lack of success discourage him. Instead, he redoubled his efforts, spending hours each evening trying to get it right.


    Yet although his other skills continued to improve steadily, his attempts at learning the Shadowflame spell were as fruitless as they were fervent.


    His teachers proved no help, either. They obligingly answered any questions he had about the spell ¡ª and he asked many ¡ª but none of their answers seemed to be of much use.


    In the end, all they told him that it was a matter of practice and understanding, with several of them adding that most mages spent years studying the spell before successfully learning it.


    Arran wasn''t willing to wait that long, however, and he studied the spell to the point of obsession, until even his dreams were filled with scenes of him trying ¡ª and failing ¡ª to cast it.


    Engrossed in his studies, Arran barely noticed the passing of time. He knew that Snowcloud''s return must be nearing, but he kept his mind focused on his studies ¡ª partly because he could already imagine the surprise on her face if she learned that he had mastered the Shadowflame spell.


    Yet it was all for naught. Try as he might, learning even the first step of the spell seemed an impossibility. And although this did not stop him from studying it, his mood slowly became gloomy, with the constant failure beginning to weigh on his mind.


    Eight months after the duel, he unexpectedly received word from Brightblade. Between his training and her new responsibilities, he had seen little of her since the banquet, and those few times she had visited him she had seemed every bit as exhausted as he was.


    Now, however, she had sent him a summons to her stronghold. And in her message, she said that he should not expect to return to his mansion for some time.

 Chapter 265 Brightblades Fortress

    Arran felt a brief surge of panic when he read Brightblade''s message. It was almost time for Snowcloud to return, and for a moment, he feared Brightblade had summoned him because something had happened to her.


    Yet his concern faded as quickly as it had come. If Snowcloud was in danger ¡ª or worse ¡ª then Brightblade certainly wouldn''t respond by summoning Arran. Rather, she would enter the borderlands immediately, and anyone who had harmed Snowcloud would soon regret it.


    Whatever the reason for Brightblade''s summons, it had to be something different. And if he were to guess, Arran thought it would be something related to his training. With her new responsibilities, she''d had little time to be involved in that, and he knew the matter caused her some frustration ¡ª especially because the Matriarch still taught him several times a week.


    But whatever the reason for Brightblade''s summons, there was no point in delaying, and he sought out Jovan immediately.


    "How long do you expect to be gone?" his steward asked after he explained the situation.


    "I don''t know," Arran replied. "Months, maybe more."


    "That long?" Jovan''s eyes went wide with surprise. It seemed that he had expected ''gone for some time'' to mean several weeks at most.


    "As I said, I can''t be sure." Arran shrugged. "I''ve prepared some supplies for you ¡ª Essence Crystals, for the servants." He handed Jovan a void bag and continued, "There''s enough for several months'' payment."


    "I trust that will be enough," Jovan said, his tone unconcerned.


    Arran did not share his steward''s confidence, however. He frowned, then added, "Ask the Elders from the House of Swords and the House of Flames to continue the servants'' training, as a personal favor to me."


    This was no small request, but Arran did not expect either of the Houses to refuse it. Not with Brightblade and Elder Theron leading them. And if he was gone longer than expected, it would go a long way in ensuring his servants'' continued loyalty.


    Jovan looked at him in surprise. "You want their Elders to train your servants?"


    "Until I return," Arran confirmed. "But I should go. I doubt Brightblade wants me to delay any longer than needed."


    "Lord Ghostblade," Jovan interjected hastily, "shouldn''t you bring an escort? I can half a dozen guards ready within moments."


    Arran shook his head. "Guards will only draw attention. Don''t tell anyone I''ve left until tomorrow. By then, I''ll have reached Brightblade''s stronghold."


    "As you say," his steward responded, albeit reluctantly. "Then I wish you safe travels."


    Arran gave the man a nod, then quickly changed into a hooded robe. It wasn''t much of a disguise, but it should be enough ¡ª the only thing that stood out about him was his blond hair, and even that was something shared by thousands of others in the Valley.


    Of course, with the Matriarch''s opponents eliminated, the Valley should be safe. But then, it should have been safe from the beginning, and Arran had no intention of making the same mistake twice.


    Before leaving, he spent a few minutes writing brief notes to Doran, Anthea, and Oraia. They were the closest thing to friends he had in the Valley ¡ª though whether he could truly call Oraia a friend was questionable ¡ª and if he was to spend months away from the estate, informing them was the least he could do.


    Then, all matters he could think of settled, he left the estate.


    As he made his way through the House of Seals, it wasn''t long before he realized that the House had undergone major changes while he was engrossed in training. It had been months since he last set foot outside his estate, and now, he was astonished to see that the House''s population had more than doubled.


    The House was abuzz with activity, numerous novices crowding wide streets that were lined with many new stores and restaurants.


    Some of the older mages looked at the liveliness surrounding them with weary eyes, as if they still silently longed for quieter days. This, Arran understood all too well ¡ª the dense crowds caused him some unease, too, and it took more than a little willpower for him to refrain from forcefully jostling his way through the masses.


    Things were better outside the city center of the stronghold, if only slightly. Here, the crowds weren''t quite as dense. And if the roads were still busy, at least they lacked the suffocating pressure of thousands using streets that had been designed for hundreds.


    Yet as Arran slowly made his way to the stronghold''s main gate, he noticed that there had been more changes. Many large training halls now lined the road, and the practice fields behind them were filled with thousands of mages, all engaged in training.


    It was as if the stronghold had been transformed, and as Arran observed the many changes, he wondered just how much of it all had been planned decades in advance.


    The Valley''s vast number of mages had made little sense to him when he arrived, and that most of the mages received little training had puzzled him even more.


    But now, those endless ranks of barely trained mages provided the Valley with the means to rapidly build its strength. Hundreds of thousands of fresh recruits were anxiously awaiting the chance to learn, and even if they were weak now, a few years of hard work would see their strength increase dramatically.


    It was as if the Matriarch had carefully prepared the ingredients for an army, then set them aside until they were needed. And now, it seemed, she had decided that time had come.


    Outside the stronghold, Arran was unsurprised to find that the changes weren''t confined to the House of Seals.


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    Although the inner Valley''s roads weren''t as busy as the ones inside the stronghold, they were filled with a steady stream of traffic, mages and merchants alike making their way through the Valley. And even without visiting any of the other Houses, Arran knew that the situation there would be much the same.


    While the changes made him wonder what the future would hold for the Valley, they held a small blessing as well ¡ª among the endless masses, it was easy to go unseen.


    Few of the people he passed on the way to Brightblade''s stronghold so much as gave him a second look, and of those who did, none seemed to recognize him. A hooded robe might not be much of a disguise, but with thousands of people around, it was enough to go unnoticed.


    The full journey to Brightblade''s stronghold took him over half a day, most of which he spent observing other travelers. Occasionally he made conversation with them as well, eager to hear more of what had happened in the Valley while he was absorbed with training.


    Some of the stories were familiar. Both Brightblade''s duel and the banquet were things he had witnessed himself, and if the Valley''s mages added some exaggerations in retelling the events, most of what they told was still close enough to the truth.


    Other stories, however, filled him with no small amount of wonder ¡ª especially those concerning himself.


    He had not forgotten about the attack he had suffered near the House of Seals, and he knew that the attackers had all been adepts. Yet the way the mages on the road told the story, the Valley''s heir had singlehandedly defeated two Elders and several dozens of Hunters.


    Moreover, while Arran distinctly recalled growing up the son of a simple guardsman, it was established fact in the Valley that he was a Hunter prince, betrayed by his own people when he renounced the Hunters'' aggression against the Valley.


    Arran listened to these tales with amusement and puzzlement in equal measure, though he feared the mages would be sorely disappointed if they ever discovered the truth.


    It was near dusk when he finally reached Brightblade''s stronghold, and at a glance, he saw that it was even more impressive than he had expected. While the Houses'' strongholds were all walled and well-guarded, this stronghold was something else entirely.


    Its walls were high ¡ª fifty feet, if not more ¡ª and thick, with numerous armored guards patrolling both the battlements and the surroundings. And these guards weren''t just there to keep up appearances. Rather, they looked around as if they expected an attack at any moment, their hands never dwelling far from their weapons.


    At first, the defenses seemed excessive to Arran. If the Valley''s enemies ever made it this far, the war would already be lost. But then, perhaps Brightblade''s purpose wasn''t to protect her stronghold but to prepare her students for the future, forcing them to learn skills they would need eventually.


    Arran approached the gate with curiosity, already curious to see what lay beyond it. If his suspicions were correct, the training Brightblade offered would be wholly different from what the Houses offered their students.


    He was stopped at the gate by the guards there, a dozen of them blocking his path with their hands already on their swords.


    "State your business," the guards'' leader said curtly.


    "I have a message for Lady Brightblade," Arran replied. "From Lord Ghostblade." As he spoke, he handed the guardsman a messenger''s badge.


    "Commander Brightblade," the man corrected him, but as he inspected the badge, his expression softened. "Is it true?" he asked as he handed the badge back to Arran. "What they say about him?"


    "That depends," Arran said. "What do they say?"


    "That he''s invincible with a blade," the guardsman said in a low but excited voice. "And that all he does is train day and night, not even stopping to sleep."


    Suppressing a chuckle, Arran replied, "He definitely sleeps, and although he''s pretty good with a blade, I doubt he''s invincible."


    The man gave him a doubtful look, then waved him through. "Follow the road to your right. She should be instructing the novice cohorts today."


    Arran did as the man said, and it wasn''t long before he was making his way through the stronghold''s training grounds. And just as he expected, Brightblade''s training was completely different from anything seen in the Houses.


    Tens of thousands mages filled the training grounds, split up into groups of a few hundred each. And while mages normally trained individually, here, they trained together, each of the groups moving as one.


    Although Arran wasn''t familiar with this type of training, its purpose was immediately obvious. The mages here weren''t training for individual combat but for war, preparing for battles with thousands of fighters.


    He observed their practice with great interest as he made his way past the groups. Some were training with magic and others with weapons, but they all showed impressive discipline, and none could be seen shirking their duties.


    His pace quickened when he finally saw Brightblade in the distance, instructing a group of over a hundred mages ¡ª novices, if the guardsman was correct.


    As he came closer, however, two women moved to block his path, neither of them novices. At the very least, Arran thought they would be Masters, but perhaps even stronger than that.


    "What''s your business here?" one of them asked in a rough tone, suspicion in her eyes as she gazed at Arran.


    Before Arran could respond, Brightblade called out, "Stand down. Unless the two of you want to see if you can match the Valley''s heir?"


    At this, the women''s eyes instantly went wide with shock.


    "Lord Ghostblade?" The woman in front gave a horrified expression. "I apologize. I didn''t mean to¡ª"


    "It''s alright," Arran responded. "I''m just glad to see Brightblade is well-protected." Not that she needed it, of course.


    When he approached Brightblade, she gave him a bright smile. "I hear your training''s going well."


    "No thanks to you," Arran replied with a grin. "While you were busy teaching these novices synchronized dancing, I''ve been studying day and night."


    "So I hear," Brightblade said. "Word is that you no longer need sleep, and that you can best Elders just by looking at them."


    "I was surprised to hear it, too," Arran said. "I guess my training has paid off even more than I realized."


    "I wonder," Brightblade said, her pensive tone suggesting nothing good. "Would you be interested in a little wager?"

 Chapter 266 A Small Wager

    "A wager?" Arran eyed Brightblade suspiciously. When she smiled like this, it was rarely a good sign. And with a wager added, he knew there could only be trouble ahead.


    "First, take a look," she replied. "After that, you can decide if you''re interested."


    Without any further words, she turned to the large group of novices standing nearby. Arran''s arrival had interrupted their training, and they were now standing idly, staring at him with curious eyes.


    "Cohort! Form ranks!" Brightblade called out.


    The novices set into motion at once. In a few short moments, they had formed up into four lines of three dozen mages each, with two paces'' distance between each line.


    Arran was surprised at the speed and precision with which they moved. It was obvious that they had practiced this extensively, and even if he did not understand their purpose, just the sight of it was enough to impress him.


    Brightblade shot him a brief grin before turning back to the novices, clearly pleased with their performance.


    "Attack!" she shouted.


    An instant barrage of attacks burst forth from the first rank of novices, slamming into a large wall several hundreds of paces away. And even before the attacks struck their target, the second rank of novices had stepped forward and launched attacks of their own.


    It didn''t stop there. A moment later the third rank took the lead, and again, a volley of magic attacks was flung at the wall in the distance. They were followed by the fourth rank, and even as the fourth rank stepped back again, the first rank once more took the head.


    Arran watched in wonder as the novices spent a good two minutes launching a continuous storm of spells at their target, never more than a moment between attacks.


    Now, he understood the tactic. With time to recover after each attack, the novices would last far longer than they could otherwise. And while that would be of little value in a brief fight, in a prolonged battle it would be invaluable.


    Moreover, although these were just novices, Arran could already imagine the effect of a group of adepts fighting in this manner. While novices'' Essence reserves would eventually run dry, adepts should be able to maintain a pace like this for hours on end.


    "Halt!" Brightblade called out. The novices stopped their attacks at once and quickly turned to their original positions, and Brightblade turned back to Arran, pride clear in her expression.


    "Impressive," Arran said. "Fighting like this, they can go on for ages."


    "That''s an advantage, but not the main one," Brightblade replied. "Hunters are at their strongest up close, and a single one who reaches our lines can kill dozens of mages. But attacking like this¡­"


    "There won''t be any gaps for them to use," Arran said, instantly recognizing what she was getting at.


    His own preferred tactic against mages was similar to what Brightblade described ¡ª to close the distance as quickly as possible, then overwhelm his enemies without giving them a chance to respond.


    And this tactic of Brightblade''s was designed exactly to counter that. Against a constant barrage of attacks, there would be little chance to close the distance without getting hit.


    Brightblade gave him a pleased nod. "Exactly. And this is just a single cohort. A full legion can cover an area of miles."


    Arran frowned. "So this wager you mentioned¡­ you want me to fight them?"


    He had not forgotten her earlier words, and after seeing the cohort in action, he had a good idea of what she intended. With a tactic created exactly to counter his fighting style, she would naturally want to try it.


    "Well-guessed," she said. "And if you can defeat them without getting hit, I''ll give you a thousand Essence Crystals."


    "Without getting hit?" The task seemed impossible, but after a moment of thought, Arran responded with a nod. Not because of the crystals, but because he was curious to see how he would fare against such tactics. "Agreed. Where do I start?"


    Brightblade seemed surprised ¡ª and more than a little suspicious ¡ª at how easily Arran agreed, but she pointed at the wall in the distance. "Start at the wall. If any attack gets past your shields, you lose."


    Although starting at a distance of three hundred paces would put him at a disadvantage, Arran did not object, and he quickly headed over to the wall.


    As he took position, Brightblade turned to face the novices. "Cohort!" she called out. "Today, you will face Lord Ghostblade! Do not disappoint me!"


    The novices responded with eager looks, already gathering Essence for the attacks they were about to launch at Arran. With his status, defeating him would be a victory worth celebrating despite their massive advantage in numbers.


    Yet Arran wasn''t concerned, and he faced his opponents calmly, patiently waiting for the confrontation to begin.


    Finally, Brightblade''s voice thundered across the training grounds.


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    "Begin!"


    In an instant, Arran formed a Shadowcloak and rushed to the side. When several attacks slammed into the wall a moment later, he was already fifty paces away.


    The furious assault on the wall continued relentlessly, but there was no need for Arran to worry about it. None of the novices would be able to detect him at such a distance ¡ª their Shadowsight would cover a dozen paces, at most. And that was without the distraction of having to attack.


    He approached the group at a casual jog, completely ignoring the continuous stream of attacks that soared through the air dozens of paces to his left.


    When he was almost upon the group, he burst into a sudden sprint, sword drawn as he rushed into the novices'' midst. A few detected his approach at the last moment, but it was already too late ¡ª before they could launch any attacks, Arran was already among them, striking down his opponents as quickly as he could move his sword.


    Faced with this ferocious assault, the group collapsed into chaos almost instantly. Some of the novices drew their weapons while others lashed out with Essence, but their panicked attacks only added to the chaos in their ranks.


    In just a few breaths of time, half the novices had already fallen, and the others offered little in the way of resistance. None of them had Shadowsight anywhere near as good as Arran''s, and against an invisible opponent who outclassed them in both strength and skill, they were all but defenseless.


    Arran took care not to injure them, of course. These were mere novices, and not particularly skilled ones, either. Instead, he hit them with the flat of his blade, using only a small part of his strength. That was more than enough to cause them painful bruises, but not so much as to seriously harm them.


    When most of the novices had fallen, Brightblade''s voice finally sounded.


    "Halt!"


    The word put an immediate stop to the chaos, with the novices who still remained standing stopping in place. The others, meanwhile, slowly got back to their feet, more than a few of them sporting fresh bruises.


    Arran let his Shadowcloak dissipate, and after a brief glance at his defeated enemies, he returned to Brightblade''s side.


    She gave him a flat stare. "That''s not what I had in mind."


    "That''s why it worked so well," Arran replied. "And either way, it''s a win."


    "Don''t worry, you''ve earned your crystals," Brightblade said. "But let''s give this another try ¡ª this time, without you using Shadow Essence."


    Arran gave it a moment of thought, then nodded. "Very well."


    He returned to the wall unhurriedly, then turned toward the novices once more. Even at this distance, he could see that their enthusiasm in facing him had diminished considerably.


    "Begin!"


    Before Brightblade had finished the word, a thick earthen wall shot up from the ground a few dozen paces ahead of Arran, blocking the novices'' attacks as he rushed forward.


    A barrage of spells tore through the wall in moments, but already, Arran had put up a Force shield. The shield collapsed as quickly as the wall, but the brief delay brought Arran forth another few dozen paces, and behind it followed another shield ¡ª Wind, this time. And when that shield failed, another earthen wall burst from the ground.


    This wasn''t an effort Arran could maintain for long, but crossing the three hundred paces between the wall and the novices only took him a few short breaths.


    This time, the novices saw him coming, and their discipline failed as soon as he fell upon them. In moments, the group collapsed into chaos, and it took only moments before half of Arran''s opponents were defeated.


    Uninterested in seeing her students receive another thrashing, Brightblade called out once more. "Halt!"


    The fight came to a stop once more, and Arran sheathed his sword, then walked back to Brightblade.


    This time, she gave him a pleased look. "It seems you have progressed even more than I expected."


    "I''ve had good teachers to help me," Arran replied truthfully.


    "From what I hear, you''ve put in considerable effort yourself, as well," she said.


    There was no need for either of them to mention that Arran''s victory owed much to the weakness of his opponents. Against the novices at his own estate ¡ª the Houses'' most promising students ¡ª he wouldn''t have fared nearly as well.


    "But let''s try this again," Brightblade continued. "Without you using magic."


    Arran gave her an incredulous look. "That''s impossible," he said. "I can''t reach them without magic. Not without getting hit, at least."


    Of course, if he were to rely on his resistance to magic, reaching the novices would be simplicity itself. None were strong enough to harm him. But that would expose things neither he nor Brightblade wanted to share with the world just yet.


    Brightblade, however, merely raised an eyebrow and extended her hand toward Arran. An instant later, he felt a shield of Essence take shape around him.


    "This protection should match what most Hunters have," she said. "See if that''s enough for you to break through the attacks."


    Arran gave her an uneasy frown. "If I do that¡­" He glanced at the novices, then continued in a low voice, "The strength I''ll have to use will draw attention."


    Brightblade gave a dismissive shrug in response. "You''re heir to the Matriarch, and the Valley is filled with stories of you ¡ª no few of which far surpass anything you''re capable of actually doing. You''re well past the point of having to worry about drawing a little more attention."


    Her words weren''t quite enough to convince Arran, but with a small sigh, he headed back to the wall.


    This time, the novices looked at him with wary eyes even before the fight began. Any hopes they had of scoring an easy win against the Matriarch''s heir were long gone, and now, they mostly seemed worried about whether they''d receive yet another beating.


    "Begin!"


    The ground cracked under Arran''s feet as he leaped forward, the first volley of spells passing harmlessly beneath him. Moving with bounding leaps that tore the ground where he landed, he crossed three hundred paces in barely two breath''s time.


    A few of the novices'' spells still hit him, but nowhere near enough to break through Brightblade''s shield. And as the novices saw him approach, their faces filled with fear. Their ranks broke almost instantly, their discipline failing before he could even reach them.


    "Halt!" Brightblade''s voice sounded again, ending the fight before Arran had the chance to strike even a single one of his opponents.


    With the battle having come to a premature end, she turned her attention to the novices.


    "This is what you are training to face!" she called out, a harshness to her tone that hadn''t been there before. "When you fight the Hunters, this is what you will fight! And if you break like this, each of you will die!"


    She gestured at a nearby adept and curtly instructed the man to continue the novices'' training, then turned her attention back to Arran.


    "Let''s find a quieter place to talk," she said, no sign of the anger she had shown the novices on her face.


    "Was that your plan, then?" Arran asked as they walked off together, Brightblade''s two guards following a dozen paces behind them. "To use me for scaring your students?"


    "It''s part of my plan," she replied. "You are the closest thing we have to a Hunter in the Valley. If war breaks out, it will help the students to know what they''ll be up against." She gave him a glance, and in a slightly annoyed tone, she added, "Though with how much you''ve advanced, I fear you might be too good an example."


    Arran shrugged in response. That his strength had increased should be no surprise ¡ª even if he had spent the past year focusing his efforts on magic, he still had the Dragon''s Ruin and enough dragon meat to last for years. And if the meat was beginning to taste a bit stale, that did little to reduce its effectiveness.


    "But there''s another matter," Brightblade continued. "And it''s something best discussed in private."

 Chapter 267 Brightblades Orders

    Brightblade guided Arran to the stronghold''s main keep, a towering building with thick walls that loomed over the training grounds as a permanent reminder that war was coming.


    "It seems a bit much," Arran offered as they approached it.


    "Maybe," Brightblade replied. "But it''s necessary. Most of the mages in the Valley have never seen a real battle. You saw the novices'' reactions when you attacked them ¡ª even without any real danger, their instinct was to flee. They need a reminder that these are no games, or most of them will perish in their first battle."


    "You speak as if war is a foregone conclusion," Arran said. At the banquet eight months earlier, the Matriarch had said she meant to rebuild the Valley''s strength merely to deter enemies. Yet Brightblade''s efforts were clearly aimed at more than just deterrence.


    "Because it is," Brightblade said. "If the Hunters do not attack, others will arrive. In the few centuries I''ve been alive, I''ve seen the Shadowflame Society face dozens of enemies. Even if the Hunters somehow disappeared, it would only be a matter of time before others took their place."


    "But you believe the Hunters will attack."


    It was a statement rather than a question. Arran did not believe for a moment that the preparations he had seen were merely a precaution. Brightblade was clearly readying the Valley''s mages for war against the Hunters, and she was wasting no time in doing so.


    "Perhaps," she replied. "But we will continue this conversation in my quarters. Now follow me."


    Some minutes later they stepped into a large chamber inside the keep. To call it austere would be an understatement ¡ª it was empty except for a single wooden desk and three chairs, and the walls were made of bare stone that reached all the way up to the high ceiling.


    Brightblade dismissed her guards with a gesture, and when the two had left the chamber and shut the door behind them, she sealed it with a small but powerful ward.


    "Come," she said, then walked straight at the far wall ¡ª and passed right through it.


    Arran blinked in surprise. He understood she had placed a concealment ward inside the chamber, but although he had already learned several such wards himself, the one here was so masterfully made that he never would have noticed it.


    He quickly followed behind Brightblade and passed through the wall, though not without noticing that even up close, it seemed completely real. Combined with a blocking ward, it would be completely indistinguishable from a real wall.


    When he stepped through the illusory wall, he found another chamber. And unlike the first, this one was anything but austere.


    Richly filled bookcases and fine paintings lined the walls, and several velvet-clad sofas stood in the left corner of the chamber. On the right was a large wooden desk, upon which lay various opened books and half-read scrolls, along with several empty bottles of wine.


    Arran raised an eyebrow as he examined Brightblade''s quarters. Somehow, he doubted her students had any such luxuries.


    "Sit," Brightblade said, taking place on one of the sofas. "What you said earlier was correct. I have no doubt whatsoever that the Hunters will attack."


    "Why?" Arran asked, taking a seat on the sofa opposite Brightblade''s. It was even softer than he had expected.


    "Because they have to," she replied. "With the numbers Rhea has amassed, a few short decades will be enough to fortify the Valley to withstand any assault they can launch. By then, they will be trapped between the Valley and whatever it was that drove them here."


    "Something drove them here?" Arran looked at Brightblade in confusion. This was the first time he had heard anything of the sort.


    "You didn''t think they just appeared out of nowhere, did you?" She shook her head. "They only began to appear a few thousand years ago, and under a thousand years have passed since they arrived in numbers. They''re fleeing something ¡ª though I don''t know what."


    The words briefly left Arran speechless. For all its Grandmasters and Archmages, the Valley had been brought to its knees by the Hunters. But now, Brightblade casually suggested that those same Hunters were fleeing an even greater danger.


    "So they could attack at any moment," he said after some moments.


    Brightblade responded with a quick shake of her head. "They could, but they won''t. Assaulting the Valley is no simple matter, and just readying their troops will take years. More, if they have another enemy to the west."


    "How long do we have?" Arran asked.


    A pensive expression appeared on Brightblade''s face, and her eyes narrowed as she considered the question. Finally, she said, "If I were to guess, I''d say we can expect the attack to happen in a decade ¡ª long enough for them to prepare a full assault, but not long enough for us to train a new generation of mages."


    That was far longer than Arran had expected, and he breathed a sigh of relief at the answer. He had trained for less than that, and with another decade of training to go, there were few enemies he wouldn''t feel confident in facing.


    "And that brings us to you," Brightblade said. "You are struggling to learn the Shadowflame spell, correct?"


    Arran nodded. Brightblade hadn''t been able to follow his training as closely as before in recent months, but it came as no surprise that she''d kept abreast of his progress. And his struggle in learning the Shadowflame spell was no secret ¡ª every single one of his teachers was well aware of that.


    "Many novices face the same obstacle," she said. "And in most cases, it''s nothing that a few years or decades of training can''t overcome."


    At this, Arran''s face fell. He was well aware that it wasn''t uncommon for novices to spend decades learning the spell, and that more than a few never succeeded at all, remaining novices until the day of their death.


    Yet Brightblade ignored his troubled look, and continued, "There''s another matter to consider. To gain the title of novice, you will have to spend a year in the borderlands. You have long surpassed the skill of a mere initiate, and it''s high time that you take a rank more befitting your strength."


    Arran frowned. "What are you getting at?"


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    "I have discussed the matter with Rhea, and we have decided to address both matters at once." A small smile formed on Brightblade''s lips as she spoke. "You are to travel into the borderlands, where you will go into secluded training until you master the Shadowflame spell. Once you return, you will be made an adept."


    "An adept? Not a novice?" Arran looked at Brightblade in surprise.


    "You have the skills to qualify for the title, if only barely," she replied. "A year or two of secluded training will further add to that. Once you learn the Shadowflame spell, you will be more than ready to become an adept."


    Arran felt a brief flash of joy at the prospect of becoming an adept, but it disappeared a moment later, suspicion taking its place.


    "Why not have me train at your estate?" he asked. "I''ve already spent plenty of time in the borderlands, and having teachers to guide me will help me progress faster."


    "We could make an exception," Brightblade admitted. "But secluded training has its own benefits. And after you succeed, you will have the opportunity to recover Elder Nikias''s writings. You still intend to study the Forms, do you not?"


    While the answer seemed straightforward, Arran could not help but think something was lacking. And after a moment''s thought, it struck him.


    "Snowcloud," he said, brow creased in confusion. "You want to keep us apart. Why?"


    Brightblade smiled regretfully. "That is part of it, as well. The ember that has grown between you two could easily grow into a fire. And if it does, it would serve as a distraction from training."


    "Nonsense," Arran said bluntly, some anger in his voice now. "I won''t be distracted that easily."


    "Perhaps not," Brightblade replied. "But you are not the one I''m worried about. You are already strong enough to defend yourself, and even without training, your strength will grow further. But Snowcloud¡­"


    "She''s more skilled than I am," Arran interrupted her. "More skilled than any novice in the Valley ¡ª and most of the adepts."


    "True," Brightblade said. "In combat, she should be a match for any adept in this entire Valley. But how much effort would it take you to kill even the strongest adept we have?"


    Arran gave Brightblade an uncomfortable look. There was no need to answer the question ¡ª he could kill any adept in the Valley effortlessly. With his strength and resistance to magic, it would be like butchering a lamb.


    "Hunters have powers similar to yours," Brightblade continued. "And the Valley''s mages will face thousands such enemies when the war begins. If Snowcloud is to have a chance of surviving, she cannot afford even the slightest distraction from her training."


    To this, Arran had no response. When it came to Snowcloud''s safety, he wouldn''t take risks ¡ª even if they were ones she herself might accept gladly.


    "It doesn''t seem fair," he finally said, though not before letting out a deep sigh.


    Brightblade shrugged. "You are both mages, and talented enough to live another thousand years. You will have plenty of time to roll around in haystacks in the future."


    Arran glared at her, but there was no point in refusing. As much as he wanted her to be wrong, he knew she was right. If the Hunters'' powers resembled his own, Snowcloud would need every second of training she could get.


    Yet Brightblade wasn''t done yet.


    "There remains one final matter," she said. "We know little of the Hunters ¡ª too little. And although the Ninth Valley has sent plenty of spies their way, they have an unfortunate habit of killing any mages who set foot in their lands."


    Arran groaned, immediately understanding what she was about to say.


    "But, as luck would have it," she continued, "your powers not only match theirs, but you can also hide your Realms better than anyone else in the Valley."


    "You want me to spy on them," Arran said.


    "Correct," Brightblade responded, a cheerful smile on her face.

 Chapter 268 Leaving the Valley

    For some moments, Arran remained silent, trying to get his head around the task that lay before him. Finally, he repeated, "You want me to spy on the Hunters."


    "I do," Brightblade said once more. "The Valley is in desperate need of information, and nobody in the Valley is better suited to the task of getting it than you."


    "You told me the Valley has sent other spies," Arran said, brow creased in a deep frown. "I assume these were among the Valley''s best scouts ¡ª Masters, if not stronger. Did any of them return?"


    "Some," Brightblade said. "But only those who didn''t stray far into the Hunters'' lands. You, however, will venture deep into their lands ¡ª further than any mages before you."


    Once, her words would have sent Arran into a panic. But now, he understood that Brightblade would not simply send him to his death. If she wanted him to enter the Hunters'' lands, she believed he could handle the task. And if that was the case, he would listen to her before deciding whether he would do as she asked.


    He gave her a serious look, then said, "Tell me your plans."


    She responded with a small nod. "Getting into their lands will be easy ¡ª easier than you might think. The Hunters capture or kill any mages who enter their lands, but commoners are allowed to enter as they wish. And while they have means to detect even sealed Realms, those seals of yours are no ordinary ones. If my suspicions are correct, they should suffice to fool even the Hunters'' methods."


    Arran raised an eyebrow. "What if your suspicions are wrong?"


    "Then you will have to flee," Brightblade replied. "So I would suggest putting my suspicions to the test near the borderlands. If I''m wrong, I trust you will be able to escape a small patrol of Hunters."


    A wry smile crossed Arran''s lips. While Brightblade might not simply send him to his death, she clearly had no qualms about sending him into danger.


    Just then, however, a thought occurred to him. "If the Hunters allow commoners to enter their lands unharmed, why not send commoners to spy on them? The Valley has plenty of people without any magical skills."


    "They allow commoners to enter," Brightblade said. "But they do not allow them to leave ¡ª or, if they do, none choose to do so. Plenty of commoners enter their lands, but none ever return."


    This hardly sounded encouraging, as Arran could think of several other explanations for why nobody returned. And none of those explanations filled him with confidence.


    Yet that there would be risks involved was to be expected, and he continued, "Even if I can enter their lands unharmed, how would I gather information? I can''t imagine they''ll simply let me walk into their camps to take notes on their activities."


    "You will visit their cities," Brightblade replied. "Travel their lands as a merchant or craftsman, and learn what you can from the commoners."


    "Cities?" Arran frowned as he looked at Brightblade. "They have cities? And you know about those?"


    She laughed, then said, "Of course they have cities. Look at their numbers. They have millions of warriors. And to supply an army of millions, they need tens of millions of commoners ¡ª farmers, merchants, craftsmen, shopkeepers. An army like theirs needs a nation to support it, and a large one at that."


    This was something Arran hadn''t yet considered, but as she explained it, he realized it made sense. While he had thought of the Hunters as a mysterious band of unusually powerful brigands, no brigands could maintain such numbers for centuries.


    And, he realized, if there was an entire society behind the Hunters, then they would have no small amount of knowledge ¡ª training techniques and combat methods developed over thousands of years, strong enough to allow them to rival even powerful mages.


    "I could learn from them," he said quietly, more to himself than to Brightblade.


    Yet she replied, "That is another reason I''m sending you. With powers so close to yours, their knowledge could be invaluable to you ¡ª or completely useless. Either way, it''s an opportunity worth exploring."


    Arran thought for some moments, but in truth, he had already made his decision. Any information he could find would be crucial in the war to come, and although he had few friends in the Ninth Valley, he would gladly face danger if it increased their chances of surviving the conflict.


    "All right," he finally said. "I''ll do it."


    "Of course you will," Brightblade replied, though her eyes held a hint of approval. "Now, before you leave, there are several things you will need."


    She walked over to a corner of the chamber, where she picked up a stack of books and a bag, both of which she brought over and handed to Arran.


    "These books detail various Shadow seals and wards," she explained. "You will need to study them carefully before you venture into the Hunters'' lands, since Shadow is the only type of Essence you''ll be able to use. And you will need to hide not just your Realms, but also your void ring and your Shadowflame mark."


    Arran glanced at the inside of his left wrist, which held a mark shaped like a black flame, still moving as if it were alive.


    He had gained the mark when he took the oath to join the Shadowflame Society, and although he had mostly ignored it since then, it was a subtle yet undeniable reminder that he was a mage and a member of the Shadowflame Society.


    And in the Hunters'' lands, it would be a death sentence.


    "What about the bag?" he asked. It wasn''t a void bag. Rather, it was the type of thing a commoner would use for travel, large and unwieldy.


    "You can''t enter the Hunters'' lands dressed like a mage," Brightblade said. "So I have gathered clothes for you ¡ª the kind of outfits a commoner might wear."


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    Arran stored both the books and the bag in his void ring, then asked, "So when do I leave?"


    "We will leave now," she said. "I intended to keep you here for some days, but the demonstration you gave today will have drawn enough attention. There''s no point in wasting any more time."


    Without offering any further explanation, she stood up and headed out of the chamber, Arran following close behind her.


    To his surprise, when they left the stronghold, she had several dozens of guards accompany them. Moreover, instead of heading in the direction of the inner Valley''s gates, Arran soon realized that they were traveling toward her estate.


    With dozens of guards surrounding them, he could not ask her about this, but he spent most of the journey with a deep frown on his forehead, his confused expression only hidden by the dark of night.


    It was early morning when they arrived near the mountain path that led to the estate, and there, in the shadow of the mountains, Brightblade announced, "I will accompany Lord Ghostblade to my estate. The rest of you are to wait here. I will return within two weeks."


    Without any further words, she left the guards behind and guided Arran up the narrow mountain path. Even knowing where it was, Arran found it difficult to recognize, and as they traveled up the mountain, he noticed that several new wards had appeared along the path.


    They traveled in silence, but when they reached the small valley that held Brightblade''s estate ¡ª which, to Arran''s eyes, still more resembled a fortress than a mansion ¡ª he turned to face her. "I thought you wanted me to travel to the borderlands?"


    "I do, and you will," she said. "But as far as the rest of the Valley is concerned, you will spend the next few years in secluded training at my estate."


    "But how¡ª" Arran began, yet he stopped mid-sentence as his eyes turned to the small path at the far end of the Valley.


    Brightblade smiled at him, then said, "We''re taking a different route into the Borderlands. One slightly more dangerous, but far less conspicuous."


    Arran did not return the smile. He remembered well what she had told him and Snowcloud about the path. For the two of them, she had said, the path only led to death. And not just that ¡ª in her own words, even she could not take the dangers it held lightly.

 Chapter 269 Essence Remnants

    "When we go into the mountains, what dangers will we face?"


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    As Arran asked the question, his eyes remained focused on the path at the far end of the valley. Yet whatever threats lay ahead, no sign of them could be seen from here.


    "There''s no need for you to know that," Brightblade replied. "All you¡ª"


    "No," Arran interrupted her. "You either tell me what the dangers beyond that path are, or I''m not going."


    Brightblade raised an eyebrow. "You don''t trust me?"


    "I''ve put my life in your hands many times," Arran said, his voice firm as he met her eyes. "But I''m not blindly walking into danger. Not when there''s no need to. And if you trust me, you can certainly tell me what we''re about to face."


    She looked at him for several seconds with an expression that held both surprise and ¡ª unexpectedly ¡ª approval. "Fair enough," she said after some moments. "If I''m taking you into danger, I suppose I owe you at least a brief explanation of what that danger is."


    "Brief is fine," Arran said. "As long as I know what I will face."


    Brightblade cast a short glance at the path in the distance. Then, she said, "When we venture beyond the Valley''s protections, we run the risk of encountering Essence Remnants."


    "Essence Remnants?" Arran gave her a blank look. He''d never heard the term before in his life.


    She hesitated briefly, appearing to struggle to find the right words. Finally, she said, "Each time we cast a spell, we bring Essence into the world. Most of that harmlessly dissipates into the air once the spell ends, but some small part of it seeps into the earth. In most places, it''s barely noticeable. But near the Valleys, the accumulated Essence of mages spending countless centuries casting spells is enough to affect the world."


    "Affect the world?" Arran asked. "How?"


    Brightblade sighed. "You know how plants and animals can absorb Natural Essence, over time being transformed by it. Much the same holds true for magical Essence. And with enough of it, some animals turn into something¡­ different. Something dangerous. We call these creatures Essence Remnants."


    Arran''s expression hardened as he listened to her, not at all liking where this was going. "Different how?"


    "Their bodies are altered," Brightblade explained. "Their physical shapes are gradually replaced with pure Essence, and they hunger for more. When they sense spells, or mages, they will attack ¡ª and they are vicious enemies, nearly impossible to defeat. With bodies that consist mostly of Essence, they are highly resistant to both magic and weapons."


    "Then how do you fight them?" Arran asked.


    "You don''t," she replied. "Not if you can avoid it. You hide your Essence as best you can, and hope you don''t encounter them. When there is no other choice, starmetal weapons can injure them ¡ª though they quickly recover from even the most grievous injuries. But it can buy you the time you need to escape."


    Arran''s eyes widened as he realized the full extent of what Brightblade had just told him. "And these creatures ¡ª these Essence Remnants ¡ª are all around the Valleys? We''re surrounded by nigh-invincible monsters that are drawn to Essence, with just a few formations protecting us? What if they break down the formations?"


    He stared at Brightblade in astonishment. From what she described, it sounded like the Hunters should be the least of the Valley''s worries. There was a far more dangerous enemy lurking right on the Valley''s doorstep.


    Yet Brightblade merely shook her head. "The Essence Remnants are no threat to the Valleys. The Society''s formations are easily capable of holding them back, and they''re mindless creatures, incapable of launching a concerted attack. Behind the formations, there is no reason to fear them."


    "But we''re going beyond the formations."


    While Arran had more than a few doubts about whether the formations repelled these Essence Remnants as easily as she claimed, the more pressing matter was that they were about to venture past the formations.


    "Indeed we are," Brightblade said. "And to make it through safely, we''ll need to take certain precautions."


    "Which are?" Arran asked.


    "For a start, you will need to seal your Realms ¡ª even your Shadow Realm ¡ª and drain your body of Essence. Be thorough. Even the slightest bit that remains could put us in terrible danger."


    Arran did as she said, first using Master Zhao''s seal on all his Realms, then using up every bit of Essence that remained in his body other than the seals themselves. The effort took him some time, and when he finished, he found the feeling of being devoid of Essence deeply unsettling.


    He was used to having at least his Shadow Realm available, yet now, even that was gone ¡ª and with it, his Shadowsight was gone as well.


    "What about you?" he asked with an inquisitive look at Brightblade. "Will you be sealing your Realms as well?"


    "Of course not," she said. "My control is good enough that I can prevent Essence from escaping my body. And if we run into Essence Remnants, I''ll need magic to fend them off."


    Arran frowned. "Didn''t you say they were resistant to magic?"


    "They are," Brightblade said. "But I have techniques that allow me to use Essence to strengthen my physical abilities." She produced a slender blade from one of her void bags, which Arran immediately recognized as being made of starmetal. "And with this, I should be able to fend off any Remnants we encounter."


    "But won''t that draw more of them to us?" Arran asked with a frown, remembering that only moments earlier, Brightblade had told him the Essence Remnants were drawn to Essence.


    "It will," Brightblade confirmed. "So if I am forced to fight them, you''d better be ready to run."


    "What about me?" Arran asked. "I''m resistant to magic, and my strength does not rely on Essence. Wouldn''t it be better for me to fight them?"


    "Perhaps in a few decades," she said. "As you are now, you are far too weak to face Essence Remnants. You should keep that starmetal sword of yours within reach, but pray you don''t have to use it. If it gets to the point where you have to draw it, we''re in trouble."


    Arran quickly belted on his starmetal sword. He normally used another one to avoid drawing attention, but if the mountains were as dangerous as Brightblade said, there would be little risk of encountering other travelers. "Anything else?"


    Brightblade nodded. "Store any enchanted items you have in your void ring. I''ll put a ward on that to prevent it from drawing the Remnants'' attention." A thoughtful expression appeared on her face, and she added, "Pay close attention when I create this ward. It''s among the ones described in the books I gave you, and you may need it in the Hunters'' lands."


    Arran did as she said, stowing away all his enchanted items and watching closely as Brightblade created the ward. He understood at once that it was meant to conceal enchantments rather than objects, and although it was complex, he suspected he could learn it with a few weeks of study.


    When Brightblade finished the work, he furrowed his brow, then asked, "Why is all of this needed? Sealing my Shadow Realm and concealing enchantments? Even the strongest mages can''t easily Sense those things, right?"


    "Essence Remnants aren''t mages," she replied. "They''re creatures born of Essence, and they have an affinity for it far beyond anything a mage can hope to achieve. To them, even Shadow Essence stands out like a bonfire on a dark night."


    Though Arran thought this raised more questions than it answered, he realized this was not the time to discuss the finer intricacies of the nature of magic.


    "Was that everything?" he asked instead.


    "No," Brightblade said. "But it will have to do. Just remember to stay close to me, and if I start to run, I suggest you do the same."


    With that, she set off toward the narrow path on the opposite side of the Valley, Arran following close behind her.


    The path wasn''t anything remarkable, Arran soon saw. Twisting and winding its way up into the steep terrain, with small shrubs scattered along its sides and treacherous footing, it was a mountain path like any other.


    Yet barely a quarter-hour after they set foot on the path, there was a sudden change ¡ª while the path remained the same, Arran could Sense that they passed through the edge of a vast formation, so large he could barely recognize it as a formation at all.


    And as they left the Valley''s protections behind, he immediately Sensed the presence of vast amounts of Essence. It wasn''t the chaotic and violent raw Essence he''d encountered years earlier in the city of Uvar, however. Rather, this was a calm but constant pressure, from Essence that had seeped into the very mountains themselves, merging with the stone and rock over the course of untold centuries.


    "From this point on, we''re in constant danger," Brightblade said, a look of complete focus in her eyes. "We should be clear of it in three days. Until then, don''t do anything foolish, or you might kill us both."

 Chapter 270 An Obstacle

    Despite Brightblade''s warnings about the mountains'' dangers, the first few hours of their journey were uneventful. Aside from the oppressive weight of Essence that surrounded them, the mountains seemed both beautiful and peaceful, with numerous small valleys that were filled with shrubs and trees.


    It wasn''t at all what Arran had expected. After Brightblade''s tales, he''d expected a barren wasteland, filled with vicious monsters. But instead, what he found were pristine landscapes, untouched by human hands.


    There was life, too ¡ª squirrels and goats, mostly, as well as birds of prey that could be seen soaring through the sky far above them. But of any monsters, there was no sign.


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    They paused for a meal at midday ¡ª dried meat and fruits, since they could not use Essence to build a fire ¡ª and as they sat down, Brightblade looked at Arran with an amused expression.


    "You almost seem disappointed," she said.


    "Not disappointed," Arran replied. "Just surprised. From what you said, I half expected there would be Essence Remnants at every turn. But so far, I haven''t seen anything."


    "They aren''t as numerous as you might think," Brightblade said. "Remember that they consume Essence."


    At once, Arran understood. "They eat each other. Like dragons."


    Brightblade nodded. "Exactly. And because of that, their numbers are kept in check ¡ª although it also means that those who survive are all hideously strong."


    "So we might pass through the mountains without even encountering them?" Arran asked, feeling both relieved and slightly disappointed.


    "They aren''t quite as rare as that," Brightblade replied. "That you haven''t seen any yet is because they usually lie in slumber, only emerging from their hiding places when they detect Essence. But if your Sense was a little stronger, you would know that we already passed several Remnants just this morning."


    "We already passed several?" Arran looked around uneasily as he asked the question, suddenly wondering if there could be one of the monsters hiding nearby.


    Now that he knew they consumed their own kind, his appreciation for their strength had grown considerably. He remembered well how frighteningly powerful Crassus had been, and if the Essence Remnants increased their strength in the same way, he no longer had any doubt about their ability to match Brightblade.


    "No need to look so worried," Brightblade said with a small chuckle. "As long as we keep our Essence hidden, we won''t disturb their slumber. We''ll only be in danger if we across one that happens to be awake."


    They set off again after they finished their meal, then spent the hours that followed traveling even deeper into the mountains.


    Although the journey remained every bit as uneventful as it had been before, Arran found that the tranquil surroundings no longer seemed as peaceful as they had earlier. Now that he knew terrifying monsters were waiting in the shadows, he realized that they could be attacked at any moment.


    Yet despite his misgivings, they encountered no trouble that day. There were several more goats along the path, but of any monsters, there was no sign.


    They set up camp in a small valley as dusk approached. Although Arran would have preferred to travel through the night, he knew that wasn''t an option ¡ª the mountains held plenty of steep cliffs and deep ravines, and in the dark, a single misstep could be every bit as dangerous as even the most fearsome monster.


    Yet despite the ever-present sense of danger around them, Arran slept well that night. He briefly awoke twice because of sounds in the distance ¡ª more goats, he suspected ¡ª but other than that, he slumbered in a dreamless sleep until morning.


    Perhaps it was the effort of a day''s travel through rough terrain, or perhaps the constant soft hum of Essence within the mountains, but he awoke feeling well-rested, the dangers they faced at least temporarily forgotten.


    When he arose, however, he found Brightblade sitting at the edge of the camp, with a tired face and a worried expression.


    "That was an experience I''d rather not repeat," she said in a soft voice. "Two Remnants passed through this valley last night, one of them coming within fifty paces of us."


    Arran''s eyes widened in surprise. "I didn''t Sense anything."


    "You wouldn''t," she replied. "Though I''d suggest working on that. But now, hurry up and eat. The sooner we''re past this place, the better."


    Arran quickly wolfed down a small meal of dried meat and fruits, and within minutes, they were on their way again.


    Brightblade set a considerably faster pace than the previous day, and they traveled at a speed that was just short of a full run, bounding dangerously close to the mountains'' steep cliffs on several occasions. Yet treacherous though the terrain might be, it was obvious that Brightblade was more worried about the creatures within the mountains.


    Unlike the previous day, they did not pause for a midday meal. Instead, they ate as they traveled, with Brightblade unwilling to waste even minutes on rest. Whatever she had seen the previous night, it was clear that it worried her.


    Still, much of the day passed uneventfully, with Arran still seeing no sign of any monsters. And although Brightblade''s obvious worries weighed on him as well, he knew that they were getting closer to their destination with every passing hour. They should already be halfway there, and with them traveling at a faster pace than before, it wouldn''t be long before they left the mountains.


    But then, late in the afternoon, Brightblade came to a sudden halt as they were about to cross into yet another valley.


    "Stop," she said, her voice barely louder than a breath. "There''s a Remnant ahead."


    Arran had come to a halt behind her, but now, he very carefully stepped forward, his eyes searching the area ahead. It only took him a moment to spot the monster, and when he did, his eyes went wide with awe.


    Half a mile into the valley, he could see a creature. It was shaped like a wolf, but its shape was the only similarity. Beyond that, it was unlike anything he had ever seen before.


    The creature was vast ¡ª twenty feet at the shoulder, if not more. But despite its size, its movements were fast and fluid, unnaturally so. And as it moved through the valley, at times it seemed like it almost floated along the ground, barely impacting the ground despite its size.


    Yet that was only the start of it. Because unlike a normal animal, this creature looked like it was somehow made from a constantly moving mass of fire and shadow, as if someone had forced a vast amount of Fire and Shadow Essence into the shape of a giant wolf.


    To Arran''s eyes, it almost looked as if the creature was a spell rather than a being, but a spell that had inexplicably come to life. And as he looked at the creature, he subconsciously shuddered. Not from fear, but from revulsion. Because whatever had brought the creature into being, the result was something that seemed profoundly wrong ¡ª something that should not exist in this world.


    His thoughts were interrupted by Brightblade''s voice.


    "Come," she said in a whisper so soft it was only barely audible.


    At the sound of her voice, Arran tore his eyes away from the strange creature, then followed Brightblade as she slowly began to make her way back along the path, away from the monster.


    They moved in silence for a quarter-hour before Brightblade finally spoke.


    "That''s an Essence Remnant," she said. "And it''s in our path. We''ll have to go around it. That will another day to our journey, but there''s no other choice."


    Arran nodded quietly. Having witnessed the creature with his own eyes, he was in no rush to see just how strong it was. Yet a frown crossed his face as he remembered it, and he asked, "I couldn''t Sense it. Why?"


    "It''s a creature made from Essence," Brightblade replied. "And it controls its Essence almost perfectly. Little enough escapes that even I can''t Sense it at more than a few hundred paces."


    Though Arran had many other questions, he did not ask them. Right now, all he wanted was to be far away from the creature, and he was relieved that Brightblade appeared to feel the same way.


    They followed the path back to the previous valley at a rapid pace, ignoring the risk of misstepping and falling into the depths below ¡ª with the creature behind them, that danger suddenly seemed insignificant.


    Once they reached the valley, Brightblade quickly found another ¡ª even narrower ¡ª path that led in a different direction. It barely resembled a path at all as it wound across the steep mountainside, but Arran did not complain ¡ª between this and the creature, he would much rather face the danger of plummeting down from the mountainside.


    Night was already beginning to fall when they finally reached a small plateau, and after inspecting their surroundings for several minutes, Brightblade gave a small nod. "We''ll spend the night here," she said. "It should be safe enough, provided we don''t linger any longer than necessary."


    They ate another small meal, after which Arran quickly wrapped himself in his blankets.


    Yet this time, no sleep came ¡ª the memory of the Essence Remnant was still too fresh in his mind, and there was something about it that deeply unsettled him. Something more than just the danger it posed.

 Chapter 271 More Than Remnants

    Arran awoke at the first light of dawn, more tired than he had been the night before. He had only managed to fall asleep when morning was already approaching, and even in those few short hours, he had woken up at least half a dozen times.


    The more he thought about the Essence Remnant, the more it bothered him. And it wasn''t the creature''s power that unsettled him. Rather, it was that the beast ¡ª if it could be called that ¡ª seemed as if it didn''t belong to the world, like a nightmare that had taken a physical form.


    But if Arran had slept little, Brightblade appeared not to have slept at all. She was still in the exact same place as the previous night, watching both paths to the plateau with focused eyes.


    "Any sign of Remnants tonight?" Arran asked.


    "None," she replied. "But then, they usually stay down in the valleys. This far up, there''s no real risk of running into them."


    Though her words were meant to be reassuring, they would have been more effective had she not spent the night keeping a careful watch. As it was, Arran could not help but think that any risk real enough to keep Brightblade awake was one worth fearing.


    But that was only part of the concern he felt. Another ¡ª larger ¡ª part was his memory of the creature.


    "That creature yesterday," he began. "The Essence Remnant¡­" He paused, struggling to find the right words to voice his concern.


    Yet Brightblade nodded, a look of understanding in her eyes. "They''re disconcerting, aren''t they? As if they shouldn''t exist ¡ª Essence come to life and turned hostile. Like your own sword turning against you."


    Arran frowned, his expression uncertain. "When I saw it¡­ I couldn''t tell whether the beast had absorbed the Essence, or the Essence had absorbed the beast."


    Brightblade gave him a small smile. "That''s a better question than you might realize, and something we might discuss in the future. But for now, what matters is getting out of here as quickly as possible. So eat something ¡ª we won''t stop again before nightfall."


    He did as she said, and after a short meal, they set off once more, with Arran eager to leave behind both the mountains and the creatures that dwelt among them. Peaceful though the area might seem, he now understood just how misleading its appearance truly was.


    Fortunately, however, they made rapid progress along the mountains'' narrow paths. The Remnant had forced them to take a more difficult route, but neither of them had any trouble traversing the harsh terrain, and they moved with the drive of people keen to be elsewhere.


    Still, neither their swift pace nor the tranquil surroundings brought Arran much comfort. Even if there was no sign of any more Remnants, he felt like they could stumble upon one at any moment, and he had no interest in seeing the alien creatures'' power up close.


    While his body could easily handle the effort of running through rough terrain, his constant wariness made the journey exhausting, and he was almost glad when the day came to an end and Brightblade set up camp ¡ª almost, because even if rest was welcome, the same wasn''t true for another day spent in the mountains.


    "We should reach the edge of the mountains by tomorrow afternoon," Brightblade said. "There''s another formation there, and when we cross it, we''ll be safe. Try to get some sleep tonight. We leave at first light."


    Despite Brightblade''s advice and his own exhaustion, Arran barely slept that night. The memory of the Essence Remnant was still too fresh in his mind for that ¡ª especially in a place where one of the creatures could easily stumble upon them while he slept.


    But once more, Arran was relieved to find that his worries had been for naught. No Remnants passed their makeshift camp during the night, and in the morning, he found himself filled with energy. Just another half-day of travel, and they would be clear of the mountains.


    The morning passed uneventfully, and by midday, Arran''s spirits began to return. Just a few more hours, and they''d reach the relative safety of the borderlands.


    They crossed a green, wide valley unhindered, then followed a steep path that led to a pass up on the mountain. And with every step, Arran could feel safety getting closer.


    But as they reached the pass, Brightblade came to a sudden halt.


    "Son of a whore!" she spat. "Demons!"


    Arran was only paces behind, and as she finished the last word, he came to a halt beside her. Immediately, he saw the reason for her curse.


    A long, broad pass lay in the distance ahead of them, over two dozen paces wide and at least a mile long. Yet within the pass stood numerous human-like shapes, and even from this distance, Arran could see that these were no people.


    The shapes, he saw, held the same kind of raw Essence he had seen in the Essence Remnant. And there were thousands of them.


    "What¡ª" he began.


    "Draw your sword," Brightblade interrupted. "These are Demons. They''re far weaker than Remnants, but unfortunately, they''re nowhere near as stupid."


    At that, as if they had heard her words, the shapes began to turn toward them, their eyes glowing a bright red as they became aware of the new arrivals.


    "Cut down any who get in your way," Brightblade said hurriedly, "but don''t stop to finish them ¡ª don''t stop for anything. Now follow me!"


    At once, she burst forward, sword drawn as she rushed to meet the vast horde of creatures. And behind her was Arran, his blade raised and ready to strike anything that got in his way.


    When there were barely fifty paces between them and the creatures, a sudden surge of Essence exploded from Brightblade, strong enough that it nearly brought Arran to a halt. Yet the creatures seemed wholly unaffected, and they Brightblade reached the group a moment later.


    Her slender starmetal sword darted forward at once, cutting half a dozen of the creatures down in the blink of an eye. And she showed no sign of slowing down ¡ª she continued forward without slowing down even the slightest bit, more of the creatures falling as she cut a path through the large group.


    Arran followed barely two paces behind her, struggling to keep up with her sudden speed. Any of the creatures that came within reach of his blade were cut down mercilessly, but he had no chance to see the damage he wrought ¡ª fast as Brightblade was moving, even the slightest hesitation would see him fall behind.


    Yet after some moments, Brightblade began to slow. Even if she cut down the creatures with terrifying fury, there were just too many of them, and they blocked the way forward through sheer numbers.


    Another burst of Essence came forth from Brightblade, and again, it had little effect on the creatures. If she was let down by the lack of a result, it did not show ¡ª she continued to carve a way through the mass with fast and vicious blows, her slender sword butchering any who came near her.


    Yet as the creatures recovered from the shock of the sudden attack, they began to sling streaks of violent Essence at Brightblade and Arran. And although Brightblade defended herself with an invisible shield, Arran had no such protection.


    The first few creatures who tried to attack him fell to his sword before they could hit him, but then, Arran was just a second too late, and one of the attacks slammed into his chest ¡ª a fierce red streak of violent Essence.


    The force of the hit sent Arran staggering backward, and he realized immediately that these attacks were strong ¡ª strong enough to hurt him despite his resistance to magic. And although a single hit wasn''t enough to seriously injure him, he knew a few more such attacks could actually cause him damage.


    He rushed toward the creature that had attacked him, and its bright red eyes almost seemed to hold surprise in the brief moment before Arran''s blade took off the top half of its head.


    Another surge of Essence came from Brightblade, who was still carving a path through the enemy forces, but Arran ignored it. Instead, he began to attack the creatures surrounding him with his full might, using his true insight into severing to imbue each strike of his sword with devastating power.


    Yet although the creatures died by the dozens, Arran realized soon that they were in trouble. The enemy''s numbers slowed Brightblade further and further, and before long, streaks of Essence began to rain upon them from all sides.


    Brightblade took the bulk of these, blocking each just before it reached her. Yet Arran was attacked as well, and even if he avoided most of the attacks, several of them landed on his body, leaving shallow injuries.


    Arran continued his furious assault on the creatures around him, but he knew the situation was quickly turning bad. Although Brightblade hadn''t been hit yet, her progress had slowed to a crawl as the creatures continued to block her way. And wherever she struck the creatures down, more of them appeared almost instantly.


    And as for Arran himself, each attack that struck him left him weaker, and he could only continue to resist the creatures for a short while longer. Soon, he knew, the situation would turn desperate.


    Yet then, on the far end of the pass, an unexpected sight appeared. A vast Essence Remnant in the shape of a bear, forty feet tall if not more.


    The shocking sight startled Arran even amid a desperate battle, but Brightblade''s loud voice sounded just a second later.


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    "Keep fighting!" she shouted. "Just a little longer!"

 Chapter 272 Demons

    Arran looked toward Brightblade, who was still unleashing a series of furious blows at the creatures before her. The appearance of the Essence Remnant had not distracted her in the slightest, and she continued to press on, her starmetal blade cutting through the Demons'' bodies with vicious ease.


    She was just half a dozen paces ahead of Arran, but even in the brief moment that he had been distracted by the Remnant''s arrival, several Demons had already stepped into the gap between them.


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    This was something he could not allow ¡ª away from Brightblade, the creatures could overwhelm him in moments.


    He immediately dashed forward, killing four of the Demons with as many strikes of his sword. But although this took him only a single breath''s time, one of them still managed to get off an attack, and Arran groaned in pain as the streak of Essence slammed into his shoulder.


    There was no time to pay the injury any mind, however, as a fifth Demon stepped forward to face him only a moment later.


    This one was larger than the others, the Essence from which it was made somehow denser ¡ª almost as if it was more real. And in its hands, it held a sword that looked as if it was made from condensed fire.


    The Demon raised its blade as it faced Arran, its stance that of a seasoned swordsman expecting a challenge.


    But Arran had no time for a duel.


    He struck a single blow containing both his full strength and his true insight into severing, and although the Demon moved to block it, the attack cleaved through the fiery blade as easily as it cleaved through the creature wielding it.


    Yet even as the Demon''s body fell, another attack hit Arran in the back. He stumbled forward, and as he regained his balance, he spun around to face the enemies behind him ¡ª just in time to see a second Essence Remnant appear at the other end of the pass.


    Thirty feet tall and shaped like a wolf, it resembled the Remnant Arran had seen two days earlier ¡ª the one that had haunted his dreams for several nights. And now, a monster like that stood barely a hundred paces away from him.


    Arran''s heart nearly froze at the sight, but he quickly tore his eyes away from the giant Remnant.


    Terrifying though the creature might be, hundreds of Demons stood between him and the monster. And even if they were less dangerous than the Remnant, they were just as capable of killing him if he let himself be distracted.


    With Brightblade at his back, he cut down more of the Demons coming up behind them, his starmetal blade ripping through the red-eyed creatures'' bodies with vicious ease. They did not bleed, exactly. Rather, when he struck them a mist of Essence poured from their wounds. But blood or not, they died all the same.


    In a few breaths'' time, he killed another dozen Demons, and although another two flashes of dense Essence struck his body, he felt a surge of hope when he saw that the creatures red eyes held something familiar ¡ª fear.


    Alien though they might be, it seemed they shared at least this emotion with humans. And if they could feel fear, then Arran would turn their fear into terror.


    He attacked with renewed vigor, ignoring his injuries as he drove the Demons back. Each strike of his sword took a life ¡ª if it could be called that ¡ª and soon, the creatures back to inch backward, terrified of being the next to fall.


    Yet while Arran cut down Demons with the fury of a rabid tiger, the Essence Remnant came closer, approaching the battle with giant steps. It reached the Demons'' lines in just a few moments, and when it did, its giant jaws shot forward in a violent movement, snapping shut around one of the Demons.


    The Demon was torn apart and consumed by the Remnant in an instant, and even as it died, the giant monster attacked another. Within a moment, half a dozen Demons were devoured, and the Remnant showed no signs of stopping. If anything, its attacks grew more vicious, as if the first taste had awakened its hunger.


    The sight filled Arran with shock and delight in equal measure. He had briefly feared the Essence Remnants were somehow controlled by the Demons, but now, he realized the truth.


    The Remnants were there not to aid the Demons, but to feast on them.


    The changed situation did not escape the Demons'' notice, either. Within moments, panic began to spread among their ranks, as they realized they were facing a slaughter on all sides.


    Brightblade and Arran had already massacred many of them, and now, an even greater threat had appeared, with Essence Remnants tearing through their numbers from both sides of the pass.


    It was too much for the creatures. Their ranks broke almost instantly, and a moment later, hundreds of Demons were fleeing. Or trying to flee, at least, because with Remnants on both sides of the pass, they had no safe path of escape.


    Some fled toward the center of the pass, away from the Remnants. Others, perhaps better aware of the situation, hurried the opposite way, desperately trying to get past the monsters in the chaos.


    But either way, the attacks on Arran came to a halt. With Essence Remnants slaughtering their way through the pass, it seemed he was no longer worth their attention.


    Knowing that the reprieve couldn''t last, he hurried over to Brightblade, who had come to a halt at the center of the pass. There were no Demons for a dozen paces around her ¡ª doubtless, she had already cut down those not wise enough to stay clear of her.


    She spared him only a brief glance before her eyes turned back to the bear-shaped Remnant. "Follow me," she said in a tense voice. "And don''t stop for anything."


    Without waiting for a reply, she set off at a run, charging straight into the mass of Demons ahead of her, cutting down those who stood in her way and ignoring all others.


    Arran followed behind her, struggling to keep up even with Brightblade clearing a path for him. It was clear that she had no intention of wasting even a moment ¡ª and for good reason, because with every second, the Remnant behind them was drawing closer.


    Yet there was a Remnant ahead as well, and each step they took brought them toward it.


    Arran clenched his teeth as Brightblade approached the monster at a sprint, hurrying behind her despite his fears for the battle ahead.


    But no battle came. Brightblade did not slow in the slightest as she passed the Remnant, and the monster ignored her entirely, its focus solely on the Demons ahead of it. A second later, Arran had passed it as well, and a surge of relief ran through his body.


    "Don''t stop!" Brightblade shouted, her pace increasing now that no more Demons were blocking her way.


    Running with every shred of strength his body held, Arran just barely managed to keep up with her. But although the pace tested his limits, he did not complain ¡ª it wouldn''t be long before the Remnants finished their feast, and he had no intention of finding out whether it would be enough to sate their appetite.


    They continued on for several hours at a full sprint, navigating the narrow mountain paths with reckless haste. Arran ran until it felt like every muscle in his body was burning, and even then, he merely clenched his teeth and kept going.


    Then, suddenly, he felt something ¡ª the sudden absence of the blanket of Essence that had filled the mountains behind them. And although there were still plenty of mountains around them, he knew that they had passed the formation.


    This was further confirmed a moment later, as Brightblade slowed down to a jog. Then, finally, she came to a halt.


    "We made it," she said, in a voice that held relief but no exhaustion.


    Arran did not answer. Instead, he collapsed to the ground, now suddenly feeling the full weight of both his injuries and his exhaustion. And for several minutes he remained there, unmoving as he caught his breath.


    When he finally sat up, he looked at Brightblade with weary eyes. She did not look the least bit tired, but Arran could see some concern in her expression ¡ª concern about him, he guessed.


    Yet Arran didn''t worry about his injuries. While they might be enough to kill a commoner, he would recover from them in a matter of days if not hours.


    Instead, he gave Brightblade a questioning look, then asked, "What the hell were those things?"

 Chapter 273 A Short Goodbye

    "Those were Demons," Brightblade said. "Nasty things, though they don''t usually venture this close to the Valleys."


    "But what are they?" Arran asked again, his expression troubled. "They weren''t like the Remnants. These things¡­ they were intelligent."


    He cast a wary look at the rocky path behind them, half expecting to see either Remnants or Demons in the distance. Yet there was no sign of either ¡ª if anything had tried to follow them, the formation had clearly stopped it.


    Still, he wasn''t fully reassured. The mountains stretched into the distance as far as he could see, and between their snowy peaks and low valleys, he feared there would be something capable of crossing the barrier.


    Meanwhile, Brightblade creased her brow as she considered Arran''s question. "Their nature is a matter of much debate and speculation," she said after a moment. "Some say that when mages cast spells, some sliver of intent and intelligence is left in the Essence, and that this gives rise to the Demons. Others believe they are the remains of long-dead mages, reawakened by the infusion of Essence."


    "But you don''t believe either of those things," Arran said. The tone of her voice strongly suggested that she thought both theories nonsense.


    "I don''t," she confirmed. "But what they really are, and where they came from¡­ I have no answers to those questions. All I know is that they''ve existed within the mountains for as long as the Society has kept records." Her expression softened, and she shrugged. "But they''re no real threat. Not with the Remnants keeping their numbers in check."


    Arran frowned. From what he had seen, he had more than a few doubts about the creatures not being a threat. "If they''re intelligent, can''t they escape the mountains?"


    Brightblade shook her head. "Formations run along the entire length of the mountains," she explained. "There''s no way for Remnants or Demons to escape on either side of them."


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    "The entire length of the mountains?" Arran''s eyes went wide with surprise. From north to south, the mountain range extended for a distance that would take years to travel. It seemed almost impossible for there to be formations on such a scale.


    "All ten thousand miles," Brightblade confirmed. "In truth, those formations are as important in protecting the Empire as the Valleys themselves. By keeping the Remnants and Demons contained within the mountains, they form a barrier that no army can cross."


    "So the creatures protect the Empire¡­"


    Strange though the idea sounded, Arran realized that in a twisted way, it made perfect sense. With the entire mountain range covered by formations, the creatures within were like vicious guard dogs locked in a garden, stopping anyone from crossing their territory.


    The thought caused a shiver to run down his spine. Something like this could not be a mere coincidence, but if it was by design, he couldn''t even begin to imagine the power needed to implement so grand a plan.


    Brightblade preempted his questions, however. "If you wish, you can study the Society''s history when you return to the Valley," she said. "But right now, you must prepare for the road ahead. You should be able to travel in a few hours'' time, correct?"


    Arran nodded reluctantly. His injuries weren''t too bad ¡ª nothing a few hours of rest and a quick meal of dragon meat wouldn''t fix. But after all he had just witnessed, having his questions go unanswered caused him no small amount of frustration.


    But Brightblade clearly had no intention of providing him with any further answers ¡ª not now, at least.


    "Excellent," she said. "Then only a few small things remain."


    She produced two items from her void bag ¡ª a large sheet of paper and an amulet ¡ª then handed them both to Arran. He quickly inspected them, and was pleased to see that the sheet of paper was a detailed map of the Ninth Valley''s borderlands. That, at least, would be useful in the years to come.


    "I''ve marked a small mountain range on the map," Brightblade said, "It''s about three months'' travel to the southwest, and neither mages nor Hunters travel there frequently. I would suggest you go there for your Shadowflame training."


    Arran gave it a thought and nodded. He had not yet given any thought to where he would start his training, and if Brightblade said this place was suitable, he might as well go there.


    Moreover, if he was to spend several years training in seclusion, a small mountain range sounded pleasant enough. With his Earth and Stone Realms, it would be a small matter to build a simple house, and he could spend any time he had left after training on hunting and fishing.


    He''d had no chance yet to make any plans for his next few years of training, but now that he considered it, he began to think it might not be so bad.


    "About two months'' travel northwest of it," Brightblade continued, "you will find the battlefield where Elder Nikias fell. Once you learn Shadowflame, you can travel there and search for his writings on the Forms ¡ª if they are still present."


    She furrowed her brow, then added, "But I urge you to study the seals and wards in the books I gave you, first. The battlefield lies at the edge of the Hunters'' lands, and you should find them most useful."


    Arran nodded again. He still had little idea of how he was going to infiltrate the Hunters'' lands, but that any concealment wards he could learn would help him was obvious.


    "What about the amulet?" he asked, giving it a brief glance. It was made of smooth black stone, and he could detect no seals or enchantments on it.


    "It''s linked to another which I have in my possession," Brightblade replied. "If either of the amulets is broken, the other will instantly change color to a deep crimson, no matter the distance." She looked at Arran with narrowed eyes, then continued, "If the one I gave you changes color, you are to return to the Valley without delay. And if you break yours, I will take it as a sign that the Hunters are close to attacking the Valley."


    "All right," Arran said. Some part of him had expected that breaking his amulet would be a sign that he needed rescue, but then, he realized that there would be no rescue where he was going. Once he entered the Hunters'' lands, he would be on his own.


    "There''s one final thing," Brightblade said.


    Arran looked at her inquisitively. "What is it?"


    "Do not reveal that you''re a mage," she said. "Not even to other mages, while you''re still in the borderlands. Before you leave here, put on some of the clothes I gave you, and keep all your Realms but Shadow sealed."


    Arran looked at her in confusion, brow creased in a frown. "Is so much secrecy really necessary?"


    "It is," Brightblade said in a firm voice. "There''s something Rhea is hiding from us, and although I don''t know what it is, it is almost certainly related to the Hunters. Do not assume that other mages are your allies ¡ª there may still be traitors among us."


    "If you don''t trust the Matriarch, why did you tell her your plans for me?" Arran asked. He remembered distinctly that Brightblade had told him the Matriarch had agreed to his secluded training.


    "I told her you were going into training," Brightblade replied. "And that afterward, you planned to retrieve Elder Nikias''s writings. She doesn''t know that you will travel into the Hunters'' lands, nor do I intend for her to find out."


    Arran gave Brightblade a flat stare. "I think she might suspect something when I remain gone for years longer than she expects."


    "Not at all," Brightblade said, some of her old cheerfulness now returning. "Learning Shadowflame often takes mages a decade or longer. You, however, will master it in two. That will give you years to explore the Hunters'' lands, long before anyone suspects a thing."


    "And how am I supposed to do that?" Arran asked, looking at Brightblade in bewilderment.


    "Hard work," she said, a big grin appearing on her face. "Now, good luck on your travels, and¡ª"


    "Wait!" Arran interrupted her.


    "What is it?" Brightblade asked, raising an eyebrow.


    "You haven''t yet removed the seal from my void ring," Arran said, some small part of him once more wondering how she had ever become an Archmage.


    "I suppose you''ll need that," she said. "Give me a moment." She quickly removed the seal, then glanced at the path behind them. "But it''s time for me to get on my way."


    "You''re going back there?" Arran asked, eyes wide with surprise. "Even with the Remnants around?"


    Brightblade shrugged. "Without having you to protect, I can move a lot faster. I doubt they''ll be able to catch up with me." Her eyes turned pensive, and she added, "And there are some things I have to investigate."


    Just a few minutes later she was gone, returned to the mountains they had fled barely half an hour earlier. Had it been someone else, Arran would have worried. But with Brightblade, he had little doubt of her ability to handle whatever threats she would encounter.


    Moreover, he had other things to think about. Though there were some months of travel ahead, in truth, his secluded training had already begun. And somehow, he would have to find a way to master the Shadowflame spell ¡ª a task he still had no idea of how to accomplish.


    He sighed, then produced a haunch of dried dragon meat from his void ring. And as he chewed the tough meat, he wondered what lay ahead in the years to come.

 Chapter 274 On The Road

    After Brightblade''s departure, Arran spent some minutes inspecting his wounds. It wasn''t too bad ¡ª some burns, a few shallow wounds, and more than a few bruises, but nothing that would take more than a few hours to heal.


    Just two years earlier, these same injuries might have killed him. And even if he''d survived, he would have been bedridden for weeks if not months. But his body had grown far stronger since then, and now, the injuries were little more than an inconvenience.


    Still, he did not hurry in leaving. He sat quietly for several hours, looking out over the mountains around him as he chewed dried dragon meat and waited for his wounds to heal.


    Evening was already nearing when he was well enough to travel, but after giving it some thought, he decided to remain for the night. Without knowing the region, traveling in the dark would be both dangerous and foolish.


    Of course, he felt some unease at camping out so close to the formation ¡ª and the creatures behind it ¡ª but he forced himself to suppress it. The barrier had lasted for thousands of years already, and it should endure another night without issue.


    And if this was the night the formation would finally collapse¡­ well, there was no point in worrying about the sky falling down.


    Arran slept unexpectedly well that night, better than he had in weeks. Perhaps it was the exhaustion from the previous days, or perhaps relief from having escaped the mountains'' creatures, but whatever the reason, he awoke the next morning well-rested and eager to start his journey.


    Yet before he could depart, there was one last matter to handle ¡ª his appearance.


    He didn''t exactly look like a typical mage, but in the borderlands, few people would mistake someone in long robes with an enchanted sword for anything else.


    Moreover, his status in the Ninth Valley meant that he could no longer expect to go unrecognized. Few of the Valley''s mages might have seen him in person, but any single one of those could reveal who he was.


    He was unwilling to take that risk, and so, he decided to do a thorough job in disguising himself.


    He began by shaving off his beard. He''d had it since he spent a year breaking Master Zhao''s seal, and without it, many of the Valley''s mages would have a hard time recognizing him. But he didn''t stop at that. His blond hair was almost as recognizable as his beard, and with a deep sigh, he decided it would have to go as well.


    Barely ten minutes later, he was as good as unrecognizable, albeit with a rather cold head.


    It wasn''t a style he preferred, but he knew it would make for an effective disguise. Shaven heads were common enough among mercenaries, bandits, and other rough folk, and being taken for one of those would stop most other travelers from asking too many questions.


    Next, he took Brightblade''s bag from his void ring and inspected its contents. He was relieved to find that most of the clothes it contained were sensible ¡ª which, with Brightblade picking them, had been far from a certain thing.


    He briefly rummaged through the pile of clothes, then picked out a pair of thick linen trousers and a gray shirt, along with a pair of good boots and a weathered leather coat. All of those were things a rough-edged traveler might wear, and together with Arran''s newly shaved head, they completed the picture of a former mercenary who was best left alone.


    Next, he belted on one of the unenchanted swords his void ring held. Although it had a fine blade by common standards, it would do Arran little good in a real battle. But then, the contents of his void ring were only a thought away if he needed them.


    Finally, when he was satisfied with his disguise, he set off toward the edge of the mountains ¡ª the first steps on what would be a long journey.


    He soon discovered that simply leaving the mountains was no small task. Whoever had created Brightblade''s map had clearly decided that mapping out the mountains was too great a task, and had instead filled the area with small triangles that bore little relation to the actual mountains.


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    That left Arran to navigate a path for himself, and although he knew the general direction, the small mountain paths twisted and turned with annoying frequency, throwing him off course whenever he thought he was finally heading in the right direction.


    Yet after half a week, he finally reached the foothills. And here, without inconveniently placed mountains and ravines blocking his way, his pace quickly increased.


    Another half-week passed before he came upon a large village ¡ª the first sign of habitation since he had left the Valley with Brightblade.


    The village vaguely reminded him of Riverbend, but then, that was true for most villages. Just like most others, this one had a blacksmith, a butcher, a baker, a small inn that doubled as a tavern, and no small amount of villagers to cast suspicious looks at outsiders like Arran.


    He ignored the locals'' distrustful gazes and sought out the bowyer ¡ª another staple of villages around the world.


    The fat, bearded man received him with barely veiled distrust. "You''re not from ''round here," he pointed out somewhat needlessly.


    "Aye," Arran replied. "Spent a decade as a caravan guard in the Empire, but I got enough of the bandits there. Decided I''d try my luck across the border, and word was that the borderlands had good lands for hunting and fishing."


    At this, the bowyer''s expression softened. Arran''s appearance suggested he was either a mercenary or a bandit, and he had clearly worried it was the latter. But while caravan guards could be every bit as rough as bandits, at least their job was a proper one. "Didn''t join the mages on your way here?" he asked.


    Arran shook his head. "Don''t trust ''em."


    The fat man nodded. "Too true. What''re you here for?"


    "Broke my bow while out in the wilds," Arran replied. "I was hoping you could sell me a new one."


    A quarter-hour later, Arran left the village again, a fine new bow slung across his back and a quiver full of arrows at his side. While these were every bit as useless as the sword at his side, they would further help his disguise. Few travelers would venture far without a hunting bow, and anyone without one would need some other means of keeping himself fed.


    Of course, Arran had plenty such means ¡ª to hunt normal animals, he needed no weapons at all ¡ª but it would be best not to make that fact obvious to others.


    Outside the mountains, he made good distance, and for the next three weeks he traveled much like any other commoner would have. He resisted the urge to speed his pace by moving at a run, instead maintaining a steady march as he moved across the roads that crossed through the borderlands.


    The region was still every bit of peaceful as he remembered. While the area away from the Valley''s gates was only lightly populated, he came across a fair amount of other travelers on the road, and there was little sign of any bandits.


    There were plenty of villages, however, and Arran happily took the opportunity to sleep in the warm beds of their inns whenever he could, while also making sure to get a good taste of the local cooks'' specialties.


    As he traveled, he felt a distant sense of melancholy. This, he realized, would have been his life had his father not been killed by bandits. He would likely have become a guard or mercenary, and unless he had spent his life in Riverbend, he would have traveled through the Empire much like he traveled through the borderlands now, with only a sword at his side and a bow across his back.


    It would have been a simpler life, though perhaps not less dangerous. Because while mercenaries and the like faced far smaller dangers than the ones he had faced, to them, they were no less deadly. As he knew all too well, a single arrow from a lowly bandit could take a life just as easily as a thunderstorm conjured up by an Archmage.


    Still, he relished the opportunity to travel like this, with neither mages nor monsters behind him. And it was a taste of the life he could have had, though perhaps not an entirely authentic one.


    Three weeks into his travels, he came upon a small town ¡ª one not much different from the half dozen he had passed already. And as always, he quickly made his way to the nearest inn.


    But this time, the moment he stepped into the common room, he knew something was wrong.


    At the back of the room sat a brown-haired man. He wasn''t particularly large or well-dressed, and Arran could Sense no magic on him. Yet from the man''s posture and movements, Arran could immediately tell that he possessed strength far beyond anything a commoner would have.


    A Hunter, then.


    Arran gave the Hunter a friendly nod, then turned to the innkeeper. "How much for a bed and a warm meal?"


    "Half a silver," the innkeeper replied.


    It was a normal price, albeit on the high side, and Arran paid it without objection. Then, he sat down at one of the tables at the center of the room.


    While he would rather have left the moment he recognized the Hunter, doing so would only have drawn suspicion. And if he was to live among the Hunters in their own lands, then he surely should be able to escape the notice of a single one of them.


    The innkeeper brought him a bowl of stew and a mug of ale some minutes later, and Arran ate his meal in silence, careful not to let his curiosity get the better of him.


    Yet just as he finished the last of his stew, the door to the common room opened, and three young men walked in. Arran only barely managed to suppress a groan when he saw them ¡ª they were all mages.


    "You''re not welcome here," a deep voice sounded from the back of the room before the three mages had even fully stepped through the door. The Hunter had noticed the mages as well, it seemed.


    Arran clenched his teeth, hoping against hope that the three mages would do the sensible thing and seek another inn.


    But they were young, with the arrogance that only mages and nobles possess. And although the Hunter''s voice caused them to pause briefly, one of the mages stepped forward a moment later.


    "Nobody tells us what to do," he said, a trace of fear in his voice. "And certainly not a Hunter."

 Chapter 275 Hunter

    If the Hunter''s words had caused the voices in the inn to drop to a whisper, the mage''s response left only a stunned silence.


    There were a dozen people in the common room, and all of them understood the dire situation they were in. They might not know who would prevail in a battle between the mages and the Hunter, but there could be little doubt that regardless of the victor, any hapless bystanders were in mortal peril.


    Arran had different worries, however. He might not be in any real danger, but escaping such a battle unharmed would certainly draw attention. And attention was something he definitely did not need.


    Yet the mage seemed resolved to stand his ground. Even if there was fear in his eyes, his jaw was firm, and he showed no signs of backing down despite his obvious terror.


    Had his cause been a better one, Arran might have been impressed with his bravery. But as it was, he was merely astonished by the man''s stupidity.


    "You refuse?" The Hunter''s deep voice sounded through the room once more, and in the corner of his eye, Arran saw the man rise from his seat in a confident movement, hand already reaching for the sword at his side.


    Arran closed his eyes and sighed. He did not want to get involved in the situation, but he could not let this continue. He opened his eyes, and before the young mage could respond to the Hunter''s challenge, he rose to his feet.


    "Friends," he said in a loud voice. "Surely you don''t mean to battle over who gets to stay at this inn? There''s another right down the street, and the food there can''t be worse than whatever it is they''re serving here. I''ve had better stew in whorehouses!"


    Those last words drew nervous laughs from some of the inn''s other guests ¡ª the ones who''d tried the stew, Arran guessed ¡ª and a flash of confusion crossed the mage''s face as his heroic stand was interrupted so crassly.


    It was enough. One of the mage''s companions stepped in and took his friend by the shoulder, then guided him out of the inn without delay. And while the stubborn young man briefly looked like he might object, he ultimately held his tongue.


    Perhaps he''d realized that a bowl of bad stew wasn''t worth his life, after all.


    Arran breathed a sigh of relief. After sacrificing his beard to hide his identity, he would have been more than a little annoyed to have his efforts ruined by a single foolish mage.


    Yet as he turned to sit back down, he found the Hunter facing him, a suspicious look in his dark eyes.


    "You saved them," the brown-haired man said. "Why?"


    "Saved them?" Arran gave a cheerless laugh. "Saved myself, more like. You might not fear those mage bastards, but they can burn the rest of us to cinders with a flick of their wrist." He gestured at the others in the common room. "You damn near got the rest of us here killed."


    The Hunter frowned, taken aback by Arran''s reaction. "They wouldn''t have had the chance to¡ª" he began, his voice uncertain.


    "That''s all well and good," Arran interrupted, "but I''d rather not chance it. If you want to kill mages, there''s miles of empty land outside town. No need to bother the rest of us with it."


    With that, he turned away and sat back down, not giving the Hunter a chance to respond.


    It was a gamble, but a calculated one. He did not want the man to question him any further, and he did not expect a Hunter would lower himself to attack a random mercenary so easily.


    And if he was wrong¡­ well, then he''d just have to find a new disguise after killing the Hunter.


    But the brown-haired man returned to his table a moment later, then remained there for another half-hour before finally retiring to his room. He might face mages eagerly, but disapproving looks from commoners were another matter. With those, there was no glory to be won.


    After the Hunter had gone, the innkeeper approached Arran and put down a bottle of brandy and a silver coin on the table before him.


    "I reckon you saved my inn just then," the man said. "Though the stew isn''t that bad, is it?"


    Arran wisely ignored the question, and instead asked, "Do things like that happen often around here? Hunters and mages at odds with each other?"


    The innkeeper shook his head in response. "It''s a rare thing to see either mages or Hunters in town. To get both at the same time is just bad luck ¡ª especially these days."


    "These days?" Arran gave the man a questioning look.


    "Aye," the man responded. "Word is that the peace between them is breaking down. There''s been stories of fights in several other towns. Didn''t believe them myself, but¡­" He cast a look at the staircase where the Hunter had gone, then shrugged. "Maybe there''s some truth to the stories, after all. Bad business, if it''s true."


    Arran spent the rest of the night in the common room, with the bottle of brandy winning him several new friends. Some careful questions confirmed what the innkeeper had told him ¡ª that the peace between the mages and the Hunters had grown unsteady over the past year, and that there had been several fights already.


    The news was unwelcome, but Arran could do little except hope that the tension would not turn to open conflict just yet. He could not afford to waste time on the situation, and even if he had the time, there was nothing he could do to make a difference.


    He left the inn at dawn the next morning, eager to be away from both the mages and the Hunter. He did not know whether the Hunter would go after the mages, but that was no business of his ¡ª he''d given them a chance to escape, and whether they took it was up to them.


    In the weeks that followed, Arran kept a close watch for any pursuers. While he did not believe he''d drawn enough attention to warrant either the Hunter or the mages coming after him, it would not hurt to be cautious.


    And if anyone was following him, an ambush would make quick word of them. In the vast stretches of land between towns, there were few witnesses.


    Yet after several weeks without any sign of followers, Arran knew his disguise had held. And while this didn''t cause him to drop his guard, it did make his travels a lot more comfortable.


    As he traveled, his progress was slow but steady. Walking like a commoner meant he could only cover a few dozen miles a day, but with each day he came closer to his destination, and he found that the sluggish pace did not bother him in the slightest.


    The Ninth Valley''s borderlands were full of wide plains and dense forests, and without the pressure of training or the threat of enemies, Arran thoroughly enjoyed his carefree journey past the beautiful landscapes.


    For once, he felt truly free, able to do whatever he wished. And although he had a destination to reach, he did not hurry in getting there. Instead, he took care to enjoy every step along the way, because he knew that at the end of this journey, years of hard training awaited him.


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    On some days he would hunt, using the bow he''d bought at the beginning of the journey. This was much less effective than using either magic or his real strength, but even on those days when his hunts were fruitless, his self-imposed limitations did not frustrate him.


    If anything, he found the challenge of hunting without relying on overwhelming power refreshing. And if that meant the occasional deer escaped his arrows, then his prey had simply earned the right to live another day.


    He occasionally met people along the way, too ¡ª farmers, merchants, mercenaries, and other travelers. Many of them confirmed that tensions between the Hunters and the mages were growing, with more than a few expressing the hope that the Hunters would drive out the mages once and for all.


    That most commoners favored the Hunters did not come as a surprise. Mages'' powers were often distrusted by those without the ability to use magic, and while the Hunters'' strength was suspicious as well, at least it was something commoners could understand.


    Yet although Arran understood their preference, it caused him some concern as well. If war came to the borderlands, the commoners'' favor would certainly help the Hunters in gathering information. And with the Valley already blind to the goings-on in the Hunters'' own land, that would put Arran''s allies at a significant disadvantage.


    Weeks of travel soon turned to months, and Arran was almost disappointed when, after just over three months of travel, he reached the last town before his final destination. According to Brightblade''s map, the town was named Amydon, and it was located in the foothills of the mountains where he was to spend the next few years training.


    As he approached the town, Arran immediately saw that it was unlike the other towns he''d encountered on his travels. Most of those were overgrown villages, steadily expanded in the half-century of peace the borderlands had enjoyed.


    Amydon, however, was different. Surrounded by rocks and ruins, it was clear that it had once been far larger, a proper city rather than a small town. And even from a distance, the buildings that still stood were obviously ancient.


    Arran had originally intended to travel straight past the town, but the unusual sight sparked his curiosity. Only a great disaster could have caused a city to fall to such a state, and he found himself wondering just what unfortunate fate had befallen the place.


    After a moment''s hesitation, he headed in the direction of the town. After all, with years of training still ahead, a few days spent satisfying his curiosity would hardly make a difference.

 Chapter 276 Amydon

    As Arran approached Amydon, he saw that the city''s ruins extended even further than he had realized. He''d thought Amydon was surrounded by rocky terrain, but with a closer look, he saw that the rocks and boulders that littered the town''s surroundings had once been buildings.


    He recognized the remains of a wall, too. Even with everything but the foundation gone, the wide ring of stone was unmistakable. And it was thick, as well ¡ª a good thirty feet, which meant the wall had been massive when it still stood.


    But clearly, it had failed its purpose.


    Whoever had brought down the city, mere stone had not been enough to stop them. And that, Arran knew, meant they must have been mages. Yet he could not Sense any remaining Essence within the area, which suggested that the city had fallen long ago ¡ª centuries, if not more.


    Arran furrowed his brow as he passed the outer ruins, his curiosity growing stronger with every step.


    While the outer ruins were little more than rubble, closer to the town the remains of the old city were more recognizable. Half-fallen walls and lone pillars stood amid the rough terrain, many of them overgrown with moss or vines.


    When he finally reached the edge of the town, Arran saw that most of its buildings were ruins as well, though they had been inexpertly repaired with rocks and stones ¡ª likely plundered from the outer areas.


    Yet neither the extensive damage nor the shoddy repairs could conceal that this had once been a prosperous place. The streets were wide and paved, and even in their current state, many of the buildings still showed traces of splendor.


    The people, however, were a different matter. There were plenty of townsfolk out on the streets, and if they didn''t exactly look poor, most weren''t very far from it, either. Whatever wealth the city had once held, it was obviously long gone.


    Still, the town was livelier than Arran had thought. From the ruins, he''d expected to find a ghost town, with just a few stragglers eking out a living amid the graves of their ancestors.


    But instead, he saw that the streets were filled with traffic and commerce, with many of the people he saw clearly having come from elsewhere. And if most seemed far from rich, he spotted several well-off merchants among the crowds, as well.


    Arran walked around for some time, observing the people as much as he observed the buildings. And as he approached the center of the town, he saw signs of wealth appear on both the people and buildings he passed.Find authorized novels in Webnovel£¬faster updates, better experience£¬Please click www.novelhall.comfor visiting.


    The damage here wasn''t nearly as extensive as at the edge of Amydon, and many of the grand buildings held well-stocked shops and stores. There were more than a few inns, taverns, and restaurants as well, and after a short look around, Arran entered one of these ¡ª a restaurant that looked simple but clean, and not too busy.


    Inside, he ordered grilled meat and flatbread from a matronly woman with a stern face, and when she brought him his meal some minutes later, he asked, "Mind if I ask you some questions?"


    The woman responded with a weary sigh. "If you''re looking for work, head over to the iron mines. They''re always looking for new workers." She narrowed her eyes and gave Arran an appraising look. "Should be plenty of work for mercenaries, too, if you don''t mind travel with the caravans."


    Arran shook his head. "I''m not looking for work. I have some questions about the town''s history ¡ª back when it was still a city."


    The woman raised an eyebrow. "You a treasure hunter?"


    "Just a curious traveler," Arran replied. "When I saw the ruins, I couldn''t help but wonder what happened here."


    "Not much I can tell you about that." The woman shrugged, and continued, "Place has always been like this, as far as I know. And my great-grandfather was one of the first to settle here, so I know more than most."


    "Is there anyone else who might know anything about it?" Arran asked, unwilling to give up his search just yet. "Anyone who''s studied the town''s history?"


    She frowned, then said, "You could try old Kimon. He lives a few streets from here. Thinks himself a scholar." With a laugh, she added, "Best be careful with that one, though ¡ª give him half a chance, and he''ll talk the ears right off your head."


    After Arran finished his meal he left the woman a generous tip, then quickly headed out, eager to get answers to his questions.


    He reached his destination some minutes later, and was surprised to find that it was one of the grander buildings within the town, large and lacking any visible damage. And through the glass windows, he could see that it was a jewelry store, with various precious gems and trinkets on display.


    When he stepped inside, he was greeted by half a dozen suspicious looks. There were several guards and shopkeepers in the store, and they appeared to have decided with a single glance that Arran didn''t belong ¡ª no big surprise, given that he''d disguised himself as a mercenary.


    Arran did not let the cold reception deter him. He looked around, then asked in a loud voice, "Is master Kimon here?"


    An old man dressed in black silk robes with gold embroidery stepped forward from the back of the room. "What is your business here?"


    "I have some questions about the town''s history," Arran said. "And I was told you were its foremost scholar."


    The flattery had the intended effect, and a large smile instantly appeared on the man''s wrinkled face. "A seeker of knowledge!" he said in a delighted tone. "Tell me, what is it you wish to know?"


    "I''d like to hear about Amydon''s history," Arran replied. "Especially about the fall of the city, and what came before it."


    "That''s quite an expansive subject," Kimon said. He looked at Arran with a hesitant expression. "Explaining it all will take me several hours. Are you sure you have the patience for that?"


    "I have as much time as you are willing to spare," Arran said. "Naturally, I will compensate you for your efforts."


    "Nonsense!" the old man said, excitement now clear in his voice. "No compensation is needed. If you are willing to learn, then I will gladly share my knowledge." He shot a glance at one of the others in the store. "Thouk, take care of the store. Young man, please come with me!"


    At once, he turned around and headed to a small hallway at the back of the room, where he guided Arran to a small but well-furnished office.


    Even before Arran had fully sat down, Kimon asked, "Is that an imperial accent I hear in your voice?"


    "It is," Arran confirmed.


    "One moment," the man said. He hurried out of the office, and returned several minutes later with a pot of tea, from which he poured Arran a cup. "Where in the Empire are you from, exactly?"


    "Silvermere," Arran lied. He took a sip from the tea, and was surprised at its quality.


    "Silvermere! I''ve heard of that city," the man said. "That''s the home of the Wang Clan, correct?"


    "The Jiang Clan," Arran corrected him.


    "Of course!" the old man said, nodding as if he''d known the answer all along. "Tell me, are you affiliated with the Academy?"


    Arran frowned, feeling some unease at the question. "I''ve had some dealings with the Academy," he said, "But I am not affiliated with them."


    "A shame." The old man sighed regretfully. "It''s said that their libraries are unrivaled, with histories dating back tens of thousands of years. What I wouldn''t give for a chance to study there¡­"


    "But about Amydon¡­" Arran interjected. He was already beginning to understand why the woman at the restaurant had warned him. If given the chance, he feared the old man might talk until nightfall before ever even mentioning Amydon.


    "Of course, Amydon," Kimon said, the interruption bringing an end to his musings. "Our city has a long history, one every bit as illustrious as the Empire''s. For thousands of years, it stood at the heart of a kingdom unmatched in both beauty and wealth. And if the Shadowflame brigands had not wickedly attacked it, it would still stand today."


    Arran looked at him in surprise. "The Shadowflame Society did this?"


    "Of course," the old man replied, with an expression that suggested he thought the question a stupid one. "Who else possesses both the power and the malice to do such a thing? Whenever an act of great evil occurs in these lands, you can be certain those vile mages had a hand in it."


    He gave Arran a studious look, then added, "With you an imperial, I should not be surprised that you don''t know these things. But heed my words, young man ¡ª do not get involved with those mages. Those foolish enough to do so inevitably suffer for their mistake."


    Despite the unexpected information, Arran maintained a neutral expression. In a calm voice, he asked, "So what happened to Amydon?"


    "That''s a long story," Kimon said. "Let me pour you another cup of tea, and I''ll start at the beginning."

 Chapter 277 The Fall Of Amydon

    "Amydon was founded thousands of years ago," the old man began. "It began as nothing more than a small village, formed by refugees from a long-forgotten war. And for hundreds of years, it remained that way ¡ª little more than a speck on the map near the edge of the borderlands."


    For a moment, he paused, stroking his stubbly chin as his eyes turned dreamy, as if he was envisioning himself living in that small village all those years ago.


    After a minute of silence, Arran figured the man was lost in dreams, and he asked, "And then?"


    The question brought the old man back to the present. He coughed softly, then continued, "That all came to an end when one of the villagers found iron in the foothills nearby. In a matter of decades, the village grew into a flourishing town, visited by miners and merchants from all over the borderlands."


    "Iron?" Arran looked at Kimon with a raised eyebrow. The man had spoken of an illustrious past to rival the Empire, but what he described sounded more like the growth of a modest mining town.


    "Ah, but iron was only the beginning!" the gray-haired man said, a glint of excitement in his eyes. "Barely half a century later, the miners discovered a silver vein, as rich as any ever seen in this world. And in the years that followed, gold deposits were discovered, along with numerous precious gemstones. With such wealth, it wasn''t long before Amydon grew into a city whose reputation spread to the farthest reaches of the world."


    "So the city became wealthy," Arran said, still not exactly impressed by the tale.


    "Wealthy?!" The old man let out a shrill laugh. "You might as well call a mountain a rock! ''Wealthy'' doesn''t even begin to describe the vast riches Amydon held. Even now, after thousands of years, much of the coin you carry will have the seal of Amydon." He gestured at Arran. "Go on, see for yourself."


    Arran frowned, but he did as the man said, pulling a handful of gold and silver from his coin purse. That was only a small portion of the wealth he carried, of course ¡ª most of his possessions were inside his void ring.


    He quickly inspected his coins, and was surprised to find that Kimon had not exaggerated. Several of the coins carried a seal shaped like a crown, and although the seal itself was unfamiliar to him, a close look showed that the word ''AMYDON'' was written beneath it, in letters so tiny he could only barely read them.


    At this, Arran finally realized just how wealthy Amydon had been. The coins he carried were all taken from fallen enemies, most of whom he had defeated thousands of miles away. And that Amydon''s coins were still so common in so large an area, even after thousands of years, meant that the numbers of coins minted would have been vast beyond compare.


    "Then the Shadowflame Society attacked Amydon for its wealth?" Arran asked, though even as he spoke, he realized the explanation made little sense. Mages cared little for gold, silver, and gemstones.


    "Don''t be impatient, young man," Kimon said. "The history of Amydon is a long one."


    Arran nodded, trying his best to appear patient. He had said he had as much time as the man could spare, after all. "What happened then?"


    "For over a thousand years, Amydon flourished. Both the city and its surroundings grew wealthy beyond belief." The old man shook his head. "But it didn''t last. The gold and silver mines were vast, but eventually they were depleted, and the river of riches slowed to a trickle. The wealth that had been built over a thousand years took another thousand to run out, but when it did, the city fell into disrepair, its past splendor eventually forgotten by the rest of the world."


    Arran said nothing as he waited for Kimon to continue. By now, he was beginning to grow interested in the story. He knew how the story ended, of course, but he wondered what path had led Adymon to its eventual fall.


    "For centuries," Kimon continued, "the people of Adymon scoured both the foothills and the mountains for more sources of gold and silver, but none were successful."


    He paused briefly, and a glint of anticipation could be seen in his eyes when he spoke again. "Yet after centuries of failure, when all others had long since given up hope, one young man''s search was rewarded. And what he found was something far more valuable than gold or silver ¡ª what he found was starmetal."


    Arran''s eyes went wide with surprise, and suddenly, he began to understand why the Shadowflame Society had attacked.


    Yet the old man continued, "This young man was Karanos, who would become the first and only king of Amydon. And he was no fool. He did not reveal the location of the deposit to anyone but his closest allies. Rather than let the starmetal be mined by others, he used his newfound wealth to bring weaponsmiths, armorsmiths, and enchanters to Amydon."


    Again, Kimon paused, a look of awe in his eyes. When he continued speaking a moment later, there was a slight tremble in his voice.


    "It was a stroke of genius. Starmetal weapons and armor brought Amydon its reputation, but its craftsmen transformed the iron from our mines into steel that was nearly as formidable. For each starmetal sword that was sold, thousands of enchanted steel ones were bought by those drawn to Amydon''s reputation. Once more, the city thrived, the weapons and armor it sold unrivaled anywhere in the world."


    "And that''s why the Shadowflame Society attacked?" Arran asked. "To gain these treasures?"


    "Patience," Kimon said curtly, then continued, "Karanos used his wealth to have himself and his allies learn magic, and under their protection, Amydon flourished for many centuries. It fairly traded with anyone who would come ¡ª mages and commoners alike. And when the Hunters appeared in the borderlands, it sold to them as well, treating them like any other customers."Find authorized novels in Webnovel£¬faster updates, better experience£¬Please click www.novelhall.comfor visiting.


    "I can''t imagine the Shadowflame Society took kindly to that," Arran said.


    "For a time, they accepted it," the old man said. "Even when the wars began in earnest, Amydon remained staunchly neutral, favoring neither side over the other. But some five hundred years ago, the Shadowflame Society finally marched a large army to Amydon''s gates, demanding that it submit and pay tribute."


    "And they refused?" Arran frowned, wondering what could have made a single city believe it could resist the full might of a Valley.


    Kimon nodded. "Karanos argued that after centuries of peace and friendship, the mages'' demands were unjust and unreasonable, and that for Amydon, siding with the Shadowflame Society meant certain destruction at the hands of the Hunters. Instead, as a compromise, he offered to stop selling weapons to both sides of the conflict."


    Arran sighed. "The mages didn''t accept the offer."


    "They did not," the old man confirmed. "They said Amydon lacked the strength to negotiate, and that against a superior enemy, it could only bend or be broken."


    "And Karanos chose the latter?" Arran asked.


    Kimon nodded regretfully. "I don''t think he expected the Shadowflame mages to follow through. But they did. And after they took the city, they slaughtered all who had stood in its defense, then banished any who remained from the borderlands."


    "They went that far?" Arran asked, surprised at the Valley''s ruthlessness. "But why?"


    "To set an example, so that others would not make the same mistake." The old man gave a wry smile, and continued, "But they did not get all they wanted ¡ª Karanos escaped with his life, and when he disappeared, so did any knowledge of the starmetal deposit in the mountains."


    Arran sat silently for several seconds, pondering the fall of Amydon. Finally, he asked, "If the mages killed or banished everyone in the city, how is it that there are still people here?"


    "Over the years, others arrived and settled in the ruins," Kimon said. "And some, like myself, are descended from those who were banished. I returned here fifty years ago, after the Shadowflame mages and the Hunters finally reached a peace."


    There was no need for Arran to guess how the man would react if he knew the Ninth Valley''s heir was sitting right in front of him. But he didn''t know, and Arran asked, "What about the starmetal deposit? Haven''t people gone looking for it?"


    "Many have," the old man replied. "But most of them returned empty-handed, and the others did not return at all. I suspect that Karanos set up protections of some sort around it, so finding it would be an unfortunate thing." He cast a somber look at Arran. "But you should go. Telling this story has left me weary."


    "Then I thank you for your time and your wisdom," Arran said, rising from his seat. "And perhaps Amydon will rise again, one day."


    "Perhaps it will," Timon said. "But it would be better if it didn''t. In these lands, the strong rule, and the weak endure. Amydon will never have the strength to match either the mages or the Hunters, so it''s better off going unnoticed."


    Arran hesitated for a moment, then took out a gold coin ¡ª one those that carried the seal of Amydon. He placed it on the table in front of the old man, and said, "A reminder of better days."


    Before the man could object, Arran turned around and left the small office. In the store, he was met with the same suspicious looks as when he first entered, but he ignored them and quickly made his way outside.


    As he stepped out in the streets, he took a look around at the town whose secrets he now knew. The sight no longer filled him with curiosity. Rather, he felt a sense of regret, and he could not help but sigh at the town''s unfortunate past.


    Then, with a quick shake of his head, he turned around and began to head toward the mountains in the distance.

 Chapter 278 A Quiet Place

    It took Arran two days to reach the mountains, and along the way, he encountered several of the iron mines that lay within the foothills. The mines had their own small villages, filled with hardened workers and rough taverns where they could spend their hard-earned coin.


    Arran avoided these villages as best he could, taking care to pass each of them unseen. A traveler would draw little attention, but there was no point in taking needless risks, no matter how slight. He did not believe anyone was following him, but if he was wrong, he wouldn''t give them an easy time of it.Find authorized novels in Webnovel£¬faster updates, better experience£¬Please click www.novelhall.comfor visiting.


    When he reached the mountain range, he ventured forth without delay, eager to reach his destination.


    The journey among the mountains proved difficult. It was obvious that few people ventured here, with many of the paths leading along the steep slopes neglected and narrow. And the further Arran went, the sparser the paths grew, with the last of them ending barely a week''s travel into the mountains.


    Yet although there were no more paths to follow, Arran didn''t stop.


    For another two weeks, he journeyed deeper into the mountains, making his way across slopes, valleys, and forests that hadn''t been touched by human feet in centuries. The route was tortuous and often dangerous, with treacherous cliffs and ravines regularly blocking the way ahead, but Arran knew this was the only way to find the true seclusion he sought.


    After three weeks of travel through the inhospitable terrain, he was confident that he had gone far enough that no others would find him. Here, out in the wilderness, there was no chance of unwelcome encounters with other people, whether intentional or by accident.


    Still, he spent another week in search of a suitable location for his training. With several years of study ahead, it wouldn''t do to settle for any random place.


    His search was rewarded when he came upon a small valley, hidden from view between two steep ridges and closed at all sides but one, with an icy stream running down its center. At once, Arran knew it was perfect, and his excitement grew further when he discovered a large cave at the far end of the valley.


    The cave wasn''t empty, he soon discovered. It held a monstrous bear that was nearly twenty feet tall, doubtless grown strong from countless years of consuming Natural Essence.


    When the beast charged at Arran with a loud roar, he could not help but grin in delight. It was as if this place had been made for him.


    He made quick work of the bear, then carefully butchered it. The meat wasn''t nearly as potent as the dragon''s meat in his void ring, but it was still a treasure worth saving. The dragon meat would not last forever, after all.


    Next, he spent several days creating wards and formations, further concealing the valley and blocking people outside from Sensing any Essence used within the area. The protections weren''t perfect ¡ª Arran''s lacked the skill to fool powerful mages for anything but the smallest objects ¡ª but at a distance, none would see through them.


    And in the remote valley, that would be more than enough.


    Satisfied with the protections, Arran''s next step was to build a shelter. It took him the better part of a day to create a crude residence used his Earth and Stone Realms, and if the result wasn''t exactly pleasing to the eye, it was sturdy and comfortable enough to satisfy his needs.


    Yet as he cast a pleased look at the results of his labor, he was reminded of the task ahead. And at that, feeling of worry set in.


    Brightblade expected him to learn Shadowflame within two years, and he was painfully aware of how little his efforts in the Ninth Valley had accomplished. For months, he''d tried to merge Shadow Essence and Fire Essence ¡ª the first step in casting Shadowflame ¡ª and for months, he''d failed to make even the slightest progress.


    Still, there was nothing for it but to try. If he was lucky, perhaps the months of travel had brought him an unexpected insight.


    This sliver of hope quickly disappeared, however. After a week of training, the only new insight he gained was that he still faced the same barrier that had plagued him in the Ninth Valley. He could bring Shadow and Fire Essence together, but no matter what he tried, trying to merge them was like mixing oil with water.


    The lack of progress frustrated Arran to no end. The Shadowflame spell was one that every adept in the Shadowflame Society had learned, and he knew that many of them were less skilled than he was. But somehow, they could do what he could not.


    Perhaps that wouldn''t have been so bad if Arran was a regular mage, but he had advantages no others enjoyed. He had more Essence Crystals than he knew what to do with, and more than that, he had the memory of the Sixth Valley''s Patriarch casting the spell using his body.


    That should have made the task far easier for him than it was for others. And yet, he hadn''t made even the slightest bit of progress. He was stuck, with no idea of how to advance any further.


    He could continue on his current path, of course, and simply attack the problem until he conquered it. But based on his efforts so far, he had little confidence that the path would bear fruit at all, much less in a matter of years.


    It felt like he was missing something, and until he figured out what it was, he suspected that all the determination in the world would not help him achieve his goal.


    But then, a thought came to him ¡ª one so simple and obvious he cursed himself for not considering it sooner.


    By the time most novices were ready to become adepts, they would have spent at least two decades studying magic. And not just that ¡ª most of them had trained incessantly from childhood, focusing all their efforts on improving their skills.


    Yet Arran had gotten his first taste of magic barely six years earlier, and since then, he had spent much of his time on things other than magic. Expert teachers and numerous Essence Crystals had helped him progress rapidly, but compared to other mages, he still lacked years of experience.


    With Shadow Essence, that wasn''t much of a problem. Between his Shadowsight and the various concealment spells, he used it constantly ¡ª enough that doing so had become nearly as easy as stretching his arm or waving his hand.


    But Fire Essence was a different matter. He had used it when he first learned magic and when he studied Flamestrike, but other than that, he had mostly ignored it. It was among his strongest Realms, second only to Shadow, but its only use was in attacking. And for attacks, Arran relied on his sword rather than his magic.


    The lack of experience hadn''t stopped him from learning Flamestrike, but now, he suspected he had hit the limits of what he could do with Fire Essence. And if that was the case, his only way forward was to get more practice.


    He sighed, already feeling weary at the task ahead. At least for the next few months, there would be none of the hunting and fishing he had hoped for.


    But he steeled his resolve, then sealed off his Realms ¡ª all of them but Fire. He needed no distractions for what was to come ¡ª not until he could control Fire Essence with ease.


    Deciding where to start was an easy matter. While the Forms were of little practical use, they were perfect for practice ¡ª simple yet strict, emphasizing control more than strength or knowledge.


    And so, he began his training.


    For a full month, he did nothing but eat, sleep, and use Fire Essence to practice the Forms. Every day, from the moment he awoke until the moment he fell asleep, he controlled Fire Essence, bending it to his will and forcing it to follow his commands.


    The Forms proved every bit as suited for this as Arran had hoped. Simple and straightforward, they allowed him to focus purely on the act of commanding Fire Essence, without the distracting complexity of spells. And although his knowledge of the Forms improved as well, most of his progress was in building his mastery of Fire Essence.


    At last, he had begun to build the foundation he had previously lacked. And where many mages were limited by their lack of Essence Crystals or the weakness of their Realms, Arran faced no such obstacles.


    Just as Snowcloud had said years earlier, his bottleneck was a lack of practice. And now that he truly put effort into addressing that weakness, he advanced with leaps and bounds.


    It wasn''t long before Arran recognized the mistake that Brightblade and the Matriarch had made in teaching him. They had instructed him as if he was already a practiced mage, constantly driving him to learn complex new spells.


    He had managed to keep up by relying on the strength of his Realms, the control he''d gained from consuming numerous Essence Crystals, and the knowledge he''d gleaned from the Sixth Valley''s Patriarch.


    But through all of that, he had lacked the foundation of a true mage. In a way, he had learned to run without knowing how to walk, and only now did he begin to appreciate how much of an obstacle this lack of a proper foundation had been.


    After the first month, he was certain that he had made the right choice.


    Already, the constant use of Fire Essence had brought him a level of control well beyond what he had before, and he knew there was more progress to be made. With a thought, he unsealed his Shadow Realm, then resumed his training using both Fire and Shadow Essence.


    Using Shadow Essence as well was a step up in difficulty, albeit a small one. He had already mastered it to a far greater extent than Fire Essence, but practicing with two types of Essence provided enough of a challenge to allow his foundation to strengthen further.


    He decided against unsealing any of his other Realms, however.


    Years earlier, Master Zhao had urged him not to open any Realms until he mastered the ones he already had. Back then, Arran had not known what mastering a Realm meant, but now, he was finally beginning to understand just what it entailed.


    Mastering a Realm, he realized, wasn''t just being able to use its Essence to cast spells. Rather, it was achieving a level of control where Essence was as easy to command as one''s own body. And that, he knew, required endless practice and few distractions.


    He trained like this for the first six months after his arrival, never stopping for anything other than a quick meal or a night''s rest. He cast no spells during this time, either. Instead, he solely used the Forms, using their simplicity to stay focused on the task of controlling Essence.


    Most of the progress he made was in his control of Fire Essence, but he found that his command of Shadow Essence also improved. While he had used it every day for years already, endlessly repeating the strict Forms gave him a finesse and precision that he had not previously possessed.


    Yet after half a year of fanatical training, Arran''s progress slowly ground to a halt.


    By now, using any of the Forms with Fire or Shadow Essence was no more difficult than raising his hand, and he knew that further repetition would bring him few gains.


    This didn''t upset him in the least. It meant he had completed his first step toward building a proper foundation. And now, it was time to take the second step.

 Chapter 279 A New Foundation

    Half a year of constant training had finally brought Arran the beginning of a foundation in magic, and with that first step behind him, he found that the difference it made already surpassed his expectations.


    Without a proper foundation, he had been much like a swordsman with bad posture, wasting effort and energy on even the simplest techniques. And that was something no amount of advanced training could fix.


    There was only one way to address it, which was to start from the beginning and properly learn the basics.


    Arran had made a start in doing so, and now, using magic felt entirely different from before. No longer did he struggle to command Essence. Now, he could wield both Fire and Shadow with little more effort than it took to wield his sword.


    Yet he wasn''t done yet.


    His training had changed the way he controlled magic, but he had only applied it to the Forms. And while the Forms'' simplicity had helped him in his training, the true test of his progress would be his ability to cast complex spells.


    And that meant relearning the two most difficult spells he knew ¡ª Flamestrike and Shadowcloak.


    He had learned both these spells already, but he had done so without a strong foundation. As a result of that, the versions he''d mastered were affected by the same flaws that plagued his spellcasting, relying on brute force rather than skillful command.


    That was something he would have to fix, and if his suspicions were correct, doing so would not just make it easier to cast the spells but also make the spells themselves more effective.


    He started with Flamestrike. It was the easier spell among the two, and he had known it longer than Shadowcloak. Hopefully, that would make the task of relearning it an easier one.


    And so, for several weeks, he painstakingly taught himself the Flamestrike spell anew, this time using his newfound control and insight to learn it properly.


    As expected, the process was much easier than it had been the first time. Back when he had first learned the Flamestrike spell, he had used sheer strength to force the Fire Essence to follow his will, and every step of the way had been a struggle.


    But now that he knew what to do, progress came naturally.


    In a way, Arran thought, it was like learning how to punch. In the past, he had been like someone who used only his arms to throw punches, relying on brute strength to make up for his lack of technique. And now, it was as if he was finally learning how to put his full body into each strike.


    This was exactly the sort of thing a good teacher would have corrected early on in his training, of course.


    Yet Master Zhao had departed long before Arran was ready to begin learning the basics of magic, and after his departure, Arran had spent years with little guidance in using magic.


    He had finally found the teachers he so desperately needed, but by then he had already built himself a foundation that was rife with errors. And with a weak foundation, his magic skill was like a house built on quicksand, unsteady at best.


    But he had finally addressed that problem, and the results were undeniable.


    When he finished relearning Flamestrike some weeks later, he was amazed to see how different it was from the version he had previously used. It was like an entirely new spell ¡ª easier and more efficient, with a power far beyond that of his earlier version.


    With this version, he could easily match the power of a strong adept''s attack. That still wouldn''t do as much damage as his sword, but it was no longer useless in battle ¡ª not unless he faced an opponent who shared his resistance against magic.


    Arran was excited to further test this newfound power, and with a quick thought, he headed to the cave at the back of the small valley.


    The cave was large ¡ª thirty feet high and twice as wide, stretching a good hundred paces into the mountain ¡ª and here, he could unleash his full power without fear of being noticed.


    Although he had shielded the entire valley with wards when he arrived, his skill in that area wasn''t yet good enough that he could blindly trust it. If he wanted to use his full strength without worry, he would need a better barrier ¡ª and an entire mountain would certainly do the trick.


    He walked inside the cave until he had passed half its lengths. Then, he faced the far wall, fifty paces ahead of him, and launched a single Flamestrike.


    The attack was a tentative one, using only a fraction of his full strength. Yet even that was enough to burn a fist-sized hole in the dense rock, and he looked at the result with a pleased smile.


    Encouraged by the effect, he quickly launched a second, more powerful attack. And this time, the streak of white-hot fire that shot forth from his hand penetrated a full arm''s length into the mountain.


    Again he attacked, the next spell doing even more damage as he used an even bigger portion of his power. And his attacks kept coming after that, an endless barrage of white lightning crashing into the mountain and burning away the rock wherever it hit.


    After barely an hour he had already doubled the length of the cave, a hundred paces of dense rock seared away by the unnatural heat of Arran''s Fire Essence. The ground was littered with pieces of molten rock, still glowing red as they had yet to cool off.


    But then, when he launched another Flamestrike, something unexpected happened. Rather than crashing into the wall of rock, the streak of fire passed straight through it, leaving nothing behind but a small hole.


    Another two attacks suffered the same fate, and Arran frowned in wonder as he realized there must be an empty space behind the rock ¡ª some sort of cavern, buried deep within the mountain.


    At once, he ceased his attacks, then headed toward the wall at the end of the cave. He avoided the molten pieces of rock on the ground ¡ª his feet could withstand the heat, but his boots were another matter ¡ª and a few moments later, he reached the rock wall.


    There were three large holes inside it, and behind them, he saw nothing but darkness.


    With a thought, he launched a slow-moving fireball through one of the holes, then peered through it to see what lay behind the wall. Yet although he spent some minutes carefully studying the space beyond the wall, all he found was a large, empty cavern, at least a hundred paces across.


    He frowned once more, then sent a cloud of Shadow Essence through the hole, figuring that his Shadowsight would be of more use than his eyes.


    This suspicion proved to be correct. Exploring the cavern with his Shadowsight, he quickly found that it wasn''t merely an empty space. On either side of it, wide tunnels led deeper into the mountain, extending beyond the reach of Arran''s Shadowsight.


    The discovery filled him with excitement. He had not forgotten about the starmetal deposit the mountains supposedly held. Finding them right where he had chosen to train seemed too convenient to be true, but he was eager to see if his luck could really be this good.


    Yet a moment later, he shook his head, then stepped back from the wall.


    Whatever treasures the mountains held, his training was more important. In the past, he''d let himself be distracted too often, chasing new treasures and powers while ignoring to develop the ones he already had.


    That was at least part of the reason his skill in magic had advanced so slowly, and it was a mistake he wouldn''t make again.


    First, he would finish the task that had brought him here. And once he''d learned all he needed, perhaps there would be time left to explore the cavern.


    But either way, he would not interrupt his training ¡ª not when he was progressing so well.


    Over the next two hours, he carefully sealed off the path into the mountain, using both rocks and wards to block the way. If the caverns held any people or creatures, he did not want them entering his training grounds.


    Once he was satisfied with the protections, he left the cave and returned to the valley.Find authorized novels in Webnovel£¬faster updates, better experience£¬Please click www.novelhall.comfor visiting.


    He had relearned Flamestrike, and the results had surpassed his expectations. Now, it was time to discover what his new foundation would do for his Shadowcloak.

 Chapter 280 The Final Stretch

    Relearning Shadowcloak proved every bit as much of a challenge as Arran had expected it to be.


    It was a difficult spell to begin with, and unlike Flamestrike, it needed to be maintained constantly. This provided plenty of opportunity for Arran to fall back into the bad habits he''d grown accustomed to over the years, and maintaining the proper technique required constant effort.


    He struggled for well over a month, but he refused to let himself be discouraged by this slow progress. Eliminating flaws that had festered for years would take time, and no amount of complaining would change that.


    Instead, he persisted with stubborn determination, set on correcting his past mistakes. Whenever he noticed himself slipping into old techniques, he would immediately stop his casting and start anew, paying extra attention to those parts of the spell that had given him trouble.Find authorized novels in Webnovel£¬faster updates, better experience£¬Please click www.novelhall.comfor visiting.


    It was a burdensome path, but after another two weeks, he finally succeeded ¡ª and the result immediately filled him with excitement.


    With Flamestrike, his new foundation had allowed him to cast a far more powerful version of the spell than he had previously managed, with the Essence being used far more effectively.


    Yet with Shadowcloak, the effect was a different one. Arran''s use of Essence had become more efficient here, as well, but since the Shadowcloak gained no benefit from additional strength, the result was that he consumed far less Essence to maintain the spell.


    With wide eyes, he realized that where he had previously only been able to use Shadowcloak for a minute or two, now, he should be able to maintain it for well over an hour.


    Sustaining a Shadowcloak for such an amount of time was impossible even for the strongest adepts, and Arran briefly found himself dumbfounded by the result. He had expected to see some improvements, but this surpassed even his wildest dreams.


    But after he gave it some thought, he realized it made sense.


    For most mages, Shadow was among their weakest Realms. Yet Arran''s Shadow Realm had twice been forcefully expanded by large quantities of Realm Opening Pills, and in the years following that, he had used Shadow Essence more than any other of his Realms.


    That his Shadow Realm was freakishly strong should come as no surprise, and previously, he had used that strength to compensate for his flawed foundation. But now, he could finally put that vast fount of Shadow Essence to good use.


    Yet pleased though he was with the result of his training so far, he knew he wasn''t done yet.


    He had painstakingly corrected his foundation, then relearned the two most complex spells he knew. Now, all he lacked was practice in truly using them ¡ª like weapons that he could control without a thought, rather than spells he needed to focus to cast.


    He knew this was a step he could not skip. Only by using skills under pressure would he truly comprehend them, and only by comprehending how to use Fire and Shadow Essence would he be able to merge the two.


    This posed a problem, however. The type of training he needed was something that needed an opponent ¡ª a sparring partner or enemies, who could pressure him as he used his spells.


    But he was all alone in the valley, and although the mountains should hold at least some hostile beasts, he was certain none of them would pose even the slightest challenge.


    For a moment, he considered heading into the cavern, to see if perhaps it held some unknown dangers or enemies. Yet he quickly thought better of it ¡ª although facing enemies would benefit him, blindly charging into unknown territory just to see if he could find a battle would be more than foolish.


    Instead, he let out a deep sigh, then turned his attention to the mountain opposite the cave.


    Without hesitation, he drew his starmetal sword and used his Shadowcloak to conceal himself, then attacked the mountainside with a furious barrage of Flamestrikes and sword strokes, assaulting the cold rock as if it was a living enemy.


    He understood that this was nowhere even close to facing a real opponent, but it was the option he had available. And if the mountain didn''t provide him with the pressure of battle, he would just have to push himself to the point where his own exhaustion became his enemy.


    For three days he fought against this silent opponent, cutting and burning a mile-long tunnel into the side of the mountain. He neither slept nor ate, instead focusing all his energy on maintaining the attack.


    He used his Shadowcloak as much as he could, only dropping it when he ran out of Shadow Essence ¡ª and even then, he renewed it the moment his Shadow Essence was replenished.


    When he attacked, he used Flamestrike when he had Fire Essence available, and his sword when he did not. While tearing through the rock with his blade had little practical benefit, it furthered his exhaustion, ensuring he had not even the slightest moment of rest.


    The strategy, ridiculous though it was, proved effective.


    After only a single day he was already trembling with fatigue, and the challenge of casting the two complex spells perfectly despite his increasing exhaustion helped his skill and control improve even further than it already had.


    Yet after half a week, deep within the mountain, he unexpectedly came upon another cavern. He took a brief look inside this time, but when he found nothing, he blocked and sealed the tunnel.


    Then, he moved back to the valley and renewed his assault on the mountain in another place.


    He kept this up for over a month, waging a relentless war against the mountains that he only interrupted for rest whenever his body would truly go no more.


    During the month of training he dug a dozen deep wounds in the mountainside, and twice more he encountered caverns hidden far beneath the mountains. Both of these he sealed and blocked, though by now, he was beginning to suspect that beneath the mountains lay a vast network of caves and tunnels.


    He was curious to see where the tunnels led ¡ª if they led anywhere at all ¡ª but he suppressed his desire to venture beneath the mountains and find out for himself. Until he finished his training, he would not let himself be distracted.


    Finally, well over a month after he''d launched his campaign against the mountain range, he decided he''d had enough.


    Perhaps there were more gains to be had if he continued for another few months, but there was only so much time a man could assault mountains before he started to doubt his own sanity.


    Not to mention that he''d grown increasingly worried that an entire mountain might collapse on top of him ¡ª something that would be troublesome even with the strength of his body.


    More importantly, while he might not have completely perfected his control yet, he was confident that he was ready for the final step ¡ª merging Fire and Shadow Essence.


    Before he set to work on that last task, however, he first spent a full week resting. After the self-inflicted ordeal, both his mind and his body were in desperate need of recovery.


    When the exhaustion from a month of tearing through mountains had worn off, he prepared himself to face the final task. He dug deep into his memories, remembering exactly how the Sixth Valley''s Patriarch had effortlessly merged the Essence within his body.


    Only when he was certain there wasn''t a single detail he''d forgotten or ignored did he move on, finally ready to accomplish the task that had taken him all these months of preparation.


    He gathered Fire and Shadow Essence in equal amounts within his body, using the control he''d gained through nearly a year of constant training to command the two dense clouds of energy.


    Then, he moved them together in the same way Snowcloud''s grandfather had shown him, and¡­


    He blinked in surprise when he realized he''d succeeded on his very first try. He had expected the task would still take him weeks if not months, but instead, drawing upon his memories, success had come instantly and without the slightest bit of effort.


    His body now held a dense cloud of Essence that was neither Shadow nor Fire, but at the same time held qualities of both. And this Shadowfire Essence was entirely stable, as if he had drawn it from its own Realm.


    Yet even before his surprise could turn to joy, he made a discovery that made him want to scream in frustration.


    The Shadowfire Essence was different enough from Fire and Shadow Essence that the foundation he had built in both was all but useless. Which meant that to control it properly, he would have to start his training anew.


    For three days he sat in the valley with gloomy eyes, feeling a boundless sense of frustration now that he understood that he would once more have to spend months practicing the Forms, this time with Shadowfire Essence.


    But then, he wearily stood up, and forced himself to get to work. Just a few more months, and if nothing else went wrong, he''d finally be done with this infernal task.

 Chapter 281 A Break

    Arran set to work on building a foundation in controlling Shadowfire Essence with angry determination.


    His earlier training had been fueled by excitement at finally improving his magical abilities, but the prospect of going through it all again extinguished whatever enthusiasm he had left.


    Frustration proved as effective a fuel as excitement, however, and it took him three months to build a stable foundation in Shadowfire Essence ¡ª though admittedly, these months felt more like years.


    In learning to command the Shadowfire Essence, Arran also learned more about the Essence itself, and despite his annoyance at training, he found himself intrigued by the strange type of Essence.


    Rather than merely being a mixture of Shadow and Fire, it was something entirely new, the result combining the qualities of both its constituent parts.


    Like Fire Essence, it was violent and destructive, capable of burning holes in rocks even without being used in a spell. Yet like Shadow Essence, it was invisible, with only Arran''s connection to his own Essence allowing him to Sense it.


    But most surprisingly, it was far more powerful than it should be.


    Arran had expected Shadowfire Essence to only have the destructive power of the Fire Essence that went into it. But instead, it was twice as powerful ¡ª as if the Shadow Essence it contained also contributed to this destructive strength.


    He needed little imagination to understand how this could be invaluable in battle. Shadow Essence had little offensive power, but by fusing it with Fire Essence, a mage would instantly double his strength reserves.


    Despite his frustration at having to build yet another foundation, Arran felt some excitement at this discovery. Even if his sword was still a better weapon than his magic, the difference had grown smaller over the past year. And with this, he had made another step toward closing the gap entirely.


    At the end of three months, when he had finished his work at building the foundation, Arran immediately set to work on learning the Shadowflame spell.


    This was his purpose in coming to the valley, and now that he had learned to create and command Shadowfire Essence, all that remained was to learn the spell. And that, he knew, was a simple matter of time and effort.


    Much as he expected, Shadowflame proved hideously difficult to learn. But he now had a solid foundation to go along with the memories from the Sixth Valley''s Patriarch, and combined, these things allowed Arran to make steady progress.


    His studies were slow but uneventful, and after another three months had passed, Arran finally learned the spell he had worked so hard to master.


    By now, any excitement he felt was long gone. Instead, all he felt was relief. Apart from the week of rest he''d taken after practicing Flamestrike and Shadowcloak, he''d done little but study and train for the past year and a half.


    Still, if learning Shadowflame didn''t bring him much excitement, he was more than a little pleased at its effects.Find authorized novels in Webnovel£¬faster updates, better experience£¬Please click www.novelhall.comfor visiting.


    He had already known that Shadowflame much resembled Flamestrike, but now that he could compare the two, he found that it was a fair bit stronger. And while that alone would have made the effort it took to learn worthwhile, it held another ¡ª even bigger ¡ª advantage.


    Just like the Shadowfire Essence used by the spell, the attacks it produced were completely invisible to both sight and Sense. Other than the considerable damage it caused, the spell might as well have been formed from pure Shadow Essence.


    That would make it horrifyingly effective in battle. Any enemy caught unaware would only know he was being attacked once the spell hit him, and by that point, it would be too late to raise a defense.


    Better yet, Arran quickly discovered that he could cast the spell while hidden beneath a Shadowcloak. And that meant he could kill people without them ever even knowing they were under attack.


    Of course, mages with Shadowsight would not be caught so easily, and enemies with a resistance to magic ¡ª like dragons, or Hunters ¡ª might survive such an ambush. But any enemy who lacked these things would die without even the chance to resist.


    Arran had no foolish notions about honor in battle, but still, he could not help but think commoners'' distrust of mages was well-justified.


    To face stronger enemies was one thing, but foes who could kill without ever revealing themselves was quite another. Had he not been a mage himself ¡ª and one with considerable resistance to magic ¡ª he would have avoided magic users like the plague.


    But Arran was a mage, and rather than avoid this terrible new power, he spent several weeks carefully practicing it.


    He had seen the spell in action when Snowcloud''s grandfather used it, and although he suspected the old man had imbued it with some insight to boost its power, he knew well just how devastating it could be.


    Without any bad habits to unlearn, his progress was far quicker than it had been with Flamestrike and Shadowcloak. Just a few weeks of intense practice were enough for him to reach a good level of familiarity with the spell.


    Finally, he had completed the task that had brought him to the Valley. It had taken a year and a half of training, but in the end, he had succeeded.


    Yet now, he would have to decide what to do next.


    He still needed to build a foundation for his other Realms ¡ª Wind, Force, Earth, and Stone ¡ª but even if he could find the willpower to spend another year retreading his steps, he lacked the time to do so.


    Brightblade had said she expected him to finish in under two years, after which he was to head toward the Hunters'' lands. And with tensions in the borderlands already running high, Arran knew that even two years would be tight ¡ª it wouldn''t surprise him in the least if war broke out far sooner than Brightblade had expected.


    Moreover, he was supposed to study the books Brightblade had given him, as well. And although all he knew about them was that they contained information on seals, he had little doubt that they would prove both challenging and time-consuming.


    But after some thought, he rejected the idea of starting work on the books right away.


    After the many months he''d spent training and studying, his mind was utterly exhausted. Even during the last few weeks of practice, his focus had faltered more than once, and further work would only increase the burden.


    Before anything else, he needed rest, and enough of it to restore his drained reserves.


    Yet although he needed rest, he had no desire to waste several weeks doing nothing at all. He needed something more interesting, to take his mind off his studies.


    He glanced at the cave at the end of the valley, and a small grin appeared on his face.


    In truth, he''d already decided to explore the tunnels the moment he finished learning Shadowflame. He had wanted to do so ever since he found them, and the only thing holding him back had been the task he had to complete.


    But now that he had achieved his goal, he could no longer contain his curiosity. If the tunnels led to the starmetal deposit, he would try his best to find it. There might be danger along the way, but then, with great danger came great rewards.


    And, if nothing else, he might get the chance to put his new skills to use.


    He unsealed the cave with delay, spending half an hour carefully removing the wards he had placed and the rocks he had used to block the way. Then, he broke through the damaged wall at the end of the cave and stepped into the dark cavern.


    At once, he was filled with a sense of excitement he had dearly missed during his many months of training. It wasn''t just the possibility of finding treasure that attracted him ¡ª there was something about the chance of facing danger that attracted him, as well.


    With danger came experience and the chance to truly hone his skills. The strength he had, he largely owed to the threats he had faced along his path. And while many of them had brought him to the brink of death, they had ultimately allowed him to gain the power to protect himself.


    Inside the cavern, he carefully inspected the area with both his Sense and his Shadowsight. When he found nothing, he used some Fire Essence to light up the area, but his eyes saw nothing he hadn''t already found.


    The large cavern in which he stood was completely empty, with its rock walls gray and bare. The only thing of note were two dark tunnels, leading to his left and right.


    He thought for a moment, then chose the left one. And with a slight grin on his face, he ventured into the darkness, eager to find whatever it was these tunnels held.

 Chapter 282 The Caves Of Amydon

    The first few hours he spent in the tunnel, Arran encountered nothing even the least bit interesting.


    The tunnel wound slowly downward, ever deeper into the mountains, with other tunnels occasionally joining it. Whenever this happened Arran left small signs to guide his way back, marking the stone walls with his sword and setting Shadow wards that only he could see.


    Yet although the tunnel was clearly man-made, he had still found no sign of either its creators or any others who had passed through.


    The rough stone walls were bare, with no marks other than the ones Arran left behind. And while the air was musty, its staleness was a lifeless one, featuring none of the scents and stenches that would suggest people had passed here.


    Arran pressed on, however, descending further into the depths beneath the mountain with every step. The strange environment only further encouraged his curiosity. As far as he could tell, no others had passed here in centuries, and he was eager to see what secrets lay buried here.


    But so far, there was no sign of secrets. Or anything else, for that matter.


    Arran illumined the way with a marble-sized ball of Fire Essence. While his Shadowsight and Sense were enough to guide him, they only showed him shapes, and roughly at that. To make out markings, engravings, or other such things, he would still need to rely on his eyes.


    Toward evening ¡ª or so Arran guessed, since there was no sky to tell him the time ¡ª a small glint in the rock wall caught Arran''s eye. He hurried over, and when he examined it, he saw that it appeared to be a rough diamond, embedded in the rock.


    Perhaps the tunnel''s creators had overlooked it, or perhaps they simply had not cared about the gem. But either way, Arran would not follow their example ¡ª a treasure like this, he would not leave behind.


    He cut the diamond free using his sword, then looked at the fist-sized gem with some satisfaction.


    Even among mages, a treasure like this was rare ¡ª rare enough to be worth at least a few Essence Crystals. And although Arran had no shortage of those, gemstones would certainly be easier to trade with commoners, should he need to trade.Find authorized novels in Webnovel£¬faster updates, better experience£¬Please click www.novelhall.comfor visiting.


    As Arran traveled deeper into the tunnel, he soon discovered that finding the diamond had been no lucky coincidence. During the next few days, he encountered dozens of gems ¡ª diamonds, rubies, emeralds, and others ¡ª that were embedded in the rough rock walls, along with large nuggets of gold and silver.


    The discoveries filled Arran with excitement. Not because of their value ¡ª although he carefully collected all of them ¡ª but because if the tunnel''s creators had ignored such treasures, they must have had their eyes set on even bigger prizes.


    But eager though he was to find whatever treasures lay at the end of the tunnel, he did not advance carelessly. If, as he suspected, this was the site of Amydon''s starmetal deposit, then many had died trying to find it.


    Wary of traps and seals, Arran advanced at a slow pace, his Sense alert for any sign of danger. And for several days, he continued onward like this, looting treasure where he found it while constantly watching out for traps.


    Yet when danger came, he still found himself unprepared.


    It happened in a straight stretch of the tunnel that was little different from all the parts before it. But here, Arran suddenly Sensed a hint of Essence, almost too small to notice.


    He stopped in his tracks, but in an instant, he realized that it wasn''t the trap he had Sensed, but its triggering.


    There wasn''t any time to give it further thought or brace himself for the attack. Even as he realized what happened, a sickeningly powerful wave of Essence rushed through the tunnel, its full force smashing into Arran before he could even curse.


    The wave of Essence hit him like an avalanche, giving him no chance to resist its force. He was flung a hundred paces backward through the tunnel, then crashed into its wall and collapsed to the ground like a rag doll cast aside by an angry child.


    It took him several minutes to recover from the attack, and when he finally sat up again, he could feel that his body was bruised all over, as if he had just fallen off a mountain.


    His clothes were gone, burned away by the Essence. And if he hadn''t already shaved off his beard and hair, he had little doubt that he would have lost those, as well.


    Only his starmetal sword and his void ring remained, and he felt more than a little relief that he had stored the Matriarch''s protective treasure within his void ring. Faced with a raw force like this, he feared it might not have survived.


    Because that was what the trap had triggered ¡ª a wave of raw force, unfocused but overwhelmingly powerful. That Arran had survived it at all was because most of the force had simply surged past him, further up into the tunnels behind him.


    Even with his resistance to magic, he would have been ground to dust if the attack had actually been focused on him. And if anyone without such a resistance was hit by a power like this, he doubted even dust would remain of them.


    But Arran had survived, and for the next hour, he sat on the cold ground, eating dragon meat while giving his body time to recover.


    He briefly considered turning around and leaving the tunnels. Although his injuries weren''t too serious, the presence of a trap like this meant there could be even stronger ones ahead. And tough though he might be, he wasn''t invincible.


    Yet while turning back might be the sensible choice, he could not bring himself to do so. Not this easily. If the danger became too great, he would accept failure, but not before he was certain there was no way forward.


    When his injuries had healed, he slowly made his way back toward the trap, inching forward as he focused his Sense to detect a sign of it.


    It was no use. Again, he only Sensed the trap when he triggered it, and an instant later he was flung a hundred paces back again, his freshly healed body once more covered in bruises.


    He tried several more times, but each time, the result was the same. He sighed deeply when he realized his Sense was simply too weak to detect the trap ¡ª or perhaps it was merely hidden too well.


    But either way, he could not advance without setting off the trap. And so far, the source of the Essence showed no sign of weakening, either.


    The attacks would have been a good way to train his resistance to Essence if he had more time, but reaching the point where he could force his way through the avalanche of power would take years or even decades.


    Yet he wasn''t willing to give up yet, either.


    After giving the matter some thought, he tried using various shields to withstand the attacks that came when he ventured too far into the tunnel. This, however, proved wholly unsuccessful ¡ª maybe a mage with stronger Force or Wind Realms could produce sufficiently powerful shields, but Arran clearly wasn''t up to such a task.


    Next, he tried laying down wards to retreat behind when the wave of Essence came. This proved slightly more effective than using shields, but after several failed tries, Arran realized his skill in wards was insufficient, as well.


    Still, he didn''t accept defeat. By now, defeating the obstacle had become a point of personal pride to Arran. The defense was effective but crude, and he could not stand the idea of so simple a barrier holding him back.


    In his frustration, he decided that if defense wouldn''t work, then he would try attacking.


    Once more he stepped forward, but this time, when the wave of Essence came, he launched a Shadowflame, the sharp power of his spell breaking the wave before him. And although that wasn''t enough to stop him from getting hit, the force that crashed into him was decidedly less ¡ª barely enough to throw him back fifty paces.


    He let his injuries heal, then tried again, now imbuing his Shadowflame with the full power of his true insight into severing.


    This time, the result was even better. With the wave broken right before him, most of the force of Essence passed by his sides. And although the remainder still caused him to stagger back half a dozen paces, it wasn''t enough to injure him.


    He hurried forward, anxious to advance as far as he could before another wave came. And although one arrived a few moments later, by then he had already moved fifty paces forward.


    He withstood several more waves of Essence, but around three hundred paces from where he had encountered the obstacle, the attacks came to a sudden halt. Apparently, he had gone far enough past the seal that triggered the trap.


    A grin on his face, he ventured forth, pleased with the victory. Although it had cost him a set of clothes, he had defeated the trap.


    He traveled onward for another week, moving ever deeper into the tunnels. There were more traps, but all of them were similar to the first. And although he could not avoid or remove them, his strength was enough to force his way past.


    Not everyone who had gone here had been as lucky, however.


    Along the way, Arran found over a dozen void bags, filled with Essence Crystals, scrolls, weapons, and various memory amulets. And although there were no treasures worth noting among them, he pocketed their contents happily.


    Yet he found more valuable items, too. Twice, he came across starmetal swords, which he collected with great excitement. To his surprise, he found thin starmetal strips, too ¡ª over a dozen of them, each barely a finger wide but all of them razor-sharp.


    The thin strips of metal caused him some confusion at first, but eventually, he realized that these must once have been part of weapons, used as edges on swords by those who could not afford complete starmetal weapons.


    But the deeper Arran ventured into the tunnels, the rarer these discoveries became. And near the end of the week, they had ceased altogether. Evidently, the people who had gone here before Arran had not made it this far.


    Then, after another few days, the traps ceased as well. It seemed that those who had warded the tunnels thought none would make it here. And, from what Arran had seen, they appeared to be right.


    He traveled through the empty tunnels for several more days, wondering just how far he had gone. He knew that he was no longer anywhere near the mountain where he had started his journey ¡ª by now, he was deep underneath the mountain range, hundreds of miles away from his starting point.


    Arran knew he must be getting closer to his destination, however. If he traveled on for much longer, he suspected he would no longer be underneath the mountain range at all.


    These suspicions were confirmed a few days later, when the tunnel suddenly emerged into a cavern.


    Arran made his way into the cavern carefully, wary of any new traps. But there were none, and as he entered the cavern, he instantly realized that it was vast.


    It stretched far beyond the reach of both his Shadowsight and his Sense, and the light from the ball of flame in front of him merely disappeared into the darkness. Whatever this place was, it must be miles across.


    Briefly, Arran hesitated. But then, his curiosity took over, and he launched a bright ball of flame into the air, as strong as he could make it.


    The sight that followed caused his mouth to fall open in shock.


    This was no mere cavern. The space was easily two hundred feet tall, and numerous holes were carved into the stone walls at its sides ¡ª houses, Arran realized.


    Shocked, he realized that before him lay a vast underground city. And although there was no sign of life now, he knew this city had once been home to thousands.

 Chapter 283 The Hidden City

    The moment Arran realized the cavern housed a large city, he regretted the large ball of bright fire he''d sent up into the air. If there was anyone here, he''d just unmistakably announced his presence.


    He concealed himself with a Shadowcloak at once, but that would not hide the fact that a mage had arrived ¡ª not with a bright white light illuminating the area for hundreds of paces around.


    For several minutes, Arran stood still as a statue, his eyes and Shadowsight both alert for any sign of movement in his surroundings.Find authorized novels in Webnovel£¬faster updates, better experience£¬Please click www.novelhall.comfor visiting.


    Yet the city remained completely still. Finally, he relaxed.


    The lack of a response did not mean there were no enemies present, of course, and he wasn''t so foolish as to let his guard down. But if there were enemies, it seemed they would not attack immediately, and worrying about an attack that might never come would do little good.


    Instead, Arran turned his attention to the houses built into the sides of the vast cavern.


    Now that he could take a better look, he saw that the houses were placed on narrow terraces that were carved into the rock walls. Each of these terraces was about twenty feet high, and they ran all the way to the ceiling, with steep stone stairs connecting the levels.


    Well over a thousand of the stone houses could be seen from where Arran stood, and he had little doubt that many more lined the walls in the rest of the cavern. The city, when it was still inhabited, must have been enormous ¡ª comparable to even the largest cities he''d seen aboveground.


    That wasn''t all, however. While the walls held thousands of houses, there were more buildings at the center of the cavern, half a mile from where Arran stood. The light wasn''t enough to make out their numbers, but even at this distance, he saw that they were far larger than the houses along the walls.


    Arran spent some minutes considering his next move. While he was curious to discover what lay at the center of the cavern, he was reluctant to advance without any idea of what was ahead. An abandoned city might still hold dangers.


    After giving it some thought, he decided he would first search some of the houses. Perhaps that would tell him more about the nature of the strange city and give him an idea of what to expect at its center.


    The first house he searched was completely empty. Its metal door swung open smoothly when Arran gave it a push, and beyond the door, he found a spacious interior with stone furniture and little else. Although the house was large enough to house a full family, there was no sign that anyone had ever lived there, with no items or objects to be found anywhere.


    Arran frowned when his search turned up nothing. Either those who had lived in the house had taken all their belongings when they left, or the house had never been inhabited at all. But either way, the empty building did nothing to answer his questions.


    He tried another house, but the result was the same. No sign of life, past or present, could be found within the building.


    Two next few dozen houses he searched were no different. He found them as empty as the first two, with not the slightest sign of habitation to be seen in any of them.


    Although the buildings told Arran little about the people who had once inhabited the city, from the state of the abandoned buildings he knew that they could not have left in a hurry.


    Still, he didn''t intend to give up the search. Even if the city''s previous inhabitants had taken care to bring along all their belongings when they left, there must be traces of them somewhere ¡ª things they overlooked in leaving.


    Yet before he could continue, a man''s voice suddenly sounded.


    "Stop wasting your time with empty buildings and come visit me."


    Arran''s eyes went wide with surprise. The voice was calm and sounded like it came from right next to him, but he was certain there was nobody nearby. And that suggested that the speaker was a powerful mage, capable of either hiding himself perfectly or casting his voice at Arran from far away.


    He threw a quick glance at the exit tunnel a few hundred paces away, already considering whether he should try to escape. Yet he decided against it almost instantly ¡ª if the mage was as powerful as he suspected, then running would be of little use. In the tunnels, there was no place to hide.


    His best bet, he thought, was to go see who the speaker was.


    Still, before Arran ventured to the center of the cavern ¡ª where he guessed he would find the mage ¡ª he put on the ring and armor he''d received from the Matriarch, along with an enchanted robe. Between the two protective treasures, he should have a chance of surviving against even a strong enemy.


    Then, he dropped his Shadowcloak and set off toward the buildings at the center of the cavern, relaxed but ready for battle.


    Well before he reached the cavern''s center, he saw a figure approaching in the distance, coming toward him with unhurried steps. As he drew closer, he saw the figure was a man, but one whose appearance caused him some shock.


    Tall and black-haired, the man''s gaunt figured was dressed in a long black robe. Yet his skin was deathly pale, as white as paper, and his eyes were the same color ¡ª completely white, lacking even pupils.


    Arran came to a halt when he was about fifty paces from the robed figure, and he looked ahead warily, unsettled by the mage''s unusual appearance.


    The other man came to a halt as well, and a small smile formed on his thin lips as his white eyes focused on Arran.


    "So, a Shadowflame mage has come to my home," he said in a dark tone. "It seems we have some business to settle."


    The mage raised his hand in a calm gesture, and although Arran could Sense no Essence coming from the man, he immediately understood the situation. There would be a battle.


    In a single movement, he rushed a dozen paces to the side, recasting his Shadowcloak as he moved. It was too late ¡ª an unseen attack smashed into his body an instant later.


    There was a bright flash of light as the attack hit ¡ª the Matriarch''s ring, Arran realized, protecting him from the spell. And rather than injure him, the spell merely caused him to stagger back a pace.


    It was an opportunity he would not waste, and he rushed forward at once, crossing the fifty paces between himself and the mage in an instant, sword already drawn and ready to strike.


    When he was just a dozen paces from his opponent, the gaunt man waved his hand again, and this time the Matriarch''s ring did not protect Arran. He was struck by an irresistible force that sent him sprawling across the ground.


    The blow knocked the wind from Arran, but he could not give in to the pain. Instantly, he rose to his feet, then sent his most powerful Shadowflame at the figure, imbued with his full insight into severing. Behind it, Arran himself followed, sword raised to attack.


    Yet the black-robed man blocked Arran''s Shadowflame with a casual gesture, and with a second gesture, another staggeringly powerful attack smashed into Arran.


    Again he was sent sprawling to the floor, and again he rose in an instant. He sent another Shadowflame at his opponent even as he charged at the man, but once more, two simple gestures stopped his attack and sent him to the ground.


    Arran could not give up, and as he got to his feet, he threw more spells at his opponent ¡ª a Flamestrike, a Windblade, another Shadowflame ¡ª and charged again, only to find himself on the cold ground once again some moments later.


    Again and again, Arran attacked, but all his attacks were stopped with casual ease. And whenever he came close to his opponent, an invisible spell would smash him to the ground.


    After a good ten minutes of this, he understood that there was no winning this fight. His opponent outclassed him in both strength and skill, and it was a small miracle that he was even still alive.


    He rose from the ground again, but this time, after launching a Shadowflame at his opponent, he turned around and ran as fast as he could in a mad dash for the exit tunnel. It was no use ¡ª he had barely set two steps before he was hit in the back by yet another spell.


    He got up again, but instead of attacking, he lowered his sword. "What do you¡ª"


    The sentence was cut off when he was hit with another spell that knocked him to the ground again.


    For a full hour, Arran tried everything he could ¡ª fighting, fleeing, pleading, remaining on the ground ¡ª but each time, the result was the same. More attacks that he had no way to resist.


    By now, he long understood that the mage had no intention of killing him. While the attacks had caused him some serious bruises, they had done no damage other than that ¡ª except, perhaps, to Arran''s ego.


    Then, finally, when he rose to his feet once more, Arran found that no attack came.


    "What do you want?" he asked in a rough voice, coughing from the pain of being pummeled with attacks for a full hour. He did not bother to attack or even raise his sword ¡ª against this enemy, it would be pointless.


    "Revenge, or so I thought," the white-eyed mage answered in a somber voice. "But I think you''ve paid your debt by now."


    "My debt?" Arran stared at the man in confusion. But then, understanding dawned in his eyes. "You''re Karanos?"


    "My name still lives on, then," the man said, his tone pensive. He shook his head, then continued, "No matter. Tell me, what has happened in the outside world since my departure? Has Amydon been rebuilt?"

 Chapter 284 Karanos

    "You want to hear about the outside world?" Arran hesitated in answering the question. Karanos had spared him for now, but once the white-eyed man had the answers he wanted, he might still decide to take his long-awaited revenge.


    "So I do," the gaunt mage said. He glanced at Arran, then added, "I do not mean to kill you after you answer my questions. You are what, two centuries old, if that? I am not so unreasonable as to blame you for events that happened centuries before you were even born."


    "I''m twenty-seven," Arran replied. "Or maybe twenty-eight." He wasn''t quite sure which of the two it was, but either way, informing Karanos of his youth seemed a sensible thing to do.


    "Twenty-seven?" Karanos gave Arran a long stare with his piercing white eyes. "You fight well, for one barely out of infancy. But follow me to my residence ¡ª you can answer my questions along the way."Find authorized novels in Webnovel£¬faster updates, better experience£¬Please click www.novelhall.comfor visiting.


    Arran realized there was no point in refusing. Unsettling though the gaunt mage''s appearance might be, it did not seem like the man had any hostile intent ¡ª not beyond the initial beating he had given Arran, at least. And more importantly, Arran had little doubt that the man could easily force him to talk, if he so wished.


    As they made their way to the buildings at the center of the cavern, he detailed the current state of Amydon, repeating what Kimon had told him when he visited the town.


    "It''s become a mining town once more?" Amused surprise sounded in the mage''s voice. "Thousands of years of turmoil, and in the end, the city merely returned to its origins." He sighed softly. "Perhaps it''s for the best. Glory only brought Amydon ruin. But a mining town¡­ a mining town can escape notice, and have a chance at peace."


    Arran only listened with half an ear. Not because he wasn''t interested in what Karanos had to say ¡ª and certainly not because he wished to offend the man ¡ª but because they had reached the center of the cavern. And now, they were passing between the many large buildings that stood there.


    The buildings'' designs filled Arran with wonder. They were all shaped from smooth stone, with massive walls and square towers.


    Yet although the buildings'' straight angles and thick features were far from elegant, they were far from clumsy. Rather, they seemed to follow an aesthetic that valued function over form.


    "This city¡­" Arran began, turning to Karanos. "Did you build it?"


    "Did I build this?" The question drew a laugh from the white-eyed mage, and he shook his head. "This city was built long ago, and abandoned many thousands of years before I was ever born. I merely had the fortune of being the first to find it."


    "Then who built it?" Arran asked, his eyes wandering around the buildings that surrounded them.


    "That, I do not know," Karanos said. "Although I do know why they built it. And I will tell you, if you wish ¡ª but not before you finish answering my questions."


    He gestured at a large building a few hundred paces ahead, then continued, "But first, let me welcome you to my palace. It doesn''t offer much in the way of comfort, but it does not lack for space."


    Arran followed Karanos inside, where he soon saw that the gaunt mage had spoken the truth ¡ª the building was as austere as it was spacious, with wide halls and bare stone furniture.


    They passed through several halls, with Karanos finally leading them to a large chamber that held several large stone chairs, a stone desk, and stone bookcases ¡ª all of them empty.


    As Karanos sat down in one of the chairs, he asked, "How goes the war? From your appearance here, I assume the Shadowflame Society has not been defeated just yet?"


    "The war has ended," Arran replied. "At least for now. About fifty years ago, the Hunters and the Ninth Valley reached a truce, and the borderlands have been peaceful ever since."


    "A truce?" Karanos frowned, then shook his head. "Merely a brief pause. The war between won''t truly end until one side is thoroughly defeated. Each is too much of a threat to the other. I only fully understood it when Amydon had already fallen ¡ª why the Shadowflame mages would not accept neutral powers in their lands. It is a war not for power, but for survival."


    Arran narrowed his eyes as he looked at Karanos. While the pale mage had not ventured outside the underground city for half a millennium, he had already been there when the Hunters first arrived. And that meant he might know more about the conflict''s origins than anyone Arran had met so far.


    "Why did the Hunters attack?" he asked, curious to hear what the white-eyed man knew.


    "Those you call Hunters are part of an empire," Karanos replied. "An empire that was once as powerful as the one that lies behind the mountains. But for countless thousands of years, it has been in retreat, fleeing an unstoppable enemy."


    "What kind of enemy?" Arran asked at once.


    "That, I do not know," Karanos said. "Though I suspect their enemy is magical in nature ¡ª only that can explain their hatred for mages. They are a closed society, one that jealously guards its secrets. And that, too, might offer some insight into the nature of their true enemy."


    "But if they''re fighting another enemy," Arran began, unsatisfied with Karanos''s answers, "why would they invade the borderlands? If they''re already at war, wouldn''t starting a second one weaken them?"


    "Clearly, they''re losing," the white-eyed mage replied. "And the Shadowflame Society stands in the way of their escape." He paused briefly, then continued, "Unless I''m mistaken, their true intention is to pass through that Ninth Valley of yours and carve out a dominion on the other side of the mountains ¡ª a place where they might be safe."


    "They want to invade the Empire?" Arran asked, eyes wide with shock. While he had known the Hunters had plans against the Valley, he had not expected that they would have designs on the Empire itself. And even if years had passed since he had left the Empire, the thought of it being invaded still caused him some outrage.


    "That is what I believe," Karanos said. "Though it''s merely a guess ¡ª as I said, little information escapes their lands. And that is something I cannot imagine to have changed, even after half a millennium."


    Arran and Karanos spent the next hour speaking about the war, with Arran informing the old mage of the most recent developments and Karanos returning the favor by detailing the war''s beginnings.


    To Arran''s disappointment, there was little Karanos could tell him that he did not already know. He welcomed the tales of long-forgotten battles, but the things he really wished to know ¡ª the true nature of the Hunters'' society and their supposed enemy ¡ª turned out to be as much of a mystery to Karanos as they were to Arran.


    Finally, during a lull in the conversation, Arran decided to change the subject.


    He gave Karanos a curious glance, then asked, "What are you?"


    "What am I?" Although the mage''s white eyes showed no emotion, the rest of his expression betrayed some confusion at the question.


    "The magic you used¡­" Arran hesitated, then continued. "It''s unlike anything I''ve seen before, like you were using Shadow as a weapon. Are you¡­ a Sage?"


    "A Sage?" A thoughtful expression crossed Karanos''s face, as if it was a question he had never considered before. "I was barely an Archmage when Amydon fell, but now¡­" He paused for some moments, brow furrowed in thought above his white eyes. Then, he shook his head. "I do not believe so."


    Arran looked at the man in disbelief. "You don''t know for sure if you''re a Sage or not?"


    Karanos smiled wryly. "These things are not so simple as you might believe. Five centuries in the dark have greatly improved my understanding of Shadow, but I feel there is still much left to learn. Whether I''m a Sage¡­ I think I might have started on the path toward becoming one, but I do not believe I have reached that destination just yet."


    The answer did little to satisfy Arran''s curiosity, but it seemed Karanos truly did not know the answer. He frowned, then asked another question ¡ª one that had caused him nearly as much confusion.


    "Sage or not, given your strength, why haven''t you left this city? You are powerful enough to defend Amydon now, aren''t you?"


    Yet the white-eyed mage merely shook his head. "My presence would merely endanger Amydon. I am strong enough to defend myself, if only barely. But to defend a city against foes such as your Shadowflame Society? Such power is still far beyond me."


    Arran furrowed his brow. "You''re not strong enough to face the Shadowflame Society? But¡­ I''ve seen its leaders fight, and you are at least their equal in power."


    And even that, he thought, was an understatement. In a fight between Brightblade and Karanos, he suspected the latter would hold the upper hand. Not just because of raw power ¡ª something which Brightblade had in abundance ¡ª but because Karanos somehow used Shadow Essence in a manner he had previously thought completely impossible.


    And Arran was almost certain that it was, in fact, Shadow Essence that Karanos had used. He still had numerous bruises on his body that were left by the man''s spells, and the strikes had felt completely different from any that Arran had previously suffered.


    Being hit by Shadowflame felt much like being hit by Fire Essence, and Arran had little doubt that the same would hold true for Shadow merged with other types of Essence. Yet Karanos''s attacks had contained not even a trace of Fire, Force, Wind, or any other Essence Arran had encountered.


    "Perhaps you''ve seen the Society''s leaders fight," Karanos replied, "but there are others who stand behind them, ones stronger than them."


    He narrowed his white eyes, then added, "And much the same holds true for the ones you call Hunters. You should not believe that what they show the world is their full strength ¡ª there are greater powers they keep hidden for desperate times."


    The answer was an unwelcome one. While Arran knew that the Shadowflame Society had Sages backing it, he had not known the Hunters had similar backers. But then, it made sense ¡ª the Hunters would not have driven back the Ninth Valley for centuries if they couldn''t match the Society''s true strength.


    "But enough talk of war," Karanos said. "You are my first visitor in five hundred years, yet already, I tire of the subject." A small smile passed his thin lips, and then, he asked, "You came here to find the mines, did you not? If you wish, I can show them to you."

 Chapter 285 The Mines

    "The mines?" Arran stared at Karanos in confusion for a moment, but then, he remembered the reason he had traveled into the tunnels into the first place.


    At least, the ostensible reason. The truth was that the starmetal deposit had only been part of the reason, and not the most important part. What had truly driven him to explore the tunnels was the desire to see what lay beneath the mountains.


    This desire wasn''t just idle curiosity. Rather, it was something that had grown from his understanding of the world.


    In his travels, Arran had gradually come to understand that knowledge and experience were every bit as valuable as treasures and power ¡ª perhaps even more so. He had come close to losing his life on many occasions, and more often than not, the reason had been a lack of knowledge.


    Right now, however, his nascent understanding suggested to Arran that he was in grave danger.


    "You want to show me the mines?" he asked in a flat voice, careful to conceal the worry that was rapidly growing within him.


    "You came here to find those, did you not?" Karanos asked.Find authorized novels in Webnovel£¬faster updates, better experience£¬Please click www.novelhall.comfor visiting.


    Arran did not answer immediately. Instead, he racked his brain for a way to escape the situation. Because although the white-eyed mage might act friendly now, an obvious source of conflict lay just around the corner.


    The Shadowflame Society had laid waste to Amydon in an attempt to claim the starmetal mines, and Karanos had fled his attackers to preserve the secret.


    But now, Arran knew the truth. And if he brought word to the Ninth Valley, he had no doubt that an army would be sent to claim the hidden city and any wealth it held.


    That he did not intend to do so did not matter ¡ª Karanos had no reason to believe him, no matter how many oaths he swore. But still, he had to try.


    "I think I would prefer to leave," Arran said in a thoughtful voice. "I do not care about the treasures beneath this city, nor do I mean to share its location with the Society."


    Karanos shook his head. "You cannot leave," he said. "Not before I grant you a gift, to ensure your silence."


    Arran paled at the words. Whatever gift the white-eyed mage intended to give him, he had little hope that it would be anything good. Even after five hundred years in isolation, he did not think Karanos had grown so naive that he would entrust his life to simple bribery.


    On seeing Arran''s panicked look, the gaunt mage let out a loud laugh. "No need to look so concerned. The gift I wish to give you is a true gift ¡ª one whose value you can only barely begin to grasp."


    At this, Arran frowned in confusion. If Karanos had any malicious intent, there certainly was no need for deception ¡ª not with the difference in strength between them. Yet the idea that the mage would rely on a gift to silence Arran seemed even more ludicrous.


    "Allow me to explain," Karanos continued, a small smile on his lips. "The gift I speak of is priceless, and even your own allies would betray you to take it from you. And once you realize the value of what it holds, you will realize that you cannot tell anyone. Not without being killed for your possessions."


    Arran looked at the man in wonder. "Why wouldn''t you just¡ª" He stopped mid-sentence.


    Karanos chuckled, already having understood what Arran was about to say. "Why wouldn''t I just kill you?" He shook his head, and distaste flashed across his face. "Truth be told, I''ve never been one for violence. Perhaps that was my weakness. Rather than wasting lives and wealth on turning Amydon into a large and mighty kingdom, I built it to be a bastion of peace and prosperity."


    Although he left the rest unspoken, it took little imagination to understand what he was thinking. If he had focused on building Amydon''s might rather than its wealth, perhaps the city could have withstood the Shadowflame Society''s attack.


    Arran, for his part, didn''t know whether to admire the man''s principles or deride his foolishness. Maybe both. If what Karanos said was true ¡ª and somehow, Arran suspected it was ¡ª then he had deliberately chosen a path of weakness.


    "Do you regret it?" Arran frowned as he looked at Karanos, realizing that the man''s motivations were completely alien to him. He struggled to understand why someone would forego the strength to defend himself.


    "I do not," Karanos replied in a calm but firm voice. "Had I built Amydon into a fortress and conquered lands to grow my army, the result would have been the same ¡ª eventually, we would have drawn enemies too strong to resist. As it was, we enjoyed over a thousand years of peace."


    To this, Arran had no reply. He did not share the other man''s outlook, but he understood the argument. And perhaps there was some truth to it. If Amydon had used its resources to grow into a power strong enough to threaten the Shadowflame Society, the Ninth Valley would certainly have intervened sooner rather than later.


    Still, the idea of choosing weakness over strength made him deeply uncomfortable. Perhaps strength might draw enemies sooner, but at least it allowed one to face threats on equal terms.


    "But why did you refuse the Society''s demands?" he asked. Even if there was some logic behind focusing on prosperity rather than power, that didn''t make it any more sensible to resist a foe one could not defeat.


    "Siding with them would have meant destruction at the hands of their enemies," Karanos said. "But more importantly, revealing the truth of what lies beneath these mountains would have brought an even greater disaster."


    "An even greater disaster?" Arran gave the gaunt mage a puzzled look. Amydon had been all but destroyed, and much of its population either killed or banished. It was hard to imagine a greater disaster than that.


    "Follow me, and you will understand." With that, Karanos stood up and headed for the doorway.


    Arran followed a few paces behind the white-eyed man, a deep furrow in his brow. The white-eyed mage had confounded him to begin with, and their conversation had only further added to his confusion.


    While he still did not exactly trust Karanos, the man''s distaste for violence seemed genuine ¡ª a strange thing, and all the more so in the borderlands.


    Yet everything Arran had seen and heard of him confirmed it. For all its past wealth, Amydon had remained a peaceful city, focused on prosperity rather than power. And instead of seeking vengeance, Karanos had remained hidden away in the underground city.


    None of it made much sense to Arran, but he had no cause for complaint. Had Karanos shared Arran''s sensibilities, the outcome would have been a decidedly less pleasant one.


    The white-eyed mage led Arran past the buildings at the center of the cavern, then continued onward for another mile, with a magical ball of dim white light guiding the way.


    Karanos finally came to a stop before a vast pit, so wide that Arran could not see its far end. Yet with a closer look, he saw that a broad spiral staircase was carved into its sides, as wide as any road Arran had ever seen. And it descended far into the darkness.


    "This leads to the mines?" Arran asked, warily eying the dark, gaping pit. Even within the vast cavern, its size gave him an uneasy feeling, as if he was an ant gazing upon the work of giants.


    "Indeed," Karanos replied. "Though I should warn you ¡ª we have quite a ways to go yet."


    This proved no lie, as they spent the next few days traversing the seemingly endless staircase, descending ever deeper into the earth. To Arran, it seemed as if the air was staler here, and although there was no visible difference in the environment, he felt as if the miles of rock above were weighing on his shoulders.


    Karanos seemed to notice Arran''s unease, and he said, "The feeling is unpleasant, at first, but you will get used to it after a few days."


    Arran nodded in response, though he had some doubts about the mage''s words. He could not imagine himself ever getting used to the oppressive feeling of being buried so deep within the earth.


    They finally reached the bottom of the staircase a few days later ¡ª with Arran not having grown used to his surroundings in the slightest ¡ª where they emerged into a vast, dark cavern. It was at least the height of the cavern above, and although Arran could not see its walls, he suspected it wouldn''t be any smaller, either.


    Yet here, he found no buildings. Instead, he saw what looked to be hills in the shadows, evenly spaced out and each at least a hundred feet high.


    Curious to see what these hills were, Arran approached one of them ¡ª then stopped in his tracks as his mouth fell open with shock.


    What he''d believed to be a hill was actually a large pile of big chunks of metal. And with just a glance, Arran realized it was all starmetal.


    It took him some moments to process the image before him as he silently stared at what lay before him.


    A single starmetal sword was a priceless treasure, worth thousands of Essence Crystals. Just the swords Arran had found in the tunnels likely made him one of the wealthiest people in the entire Ninth Valley.


    Yet the hill before him held enough starmetal to forge thousands of swords ¡ª tens of thousands, most likely. It was a fortune beyond compare, more than the combined wealth of an entire Valley. And that was just the one hill ¡ª one among many.


    "Take it, if you wish."


    Karanos''s voice held a hint of amusement, but Arran paid it no heed. Before the mage could change his mind, he began to fill his void ring with chunks of starmetal, greedily grabbing as much of the metal as he could.


    There was enough for not just thousands of swords, but suits of armor, too ¡ª and as Arran gathered up the metal, he realized he would have enough to build an entire fortress of starmetal, impervious to magic.


    Now, he understood the greater disaster of which Karanos had spoken. If word of such a fortune got out, it could bring war not just to the borderlands, but to the entire world.


    Arran smiled wryly as he now recognized the danger of the gift. If anyone discovered that he had been near such a vast trove of treasure, others would surely kill him just for the chance that he had taken even the tiniest sliver of it.


    Still, he continued gathering starmetal for a full hour, filling his void ring with enough of it to last him a thousand lifetimes. And when he finally stopped gathering more, it was only because he realized he already had more than he could ever use ¡ª enough to supply an entire army with starmetal weapons.


    But slowly, he came to his senses. Even what he had already gathered was enough to get him killed a hundred times over.


    A troubled look on his face, he turned to Karanos. "This gift¡ª" he began.


    Karanos shook his head. "This was not the gift," he said. "This was mere trash ¡ª worthless rocks that the ones who built the city dug through to reach the real treasure."

 Chapter 286 Trash And Treasure

    Arran looked at Karanos in astonishment. "Worthless rocks?"


    He almost felt offended at the words. His most prized possession was his starmetal sword, and that was nothing compared to even a single one of the hills that surrounded them.


    To hear such treasure dismissed so casually caused him no small amount of shock. If starmetal was mere trash, then his own possessions were little more than the trinkets of a child.


    But he knew that Karanos was neither bragging nor mocking him. From the matter-of-factly way in which the man had spoken, it was clear he considered it a simple truth. And if that was the case, then the mines contained something far more valuable.


    "The people who built the city," Arran began, "what were they looking for, if not starmetal?"


    "You will find out soon enough," the gaunt mage replied, gesturing for Arran to follow him as he began to walk toward the far end of the cavern. "But first, where do you think starmetal comes from?"Find authorized novels in Webnovel£¬faster updates, better experience£¬Please click www.novelhall.comfor visiting.


    "The remains of fallen stars?" Arran said in a hesitant voice.


    That was what the shopkeeper who had sold him his sword had said, and he''d never given the story much thought. Now, however, he began to wonder whether it was just a tall tale.


    Yet Karanos nodded. "Burning rocks sometimes fall from the heavens," he said. "Those are what people call fallen stars ¡ª though I doubt that they are actually stars. Most of these rocks are unremarkable, but a rare few of them contain starmetal. To the best of my knowledge, such rocks are the only source of starmetal in the world."


    "But then¡­" Arran shot a glance at the numerous hills of starmetal surrounding them, then turned back to Karanos with a questioning look on his face.


    "Indeed," Karanos said. "The rock that fell here must have been a true monster. I suspect it fell when the world was still young. And when it fell, its outermost layers broke off and filled the surrounding lands with gems and metals. After that, the core must have lain buried for countless eons."


    "Until the people who built the city came to mine it," Arran said. He wasn''t certain whether he believed the story ¡ª much of it sounded quite far-fetched ¡ª but he certainly didn''t have anything better to offer.


    "If they were indeed people," Karanos said. "Which is something I have some doubts about. But yes, eventually, they arrived and built these mines."


    "But if they weren''t mining for starmetal, what were they after?" Arran asked.


    It was obvious that Karanos had spoken the truth about the starmetal being discarded as trash. In just a few minutes of walking through the cavern, they had already passed hundreds of starmetal hills, spaced out evenly with wide roads between them.


    "You will see that soon," the white-eyed mage replied. "It will be easier to explain once you have seen what lies at the center of this rock."


    Arran responded with a hesitant nod. Even though he was curious about their destination ¡ª and the treasures they would find there ¡ª he felt more concern than excitement. While he did not believe Karanos intended him harm, he could not escape the feeling that there was danger ahead.


    They continued on through the cavern for over two miles, passing numerous starmetal hills along the way, each consisting of neatly piled stacks of starmetal chunks. To Arran''s eyes, it seemed like the greatest treasury the world had ever seen ¡ª endless amounts of a metal whose value exceeded that of gold many thousands of times.


    And yet, with some bewilderment, he realized that the miners would have probably have destroyed the starmetal, had they been able to do so. It was only because the material was nigh indestructible that they had chosen to pile it up where it could be ignored, instead.


    Finally, they reached the far end of a cavern, where a tunnel led deeper into the ground. Although it was about fifty feet across, the vastness of the cavern before it made it seem small, and Arran had an oppressive feeling when they stepped inside.


    The unease he felt about their surroundings was soon forgotten, however, when he realized that the tunnel''s walls were made of pure starmetal. With wide-eyed wonder, he looked at the glistening surface, curious just how the miners had managed to cut their way through the material.


    "You''ll understand soon enough," Karanos replied when Arran asked him the matter. "We''ve now entered the core, and from here, it''s just a few miles to its center."


    The tunnel wasn''t straight, as Arran had expected. Rather, it wound its way through the starmetal in a snake-like pattern, twisting and turning for no apparent reason.


    At a guess, Arran thought the miners must have chosen this as the weakest route through the thick layer of starmetal ¡ª perhaps cutting through it had not been easy even for them and whatever tools had allowed them to delve through the impenetrable metal.


    Barely twenty minutes later, they emerged into a large, dark space.


    Karanos made a small gesture, and the ball of bright light that had guided their way suddenly expanded in size, presenting Arran with a view that once more made his eyes go wide with astonishment.


    This was no hall or cavern. Rather, it was a perfectly spherical space, about two hundred paces across, with walls that consisted entirely of a smooth layer of starmetal.


    Yet although the space was as grand as it was alien, it wasn''t what caught Arran''s eye. Rather, what drew his gaze was what lay at its center.


    In the middle of the spherical space stood a large starmetal dais, and upon it sat something that Arran could only describe as an amorphous mass of pure darkness, entirely still yet somehow appearing alive.


    The dark mass was more than just unsettling. Merely looking at it caused him an almost instinctive fear, and he felt as if the darkness was somehow pulling at him, trying to draw him inside of it.


    With a start, he realized this was no mere feeling ¡ª the cloth of his robe was stretched in the direction of the black mass, and he understood that the pull he felt was entirely real.


    Most disturbing of all, however, was that there was something deeply familiar about the formless darkness, as if it was something he had long known.


    "Is this the treasure?" he asked, looking at Karanos with wary eyes.


    "It is not," the man replied. "This is what brought forth the treasure. But the treasure itself was taken away long ago."


    Arran frowned uneasily. Karanos did not seem as if he had any malice in mind, but the formless shadow a hundred paces before them screamed danger.


    Had he not known it was impossible for him to escape Karanos if the man intended him harm, he would have long since fled. And even now, he was preparing to fight his companion if necessary.


    "Then what was the treasure? And if it''s gone, why are we here?" He glanced at the mass of darkness again, then added, "And what is that thing?"


    "To answer your first question," Karanos said, "this place once held shards of Living Shadow. Look."


    With a single movement, he produced a long blade in his hand ¡ª a simple sword, seemingly forged from unremarkable iron. Then, in a casual stroke, he struck a blow to the starmetal wall, leaving a deep scar in the supposedly indestructible metal.


    Arran looked on with wide eyes. "What is that?"


    "This is Living Shadow," Karanos replied. In an instant, the blade in his hand turned as black as the mass of darkness at the center of the space and took the shape of a long spear. With this, he struck the wall again, and although the blow was a clumsy one, it left another deep scar in the metal.


    Karanos frowned. "I''ve never been much good with weapons," he said with a sigh. As the spear disappeared from his hand, he turned to Arran. "That is the treasure I mean to give you."


    Arran looked at him in astonishment. "You''ll give me your sword?" Living Shadow or not, to Arran''s eyes it was a sword ¡ª and the best he''d ever seen.


    "Not mine," Karanos replied. "And since no more Living Shadow remains here, we will have to retrieve a piece for you ¡ª because although this place was stripped clean, an endless supply lies on the other side."


    "The other side?" Arran''s puzzled expression lasted only a moment, then turned to one of horror as he glanced at the mass of darkness. "You want us to go into that¡­ thing?"


    "That thing is a tear in our reality," Karanos said. "And on the other side lies a Shadow Realm. We will enter it, and retrieve your gift."


    "It''s a Shadow Realm?" Now, Arran understood why the unnatural mass of darkness looked so familiar, but the knowledge brought him little comfort. "We''re entering a Shadow Realm?!"

 Chapter 287 A Step Into Shadow

    For several moments, Arran stared at the ominous dark mass that lay at the center of the space. The knowledge that it was a connection to a Shadow Realm should have comforted him ¡ª he used Shadow Essence every day, after all. And yet, even looking at it caused him to feel an almost instinctive sense of dread.


    Finally, he tore his eyes away from the darkness and turned to Karanos. "How dangerous is it?"


    There was no need to ask whether it was dangerous ¡ª just the look of it made that all too clear. And if Karanos tried to deny its danger, Arran would know the black mass was a death trap.


    But the white-eyed mage made no attempt to conceal the truth. "Very," he said. "With my protection, you stand a good chance of making it out again, but I cannot guarantee that either of us will survive. There are enemies inside that neither swords nor magic can harm, and our lives will depend on avoiding them."


    Though the answer was hardly encouraging, Arran found some comfort in Karanos''s honesty. Had the man intended to lead him to his death, he would likely have tried to downplay the risk.


    Still, Arran wasn''t convinced yet. "What if I refuse?" he asked, his expression calm even as he prepared for trouble.


    "Then I will let you leave," Karanos replied. "With what you have seen here, you know what will happen if word gets out ¡ª many will die, and you will be among them."


    Arran nodded, knowing it to be the truth. He had only briefly witnessed Karanos''s shard of Living Shadow, but that was enough to know that it was a treasure beyond compare. Just the suspicion that Arran had such a thing would get him killed anywhere in the world.


    Some doubts still lingered within his mind, however. If Karanos trusted Arran not to throw away his life by revealing the mines'' location, there was no reason for the man to guide him into the Shadow Realm ¡ª gift or not, Arran was already bound to silence.


    "Why do you want me to go inside?" he asked, forehead creased in a frown. "And why do you want me to have a shard of Living Shadow?"


    A small smile crossed Karanos''s lips, almost as if he was pleased that Arran had rejected his earlier explanation. "The Shadow Realm holds a warning," he said. "A warning that your Shadowflame Society should know about."


    Arran looked at the white-eyed mage with a confused expression. "A warning? But I thought you didn''t want me to spread word of this place?"


    "I don''t," Karanos said. "But you are strong ¡ª stronger than an adept has any right to be. And strength like that requires resources beyond those a normal teacher would provide. Which means you''re the personal apprentice of one of the Valley''s Elders, or perhaps even the Patriarch."


    "The Matriarch," Arran corrected him, slightly relieved that there were still things the gaunt mage did not know.


    "So the old bastard is dead?" An expression of joy flashed across Karanos''s face, but it disappeared an instant later, and he continued, "The Matriarch, then. And if you''re her apprentice, then you will eventually become an Elder yourself ¡ª perhaps even a Patriarch. By then, you may know what to do with the warning."


    Once more, Arran was reminded that powerful mages were very long-lived. While the plan Karanos had laid out wasn''t unreasonable, it would take centuries to come to fruition.


    He thought for some moments, casting another glance at the mass of darkness in the distance. Just looking at it unsettled him, and the idea of entering it almost made him nauseous. Yet he had already made his decision.


    "All right," he said. "So what do we do?"


    Karanos gave Arran a reassuring smile, though the man''s white eyes made even that look somewhat disquieting. "To start," he began, "you will need to close off all your Realms but Shadow. I assume you have a way to do that?"


    Arran nodded, then sealed off his Realms and released the Essence his body still held with a few quick attacks at the starmetal wall. "Anything else?"


    "Your void bags won''t work in the Shadow Realm," Karanos said. "So you''ll need to subsist on Essence, circulating it through your body to nourish yourself." Seeing Arran''s troubled look, he added, "Look closely ¡ª it isn''t too difficult, but it helps to know what to do beforehand. I nearly starved before I figured it out."


    He briefly demonstrated a simple circulation technique that was little different from the ones Arran already knew, and after observing it for a few moments, Arran nodded. Yet even as he practiced the technique, a thought occurred to him.


    "How long will we be gone?" he asked, feeling some worry. If he needed to subsist on Essence, then they would be gone for a long time.


    "No more than a few years," Karanos answered. "Though on this side, only days will pass."


    "Time doesn''t work the same in the Shadow Realm?" Arran asked, surprised. He had expected the Shadow Realm to be different from the real world, but he had not imagined that even time itself would be altered.


    "Few things work the same in that place," the white-eyed mage said. "You will find that it will take you time merely to adjust to it. And the sensation¡­" He shook his head. "It is not a pleasant one."


    Arran ignored those last words, unwilling to let himself be burdened by any further worries. While being prepared was good, there was little point to idle concern. "Are we ready to go?" he asked.


    "I would not be so eager to go, if I were you," Karanos said. "But yes, we are ready."


    "Then let''s go," Arran said, turning toward the mass of darkness that lay before them. He frowned, then added, "But I''ll let you enter, first."


    "Very well," Karanos said. "Follow me ¡ª it''s a simple matter of stepping into the darkness."


    Without any further words, he started toward the darkness at the center of the starmetal cavern.


    Arran followed a dozen paces behind the gaunt mage, suppressing the unease he felt as he approached the formless black object. Or rather, the black tear ¡ª because as he approached it, he saw that it was no object at all. Instead, it was like a hole within the world, with only darkness behind it.


    As he came closer, he felt a pulling sensation, as if the tear was trying to swallow him. Instinctively, he braced himself for a moment, but then realized he had to venture forward.


    Karanos was the first to reach the tear, and as he reached it, he suddenly disappeared. Arran blinked in surprise when he saw this ¡ª while he had seen Karanos reach the darkness, he had not seen the man enter it. Instead, his entire body had vanished the moment he touched the shadow.


    Arran paused when he saw this, but only for a second. Then, he took a deep breath, and crossed the last few paces to the tear in the world ¡ª the path to the Shadow Realm.


    Standing next to the hole in reality, the force that pulled on him was almost irresistible, and he knew he would struggle to break free even if he tried. But he was here to pass into the darkness, and he clenched his jaw as he reached out with his hand. And then¡ª


    Nothing.


    In an instant, the world around Arran disappeared as he was plunged into darkness. That was something he had expected to happen, but he felt a surge of panic when he realized that it wasn''t just his sight had gone dark.


    All his senses abruptly went dark. He couldn''t hear or feel anything ¡ª not even his own body. It was as if his consciousness had been ripped away and submerged in an ocean of thick, dark oil.


    Despite being unable to feel his body, he tried to speak, to ask Karanos ¡ª if he was there ¡ª for help, but nothing happened. If he still had a mouth, it didn''t move, and no sound came forward.


    The feeling filled Arran with terror, and he instinctively tried to scream. But again, nothing happened. If his body was still there, it did not respond to his mind anymore.


    It was a torturous feeling ¡ª far worse than being bound or imprisoned. Yet despite Arran''s horror at the situation, there was absolutely nothing he could do. It was as if he had been locked inside his own mind, without a way to escape.


    After a long time, Arran''s panic gradually subsided. Not because the situation terrified him any less, but because after days or weeks in this state, he had gradually grown numb to his fear.


    As he calmed down, he began to consider the situation. Perhaps this was normal ¡ª the unpleasant feeling Karanos had described. Or perhaps the man had deceived him, after all.


    Whatever the case, Arran had no way of finding out, and no way to do anything about it. He had no way to do anything ¡ª not with neither his body nor his Essence at his command. He was imprisoned in a sea of darkness, and the only thing he had were his thoughts.


    More time passed ¡ª months, perhaps even years ¡ª without anything happening, and gradually, Arran felt his thoughts growing slow and confused. He wondered about this some time, until finally, he realized it must be his body, slowly starving for lack of sustenance.


    Even in his muddled state, the realization caused him to grow excited. If his body was starving, it was still there, and his consciousness was still inside it. If nothing else, it meant he wasn''t dead ¡ª yet, at least.


    He vaguely remembered that Karanos had taught him a technique to sustain his body with Essence. And although it seemed like a long time ago, the technique was simple enough that he still knew how it worked.


    Yet he could not feel his body or Sense his Essence, and for a time, he wondered what to do, steadily feeling himself grow more confused as his thoughts seemed to slow even further.Find authorized novels in Webnovel£¬faster updates, better experience£¬Please click www.novelhall.comfor visiting.


    He realized that he could not let this continue. If he waited for much longer, his body would die ¡ª of that he was certain.


    With no other options, he began to perform the technique blindly, knowing neither whether he was doing it correctly ¡ª or at all ¡ª nor whether it was having any effects on his body.


    For a long time, nothing happened. But then, gradually, he began to feel his thoughts grow clearer, sharper. And as his clarity returned, he saw a small spark of hope in the distance.


    It seemed he still had both his body and his Shadow Essence. Now, all he needed was to regain his senses.

 Chapter 288 Darkness

    Trapped in the darkness, Arran had little idea of how much time passed.


    Occasionally his consciousness would fade for a while, and when it returned, he would blindly repeat Karanos''s circulation technique to nourish his body. That the technique worked, he knew because his thoughts no longer grew hazy and confused ¡ª if nothing else, at least his body wasn''t starving.


    For a time, he had tried to count the cycles, hoping that they might give him some rough idea of the passage of time. Yet the cycles repeated endlessly, each no different from the previous one, and he soon lost track of them.


    At any rate, it didn''t matter. Knowing whether it had been a year or a century would not help him escape the situation. As for what would¡­ that, he did not know. Not yet, at least.


    Though he saw no path forward, he did not despair. All he needed was to regain his senses, and if Karanos had managed to do so, then so could he. Because if there was one thing he had in abundance, it was time to find a solution.


    He began by scouring his memories for anything he knew about Shadow Essence, both from his own experience and from what his teachers had taught him.


    Each memory he had, he studied hundreds of times, painstakingly analyzing even the smallest details he could recall. From the moment Master Zhao had given him a Shadow Realm Scroll to the moment he stepped into the darkness, he dug up every shred of what he remembered.


    Despite Arran''s efforts, the epiphany he hoped for did not come. Studying his memories brought him some small insights into the nature of Shadow Essence, but none that could help him solve the problem directly.


    But then, a thought occurred to him.


    Sensing his own Shadow Essence had always been easy, even before he had begun training his Sense. Yet now, he couldn''t Sense even that ¡ª which meant his body must be filled with Shadow Essence that did not belong to him. And if that was the case, then perhaps he could displace it by drawing enough of his own Shadow Essence.


    He began the work immediately, using a simple technique to draw Essence from his Shadow Realm. It was a technique he had used many thousands of times since gaining his Realms, and performing it blindly was no obstacle.


    He steadily continued the work until, finally, he thought he could feel something at the edge of his Sense ¡ª as if his own Shadow Essence had almost driven out enough of the foreign Essence for him to Sense it.Find authorized novels in Webnovel£¬faster updates, better experience£¬Please click www.novelhall.comfor visiting.


    Yet there, with success almost within reach, his progress came to a sudden halt. And although he continued his attempts to draw more Essence, there was no effect whatsoever.


    By now, his mind was already beginning to grow blurry ¡ª a sign that his body needed nourishment. Had Arran been able to sigh, he would have. But there was nothing for it, and he switched to the circulation technique, draining his Essence to nourish his body.


    Then, when Arran thought he''d used all the Essence his body held, he began anew, once more drawing in Essence until he could go no more. The result wasn''t any different from the first time, but that didn''t discourage him ¡ª increasing his ability to hold Essence would be no simple matter.


    Again and again he tried, thousands of times, drawing as much Essence as he could before consuming it all to keep his body alive, all without being able to Sense even the slightest bit of it.


    Arran''s efforts seemed to have some small effect, and with each attempt, it felt like he was getting closer to succeeding.


    Yet it was as if there was some unseen barrier stopping him from taking in enough Essence to succeed, and no matter how he tried, the final step seemed impossible.


    Still, he did not relent. Even with the barrier in place, this was his best path to freeing his senses. And if he kept going long enough, perhaps the barrier would eventually fall.


    He continued ceaselessly, blindly pushing against the unseen barrier as he tried to draw in more Essence, ignoring the thousands of failed attempts.


    But then, he felt a sudden change.


    In an instant, he became aware of his body. And not just his body ¡ª his Shadow Essence, too.


    He was surprised to find that his Shadow Essence was nothing like before. Where it had previously been like a thin gas, it was now dense, like a liquid.


    It barely took Arran a moment to understand what had happened. In drawing more and more Essence from his Shadow Realm, he had condensed it into a different form.


    Which meant he had become a Master.


    He felt no shock at the realization, only mild surprise. After spending untold years locked inside his mind, his emotions had dulled to the point that he could feel no more than that.


    And either way, it didn''t matter ¡ª although he''d set a step toward freeing himself, there was still quite a ways to go.


    Many slivers of darkness still remained in his body, which he knew to be foreign Shadow Essence. Yet he could now draw in more of his own Essence, and as he did so, the slivers were driven out.


    This allowed him to finally examine the state of his body, and he found it absolutely pitiful. While he had nourished himself with Essence, he could now tell that it hadn''t been enough to stop him from withering away almost completely.


    Yet this wasn''t the time to worry about that. A far more important matter lay ahead of him. Although he could feel his body and Sense his Essence once more, his senses still extended not even a hair beyond his skin.


    He quickly tried his Shadowsight, and was disappointed but not surprised to find it didn''t work. While he could expel Shadow Essence from his body, he stopped Sensing it the moment it was no longer inside of him.


    Next, he tried casting some spells using Shadow Essence, but found those weren''t any use, either. He could Sense the dense weaves of Essence as long as they were in contact with his body, but no more than that.


    Perhaps his Shadowsight would work if he used it Shadow Essence as dense as what his body held, but there was no way to achieve that ¡ª even seeing a few paces beyond his body would require far more Essence than he could control.


    If he were a Grandmaster or Archmage, an approach like that might work, but as a new Master, it was still far beyond him.


    He spent some time considering his next move, but he soon realized that his only path forward was to find a way to Sense the foreign Shadow Essence ¡ª an impossible task, but one that Karanos had somehow achieved.


    Arran immediately set to work once more, the thought of celebrating his small victory not even crossing his mind. Once, he would have rejoiced at becoming a Master, but now, his thoughts were consumed with the task ahead.


    With his body and Essence once more fully within his control, he quickly realized that he could now study the alien Essence. While he could not Sense the Essence itself, he could identify it from the shadows it caused in his body when he withdrew his own Essence.


    The realization caused a small smile to appear on his face ¡ª the first he''d felt in a very long time.


    With just a few days of testing and experimenting, Arran discovered that although he could not Sense the foreign Essence, he could just barely manipulate it when it entered his body. It seemed that while it wasn''t his, exactly, he had some small level of control over it.


    This was the reason he was still alive, he knew. His own Essence never would have been enough to sustain his body during the long time he''d been locked inside his mind. But although he had not known it, he had consumed the foreign Essence along with his own, and that was what had kept him alive.


    More study and experiments followed, and although Arran''s body withered further ¡ª a sign that years had passed ¡ª he gradually began to gain a feeling for the alien Essence as he continued to manipulate it, something that gradually began to resemble Sensing.


    The progress was excruciatingly slow, but it was there. And with that knowledge, Arran stoically continued his labor.


    No more sudden surprises came. It was a process that consisted merely of endless work and gradual results.


    Arran steadily learned to Sense the foreign Essence within his body, the endless exposure to it sensitizing him to the point where he could recognize even the infinitesimally weak aura it gave off.


    After that, his progress grew more rapid. In a matter of years, his Sense sharpened further, eventually growing strong enough for him to make out his surroundings ¡ª a small cave, as it turned out.


    And within the cave, Arran found a figure.


    "You were here all this time?" he asked, turning his head to Karanos.


    He could see ¡ª or Sense, rather ¡ª that the figure was moving its mouth, but no sound came. It seemed that although Arran was near the end of the path, he hadn''t quite reached it yet.

 Chapter 289 The Shadow Realm

    Karanos frowned as he saw Arran''s non-comprehending stare. A thoughtful expression appeared on his face, and a moment later, he made a small gesture with his right hand.


    Again, his lips moved, and this time words reached Arran''s ears.


    "Keep your voice down. It''s dangerous here."


    The sound of Karanos''s voice was muffled and distorted, and Arran understood the white-eyed mage had used some sort of magic to make it travel through the cloud of Shadow Essence that filled the small cave.


    It wasn''t just the air that was saturated with Shadow Essence, he Sensed ¡ª the stone floor and walls were filled with it, too. And although Arran could Sense no further than that, he had little doubt that the dark Essence didn''t stop there.


    In the Shadow Realm, he suspected, there wouldn''t be a single rock or pebble that wasn''t steeped in Shadow Essence.


    "Where are we?" he asked in a soft voice. It was obvious that the small cave wasn''t where they had arrived ¡ª it held no sign of any portal back to the real world.


    "Somewhere out of sight," Karanos replied. "Unless you draw attention, we can remain here at least a few more days."


    Arran realized that Karanos must have moved him repeatedly while he was trapped inside his mind, transporting him between shelters to keep him safe. And if he had been gone as long as he suspected, that had been no small task.


    He considered asking his companion how long it had been, but after a thought, he decided against it.


    How many years had passed made little difference. And, more importantly, if he was older than Brightblade now, that was a piece of knowledge he could do without.


    "What''s next?" he asked instead.


    "First, you need to recover," Karanos replied. "At least enough to travel. Our destination is not far from here, but once we reach it, we will need to leave in a hurry."


    Arran responded with a short nod. That his body would need time to recover was clear ¡ª even if he had nourished it with Essence, years without movement and food had left him withered and weak. "How long do I have?"


    "A few days," Karanos said. "I will venture outside, and wait until the area is clear. Once I see an opportunity, we will leave immediately."


    "That short?" A few days was far less than Arran needed ¡ª barely enough for him to stretch his atrophied muscles, if that. With that little time, he might be able to walk, but not much more than that.


    Karanos shrugged. "It''s either that, or leave the area for a decade. Our window grows short, and soon, this area will become a death trap."


    "Something is about to happen?" Arran asked, curious to hear more about this world and the dangers it held.


    "Winter is approaching," Karanos explained. "In this world, that means a decade of darkness even worse than the darkness of summer. And when the dark arrives, it will bring creatures with it ¡ª ones I have no desire to face."


    Arran creased his brow in thought. "Then what did you do before I awoke?" he asked after a moment. Although he didn''t know how long he''d been gone, he knew it had been far more than a mere decade.


    "We sheltered, but far away from the cities," Karanos said. "The cities are what draws most of the creatures. Out in the wilderness, some safety can be found."


    "Then we''re in a city right now?" A puzzled expression crossed Arran''s face. He''d thought the world a dead one ¡ª certainly not a place that had its own cities.


    "The remains of one," Karanos answered. "But you will see that for yourself when we leave. Right now, your attention is best spent on recovering your strength."Find authorized novels in Webnovel£¬faster updates, better experience£¬Please click www.novelhall.comfor visiting.


    He got up from the ground, then headed toward the small cave''s exit, disappearing beyond the range of Arran''s Sense a few moments later.


    Arran did not waste any time after Karanos left. At once, he forced himself to get to his feet, then clenched his jaw and began to walk around the small cave.


    The state of his body was every bit as bad as he feared. He struggled just to walk, and the first few steps already caused jabs of pain to shoot through his back and legs. He endured the pain stoically, but even so, his strength failed him after a few short minutes, and he collapsed to the ground.


    A wry smile crossed his face as he sat up again.


    He knew he would regain his strength eventually, but for now, it seemed he was stuck with the body of a crippled old man ¡ª which was fitting, though unpleasant.


    To recover from the brief bit of exercise, he began to circulate Essence through his body. Dragon meat would have been more useful, but all his food was stored in his void ring. For now, he would have to settle for Essence.


    As Arran nourished his body, he considered the progress he had made while trapped in the Shadow.


    The most obvious step forward was that he had become a Master, but he knew that this was also the least useful. As the Sixth Valley''s Patriarch had told it, the Master, Grandmaster, and Archmage ranks only described a mage''s supply of Essence, and little more than that.


    In fact, Arran clearly recalled that the Patriarch had said it was possible to become an Archmage without knowing even a single spell. What truly mattered was skill, and of that, rank said little.


    Arran''s skills had also advanced, however. While he had not learned any new spells or practiced his casting techniques, countless years of commanding Shadow Essence ¡ª both his own and the alien kind ¡ª had increased his control considerably.


    Yet what had improved most was his Sense.


    Once, this had been among his weakest points, perhaps even the weakest. But no longer. Years of studying the infinitesimal differences within Shadow Essence had sharpened his Sense so far he suspected it would put even most Archmages to shame.


    That was something that would help him in many ways ¡ª in his studies, in avoiding traps, and even in combat. Even if it would not directly strengthen him, a strong Sense was an invaluable tool for mages. And Arran''s should now rank among the strongest.


    Still, he could not help but feel slightly disappointed.


    The one thing that had not improved was his strength. Once he unsealed his other Realms, he knew he would find them no stronger than before. His offensive magic had not improved in the least ¡ª if anything, he would need to practice just to return to his old level.


    And his body was worse. Weak and withered as he was, it would take him months to regain his old strength, and his techniques must have suffered from years of disuse.


    All considered, it seemed a poor result for countless years spent trapped in darkness. But complaining wouldn''t change that, and after a brief sigh, Arran turned his attention back to his recovery.


    In the days that followed, he divided his time between training ¡ª if it could even be called that ¡ª and nourishing his body with Shadow Essence, using both his own and the foreign Essence that surrounded him.


    The efforts allowed Arran to recover, after a fashion. While he was still far from regaining his full strength, his feebleness mostly subsided. As long as he managed to avoid battle, that should be enough to travel, if only barely.


    Several more days passed without any sign of Karanos. At first, Arran was glad for the extra time this gave him to recover, but as more days passed, he began to feel some worry.


    But then, after ten days, Karanos suddenly stepped into the cave again. And although Arran could only use his Sense to see, even the limited sight that gave him was enough for him to know that the gaunt mage was worried.


    "We need to leave," Karanos said. "Right now."


    Arran faced the mage, raising his eyebrow. "That opening you mentioned¡­ I take it that didn''t work out as planned?"


    "It didn''t," Karanos replied. "But we''ll have to chance it. The creatures are already arriving, weeks earlier than they should. Even if we flee now and return in a decade, I fear the situation will only have grown worse."


    He shook his head in frustration, then continued, "Each time I''ve been in the Shadow Realm, it was worse than the previous times. But these past years, it''s as if it has begun to deteriorate more rapidly."


    "So we''re heading out?" Arran asked. While Karanos''s obvious concern caused him some unease, his lack of familiarity with the Shadow Realm meant he had no way to judge the danger.


    "Right now," Karanos confirmed. "Follow me. And whatever you do, once we''re outside, don''t allow even a shred of your Essence to leave your body."


    Without waiting for a reply, he headed for the cave''s entrance, with Arran following close behind him.


    When they stepped outside, Arran was immediately struck by his surroundings. Everything around him was pitch black, not even the slightest sliver of light passing through the thick layer of Shadow Essence that covered the land.


    If this was summer, as Karanos had said, Arran wondered what the supposed darkness of winter must be like, and how the mage could even tell the difference between the two. Because as far as he could tell, the world was already plunged in utter darkness.


    Yet his Sense allowed him to inspect the area, and he immediately realized that this was a city ¡ª or that it had been one, at least, countless thousands of years ago. As far as his Sense reached, the land was covered in worn-down ruins, crumbling reminders that the place had once been inhabited.


    However, this examination was interrupted when he Sensed something farther in the distance ¡ª a creature, seemingly made of Essence. And although the type of animal it had once been was unfamiliar to him, he recognized the kind of creature it had become at once ¡ª except this one was vastly larger than the ones he had seen before.


    "A Remnant," he whispered.


    "That''s what they''re called?" Karanos''s asked in a subdued voice. But a moment later, he continued, "No matter. We need to leave before it Senses us. Come!"


    Crouching, he hurried in the opposite direction of the creature, and Arran quickly followed after him, anxious to move away from the monster in the distance.


    While the Essence Remnants he had seen in the mountains near the Ninth Valley had been terrifying, this one was something else entirely. Hundreds of feet tall, the colossal monster lumbered through the ruined city, and Arran had no interest in finding out what would happen if it spotted them.


    For over an hour, Karanos and Arran rushed through the seemingly endless ruins of what must once have been a vast city. Then, finally, they came to a halt.


    Crouching behind a crumbled wall, Karanos turned to Arran. In a tense voice, he asked, "The creature¡­ you''ve seen ones like it before?"

 Chapter 290 Amid The Ruins

    "I''ve seen Essence Remnants before," Arran confirmed. "Though none as large as that one."


    He cast a wary glance in the direction from which they had come. Although an hour''s travel had put several miles between them and the monstrous creature, he still half expected to see its lumbering figure appear in the distance.


    "So our world has them, as well," Karanos said in a soft voice, his expression troubled.


    A frown crossed Arran''s face. "Before we entered this world, you said it held a warning I should see." He gestured at the ruins around them. "Is this it? You think the same fate might befall our own world?"


    They had barely left the cave an hour ago, but already, Arran had seen enough to suspect that this Shadow Realm had once been a world like his own, filled with people and cities. Yet something had happened to it ¡ª some great calamity had plunged it into darkness and inundated it with Shadow Essence.


    "Correct," Karanos replied, giving a small nod. "In the years I spent traveling this world, I encountered many ruined cities like this ¡ª thousands of them. Once, this world must have held numerous civilizations. But now, none of them remain."


    "Are there any people left?" Arran asked.


    "None that I have met," the mage said. "Though I suspect that I have only explored a small part of this world. It is possible that some people still remain."


    Despite the words, his tone made it clear he thought it unlikely, and Arran could only agree with that. If the rest of the world was plunged in Shadow Essence as well, he could not imagine any settlements or villages holding out against the darkness.


    Some powerful mages might have survived whatever happened to this world, but weaker ones would definitely have fallen.


    As for commoners ¡ª there was no need to even consider them. In a world like this, no commoners would survive more than a few days.


    Yet having seen the effects, Arran now wondered what the cause had been. The amount of Shadow Essence covering the world seemed endless ¡ª far more than even millions of mages could produce.


    "Do you know what happened here?" he asked with a curious look at Karanos.Find authorized novels in Webnovel£¬faster updates, better experience£¬Please click www.novelhall.comfor visiting.


    "I do not," the man replied. "Something allowed a flood of Essence to enter this world, but what it was, I do not know. It happened long before I arrived here." He paused briefly, his expression pensive. Then, he added, "And it still continues. The Shadow Essence is far denser today than when I first arrived, and it grows denser still ¡ª and faster than before."


    Arran spent some moments considering the reply. With the difference in time between this world and his own, countless thousands of years must have passed since the first time Karanos set foot in this world.


    If that was the case, and the flood of Shadow Essence still continued, it could not merely be the result of mages bringing Essence into the world. Something had opened a floodgate, and from the sound of it, it remained open still.


    "But enough of that," Karanos interrupted Arran''s thoughts. "We have much to discuss, but it will have to wait. I do not wish to remain here any longer than necessary. We will retrieve the gift I promised you, then travel to safer lands."


    Arran quickly nodded in response. Intriguing though the matter was, he had no desire to remain in the city ¡ª not with monstrous Remnants stalking around the ruins.


    They set off again without any further words, quietly making their way through the crumbled remains of what once had been a great city.


    And that it had been great was certain, because they spent the next few days traveling through the ruins, with the city''s remains showing no sign of ending even then.


    Even if little remained of the buildings that had once filled the area, it was clear that the city had once been vast beyond comprehension. For the ruins to stretch this far, millions would have had to live within the city when it still lived.


    But now, not a trace of life remained amid the ruins. There were no people or animals, nor even insects. And while the ruins held some growths that vaguely resembled plants, even those seemed on the verge of death.


    Much to Arran''s relief, they encountered no other Remnants, either. This was Karanos''s doing, he knew. Several times, the man had them make sudden changes in direction, apparently Sensing danger ahead ¡ª long before Arran could detect any trace of it.


    While he was grateful for Karanos''s company, Arran could not help but wonder how the mage had ever survived his own first visits to the strange land. Had Arran himself traveled here without knowing about the dangers, he had no doubt he would not have survived.


    They had traveled for over a week ¡ª or so Arran thought, though without day or night, he couldn''t be certain ¡ª when Karanos suddenly came to a halt in front of a large hill.


    "We have reached our destination," the mage announced, some relief in his voice. "The reason I brought you here."


    "This hill is our destination?" Arran frowned and used his Sense to inspect the hill, but he found nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing here seemed any different from the many ruins they had passed during the previous days.


    "This hill, as you call it, was once a great palace," Karanos said. "And although the palace itself is long gone, we came here for what lies beneath ¡ª one of the few places in this world that still retains some shadow of its former glory."


    With that, he guided Arran through the crumbled ruins that lined the hillside, finally coming to a halt at a narrow gap between two house-sized boulders.


    "Follow me," he said, then disappeared into the gap.


    Arran quickly followed behind him, and was surprised to find that a narrow tunnel lay behind the two boulders. Karanos entered this as well, gesturing for Arran to follow him.


    Inside, they traveled for nearly half an hour through the confines of the tunnel. From what Arran could tell, he thought the tunnel wasn''t man-made. Rather, it seemed like a crack within the hill, at times so narrow he could only barely force himself through the cramped space.


    But then, unexpectedly, they suddenly emerged into a wider space. And here, the walls were smooth and straight, clearly built by human hands.


    That was only part of what drew Arran''s attention, however, as he was shocked to Sense a trace of Essence ¡ª and something other than Shadow Essence.


    He immediately inspected the surroundings more thoroughly, and was startled to find what appeared to be a formation. It was like no formation he had ever encountered before, and it was so weak even his much-strengthened Sense only barely detected it, but its presence was undeniable.


    "One of the formations that originally protected these dungeons," Karanos explained. "Somehow, it managed to last through the countless thousands of centuries that have passed since it was created. And while it is no longer strong enough to stop us from entering, it still bars Essence within from being Sensed outside."


    Arran nodded thoughtfully, taking the opportunity to examine the formation with his Sense. While it was too complex for him to understand, he made an effort to remember as much as he could of it ¡ª any formation that had lasted so long was one worth knowing. Once he left the Shadow Realm, he could try to comprehend more of it.


    But Karanos was in no mood for waiting. "Come on," he said in a tense voice. "While we''re safe here, we don''t have much time to waste. With every hour that passes, more creatures ¡ª Remnants, as you call them ¡ª arrive in the city. We should hurry."


    Arran reluctantly tore his attention away from the ancient formation, then asked, "Where are we going?"


    At this, Karanos flashed him a smile ¡ª the first he''d shown in a long time. "To the treasury, of course," he said.


    Over the next hour, they traveled through a series of wide hallways, and went down several large staircases as they descended deeper into these dungeons. Along the way, Arran Sensed more formations that had survived the passage of time, and he guessed that these were the only thing stopping the dungeons from collapsing.


    Yet Karanos gave him no chance to study them, nor did he allow Arran to explore any of the chambers that lined the hallways. "No time," he said curtly when Arran asked. "And I already searched this place when I first discovered it ¡ª there''s nothing of value to be found here."


    Arran reluctantly accepted it, though he still wished he could have the opportunity to explore the place thoroughly. Even if there was nothing of value to be found inside, just the formations were enough to rouse his interest.


    Then, finally, they reached the end of a wide hall, at the end of which stood a vast doorway that held two massive steel doors. Arran did not need to guess to know that this was the treasury ¡ª he could not imagine any other place being so well-protected.


    Yet the doors now stood open, and as Karanos approached them, he motioned for Arran to follow him.


    "Let''s get this gift of yours," he said. "And after that, we''ll waste no time in leaving this place. If we''re lucky, we should still have time to escape."

 Chapter 291 Shards of Living Shadow

    As Arran followed Karanos through the doorway, he was immediately startled by what he found within the chamber that lay behind the thick steel doors.


    He instantly Sensed that this chamber had its own formation, concealing its contents from any outside of it. The formation had withstood the ravages of time every bit as well as those protecting the outer part of the dungeons, and although it had not blocked Shadow Essence from flooding the chamber, there was more than just here.


    The chamber''s high walls were filled with intricate patterns of Essence ¡ª Force, Fire, and other kinds that Arran did not recognize ¡ª that shone like beacons amid the darkness, and Arran observed them in astonishment.


    He realized at once that these patterns weren''t wards or seals, but what their purpose was, he could not say. It almost seemed like they had no purpose at all ¡ª as if they were decorations, but ones that only mages could appreciate.


    "Those patterns, what are they?" he asked Karanos, a questioning expression on his face.


    "Writing, I would say," Karanos replied. "It might be a message for visitors, left behind when the palace was abandoned." He shrugged, then added, "But I cannot be certain. Whatever tongue the people here spoke was lost when their civilization fell."


    Arran turned his gaze back to the strange patterns, and now, he recognized that Karanos was probably right. The shapes resembled writing more than anything, albeit in a language wholly different from the ones he knew.


    He stood there for a moment, wondering just what message the writing might hold. A warning, perhaps ¡ª a final desperate message for future generations, to caution them of whatever it was that had brought catastrophe to this world.


    But no future generations had come. The civilization that had built the city had disappeared, and its language had been lost with it. And now, the signs had been reduced to mere scribbles, with no one left to understand them.


    Arran let out a sigh, then turned his attention to the rest of the chamber.


    He quickly realized that the chamber held a vast amount of treasure. There were piles of gems and jewelry, carved statues, and stone relics, their shapes all unfamiliar and alien to Arran.


    Had he been able to use his void ring, he would have stripped the chamber bare in moments. But as it was, he had no way to transport the treasures ¡ª there was far more than he could carry, and he doubted Karanos would help him satisfy his lust for treasure.


    In the far right corner of the chamber, however, he detected something different ¡ª enchantments, he realized with some excitement. Numerous objects and artifacts lay on the ground, and more than a few of them bore traces of ancient enchantments.


    Yet even as Arran moved to examine the enchanted objects, Karanos shook his head.


    "Leave those items be," the mage said. "They''re of no use to us."


    "But they''re enchanted," Arran objected. "Some of them might still be useful ¡ª if the enchantments have lasted this long, they cannot be weak."


    "Weak, they are not," Karanos replied. "But what they are is unstable. Even the ones that still appear intact may have hidden flaws that can lead to¡­ unexpected results." He gave a small chuckle, then added, "Trust me on this. You do not want to repeat my mistakes."


    Arran gave the man a reluctant nod. "Then what are we here for?"


    "The armory," Karanos said patiently. "That''s where the true treasures lie. Now follow me."


    He started toward the wall at the far end of the chamber, coming to a halt just a step away from it. Then, after a brief moment of hesitation, he reached out and pressed his palm against the wall.


    At once, a small portion of the wall receded and slid to the side, revealing a small doorway that led to another chamber.


    As Karanos stepped through the doorway, Arran hurried behind him, the enchanted objects already forgotten at the mention of an armory.


    The armory turned out to be a large chamber, nearly the size of the main treasury. And when Arran saw what lay within it, his breath caught in his throat.


    The walls were lined with big racks, each filled with arms and armor. And although the cloud of Shadow Essence seemed thinner here than elsewhere, the armaments themselves all appeared to consist of pure darkness ¡ª Living Shadow, Arran realized.


    "This¡­" he began, eyes wide with astonishment. "The shards of Living Shadow¡­ they''re all weapons? And armor?"Find authorized novels in Webnovel£¬faster updates, better experience£¬Please click www.novelhall.comfor visiting.


    "Correct," Karanos said. "And you will choose one of them for yourself."


    It was not at all what Arran had expected. He''d thought the Living Shadow was some sort of substance that could be controlled to form weapons. But instead, it appeared to be the other way around ¡ª the shards of Living Shadow were weapons first, and they could be made to take other shapes.


    Still, he was eager to pick one of the items. Even with a brief glance, he''d already seen plenty of things in the armory that caught his interest.


    But then, a thought occurred to him, and he asked, "But how is that possible? Wouldn''t that mean they were already created before this world became a Shadow Realm?"


    "They were, in a sense," Karanos replied. "From what I can tell, these objects were once made out of starmetal. But starmetal can absorb Essence, and after countless thousands of years absorbing Shadow Essence, they became what they are today ¡ª Living Shadow."


    "Then starmetal can become Living Shadow?" Arran furrowed his brow in thought, and after a moment, he asked, "Then could the same thing be done with other types of Essence?"


    "Most likely, yes," Karanos replied. "Though to do so would require many lifetimes ¡ª too many even for a mage. It is only through countless thousands of years of absorbing Essence that starmetal can achieve this state."


    As he looked at the weapons that filled the chamber, Arran recalled something that Lord Jiang told him when he first gained a starmetal sword. "I''ve heard it said that Essence is strengthened by starmetal," he said, his expression pensive.


    "And like most tales, there''s a core of truth to that one," Karanos said. "Starmetal will be strengthened as it absorbs Essence ¡ª just not on any timescale that''s useful to mere humans. Although, perhaps, if mages were to pass down a starmetal weapon across a thousand generations¡­"


    Karanos shrugged, then abandoned the thought. "But you are lucky enough to find yourself here, so choose an item ¡ª just one, however, and one that isn''t too large."


    Arran gave the mage a questioning look. "What difference does the size make?"


    "When you pick a weapon," Karanos said, "you will have to feed it your own Shadow Essence ¡ª enough for you to gain some control over it, so you can stop it from inadvertently betraying our location once we leave. The larger the weapon is, the longer that will take."


    Seeing Arran''s disappointed look, he chuckled, then added, "No need to be dejected. My own shard was originally a mere dagger, but it can easily become a sword or spear."


    Arran gave a small nod, but he had another question. "Why just one?" he asked. "Wouldn''t it be better to have several?"


    "Better?" Karanos shrugged. "Perhaps. But as you will find, ''Living Shadow'' is no mere name ¡ª the shards have some semblance of consciousness, albeit a very simple one, and they do not willingly share their territory. Even if you take two of them, one will eventually devour the other."


    At this, Arran frowned, feeling a flash of reluctance at the thought of having a weapon that would not fully obey his commands. Yet his hesitation passed a moment later, when he remembered what he had seen of Karanos''s weapon.


    "So I can pick any weapon I want?" he asked.


    "You can take whichever item you like," Karanos replied. "Though, again, I strongly suggest you take one of the smaller pieces. Time is running short. If we remain here too long, the city will be crawling with creatures ¡ª Remnants, as you call them ¡ª when we leave."


    Arran responded with a brief nod. Then, narrowing his eyes, he began to examine the treasures within the armory.


    The thing item that caught his interest wasn''t a weapon but a suit of armor. There were several of those, each of them stunningly well-crafted, but this one stood out even among the others.


    It held an aura of command, as if it had been made for a king or emperor, and its size was exactly right for Arran. He knew that this should make little difference ¡ª the Living Shadow could change shape, after all ¡ª but the sight still caused a shiver to run down his spine. It was as if the armor had been made for him.


    He shot a glance at Karanos. "Can''t we stay here until winter passes?" That would mean spending a decade within the dungeons, but Arran thought it might be worth the price. After the years he''d already spent locked inside his own mind, a decade would hardly make a difference.


    Karanos, however, firmly shook his head. "I do not know whether it will pass at all ¡ª the Shadow Essence has been growing denser in recent years, and I do not wish to find out what another decade will do. Not within the city, at least."


    A small smile crossed his face, and he added, "But even if we had the time, that armor would be a bad choice for you. It''s too big ¡ª I doubt you''d be able to control it even with centuries of training."


    With a sigh, Arran reluctantly tore his eyes away from the armor, then continued his search.


    The next thing that caught his eye was a large poleaxe. It was a brutal weapon, clearly designed for the battlefield, and Arran had no doubt that it could wreak havoc on any enemies with the misfortune of being struck by it.


    Yet after a moment, he shook his head ¡ª the weapon was too large, and he knew little of polearms. And even if the weapon could change shape, he wanted an item whose natural shape was a familiar one.


    Next, he turned his attention to a large, heavy sword. An executioner''s blade, from the looks of it. There was a viciousness to the weapon that Arran liked, along with an almost malevolent hunger. Still, he rejected this weapon as well ¡ª it was still too large, and it appeared unwieldy, besides.


    Again, he looked further, and a moment later, he spotted a large two-handed blade. Its appearance immediately caused a smile to appear on his face. While it was large, it seemed well-balanced, and Arran could easily imagine himself wielding it on a battlefield.


    But a moment later, he realized that there was something about it that didn''t feel right ¡ª as if it had been made for ceremony rather than battle. He frowned, then moved on once more.


    Over the next half hour, he examined countless weapons and pieces of armor ¡ª war hammers, shields, spears, halberds, staves, and numerous swords. Yet, again and again, he found himself reluctant to choose any of the items.


    Although each of the items was masterfully crafted and made from a material vastly more valuable than starmetal, none of them drew Arran like the armor had. And although he knew he could not choose the armor, he couldn''t help but compare each of the items to it, and every one of them fell short.


    But then, suddenly, Arran saw it ¡ª an arming sword, hidden in a corner among the lesser weapons. Even without touching it, he could see that it was heavy but perfectly balanced, and its design was simple but functional. It was a sword made for war, forged for someone who cared about victory rather than glory.


    To Arran''s eyes, it was perfect in every way.


    "This one," he said instantly. "This is the sword I choose."


    Karanos didn''t respond immediately, and when he did, there was hesitation in his voice. "It''s large¡­" he began.


    But then, sensing Arran''s excitement, he let out a sigh. "All right. Take it. When you touch it, you will feel a pulling sensation. Do not resist it. You will have to feed it a great deal of Essence before you can control it." In a tense voice, he added, "Just be quick about it. We don''t have much longer ¡ª a week, if that."


    A broad grin appeared on Arran''s face. Bracing himself for what was to come, he reached for the sword.

 Chapter 292 A Fitting Weapon

    As soon as Arran touched the jet-black sword, he felt the condensed Essence within it react to his skin. Surprisingly, it seemed to withdraw from his touch ¡ª almost as if the weapon was afraid of him.


    Arran frowned at the odd reaction, but he did not let it deter him. He clenched his jaw, then grabbed the sword''s hilt and pulled it from its rack.


    Several moments passed without anything happening, and Arran began to wonder if something was wrong. The sword was supposed to feed on his Essence, yet instead, it seemed to be shrinking away from his touch.


    With a thought, he moved some of his Shadow Essence toward the weapon, then forced it into the sword''s hilt. Perhaps that would entice the Living Shadow to feed.


    There was no immediate response, but after a second or two, Arran felt a faint pulling sensation. It was only barely noticeable, but it was enough to draw a thin strand of Shadow Essence into the Living Shadow, where it promptly vanished.


    The taste of Essence seemed to have emboldened the Living Shadow, because only a single breath later, the rest of the Essence was drawn inside and consumed.


    Again he sent some Essence into the weapon ¡ª slightly more, this time ¡ª and again the weapon seemed to hesitate before accepting the gift and consuming it.


    This repeated for several times, and Arran could not help but smile in bemusement. |The whole situation seemed more akin to using food to win the trust of a stray dog than trying to gain control a powerful artifact.


    Arran continued to feed the sword through the days that followed, slowly growing more familiar with the object and the power within. And if the Living Shadow didn''t exactly seem comfortable with him yet, with every meal it grew slightly less hesitant, consuming the Essence more quickly and eagerly.


    After two days of this, enough of Arran''s Shadow Essence had entered the weapon for him to Sense it.


    By now, he was pouring as much Essence as he could into the Living Shadow. That was nothing compared to the weapon''s own power, but it was enough for him to gain a connection to it. And through this connection, he became aware of just how much power the blade held.


    He had known the Living Shadow contained a vast reservoir of Essence, of course ¡ª after countless thousands of years of absorbing Shadow Essence, that was to be expected. But now, he began to realize just how vast that pool of Essence was.


    Compared to the ocean of Essence within the weapon, his efforts over the past days barely amounted to a single drop. And while that was just barely enough for him to Sense the weapon, it was nowhere near what he needed to control it.


    Still, he continued undeterred, continuously gathering as much Essence as he could and pouring every last drop of it into the weapon.


    Steadily, the connection between Arran and the weapon grew stronger. And after another two days had passed, he began to feel that there was something more to it ¡ª something beyond the vast sea of Essence it held.


    The weapon was more than just concentrated power, he realized ¡ª it really did hold some sort of rudimentary consciousness. It devoured the Essence he fed it eagerly, but it still seemed slightly fearful of his touch.


    Anxious to learn more of this, Arran stood up from the ground and held up the sword, then gave it a few quick swings.


    At once, his eyes widened in delight. It was as if the weapon somehow knew what he required, as if it remembered the movements of battle. Rather than resisting his control, as Arran had feared, the sword appeared eager to be wielded. Each swing Arran made, the sword strengthened, amplifying the power of his attacks.


    "You''re learning to control it?" Karanos asked, his eyes studiously following Arran''s movements.


    "I think so," Arran replied. "When I use it, it''s like it strengthens my strikes."


    "Good," Karanos said. "But our time runs short. Focus on concealing its Essence ¡ª with the weapon in its current state, we have no chance of escaping."


    Arran responded with a nod. He knew Karanos was right ¡ª as it was, the pitch-black blade was like a mass of impossibly dense Shadow Essence. And if the Remnants in the city could detect Shadow Essence, a weapon like this would be like a beacon in the night.


    For them to escape, he would have to make the weapon conceal itself. And for that, he would need to increase his control over it.


    He spent another day practicing sword strikes as he continued to pour Essence into the weapon. Before anything else, it had to grow accustomed to his control. And since both Arran and the weapon were familiar with battle, this was the easiest way to achieve that.


    After a day, Arran decided it was time to move forward. While he would''ve preferred to have a month ¡ª or even a year ¡ª to strengthen his bond to the weapon, there simply wasn''t enough time for that. He needed to conceal it, and he had only days to achieve that goal.


    The task seemed almost impossible, but there was nothing for it but to try. The only alternative was to leave the weapon behind, and Arran had no intention of abandoning a treasure as powerful as this. He set his jaw and got to work, determined to succeed.


    As expected, the challenge proved a difficult one. While the sword had been easy to control when wielding it, controlling its Essence proved far harder.


    It wasn''t that the weapon resisted his control. Rather, it was as if the sword did not understand what he wanted it to do ¡ª as if he was trying to teach a dog how to write.


    Had more of his Essence been inside the weapon, it would have been easier ¡ª then, he could have exerted enough control to force the matter. But right now, he could only nudge the weapon and hope that it would follow his lead.


    Yet the weapon appeared eager to please him, and even if it had some difficulty understanding what he wanted, he made steady progress.


    After three days of constant practice, he could more or less conceal the weapon''s dense Shadow Essence. The result wasn''t nearly as good as he wished ¡ª and occasionally the concealment failed ¡ª but if the Shadow Essence had earlier been like a beacon, now, it was more like a campfire.


    "It''s not good enough," Karanos said, his expression troubled. "But we''ll have to chance it. We''ve run out of time."


    "If you give me another day¡ª" Arran began. With another day, he might at least stop the concealment from randomly failing.


    "We don''t have another day," the mage interrupted him. "We should have left the city weeks ago, truth be told. But it was too valuable an opportunity to pass up ¡ª and even now, it''s worth the risk."


    "Are you sure it''s worth it?" Arran asked, casting a hesitant glance at his sword.


    No matter how much he valued his new weapon, he would rather leave it behind than face certain death. A treasure like this could save his life a hundred times over in his own world, but that was little use if he didn''t make it back alive.


    "I am," Karanos replied firmly. "Now let''s be on our way. You can improve your control further while we travel."Find authorized novels in Webnovel£¬faster updates, better experience£¬Please click www.novelhall.comfor visiting.


    "All right," Arran said, relieved and worried in equal parts. While he was glad he would not have to relinquish his treasure, he hoped he would not have to pay too high a price for keeping it.


    He moved to belt on his new sword, but then, a mass of shadow suddenly shot out from the wall, soaring toward him.


    Instinctively, he parried the attack with his sword. Yet although the parry was successful, the mass of shadow enveloped his blade, covering it in dense darkness.


    It took Arran a moment to recognize what was happening, and when he did, his eyes went wide with shock. The dark mass was consuming his sword.


    "No!" he cried out, but it was already too late.


    The dark mass had fully consumed his blade, and he felt his connection to the weapon vanish abruptly. A second later, the mass of darkness changed shape, and Arran stared in astonishment at what he was holding.


    Where the flawless arming sword had been moments earlier, there now was the vicious executioner''s blade that had hung on the wall. Large and unwieldy, it had a fearsome aura ¡ª even more so than before it consumed Arran''s sword.


    At once, Arran tried to drop it, but the sword somehow clung to his hand, seemingly unwilling to be abandoned.


    And that wasn''t all. The Shadow Essence that Arran had poured into the arming sword was now inside the executioner''s blade, and through that, he could Sense the power it held ¡ª as well as the consciousness that resided within.


    The executioner''s blade was vastly more powerful than the arming sword had been, Arran Sensed, the amount of Essence within it incomparably larger. And where the arming sword had been like a timid but loyal dog, the executioner''s blade was more like a vicious wolf, as cunning as it was savage.


    "It ate my sword¡­" Arran stared at the blade with wide-eyed bewilderment.


    "That''s not possible," Karanos replied, his expression every bit as astonished as Arran''s.


    And yet, possible or not, it was clear that was exactly what had happened ¡ª the executioner''s blade had enveloped Arran''s sword and consumed it whole, leaving nothing behind.


    "You''ll have to leave it," Karanos said in a tense voice. "We have to leave, and we can''t travel with¡­ that."


    "I''m trying to," Arran said, "but it won''t let go."


    A deep frown on his face, he reached for the blade with his left hand, hoping that perhaps he might forcefully pry it away. There was no question in his mind of keeping this weapon ¡ª it was far too strong for him to control, and he had no way to conceal it.


    Yet before his left hand reached the weapon, it suddenly changed shape once more. In just a fraction of a moment, the oversized executioner''s blade shrank into the shape of the arming sword ¡ª a perfect copy, but one with a viciousness the original had lacked.


    Moreover, as it shrank, the intense darkness of the material faded away. Within seconds, the Living Shadow turned into plain steel. Had Arran''s Shadow Essence not allowed him to Sense its true nature, the concealment would have been perfect.


    "You can control it?" Karanos asked, his voice unsteady with shock.


    "I can''t," Arran replied. "But¡­ I don''t think it wants to be left behind."

 Chapter 293 A Small Bribe

    "You say it doesn''t want to be left behind?" Karanos looked at Arran with a deep frown on his face. "Then it wants something? And you can sense it?"Find authorized novels in Webnovel£¬faster updates, better experience£¬Please click www.novelhall.comfor visiting.


    Arran understood the mage''s surprise perfectly. He hadn''t spent much time with the ill-fated arming sword, but enough to know it held only a semblance of consciousness. And although he couldn''t be certain, it was a fair guess that Karanos''s weapon would be no more intelligent.


    Yet the executioner''s blade was different.


    Even with Arran''s weak connection to the weapon, he could tell that it held an intelligence and cunning far beyond anything a mere treasure should possess. And more than that, it held a sense of purpose ¡ª it wanted to escape.


    "It wants to leave this dungeon," he said. Then, with some hesitation, he added, "And this world, I think."


    "The sword has the right idea," Karanos said. "But now, decide if you want to keep it. Either way, we have to leave."


    Arran felt a brief moment of surprise that Karanos would leave the choice up to him, but then, he realized it made sense. Between the two of them, only he had any idea of whether the weapon could be trusted to remain hidden when they left the dungeons.


    The decision was a tough one, and there wasn''t much time to make it. But as he gave it a moment of thought, Arran realized the risk would be too great. As much as he wished to have a treasure like this, he couldn''t stake their lives on his feeling that the weapon meant him no harm.


    Yet when he was about to discard the executioner''s blade ¡ª if he could ¡ª he felt a sudden pressure coming from the weapon, as if it was urging him to move. And when he looked up, he realized it was urging him in the direction of the suit of armor stood against the wall.


    After a brief moment of hesitation, he moved in the direction of the armor, curious to see what the weapon''s intentions were. He came to a halt a pace away from the armor, and there, he felt the sword pulling at his arm ¡ª a gentle force, clearly restrained to avoid startling him.


    He raised an eyebrow in bemusement, but nevertheless, he moved the sword forward, then lightly touched it against the armor.


    As soon as the two objects made contact, a small shred of shadow shot from the sword into the armor. And just a moment later, the jet-black armor collapsed, rapidly condensing into a head-sized ball of dense Shadow Essence.


    That wasn''t the end of it, however. After a brief pause, the ball of Essence shrank further, forming into a small circle. And then, its darkness faded, until all that remained on the ground was what looked to be a simple iron bracelet.


    "It seems your sword has bestowed a gift on you," Karanos said, a hint of amusement in his voice.


    "A bribe, more like," Arran replied flatly. Yet although the sword''s attempt at gaining his favor was far from subtle, he still picked up the iron bracelet, then put it around his left wrist.


    He gave the sword a long look, then let out a sigh. "All right, I''ll take you," he said, and at once, a feeling of satisfaction emanated from the weapon.


    In truth, it wasn''t the bribe that had swayed Arran''s decision. Rather, it was the fact that the sword had the wit to offer it in the first place. If it was smart enough to do that, then it was smart enough to not reveal them to the Remnants ¡ª not by accident, at least.


    But Arran did not think the weapon would betray him. Even with what little he could sense of its consciousness, he was convinced it wanted to leave this world. And quickly, at that.


    "So you''ve made your decision," Karanos said. "Good. Let''s go."


    Without any further words, he headed out of the armory. Arran hurried behind him, though not without casting a last glance at the treasures they were leaving. Some small part of him suspected that he would never see the likes of it again.


    But then, he couldn''t complain ¡ª he had already taken two of the armory''s greatest treasures, which was more than he could have reasonably hoped for.


    As they made their way through the tunnels back to the surface, Arran realized that the Shadow Essence that flooded the world seemed different from before ¡ª thicker, somehow.


    "The Essence¡ª" he began.


    "It''s changing," Karanos interrupted him. "Has been for a while. Which is why I suggest you focus on walking instead of speaking."


    To this, Arran had no objections. If the tenseness in the mage''s voice was any indication, they were in grave danger. His questions could wait until they reached safety.


    When they finally emerged from the tunnels, Arran was startled at the denseness of the Shadow Essence that lay across the city. It had been noticeable ¡ª and worrying ¡ª even in the tunnels, but here, the feeling of it caused a shiver to run down his spine.


    Just a week earlier, the cloud of Shadow Essence had been like a thick fog. But now, it felt almost like a liquid that weighed on his shoulders and stifled his breathing.


    And that wasn''t the worst of it.


    The moment they stepped out of the tunnel, Arran Sensed three massive Remnants in the distance, all in different directions. And if he could Sense that many, the city must be absolutely crawling with the monsters.


    "It''s worse than I thought," Karanos said. "If I had known¡ª" He cut off mid-sentence. "No matter. We''ll have to find a way through."


    The hours that followed were some of the most unnerving Arran had ever experienced. Crouching amid the crumbling ruins, they made their way through the endless city as best they could, moving in complete silence as giant monsters wandered the city''s remains around them.


    And the creatures were giant indeed.


    A few weeks earlier, Arran had been shocked when he encountered a Remnant that was hundreds of feet tall. But now, there were many that were far larger than that. Some were so large he could not even Sense their entire bodies ¡ª which meant they must be miles tall.


    For a time, he thought the titanic creatures merely wandered around aimlessly. There seemed to be little sense to their choice of direction, as if they were moving around without goal or purpose.


    But then, he began to notice subtle differences in the cloud of Shadow Essence that covered the city. Although it was thick and oppressive wherever he went, in some places it was denser than in others.


    And the Remnants, he realized, were constantly moving toward those places where the Essence was densest. Like a herd of cows grazing a pasture, constantly seeking out those spots where the grass was thickest.


    The thought brought Arran little comfort.


    If the monsters were like cows, then he was like an unusually bountiful stalk of grass, filled to the brim with the Essence they feasted on. And if any of the creatures Sensed him, he had little doubt that it would consume him whole.


    Karanos and Arran spent several hours navigating the city, their path constantly twisting and turning as they moved to avoid the Remnants. Several times, they had to wait as lumbering Remnants passed in front of them, hoping that another would not stumble upon them.


    Yet amid the constant danger, Karanos''s Sense proved an excellent guide. Time and time again, the mage avoided threats long before Arran could even spot them, somehow finding a safe path past the creatures that roamed the city.


    Still, he soon discovered that even Karanos wasn''t infallible.


    On a seemingly safe and empty stretch of land ¡ª one of the few they had encountered in the city ¡ª Arran sensed a sudden feeling of alarm in his sword, so intense it nearly caused him to cry out in surprise.


    "Stop!" he hissed at once.


    Karanos came to a halt, then asked in a low voice, "What is it?"


    "The sword," Arran whispered. "I think it Senses danger ahead."


    Karanos raised an eyebrow in apparent bemusement, but nonetheless, a look of intense concentration appeared on his face a moment later as he faced the path ahead.


    Several moments passed in silence, but finally, the mage turned back to Arran. "Ah," he said, and although his tone was calm, there was a barely veiled hint of shock in his voice. "I overlooked that."


    They hurriedly set off again, changing their route to avoid whatever danger it was that Arran''s sword had Sensed.


    It took them nearly a month just to reach the city''s edge, their pace often slowed to a crawl by the vast number of Remnants that dwelt amid the ruins. And during this time, Arran''s sword saved their lives over a dozen times, its Sense often picking up threats long before Karanos noticed them.


    Yet eventually, they left the ruins behind. And although the blanket of Shadow Essence that covered the lands was just as thick here as it had been in the city ¡ª more so, in fact, since it grew denser by the day ¡ª there seemed to be fewer Remnants around.


    They stopped for a brief moment of rest when the ruined city was half a day''s travel behind them. And as Arran rested his weary body, he asked, "How much farther do we have to go?"


    Before, he had not dared ask the question ¡ª not with mortal danger lurking around every corner. But now that they had left the city, he was beginning to feel hopeful.


    "Not that far," Karanos replied. "Barely half a year, assuming we make good pace."


    "Half a year?" Arran looked at the mage in astonishment. "But the Essence¡­ It''s growing thicker by the day."


    Karanos nodded, his expression serious. "Indeed," he said. "So we''ll have to hurry. While I don''t know what is going to happen, I think you might not want to be here when it does."


    "Then this isn''t just the arrival of winter?" Arran asked.


    Until now, he''d tried to convince himself that the ever-increasing darkness was just the arrival of winter that Karanos had mentioned some weeks earlier. Every passing day made that explanation seem less likely, but he''d clung to the idea nonetheless, fearing what the alternative might be.


    "I''ve weathered thousands of winters in these lands," the mage replied, "and none of them were anything like this. This is something different. This world is changing, and more rapidly than I had expected."


    "I guess we''ll have to make haste," Arran said. Suppressing his worries, he added, "It''s just as well, I suppose. Not a lot of sightseeing to be done in this place, anyway."


    They set off again some minutes later, moving through the pitch-black landscape as fast as Arran''s body would allow. A few weeks had allowed him to recover somewhat, but he had yet to regain most of his strength.


    It was another problem that he had no way to solve, and one that was especially troublesome in their current situation. Pressed for time as they were, his weakened state was no small hindrance.


    And that they were pressed for time was clear. Even ignoring Karanos''s words and the thickening Essence around them, Arran''s sword emanated an aura of urgency that came very close to fear.


    That caused Arran more worry than even Karanos''s words had. Because already, he had seen enough of the weapon to know that when it sensed danger, the threat wouldn''t be far away.

 Chapter 294 To Leave A Dying World

    The journey through the Shadow Realm proved as dull as it was long.


    While the first few weeks had Arran gazing upon the ruined landscape with wide-eyed wonder, he soon found that all it offered were variations on a single theme. There were barren plains, barren wastes, and barren hills, all of them pitch-black, covered in a thick layer of Shadow Essence.


    The only traces of life left in the world were sparse, stunted growths that only barely qualified as plants, along with a rough kind of moss that covered some of the rocks strewn about the lands.


    And even that sad excuse for vegetation served little purpose, as there were no animals to feed on it. There were no goats among the rocks, nor birds in the sky. In weeks of travel, Arran encountered not even a single insect.


    It seemed that the only living creatures that remained in the world were the Remnants, and whether those were truly alive, Arran did not know.


    Yet most troubling of all was the lack of Natural Essence. Even with the Shadow Essence blanketing the lands, Arran was certain that he would have Sensed it if there was any. By now, his Sense had grown strong enough for that.


    But no matter how much he searched, he found none.


    Not even the slightest trace of Natural Essence could be felt in this barren world. It was as if all of it had been taken, or extinguished somehow.


    In his own world, the vitality of Natural Essence pervaded every tree, plant, and even rock. Even in the deepest caves and atop the highest mountains, traces of it could be Sensed. Yet here, it was completely absent.


    He asked Karanos about the matter, but from what the mage said, the world had already been like this when he first found it. And how it had happened, he did not know. Perhaps the world''s Natural Essence had gone extinct when its people and animals did, or perhaps it was the other way around.


    Whatever the case, the answer had been lost to time.


    The same was true for most things related to the Shadow Realm. Karanos had first entered the place long after its fall, and he knew nothing of the cataclysm that had destroyed its people and civilizations. Everything he knew came from spending countless years searching the ruins, but even so, those had contained few answers.


    The only thing Karanos could say with certainty was that once, this world had been much like theirs. And while that wasn''t much, it was enough for him to worry that the same fate might one day befall their own world.


    It was a worry that Arran shared with his companion. Having witnessed the ruined world firsthand, he now understood that entire worlds could fall to disaster. And if that was the case, his own world might face similar threats.


    Those worries were further fueled by what he had witnessed in the Ninth Valley''s mountains.


    Arran did not know whether the Remnants in this world had caused the devastation or whether they were a result of it, but that similar creatures existed in his own world was a discomfiting thought.


    But there was nothing he could do about it. Once he returned to the Ninth Valley, he would scour its libraries for information that might help him understand the Shadow Realm, and perhaps find a way to stave off the threat ¡ª if there was one.


    But until then, his questions would have to go unanswered.


    The journey was a long one, and although Karanos did not have the answers Arran sought, Arran found himself glad for the mage''s company.


    Much of the time they spent making their way through the wastes, Karanos regaled Arran with stories of his past. He spoke little of magic ¡ª for all his power, he seemed to have little interest in the subject ¡ª and instead detailed the rise of Amydon, gleefully recounting how he had built the quiet mining town into a center of trade and commerce.


    Arran listened with great interest. Although trade and politics weren''t topics he usually cared for, Karanos told his tales with such enthusiasm that he made even negotiations over mining rights sound like epic battles.


    To Karanos, perhaps they were.


    The man was a merchant at heart, more interested in trade and wealth than in war and magic. And even if the world had forced him to become a powerful mage, it was clear that necessity had brought him no love for magic.


    Although Karanos''s tales were plentiful, the journey was long enough that long stretches of time still passed without either of them speaking.


    Arran used these hours of silence to study his sword and feed it his Shadow Essence, hoping that strengthening his bond to the weapon would allow him to gain some control over it.


    But while Arran''s efforts did strengthen their bond, it didn''t take him long to discover just how vast an ocean of Essence the weapon held. Compared to that, whatever Essence he fed it made little difference ¡ª actually controlling it was something that would take years of effort, if it was possible at all.


    Nevertheless, the weapon proved itself useful on several occasions. While the barren wasteland held far fewer Remnants than the city, the ones it held still posed a deadly threat ¡ª or they would have, had Arran''s sword not alarmed him to the Remnants long before either he or Karanos could Sense them.


    Yet that wasn''t the only thing of which the weapon warned.Find authorized novels in Webnovel£¬faster updates, better experience£¬Please click www.novelhall.comfor visiting.


    During their long months of travel, the Shadow Essence around them continued to grow thicker with each passing day, eventually turning so dense that even Arran''s Sense could barely penetrate it.


    And as the Essence thickened, Arran''s sword radiated an ever-increased aura of urgency, as if it saw a great disaster approaching.


    This aura only grew stronger when, nearly half a year into their journey, the Shadow Essence suddenly stopped growing denser. The change happened in an instant, and it was like the Essence had somehow run into a barrier ¡ª something that prevented it from thickening further.


    Arran was immediately reminded of what had happened in his body when he became a Master. His Essence had grown as dense as it could, and then, after some time without anything happening, its state had suddenly shifted.


    If something like that was to happen here, he had no desire to experience it. He did not know what would happen if the Essence that filled this world turned liquid, but it couldn''t be good.


    Not only would the Remnants be given a feast beyond compare ¡ª and grow even stronger than they already were ¡ª he feared what being surrounded by liquid Essence would do to his mind and body.


    Yet even as Arran began to feel some panic, Karanos breathed a sigh of relief.


    "We made it," the mage said, gesturing at a shallow hillside cave. "The portal is in there, barely a hundred paces away."


    "Then we can leave?" Arran asked, scarcely able to believe that they had made it to safety. "Right now?"


    "The sooner, the better," Karanos said. "But when you return to our world, there are several things I want you to do."


    "You''re not coming?" Arran''s eyes went wide with surprise. He had expected that they would leave the Shadow Realm together, but from the sound of it, Karanos had no intention of departing ¡ª which was utter madness, given the situation.


    "The portal is a threat," Karanos said, his voice weary. "Perhaps not to our world, but certainly to the lands that surround it. If anything passes through, I dread to think what would happen to Amydon. So I intend to close the portal."


    Arran gave the mage a nonplussed look. "You can do that?"


    "Not yet," Karanos replied. "But once the Essence here changes¡­ My control of Shadow Essence is good enough that I should be able to draw on its power. Hopefully, that will grant me the strength to close the portal."


    "And if it doesn''t?" Arran asked, not at all convinced that what Karanos proposed was even possible.


    "Then I suspect I will die," the mage said. "In which case, someone else must find a way to close the portal." The glance he gave Arran made it entirely clear who that person would have to be.


    "But¡­" Arran began, voice unsteady with shock. "I have questions¡­"


    He had expected that he would have the opportunity to learn more from Karanos once they returned to their own world. Had he known that Karanos intended to remain behind, he wouldn''t have wasted their time together listening to stories of trade.


    "There''s no time for questions," Karanos said curtly. "But in my quarters, you will find three books. One of them contains my notes on this world, while the other details what I have learned of Shadow magic over the years. You should find both of them useful, both in increasing your own skill and in figuring out what happened to this world."


    "And the third?"


    "The third," Karanos said, "details the history of Amydon. I know you have little interest in history, but I would ask you to bring it to someone who will appreciate its contents."


    "But¡­" Arran began.


    "There''s no more time," Karanos interrupted him. "It might take the Shadow Essence here another decade to change its state, but it could just as well happen a second from now. You should leave."


    He hesitated briefly, then added, "Whatever you find in the caverns, you can take. But I ask you not to reveal their contents or location to anyone ¡ª doing so would spell disaster for Amydon."


    With that, he took Arran by the shoulder, then guided him into the shallow cave, where Arran immediately saw the portal ¡ª a tear in reality, shimmering with power, like a bright vortex that hovered a pace above the ground.


    "I have one last¡ª"


    "Farewell," Karanos said. "And remember what you have seen here." Then, without waiting for a reply, he pushed Arran into the bright portal.


    For a moment, Arran felt an overwhelming sense of nothingness. But a moment later, his senses were overloaded with the cries of a thousand kinds of Essence, each of them so intense it would have made him scream in pain.


    With the power of all of them combined, however, the agony was unbearable. In an instant, Arran''s consciousness slipped away.

 Chapter 295 Homecoming

    The moment Arran passed through the portal, his Sense was hit with an overwhelming barrage of Essence, so intense it left him reeling with shock.


    At first, he thought it had been an attack ¡ª someone lying in wait behind the portal, ready to ambush whoever passed through it. And Arran had fallen right into the trap, taken by surprise and knocked senseless before he even knew what hit him.


    But slowly, he began to realize that this was no attack. The blinding pain wasn''t an enemy''s ambush, but the Essence of his own world.


    After countless years in the Shadow Realm, his Sense had been sharpened beyond recognition. In a world that held only deathly silence, he had learned to hear a whisper from a thousand miles away.


    Yet he had returned to his own world. And here, Essence was ever-present ¡ª so much of it that his Sense was completely overwhelmed.


    For several days, all he could do was to lie on the ground and endure the ceaseless assault, hoping that his Sense would not take too long in adjusting to this new environment.


    He was confident that it would adjust, however. The situation wasn''t so different from the one in Uvar, where his Sense had been battered by the unbound Essence of a past battle.


    Here, the onslaught wasn''t nearly as chaotic. What he Sensed wasn''t an onslaught of unbound Essence, but the brightness of a world that hadn''t been stripped of all life. And as the days passed, he gradually grew accustomed to his own world once more.


    After a week, he had recovered enough to stand up and move around. While his Sense was mostly useless ¡ª it was still too sensitive for this world ¡ª the torrent of sensation was no longer so blindingly intense it completely overwhelmed him.


    The first thing he did was examine his surroundings. As expected, he had returned to the spherical chamber with its starmetal walls. And at the center of the chamber lay the shadowy vortex ¡ª the portal to the Shadow Realm.


    Arran let out a deep sigh when he saw the mass of darkness. Within the Shadow Realm, years would have passed already. And yet, Karanos had not succeeded in closing the tear in reality.


    The sight was disheartening, but Arran knew there was nothing he could do.


    It would take him some time to prepare to leave the dungeons, and until then, he would keep watch over the portal. Perhaps Karanos would succeed in closing it yet, or perhaps the man himself would emerge after failing his task. Either way, Arran would be there to witness it.Find authorized novels in Webnovel£¬faster updates, better experience£¬Please click www.novelhall.comfor visiting.


    There was another possibility, of course ¡ª that something else would emerge from the portal. And if that happened, Arran wasn''t confident in his ability to handle it. But the Essence of his own world might briefly overwhelm an invader, and that might give Arran a chance of defeating it.


    He didn''t consider leaving immediately. After what Karanos had done for him, remaining here until he knew there was no direct threat to Amydon was the least he could do.


    Instead, he sat down in the spherical chamber and opened his void ring. He had work to do.


    First, he retrieved a small mirror from the void ring, curious to see what years in the Shadow Realm had done to his appearance. The result was both unsurprising and unpleasant ¡ª he was gaunt and pale, with traces of gray in his roughly cut hair and beard. His face held traces of age, too. If someone who didn''t know him saw him now, they would likely think he was a middle-aged man.


    The sight was unsettling, but Arran merely looked at it with mild curiosity. He knew that once his body recovered, the signs of age would mostly fade away. Perhaps a few years would be added to his appearance when his recovery was complete, but no more than that.


    Yet another surprise awaited him, and one far more unpleasant than his appearance.


    Numerous years had passed while he was in the Shadow Realm, and now, he saw that his body wasn''t the only thing that had been affected. The vast trove of dragon meat within his void ring had almost completely withered away, the Natural Essence within it all but gone.


    Arran cursed in frustration at the discovery. His body needed Natural Essence to recover, and he had thought the dragon meat would provide him with the means for that. But without that, the process would be a long and difficult one.


    A quick search through his void ring confirmed Arran''s fears. None of the food he carried had survived the years ¡ª centuries, most likely ¡ª he had spent in the Shadow Realm.


    The only things left in his void ring that contained Natural Essence were Panurge''s bottles of wine.


    While he''d traded most of the ones he''d received to Lord Sevaril, about a hundred of the bottles still remained. And while the food in Arran''s void ring had withered away, the wine was still rich in Natural Essence ¡ª though considerably less so than the dragon meat had been.


    Wary of the self-proclaimed god''s gifts, Arran gave the wine a thorough inspection using his much-sharpened Sense. He was relieved to find no signs of danger, but he was surprised to find that the Natural Essence it contained was subtly different from that around him.


    It reminded him of the difference between his own Shadow Essence and that which he had encountered in the Shadow Realm. Although the two were almost completely the same, there was a slight disparity between them ¡ª as if they''d come from different sources.


    The discovery caused Arran to frown in wonder, as he realized that the wine must have come from another world than his own. And if that was the case, the same would likely be true for Panurge himself.


    After a moment, Arran shrugged, then put the matter aside. The important thing was that the wine was safe to drink, and that it would allow him to make a first step toward recovering his lost strength.


    He spent the week that followed drinking up almost all of the wine, his Dragon''s Ruin hungrily devouring the Natural Essence within. He left a few bottles in reserve for emergencies, but no more than that ¡ª restoring his strength as quickly as possible was his foremost task, and it was one that could not wait.


    The wine allowed his body to recover somewhat, though not as much as he had hoped. Compared to the dragon meat, it was a paltry treasure, and one that he would have ignored if he had any alternatives. But he didn''t, and so, he settled for the wine.


    The week passed with little sign from his sword, which didn''t surprise Arran. His own Sense had been overwhelmed after passing through the portal, and the sword''s Sense was much keener. Even if it couldn''t feel pain ¡ª something of which he wasn''t certain ¡ª it would need time to adjust to this new world.


    More worrying was that there was no sign of change to the portal, either. By now, many years would already have passed in the Shadow Realm, and Arran was starting to fear that Karanos had failed.


    If that was the case, the task of closing the portal would fall to Arran. And so far, he had not even the slightest idea of how to do that.


    He gave the matter some thought, then decided to head to the city in the upper cavern. Karanos had said there were three books among his possessions, with one of them containing the mage''s notes about the Shadow Realm.


    Arran doubted the notes would be of much use, but they were the best lead he had. Or rather, the only lead ¡ª because other than Karanos''s notes, he had no idea where he could even begin to look for answers about the portal.


    Unwilling to leave the portal unattended for long, he quickly left the spherical chamber, then hurried through the caverns to the city above.


    The caverns were exactly as he remembered them ¡ª filled with treasures that were discarded like trash, and without any sign of unwelcome visitors.


    When Arran reached the underground city, he found himself impressed with it once more. By now, his Sense had grown accustomed enough to this world to be useful again, but it was still incomparably sharper than it had been before.


    And with his sharpened Sense, Arran now saw that the city was even more impressive ¡ª and strange ¡ª than he had previously realized. Sprawling across much of the cavern, its large buildings held an alien beauty, as if they had been designed by people with an aesthetic wholly different from any Arran had ever encountered.


    The strangeness of the city caused him to wonder whether its builders had perhaps come from the world he had left behind, fled through the portal when they realized their own world was falling to a flood of Shadow Essence.


    Perhaps they had even been the ones who created the portal in the first place ¡ª a path of escape they built once they knew their world was doomed.


    These were possibilities Karanos had not mentioned, but ones Arran could not reject. And if there was any truth to them, it meant that the Shadow Realm''s inhabitants ¡ª or their descendants ¡ª might still live in this world.


    Yet Arran had no way to confirm or refute these speculations, and after a few moments of idle thought, he put them aside.


    Instead, he made his way through the ancient city, hurrying back to Karanos''s old quarters. There, he would find the mage''s notes ¡ª and, hopefully, some answers to the many questions he still had.

 Chapter 296 Hidden Treasure

    Arran found Karanos''s quarters exactly as they had left them, sparsely furnished and lacking even the most basic comforts.


    The sober surroundings offered a stark contrast with the man''s past as the merchant-king of a famously wealthy city. All his efforts in building Amydon to be a haven of prosperity had come to naught ¡ª the city had fallen, and Karanos himself had been forced to take shelter in a place where wealth was meaningless.


    And finally, the mage had remained behind in the Shadow Realm, there to make a last sacrifice that none but Arran would ever know about.


    As he considered Karanos''s fate, Arran could not help but wonder if the man''s life would have been happier within the Empire.


    It would have been shorter without magic, but more peaceful as well. And although Karanos wouldn''t have accomplished as much without the longevity of magic, he wouldn''t have seen all his achievements fall to ruin, either.


    Arran pondered the thought for a few moments, but then, he set it aside. However Karanos might have fared in the Empire, the fact of the matter was that he''d been born in the borderlands.


    And in the borderlands, peace was a rare thing.


    It took Arran a few minutes to find the three books among Karanos''s meager possessions, and with a quick examination, he confirmed they were the right ones. One held notes on the Shadow Realm, the second described Karanos''s insights into Shadow magic, and the third detailed the history of Amydon.


    He left Karanos''s other belongings untouched. Even if it was unlikely that Karanos would ever return to this place, Arran could not bring himself to steal from the man. Not when he had risked ¡ª or perhaps already lost ¡ª his life trying to protect the world.Find authorized novels in Webnovel£¬faster updates, better experience£¬Please click www.novelhall.comfor visiting.


    Instead, Arran stored the books in his void ring, then began to head back to the portal.


    He had only barely stepped out of Karanos''s quarters when he felt a sudden surge of awareness from his sword. It was the first time in two weeks he''d sensed anything from the bond he shared with the weapon, and he felt an immediate sense of alarm.


    Ever since passed through the portal, the Living Shadow had lain in slumber, showing not even the slightest sign of being anything other than a simple steel weapon. But now, he felt its alien presence once more, and he recalled the times it had warned him of danger in the Shadow Realm.


    Yet after barely a second, he realized that this was no warning. What came from the sword wasn''t alarm but an eager interest, as if it had Sensed something that had roused its curiosity.


    Rather than warning Arran of some hidden danger that lay ahead, it was urging him toward a squat building about a hundred paces in the distance.


    "You want me to go there?" Arran had drawn the sword, and now he looked at its smooth steel with some suspicion.


    There was an immediate response. A pleased feeling came through the bond, which Arran knew to be agreement. The sword might not understand his words, but it had clearly understood his meaning all the same.


    Still, he felt some wariness at following the weapon''s guidance. He had not forgotten how ruthless it had been in slaying the arming sword, and now that he had brought it into his own world, he feared it might decide it no longer needed him.


    But he could feel no malice through the connection he shared with the weapon, and he knew he would have to build a bond of trust with it sooner or later.


    Without that, he would be unable to use the weapon in battle, and it would be all but useless to him.


    After giving it a moment''s thought, he decided to follow the sword''s urging. The underground city should be a safe place to test its intentions ¡ª safer than most, at least. There were no enemies here, and if there were any hidden dangers, Karanos would surely have warned him of those.


    Suppressing his reluctance, Arran began to walk toward the building that had caused his sword to react so eagerly, holding the weapon out in front of him to guide the way.


    He stepped inside the building some moments later, and found it just as empty as the rest of the city. The bare stone chambers held bare stone furniture and nothing else, with no sign of any threat or treasure.


    Yet the sword''s eagerness only grew stronger, and Arran could almost feel it pull at his arm as it guided him into a small chamber at the back of the building.


    This chamber was as empty as the others had been, but when Arran stepped inside, he felt a buzz of excitement come from his sword as it drew him toward one of the walls. And this time, he realized that the pull he felt was all too real.


    The sword came to a halt with its point against the wall, indicating a spot that seemed wholly unremarkable to Arran''s eyes.


    But then, he Sensed it ¡ª a concealment ward within the wall, so faint as to be nearly imperceptible, yet perfectly masking what lay behind it.


    Despite his sword''s obvious impatience, Arran spent some minutes examining and memorizing the ward. Although it was very different from the ones he knew, its craftsmanship was immediately obvious, and he would not let such knowledge go to waste.


    When he had studied the ward enough to recreate it, he reached forward and destroyed it, using a thin sliver of Essence to sever the pattern.


    The ward dissipated in an instant, revealing a large loose stone within the wall. Arran pulled it free, and when he laid eyes upon what was hidden behind it, he felt an immediate rush of excitement.


    There were several pieces of fine jewelry, made from a shiny black metal he did not recognize, set with fiery red gemstones. And there was a small pile of coins, too, made from the same black metal as the jewels.


    Yet what drew Arran''s attention was something else ¡ª four clear crystals, each of them large and shimmering with power.


    He knew at once that these were Essence Crystals, but they were unlike any he had ever seen before. They were far larger, and the Essence they held seemed clearer ¡ª purer, somehow.


    He stored the jewelry and coins in his void ring ¡ª from what he could tell, they held no magical properties ¡ª then carefully examined the four crystals.


    That they were Essence Crystals was undeniable, and that they were far more potent than any Essence Crystals he''d ever seen was equally obvious. Yet although he was tempted to absorb one of the crystals right there, he felt some wariness as well.


    The sword, however, had no such qualms. It emanated a strong aura of hunger, and Arran knew it wished to devour the crystals.


    A frown briefly crossed his face, but then, he held one of the crystals against the sword. The crystal disappeared in an instant, and a wave of satisfaction came through the bond a moment later ¡ª immediately followed by an even stronger aura of hunger.


    A second crystal disappeared just as quickly, and this time, the sword radiated pure elation. But again, it lasted only a moment, and the frenzied hunger returned a moment later.


    Arran stored the remaining two crystals in his void ring, however, and when he did, the excitement in the sword disappeared in an instant. Now, the feeling it radiated was wholly different ¡ª it was frustrated, even angry.


    "So you can Sense treasure, can you?"


    Arran examined the sword calmly. Whether it was angry or not, he wouldn''t let himself be cowed by his own weapon.


    Through the bond, he quickly confirmed that the crystals had indeed been Essence Crystals, albeit far stronger than any he''d seen before. And while they were strong, there was no apparent ill effect on the sword.


    The same could not be said for the weapon''s mood, however. Another surge of anger came from the bond, more powerful this time. From the look of it, the weapon seemed intent on devouring the remaining two crystals as well.


    "No," Arran said firmly. "I''m keeping the other two." Then, a small smile crossed his face, and he added, "But if there are any others within the city, you''ll get half of whatever we find."


    A hesitant feeling came through the bond, but then, a few moments later, Arran felt the familiar pull. It seemed the sword had agreed to his offer.


    Some minutes later, in another building, he found another cache of jewelry, coins, and crystals ¡ª five, this time.


    Once more, he stored the jewelry and coins in his void ring and fed two of the crystals to the sword.


    But then, as he wondered how to split the third crystal, a thought came to him. And at once, ignoring the sword''s protests, he sat down on the ground and began to absorb the crystal in his hand.


    The Purified Essence within the crystal was even stronger than he had expected ¡ª easily as powerful as a thousand normal Essence Crystals, and perhaps even more so. Moreover, it was far purer than even the purest Essence Crystals Arran had used before, lacking any of the small imperfections that were normally present.


    While absorbing normal Essence Crystals brought him little benefit, Arran immediately knew that fully absorbing even a single one of these would have a noticeable effect on his affinity to magic.


    But instead, he did something else.


    Where he would normally make the unbound Essence his own and then absorb it, now, he stopped before the second step. And then, instead of circulating the Essence through his body until he had absorbed it, he sent it into the sword.


    As expected, the sword reacted excitedly, eagerly devouring the torrent of Purified Essence. And as it did, Arran felt his bond to the weapon grow stronger.


    In the days that followed, Arran scoured the city for any hidden treasure it held, finding over two hundred Essence Crystals scattered across numerous hidden caches.


    And each time they found another treasure, Arran stored half the crystals in his void bag, then fed the other half to his weapon ¡ª but not before binding the Essence to himself.


    The sword did not appear to have any objections to this. It seemed that as long as it got fed, it was happy. And with the crystals'' Essence bound to Arran, the bond between him and his weapon rapidly grew far stronger than it had been before.


    After a single day, he could already vaguely feel what his weapon was Sensing, and he was shocked to find just how sharp its Sense was. Even after untold years in the Shadow Realm, his own still paled in comparison.


    Equally surprising was the weapon''s consciousness. While he could now feel hints of its intelligence, he also understood just how alien its consciousness was to its own.


    Controlling it would be a difficult task, he knew, but the more he felt of its strength, the more he began to realize just how powerful a treasure the weapon truly was.


    And if he could make that power his own, there would be few with the strength to resist it.

 Chapter 297 Waiting For A Sign

    With the help of his sword, it took Arran three days to clear the entire city of treasure.


    Treasure the weapon could find, at least. Because although Arran suspected the city hid even more riches, the sword could only Sense those concealed caches that held Essence Crystals.


    But Arran did not worry about any treasure he overlooked. The coins, jewelry, and other trinkets might have been cherished by the city''s original inhabitants, but to Arran, they meant little. What interested him were the Essence Crystals. And those, his sword found without fail.


    The abundance of treasure did cause Arran some wonder, however. He''d originally believed that the city''s builders had left voluntarily, taking all their belongings with them as they departed.


    But if that was the case, they wouldn''t have left their most precious treasures behind. And although Arran had no way to find out the truth, he suspected the miners'' departure might not have been as peaceful as he had initially thought.


    Either way, it didn''t matter ¡ª whatever might have happened, it had long since faded into history.


    And right now, Arran had other things to worry about.


    When he had finished clearing the city of treasure, he hurried back to the spherical chamber that held the portal. He had been gone for several days ¡ª years, in the Shadow Realm ¡ª but when he returned, he found the portal completely unchanged.


    It wasn''t unexpected, but still, a scowl crossed his face when he saw the shadowy vortex at the center of the space.


    If Karanos failed in his task, the duty of closing the portal would fall to Arran. And he still had no idea of how to accomplish that ¡ª if it was even possible.


    Just the thought of it caused Arran to sigh in frustration.


    Yet there was no point in complaining, so he sat down on the floor and began to study the three books Karanos had left behind.


    The mage''s notes on the Shadow Realm proved all but useless. Most of what he had written concerned the various cities he found while exploring the ruined world, and beyond that, there was little that Arran did not know already.


    There were some surprises ¡ª apparently, Karanos had once defeated a titanic Remnant, only to discover that killing it sent out a burst of Essence so strong it attracted other Remnants from a hundred miles around ¡ª but none of them useful. What little the book said of the portal was nothing Arran could not see with his own eyes.


    Disappointed, he put the book back in his void ring. Then, he moved on to Karanos''s notes about Shadow magic.


    After barely a minute of reading, his eyes had already gone wide with awe. While the mage''s notes on the Shadow Realm had been all but useless, his notes on Shadow magic were priceless.


    There were techniques, spells, and even insights on the nature of Shadow Essence itself. And while it would take Arran years of study to master them ¡ª perhaps even decades, when it came to the insights ¡ª he recognized that it would be time well-spent.


    Yet although every word in the notes was a treasure, there was one thing that stood out in particular ¡ª a method to use Shadow Essence for physical spells.


    This was what Karanos had used against Arran when he first reached the city, and until now, Arran had believed the attacks had either merged Shadow Essence with another type ¡ª Force, maybe ¡ª or made use of Karanos''s shard of Living Shadow.


    Now, however, he understood it had all been Shadow Essence. And a technique like that was exactly what he needed.


    He had become a Master during his time in the Shadow Realm, but only in Shadow magic. And for all its uses, Shadow Essence had little offensive power.


    But with this, he could turn Shadow into a weapon. The technique was fiendishly complex and would take years to learn, but if he could master it, he would have another invaluable tool at his disposal.


    Still, he returned the book to his void ring after reading it. While he was eager to study the notes properly, they contained nothing that would help him close the portal.


    At last, he picked up the third book ¡ª the history of Amydon.


    Arran had no serious hope of finding anything related to the portal in the book, but it couldn''t hurt to look. Perhaps the book contained some well-hidden secrets that might somehow help him.


    Yet much as he expected, the book offered nothing but a detailed history of the centuries Karanos had ruled his beloved city. Arran had already heard most of the tales from Karanos himself, and although the stories were interesting ones, they were of no practical use.


    Which meant he had no way to close the portal.


    Arran''s magical skills had grown, but not so much that he could succeed where Karanos had failed. To accomplish such a task, he would need to grow far stronger than he was right now.


    And finding a way to close the portal might take him decades, or even centuries. That was time he did not have ¡ª not now, with the Ninth Valley and the Hunters on the brink of war.


    There was no easy solution to the dilemma, but he had to make a choice. And after giving the matter some thought, he decided that he would remain in the caverns while he accomplished his last few tasks ¡ª studying Brightblade''s wards, learning to handle his weapon, and testing his magic.


    Perhaps the problem would have solved itself by then. And if not, the portal would have to wait.


    The first task Arran set to work on was testing his magic. Years within the Shadow Realm had profoundly changed both his Sense and his Essence reserves, and now, it was time to see what he could do.


    He began by trying the Shadowcloak spell. Of all the spells he had, this was perhaps the most useful. It complemented his sword skills perfectly, and he was confident that it would help not just against mages, but against Hunters as well.


    It only took a few minutes of experimenting before a wide grin appeared on Arran''s face.


    His Essence reserves were now large enough that he could maintain the spell for days on end, and that alone was enough cause for celebration. But he had made another step forward as well, and one that was even more valuable.


    With his sharpened Sense, he found it far easier to see the weaknesses in his Shadowcloak ¡ª places in the spell''s pattern where the Shadow Essence wasn''t perfectly self-contained and closed.


    Being able to Sense these weaknesses made addressing them a simple matter, and it took Arran less than a day to improve his Shadowcloak beyond recognition. The flaws he fixed would not matter against normal mages and their dull Senses, but against more unusual enemies, they could make all the difference.


    Yet even as Arran rejoiced at his progress, he suddenly felt something from his sword. Disapproval. It seemed the sword was unimpressed with his efforts.


    "So you think you can do better?"


    The question had its intended effect. A moment later, an image came through the bond with his sword ¡ª an intricate pattern of Shadow Essence that only vaguely resembled a Shadowcloak.


    Whatever consciousness the sword had, it held a knowledge of Shadow Essence far beyond anything Arran could even imagine. If the weapon decided to share that knowledge, he would gladly encourage it.


    With the help of his blade, it took him less than a week to learn the altered spell. And the new Shadowcloak ¡ª if it could still be called that ¡ª was something he knew would astonish even Brightblade.


    Somehow, it concealed not just Arran but also itself, weaving Shadow Essence in a perfectly closed pattern from which not even the slightest shred of Essence could escape.


    Arran frowned in wonder when he realized that it somehow resembled Master Zhao''s seal. While the actual patterns were completely different, each somehow achieved exactly the same thing ¡ª perfect concealment.


    With a thought, he unsealed his Fire Realm, then sealed it again using Master Zhao''s seal.


    At once, a surge of astonishment came from the bond with his sword. Astonishment and excitement ¡ª as if the sword had seen something it greatly admired. Clearly, it was impressed with the seal.


    Yet there was a trace of hunger, too. This was the first time the sword had witnessed Arran unseal his Fire Realm, and its interest in the new delicacy was obvious.


    When Arran recognized the weapon''s hunger, he quickly gathered as much Fire Essence as he could, then fed it to the sword. If this was a chance to gain his weapon''s loyalty, he would not let it go to waste.


    The sword welcomed the gift without objection. It devoured the Fire Essence greedily, taking only a moment to consume the unexpected feast.


    But Arran wasn''t done yet. Next, he opened his Wind Realm, and the sword grew even more excited when it realized it would taste yet another type of Essence.


    And after that followed Arran''s Force Realm, his Earth Realm, and his Stone Realm.


    By now, the sword had reached a state of frenzy, waves of joyous excitement gushing through the bond it shared with Arran as it feasted on half a dozen types of Essence.


    Yet then, Arran opened his Destruction Realm. And in an instant, the weapon''s excitement vanished, an overwhelming sense of fear taking its place.


    That the weapon would react this way wasn''t a complete surprise, but Arran had not anticipated the intensity of its response. It was like an animal meeting its natural predator, and the reaction was one of instinctive panic.


    This, he knew, was a problem.


    Perhaps sealing his Destruction Realm might calm the weapon, but that was no solution. Arran could not have a weapon that would be sent into a panic whenever he opened his Destruction Realm.


    Instead, he gathered a decent amount of Destruction Essence, then began to circulate it through his body. If he was to use the weapon, it would have to grow accustomed to his Destruction Realm.


    And so, over the next few weeks, Arran continued to circulate Destruction Essence through his body as he tested his other spells.


    To his relief, the weapon''s fear gradually diminished, though he suspected it would still take longer for the sword to stop fearing his Destruction Realm completely. But the blind panic was gone, and that was a good start.


    His techniques and spells, however, were another matter.


    After the Shadowcloak, the first thing he tried was his Shadowsight. With both his Sense and access to Shadow Essence strengthened greatly, it had become predictably strong ¡ª but also completely useless.Find authorized novels in Webnovel£¬faster updates, better experience£¬Please click www.novelhall.comfor visiting.


    Within moments, Arran realized that he no longer had a use for Shadowsight. Anything it could do, his Sense could now do better. He could not help but feel slightly disappointed by this ¡ª he had hoped that somehow, his Shadowsight would have improved even more than his Sense.


    Next, he tried using Shadowflame. Yet this, too, proved a disappointment. Arran''s Fire Essence had already been the bottleneck for the spell''s strength before he entered the Shadow Realm, and increasing his strength in Shadow magic further made no difference whatsoever.


    His sharpened Sense allowed him to make some small improvements to the spell, but none of those made much of a difference. If he was to strengthen it, he would have to strengthen his Fire magic.


    And the same held true for most of Arran''s other spells, too. While his Sense helped him fix small errors he hadn''t previously noticed, the leap he had made in Shadow magic clearly did not extend beyond Shadow.


    He might have become a Master, but it was painfully obvious that the title did little to help his magical skills. For him to truly earn the name would require years of practice.


    Still, it wasn''t a complete disappointment. His improved Shadowcloak alone was enough to make his years in the Shadow Realm worth it, and once he mastered Karanos''s methods, his Shadow magic would become even more useful.


    Yet when Arran cast a glance at the portal, his spirits dampened at once. There still wasn''t any visible change to it, and by now, centuries could have passed in the Shadow Realm.


    There was nothing for it but to finish his last two tasks ¡ª practicing with his sword and studying Brightblade''s wards. Once he finished those two things, he would leave. First to fulfill his tasks for the Shadowflame Society, and then to find a way to close the portal.


    But perhaps Karanos might succeed yet ¡ª if he was still alive.

 Chapter 298 Departure

    Arran''s mind was filled with worry as he drew his sword and prepared to practice. While the portal was foremost among his concerns, it was far from the only one.Find authorized novels in Webnovel£¬faster updates, better experience£¬Please click www.novelhall.comfor visiting.


    Whether or not the portal closed, he would soon leave the caverns. And when he did, he would finally set off to accomplish his original tasks ¡ª to retrieve the Forms and to infiltrate the Hunters.


    The first of these things would rely more on luck than on skill.


    Although Arran knew where to find the battlefield that had claimed the life of Elder Nikias, finding the Elder''s writings would be no simple matter. Even assuming there were writings in the first place, decades had passed since the battle ¡ª plenty of time for the battlefield to be looted.


    But that was just the beginning.


    After he searched the battlefield, he would travel to the Hunters'' lands and try to join their ranks, to find information that would help the Ninth Valley in the approaching war.


    The plan bordered on madness, and Arran knew he would be risking his life. That Brightblade believed he could succeed was only a small comfort ¡ª it meant he could survive the task, but not that he would.


    And if he somehow managed to not only infiltrate the Hunters but also escape with his life, he would find no safety back in the Ninth Valley. Instead, he would return just in time to join the Shadowflame Society''s war against the Hunters.


    Arran knew he would see little peace in the years that lay ahead, and the burden of his responsibilities felt like a heavy weight on his shoulders.


    Yet when he began to practice with his sword, all those worries faded away almost instantly.


    There had been no chance to test his weapon properly in the Shadow Realm ¡ª although the journey had taken months, they hadn''t had even a single hour to spare for training.


    But now that Arran finally wielded the weapon in earnest, he found that it surpassed his expectations.


    Although the sword was still subdued after witnessing Arran''s Destruction Realm, the bond they shared meant that he could feel the weapon as it cut through the air ¡ª almost as if it was part of his own body.


    Moreover, as he used the weapon, it subtly adjusted itself to his needs. It grew slightly longer and much heavier, and its balance ¡ª already better than that of any normal weapon ¡ª improved further, reaching a level of perfection Arran had not thought possible.


    And that was with only a few hours of free practice.


    Excited at the results, Arran moved on to the styles he had learned in the House of Swords ¡ª the Stalwart Blade, the Floating Leaf, and the Thousand Cuts. Each of these focused on a different aspect of swordsmanship ¡ª defense, avoidance, and offense ¡ª and he was curious to see how his weapon would adjust to them.


    With a few days of training, it became apparent that neither the Stalwart Blade nor the Floating Leaf suited the weapon''s nature especially well.


    Although it performed with all the effectiveness of a perfect blade ¡ª further encouraged by Arran constantly feeding it Essence ¡ª it was clear that defense and avoidance weren''t its natural strengths.


    Yet the Thousand Cuts style was a different matter.


    When Arran began to execute the long series of attacks contained within the style ¡ª well over a thousand, despite the name ¡ª a feeling of familiarity came from his sword. And not just familiarity. There was enthusiasm, too, as if the weapon was keen to learn the style.


    Perhaps the sword had little affinity for defense and avoidance, but attacks were evidently something it knew and valued.


    Arran spent a week going through the Thousand Cuts many times, and he was pleased to discover that both he and his weapon seemed to benefit from his practice. Not only did the sword become more effective as it learned Arran''s moves, the sensations and images that came through their bond also became more familiar to Arran.


    But there was another step to take. Although the styles from the House of Swords were all treasures in their own right, none of them could compare to Arran''s greatest achievement ¡ª his own sword style.


    And when he set to work on introducing his sword to his style, it only took him moments to discover that the two were perfectly matched.


    This was no surprise ¡ª his style was built around his true insight into severing, and its viciousness rivaled that of his sword. The weapon appeared to realize this as well, and it welcomed the style like a long-lost brother.


    With both Arran and his weapon training zealously, their progress was rapid. After just two weeks, there was no doubt in Arran''s mind that despite his still-weakened body, he had already surpassed his previous might.


    There was more than just progress, however.


    As Arran wielded his sword, faint images would sometimes come through their bond. Shreds of memories, he suspected. And if these were indeed memories, then the weapon''s past was a bloody one.


    Each of the faint images held the same thing ¡ª death.


    Again and again, Arran witnessed his blade taking lives. With some shock, he realized that these were no enemies on a battlefield. Rather, they were prisoners ¡ª countless thousands, and all of them mages. And every time the weapon cut one down, it feasted upon its victim''s Essence.


    Arran had known from his weapon''s original shape that it had been an executioner''s blade, but witnessing its victims was still unsettling, even with the faintness of the images that came through the bond.


    Yet the memories suggested something else, as well. If the sword held memories from before its world was ruined and filled with Shadow, then it must have gained its first sliver of consciousness long before it ever turned into Living Shadow.


    Perhaps it was a result of absorbing the Essence of numerous mages. And if that was the case, it might explain why the weapon was stronger than the other pieces of Living Shadow in the armory ¡ª it had begun its journey to consciousness long before any of them.


    But the weapon now belonged to Arran, and regardless of its bloody origins, he would make good use of its power.


    When he finished his sword training, he turned his attention to his final task ¡ª studying Brightblade''s wards.


    It was the last thing he would do before leaving the caverns. And if the portal hadn''t closed by the time he finished, he would have to return eventually to complete the task that Karanos had started.


    The book of wards Brightblade had given Arran was much like he''d expected. It contained a variety of concealment wards more advanced than the ones he already knew, but with his keen Sense and the sword''s help, learning most of them took only a few weeks.


    There were two that stood out, however, both of them far more complex than the others. And as Arran studied them, it was obvious that Brightblade had included them specifically to help him in the Hunters'' lands.


    The first was an advanced Shadow ward that concealed small objects ¡ª a way to hide his void ring from even the most thorough examination.


    His sword offered further improvements to the ward, and with a few weeks of study, Arran was able to hide his void ring so well that even his weapon could only barely Sense it.


    The second ward posed a bigger challenge, however.


    This was a concealment ward, too, but one intended to mask the Essence within one''s body, which was a far more difficult task. Yet although the ward was hellishly complex, Arran knew he''d have to learn it ¡ª even without the Hunters, he suspected that this was what Brightblade had used to hide her Essence in the Ninth Valley''s mountains, and a skill like that would be invaluable.


    Arran struggled with the ward for over a month. But even with his sword''s help and improvements, the result left him unsatisfied.


    While the ward was good enough to hide his Essence from normal mages, he now knew that there were people and things whose Sense was far more accurate.


    Even after a month of careful study, the only Essence Arran was truly confident in hiding was his Shadow Essence. That, he could conceal so well even his sword had difficulty Sensing it.


    But the other kinds were a problem ¡ª anyone with a Sense not much stronger than Arran''s own could detect them if he left his Realms unsealed.


    He did not know whether the Hunters'' lands held such people, but this wasn''t something he could be careless about. Before he entered the Hunters'' lands, he would have to seal his Realms.


    Still, he spent another two weeks fiddling with the ward, using his sword''s insights and Sense to make minor improvements to it. The work wasn''t particularly useful, but he knew that once he finished, he would have to leave.


    Yet the portal didn''t close, and Arran knew he could wait no longer. It was time for him to depart.


    He gave the portal a final look, and as he gazed at the black vortex, he thought of the man who was trapped behind it.


    There was nothing he could do about the situation, however ¡ª he could not close the portal, and he certainly lacked the strength to save Karanos even if the man was still alive.


    "When I return, I''ll have the strength to close this damn thing."


    No response came from the portal, but Arran knew he would make good on the threat. Once the war was won, he would find a way to destroy the portal once and for all.


    But right now, there was nothing useful he could do. Of all the wards and seals he knew, only Master Zhao''s seal might have a chance at stopping anything that emerged from the portal. And although he knew the seal well, he still lacked the strength to create a version large enough to seal away the black chasm.


    With a sigh, he turned around and left.


    There were other dangers that needed his attention. And if he let himself be distracted by this task, he might die before ever gaining the strength to accomplish it.

 Chapter 299 Into The Ligh

    Although Arran was in a hurry to leave the caverns, he still took a few hours to transfer half a hill of starmetal chunks to his void ring.


    Not to do so would be a pointless waste ¡ª he already carried enough riches to cost him his life if anyone discovered them, and while starmetal could not compare to Living Shadow, it still ranked among the most valuable materials in the world.


    If he was going to risk death for his possessions, he might as well make it count. And enough treasure to last him ten lifetimes would be a good start.


    When he had gathered enough starmetal to equip a decently sized army with arms and armor, he made his way back up the giant spiral staircase that led to the city above.


    Arran did not bother to search the city for more treasure ¡ª with the help of his sword, he''d already found anything worth taking. Whatever might be left wasn''t worth the time it would take to find.


    Instead, he headed straight for the tunnels that led back to the surface.


    This time, he had no trouble Sensing the traps within the tunnels well before he triggered them. And after a brief examination, he knew that disabling them would be a simple matter.


    Yet there was no need to do so ¡ª as he studied the traps, he realized that they were only built to repel intruders. Anyone traveling from the depths to the surface would not set them off.


    The design was a clever one, and Arran took some moments to memorize it before moving on. Even if he never needed it, anything that could help his knowledge was welcome.


    After that, the journey back to the surface proved long but uneventful. For two weeks, Arran passed through empty tunnels, using the marks he''d left to find his way back to the small valley.


    And it was a good thing that he''d left marks. Because although little time had passed in this world, Arran had spent centuries in the Shadow Realm. By now, he''d long since forgotten the route that had brought him to the underground city.


    Then, finally, he reached the surface.


    After years in darkness, Arran''s eyes were overwhelmed by the radiance of the sun, and it took a good hour before his vision began to adjust to the sudden brightness.


    Yet the sun''s glow on his skin was a feeling he had dearly missed, and the smell of fresh mountain air almost made him go lightheaded with joy.


    Despite the treasures he''d gained in the Shadow Realm, he never would have entered the portal had he known how long he would be there. And if he had any choice in the matter, he had no intention of ever returning to the place.


    Once Arran''s eyes had adjusted to the bright light that filled the sky, he spent several hours removing every trace he had left in the small valley. Now that he knew it held a path to the underground city, he could not risk anyone finding it.


    Then, he spread his Sense through the mountains around him, a look of concentration appearing on his face as he examined the area for several miles around. Yet after a few minutes, he gave a disappointed sigh, then drew his sword.


    "It''s time for you to earn your keep," he said. "And right now, what I need is a good meal."


    While the sword might not understand his words, it needed no language to understand his intentions. In just a few moments, the weapon found what Arran was looking for.


    Barely an hour later, Arran sat in a small cave, the dead body of a massive bear on the ground a few paces away from him ¡ª at least, those parts of it he had not eaten yet.


    His sword had performed admirably, both in finding his prey and in killing it. Arran had feared that the weapon might devour the bear''s Natural Essence when he struck it, but to his relief, his weapon had no taste for Natural Essence.


    Instead, he rewarded it with a generous portion of magical Essence, while he himself feasted on the bear meat. And as he tasted the first real food he''d had in centuries, the Dragon''s Ruin hungrily devoured the Natural Essence within.


    The effect was immediate. Finally, some of Arran''s lost strength was restored. The bear meat couldn''t match dragon meat, of course, but it was good enough for recovery ¡ª a few months of this should be enough for Arran to completely regain his lost might.


    Only after that would he face the real consequence of losing his dragon meat. Because although lost strength was easily recovered, new strength would be hard to gain.


    Yet right now, Arran could not bring himself to worry about that.


    Instead, he sat in the cave contentedly, eating bear meat as he fed Essence to his sword. The only thing that could have made the night better was a mug of good ale.


    He awoke the next day with his body feeling better than it had in ages, and after eating several pounds of bear meat for breakfast, he set off for Amydon.


    The journey took a full month, though that was mostly because Arran hunted down every animal with even a shred of Natural Essence along the way.


    His sword seemed nonplussed at his desire for Natural Essence ¡ª which the weapon evidently spurned as garbage ¡ª but it helped him find prey all the same, no doubt encouraged by the magical Essence that Arran sent into it.


    He considered sending Essence into the Living Shadow armor as well, but he quickly rejected the idea. Controlling the armor would take years of effort, and his first priority was to solidify his bond to his weapon.


    Until he achieved that, any effort spent on the armor would only be a distraction, and perhaps even a dangerous one.


    Karanos had said shards of Living Shadow did not willingly share their territory, and while Arran suspected his sword would not object ¡ª it had brought him the armor, after all ¡ª the armor might not be as easy to handle.


    Better to let the armor remain in its dormant state for the time being. When he could properly focus his attention on controlling it, he would awaken it. But not before that.


    A month of travel and real food did Arran''s body much good, and by the time he arrived in Amydon, he no longer looked like he was on the verge of death. Some traces of age could still be seen in his face, but even those had already begun to fade.


    Another few months of proper food, and his appearance should recover along with his body. At least, that''s what Arran hoped.


    In Amydon, he immediately made his way to Kimon''s jewelry store. He had one last task to fulfill before he could leave, and unlike closing the portal, this was one that should pose little trouble.


    The old man received Arran with an expression of barely veiled shock.


    "You look like you''ve had a rough few years," he said as they sat down in the store''s back office, staring at his guest with wide eyes.


    "So I did," Arran said. "I broke my leg out in the mountains. Nearly starved to death before it healed." He shrugged, then continued, "But I found something. Something that might interest you."


    At this, the old man''s eyes immediately shone with interest. "Something related to Amydon''s past?"


    Arran wordlessly took out Karanos''s history of Amydon, then handed it to Kimon.


    Karanos had asked him to give the book to someone who would appreciate its contents, and he could think of no one better than the old man.


    There was no risk in giving the book to Kimon ¡ª Karanos had carefully omitted anything related to the city beneath the mountains from the book. Instead, it dealt only with the history of Amydon itself.


    Kimon thumbed through a few pages of the book, and soon, a look of astonishment appeared on his face.


    "This is¡­" he began. "Where did you¡ª" He stopped mid-sentence, and his expression turned fearful. "Don''t tell me. Don''t tell anyone. If this gets out¡ª"


    "No need to worry," Arran interrupted him. "I wouldn''t be able to find it again even if you put a knife to my throat. And besides, there''s nothing there. I searched the area for several months, and didn''t find a thing."


    "Then you saw no sign of Karanos?" the old man asked, some disappointment in his voice despite his obvious relief.


    "Nothing," Arran said, then shrugged. "And with how long he''s been gone, I can''t imagine he still walks this world."


    Kimon sighed. "I suppose you''re right. I always hoped he might still be out there, waiting to return when the Shadowflame mages were defeated. But perhaps I''ve let myself be carried away by childish fantasies."


    "About those mages¡­" Arran began. "When I entered the mountains, they looked to be on the verge of war with the Hunters. Any news on that? I''m planning to travel the borderlands, and I''d prefer to steer clear of any wars."


    Kimon shook his head. "There''s been no news about any of that. From the look of it, the tensions have died down." He smiled wistfully, then added, "But those mages will be defeated sooner or later, mark my words. One day, they''ll pay for their crimes."


    To this, Arran responded with a wordless nod, silently hoping that the old man was wrong.


    He departed not long after, though not before receiving a sizable sum of gold from Kimon as a reward for the book. He had no interest in the gold, but refusing it would only have drawn the old man''s suspicion. And either way, Kimon was more than happy with the trade.


    After Arran left the store, he did not linger in Amydon. As much as he would have liked to spend a night or two in a warm bed, he was unwilling to waste any time on mere luxuries.


    He cast a final look at the town and its ruins, but then, he turned his eyes to the road ahead.Find authorized novels in Webnovel£¬faster updates, better experience£¬Please click www.novelhall.comfor visiting.

 Chapter 300 Redhill

    The journey to the battlefield took Arran two months, and he found himself enjoying every step along the way.


    After suffering the oppressive darkness of the caverns and the Shadow Realm for years, seeing the open sky and wide lands around him filled him with a sense of freedom and possibility.


    Under the bright sun, the challenges ahead no longer seemed as daunting as before. Whatever dangers this world held, it also held life that the Shadow Realm had lacked.


    And where there was life, there was opportunity.


    Arran''s spirits were further raised by the steady recovery of his strength. The borderlands were rich in food to nourish his body, and with the help of his sword, finding it was a simple matter.


    Recovering completely would still be a lengthy process, but he had already regained much of what he had lost in the Shadow Realm.


    His weapon was in good spirits, too. Arran had decided to leave his Realms unsealed until he reached the battlefield, using the relative safety of the borderlands to strengthen his bond with the sword while he still had the opportunity.


    He would have to seal all his Realms but Shadow once he neared the Hunters'' lands, and that would slow his efforts dramatically. And with the dangers that might await him, Arran wanted as strong a connection to his weapon as he could get.


    The connection strengthened only slightly, but if nothing else, at least the weapon appreciated the constant stream of Essence.


    Yet that would be valuable too, Arran thought. He was still a long way off from truly controlling the weapon, and winning its loyalty might prevent any unpleasant surprises.


    He spent most of his journey traveling through the wilderness, avoiding the towns and villages that were scattered across the borderlands.


    This reduced the chance of unwanted encounters with Hunters or mages, and in the wilderness, the wildlife was far richer in Natural Essence. There were plenty of animals that had gathered strength for centuries, and Arran happily reaped the fruits of their efforts.


    Still, he visited some towns as well. And while enjoying a few ¡ª or perhaps slightly more than a few ¡ª mugs of strong ale, he asked the locals subtle questions about the state of the borderlands.


    Most of them were happy to answer questions in exchange for a drink or two, and what they told him confirmed what Kimon had already told him back in Amydon.


    The overt tensions between the Ninth Valley and the Hunters had lasted barely a year, with a few unlucky mages dying to Hunters'' blades. But after that, both the mages and the Hunters had reduced their numbers in the borderlands, and with that, the rumors of impending war had soon died down.


    Of course, Arran knew better than to believe this was any sort of true peace.


    More likely, both sides had withdrawn their strength to prepare for the war to come. And although that might take a few years yet ¡ª or so he hoped ¡ª he had little doubt that the wheels of war had already been set in motion.


    And that meant time was running short.


    About two weeks'' travel from where Brightblade had marked the battlefield on the map she''d given Arran, he noticed a sudden change in his sword. It was as if the blade Sensed something unfamiliar ¡ª something it didn''t quite recognize.


    He had some thoughts as to what the sword could be Sensing, and a week later his suspicions were confirmed when he Sensed it himself.


    There was a low buzz of Essence in the air, chaotic and diffuse, as if some vast mass of unbound magic lay ahead.


    Arran immediately recognized what it was ¡ª the unbound Essence of the battlefield, released in the devastating battle that had taken place over half a century earlier.


    It was similar to what he had experienced years earlier in Uvar, except here, no one had created a formation to seal off the battlefield from the rest of the world.


    Had Arran not already been familiar with unbound Essence, the chaotic buzz of it might have bothered him ¡ª all the more so now that his Sense had grown stronger. But he''d spent months learning to tune it out, and now, it was barely even a distraction.


    Yet it was a sign that he was getting close to his destination, and he knew it was time to conceal his Shadow Realm and seal off the others.


    The battlefield bordered the Hunters'' lands, after all, and he could afford no mistakes so close to his enemies'' territory.


    The sword reacted with disappointment when the sources of its food disappeared, though its reaction wasn''t as strong as Arran had expected ¡ª the distant murmur of Essence seemed to distract it, as if it felt a deep curiosity about the strange phenomenon.


    After a moment of hesitation, Arran also stored the bracelet that held the Living Shadow armor in his void ring. While others wouldn''t be able to detect it in its dormant state, he had no idea how it would react to the unbound Essence that flooded the battlefield.


    Finally, he concealed his Shadow Essence and his void ring using the wards that Brightblade had given him. With the help of his weapon, he had improved the wards enough that he thought they''d stand up to even a thorough examination from an Archmage.


    There might still be some people who could pierce the concealments, but if so, they''d need a Sense as sharp as Arran''s sword.


    Then, confident in his disguise, he took out Brightblade''s map and briefly examined it.


    While finding the battlefield was a simple matter ¡ª the hum of Essence was like a beacon that indicated its location ¡ª he was reluctant to charge in blindly. Even with a perfect disguise, it would be better to know what sort of dangers he might face on the old battlefield.


    Instead, he would find the town nearest to the battlefield, and see if he could learn anything useful from the locals.


    A short glance at the map revealed that there was a town called Redhill just half a week''s travel from the battlefield. Reaching it would cost him a few days of extra travel, but if he could gain any information, the small detour would be well worth it.


    Another week passed as he made his way to the town, and along the way, the distant hum of unbound Essence gradually grew into a low rumble.


    The droning murmur had little effect on Arran, but he knew that other mages would not be able to ignore it so easily. At a guess, he thought few mages would visit this place, and fewer still would risk visiting the battlefield itself.


    This gave him some hope for his mission ¡ª the fewer mages who had visited and plundered the battlefield, the better.


    When he reached the town, he saw at once how it had gained its name. While the town itself was small and unremarkable, just a quarter-mile away from it stood a large hill, its sides covered in red heath so bright it almost looked as if the entire hill had been set aflame.


    Arran cast an appreciative glance at the spectacular view, then made his way into the town. It was just large enough that outsiders drew no suspicious glances, and he headed straight for the town center, where the inns would be.


    He entered the first inn he encountered, and found it mostly empty. A few merchants and travelers sat at wooden tables in the corners of the common room, but none of them so much as spared him a glance when he entered.


    The innkeeper, however, approached him at once ¡ª likely eager to see some business. He was a large man with a round, red face, and as he walked toward Arran, he gave a wide smile that revealed two missing teeth.


    "Welcome," he said in a friendly tone. "If you''re looking for a room, we have several to spare. Just half a silver for the night, and meals are included. You''ll have to pay extra for drinks, though."


    "I''ll take a room," Arran said. He produced two small silver coins and handed them to the innkeeper. "But I had some questions about the region, which I hoped you might answer."


    The large man glanced at the silver in his head, and instead of looking pleased, his smile faded in an instant. "Best you abandon those plans right now," he said, the cheer gone from his voice. "You''ll only find trouble down that path."


    "Trouble?" Arran gave the man a puzzled look. "Just what do you think I''m planning?"


    "You''re here for the battlefield," the innkeeper said. "Probably hoping to find some treasure."


    Arran frowned, surprised at the ease with which the man had read his intentions. "If that were true, would it be a problem?"


    "Just so," the innkeeper replied. "The battle that happened there, legend says thousands of Hunters died in it. I don''t know if there''s any truth to that, but¡­"


    He cast a wary glance around the room, then continued in a lower voice, "Those bastards will hang anyone they find trying to enter. Caught my nephew a few years back. The boy was only fourteen¡­" He shook his head, a look of disgust on his face.Find authorized novels in Webnovel£¬faster updates, better experience£¬Please click www.novelhall.comfor visiting.


    "They''re guarding the battlefield?" Arran asked, the surprise in his voice genuine. "Even this long after the battle?"


    "Always have," the large man replied. "Word is they consider it a graveyard, and they don''t take kindly to grave robbers. So you''d best forget about finding treasure there. Whatever lies buried in that place, it isn''t worth your life."


    Arran gave the innkeeper a slow nod, taking care to look suitably disappointed.


    Yet even as he forced himself to frown, he felt excitement rising within him. If the Hunters had spent the past half-century protecting the battlefield from looters, his chances of finding Elder Nikias''s writings might be better than he had thought.


    Still, he managed to feign a convincing sigh. "Wish I''d known about that earlier," he said. "It took me three months to get here."


    The innkeeper gave him a sympathetic look. "I''ll fetch you a bowl of stew," the man said. "When you''ve tasted my wife''s cooking, you might yet think the journey was worth it."

 Chapter 301 Pursui

    The stew at the inn was every bit as good as the innkeeper had claimed. It was the best meal Arran had tasted in centuries ¡ª though admittedly, he''d had precious few proper meals during that time.


    He remained in Redhill for several more days, but the food had little to do with that decision. Instead, he sought out any information he could find about the battlefield, asking the townsfolk as much as he could without drawing too much suspicion.Find authorized novels in Webnovel£¬faster updates, better experience£¬Please click www.novelhall.comfor visiting.


    This proved an easy task. A few drinks at an inn or tavern were all it took to loosen the locals'' tongues, and after a few more, they treated Arran almost as one of their own.


    Yet while getting the townsfolk to speak was easy, Arran soon discovered that they knew little beyond what the innkeeper had already told him.


    The Hunters had guarded the area as long as anyone could remember, capturing all those foolish enough to enter the old battlefield. Some people still tried their luck occasionally ¡ª treasure seekers and local youths looking to prove themselves ¡ª none of those ever made it back alive.


    Although Arran was disappointed at the lack of information, he wasn''t too worried about the disasters that had befallen his predecessors.


    His sharpened Sense and improved Shadowcloak should make it a simple matter to avoid all but the most powerful enemies, and even if he was somehow discovered, he had a weapon that few foes could resist.


    He left Redhill after three days, giving the innkeeper another few pieces of silver before he departed. The man looked at Arran with some wonder as he accepted the coins ¡ª evidently, it was a rare thing for him to get guests this generous.


    "For the food," Arran explained. "Haven''t tasted anything as good as that in years."


    The innkeeper nodded in thanks, but his expression turned serious. "I hope you''re not planning anything foolish."


    "No worries," Arran replied. "I know danger when I see it, and I have no intention of risking my life for some treasure. Tangling with Hunters is something best left to mages."


    "Good to hear that," the innkeeper said, a hint of relief in his voice. "Those Hunter bastards have killed enough people already. I''d hate to see a friendly fellow like yourself fall to them."


    After that, Arran gave the innkeeper a final greeting, then began to make his way out of the small town.


    Once he had left Redhill behind, he did not head straight for the battlefield. Instead, he set off along the road from which he had come, away from his destination.


    He had no plans of abandoning his search, of course. Yet although he had seen nothing suspicious during his days in the town, something about the whole situation seemed off.


    The Hunters might consider the battlefield a graveyard, but they had waged war against the Ninth Valley for long enough that the borderlands held numerous such graveyards. And if they truly wanted to keep outsiders away from places where their comrades had fallen, they''d have to occupy half the borderlands.


    Yet they hadn''t. As far as Arran knew, this battlefield was the only one within the borderlands that they gave such attention.


    The more he considered the matter, the more he thought the explanation didn''t make sense. He might not know much about the Hunters, but he could not imagine such a warlike people to be so sentimental they''d waste their troops defending a graveyard.


    If they prevented others from entering the battlefield, there had to be a more practical reason. The area must hold something else ¡ª something of value.


    And if the Hunters valued the battlefield for reasons other than sentimentality, then they''d keep a close watch on the nearby towns, as well.


    He was barely half a mile away from Redhill when his suspicions were confirmed.


    Though his eyes saw nothing, his Sense told him that someone was following him. A man ¡ª short and skinny, with a light step and nimble movements. And as he followed Arran, the man took care to remain concealed in the trees and shrubs, just far enough behind to keep an eye on his target.


    Arran quickly understood that his pursuer was a skilled tracker. Had his Sense not been sharp enough to spot a squirrel from a mile away, he''d never have known he was being followed.


    But as it was, the man''s attempts at stealth were in vain. Hiding in the bushes, no matter how skillfully, did absolutely nothing to trick Arran''s Sense.


    Arran considered laying an ambush, but after a brief moment of thought, he abandoned the idea. While he might get some information out of his pursuer, the man''s allies would doubtless notice it if he went missing.


    So Arran merely continued along the road at a calm pace, taking care not to reveal that he was anything but a simple traveler.


    For half a day, the man followed behind him, never revealing even the slightest glimpse of himself. Useless though these efforts were, Arran could not help but be impressed by the man''s skillful pursuit ¡ª without magic, he wouldn''t have been able to do half as good a job.


    Yet at midday, the man came to a sudden halt, then began to head in the opposite direction a moment later. It seemed he''d decided that his quarry''s desire to leave was sincere.


    A sly smile crossed Arran''s lips as he Sensed the man''s change of direction, but he did not respond immediately. Instead, he continued onward for another quarter mile, taking care not to reveal anything while the man might still see him.


    When he was certain that there were no more eyes on him, he slipped into a patch of brush along the road and immediately used his Shadowcloak. And then, he set off after his former pursuer.


    They retraced their steps along the road to Redhill over the next several hours. Except this time, Arran was the hunter, and he had a far easier time of following his prey.


    His Shadowcloak was strong enough that he doubted the man would notice his presence at a single pace, and with his sharpened Sense, he could easily detect his quarry even from a mile away.


    About halfway back to Redhill, the man made a sudden sharp turn, abandoning the road and starting toward a new direction ¡ª the battlefield.


    This was exactly what Arran had hoped for. If the man had gone straight back to Redhill, following him would have been a waste of time ¡ª another few days spent in the town would not bring any new answers.


    But if the short man was heading elsewhere, Arran was eager to find out what his destination was. It was obvious that he was either a Hunter or one of their allies, and if he was heading toward the battlefield, it wouldn''t be to enjoy the sights.


    In the days that followed, Arran followed the man like a ghost, never letting his quarry get more than a few hundred paces away from him.


    The short man had been cautious while trailing Arran, and as he made his way through the wilderness, his caution only seemed to increase further.


    Several times, he doubled back on his tracks, choosing indirect paths to obscure his destination from any pursuers. And twice, he stopped in places suitable for ambushes, lying in wait to see if anyone was behind him.


    Of course, none of this achieved anything.


    The only person following him was Arran, and the man''s caution could not contend with Arran''s Sense and Shadowcloak. All his prudence achieved was to cause his pursuer some slight annoyance, as Arran had to stand and wait for him to resume his journey.


    After nearly three days of travel, however, they finally reached the man''s destination ¡ª a large clearing amid the woods, with a camp at the center of it.


    Arran''s Sense told him that there were over a dozen people in the camp, but the camp was large enough to hold several times that number.


    There were guards, too, he Sensed. In the camp''s surroundings, another half dozen people patrolled the woods, slowly moving through the shadows between the trees.


    Arran briefly hesitated as he saw his former pursuer enter the camp, but then, he quickly followed behind the man. The opportunity to learn more about the situation was one he could not pass up.

 Chapter 302 Training Ground

    Arran approached the camp cautiously, following a good hundred paces behind the short man who had unknowingly guided him there.


    There were about a dozen people present, with most of them gathered around a cooking fire at the center of the camp. Several of the others were sleeping in tents, despite it only being late afternoon ¡ª a sign that they''d been out on patrol through the night, Arran thought.


    He was convinced that these were all Hunters, but he wasn''t too worried about being discovered. Even if they somehow managed to detect him despite his improved Shadowcloak, he was certain they couldn''t simply see through it. And in a fight, that meant he would be at an advantage, with his opponents facing an enemy they could not see.


    Still, he did not abandon caution altogether. Even if he was confident in his chances if battle broke out, killing Hunters so close to their own lands would draw far too much attention.Find authorized novels in Webnovel£¬faster updates, better experience£¬Please click www.novelhall.comfor visiting.


    As Arran was still sneaking toward the camp, the short man arrived at the group gathered around the campfire, where a barrel-chested Hunter with wide shoulders stood up to greet him.


    It seemed like the two men were speaking, but Arran''s Sense didn''t pick up sound, and he moved forward a bit faster ¡ª as fast as he could without risking the Hunters hearing him.


    He came to a halt a few dozen paces away from the fire, stopping just within earshot of the group.


    "¡­just some treasure hunter," the short man said. "But something was off about him. He moved like a Body Refiner, and not a weak one, either."


    Although Arran had missed the first few moments of their conversation, he knew at once that they were talking about him.


    He felt some frustration when he heard the man had recognized him as a Body Refiner. He''d tried his best to hide his power in Redhill, but it seemed his best wasn''t yet good enough. That was something he''d have to work on.


    "A Body Refiner?" The burly man spoke in a gruff voice, and he had an accent that was unfamiliar to Arran. "Don''t see many of those in these lands. I''m surprised you let him slip away."


    "You think I should have killed him?" the short man asked, his tone uncomfortable. "He wasn''t a mage, and I didn''t think he posed a threat. But if you disagree, I can still track him down."


    "Kill him?" The large man let out a thunderous laugh. "You should''ve recruited him, you fool. With the shoddy techniques in these lands, anyone who becomes a Body Refiner must have a decent bit of talent."


    "Surely we haven''t fallen so low that we must now sway outsiders to our cause," a voice sounded. It came from one of the women sitting around the fire, and there was a hint of disgust in her tone.


    "There''s a war coming," the burly man replied. "And when it arrives, even the smallest bit of strength may yet prove useful."


    The woman snorted in derision. "If a war comes, then we will win it. We soundly defeated the mages once already, and a second time will be no different. They''re too weak to be a threat to us ¡ª none of the ones I killed was even the slightest challenge."


    "The ones you killed were novices," the man replied, some annoyance in his voice now. "Barely as strong as our recruits. Do not think you can wrestle dragons just because you bested a lizard. It''s not a mistake you''d get to repeat."


    The woman hesitated in answering, and when she finally replied, her tone held a hint of defiance. "Maybe some of them are strong, but that doesn''t make them a threat. Not so much that we have to rely on the unpure to¡ª"


    "Quiet!" the burly man snarled.


    As the word left his mouth, he drew his sword in a single fluid motion so fast Arran''s eyes went wide with surprise. The blade came to a stop just a hair''s breadth from the woman''s neck, and briefly, Arran thought he was about to witness one Hunter slay another.


    Yet he sheathed his sword a moment later, then said in an icy tone, "One more mention of purity, and it will be your head. A new group of recruits arrives less than a week from now, and more than a few of them were once outsiders. Dividing our ranks at a time like this is as good as treason."


    The woman said no more, though she gave the large man a fearful nod. It seemed she knew the threat was not an idle one.


    Unexpected though the man''s outburst had been, Arran was more concerned with the way he''d handled his blade. Though the attack had been a mere warning, just that short glimpse was enough for Arran to know that this man might well be his match in swordsmanship.


    And if that was the case, then he wasn''t as safe as he had thought. While invisibility would be no small advantage, if the other Hunters were all as skilled as the large man, then they could still pose a threat to him.


    After a moment''s thought, he began to retreat, moving as quietly as he could. Before he took even the slightest risk of facing Hunters in combat, he would have to learn more about them. And the longer he remained in the camp, the higher the risk would be.


    He left the camp without issue, and when he was clear of it, he spent several hours moving away at a hurried but careful pace. Before he ventured into the old battlefield, he needed a final night of rest to replenish the Shadow Essence he''d used up while traveling to the camp.


    His reserve of Shadow Essence had grown dramatically, but it still wasn''t unlimited, and his improved Shadowcloak used up more of it than the old version had. At most, he could maintain it for a week, but he''d need at least a full night''s rest for it to recover.


    As he silently moved through the shadowy woods, he thought about what he''d heard in the camp.


    That the Hunters used the battlefield as a training ground wasn''t much of a surprise. Arran had guessed as much already ¡ª he knew the Hunters were resistant to magic, and he''d discovered in Uvar how a battlefield filled with unbound Essence could be used in training.


    The arrival of a group of recruits could be a problem, however. The unbound Essence would make it harder to maintain spells, which meant he might not be able to rely on his Shadowcloak to keep himself hidden. If there were dozens or hundreds of Hunters roaming the battlefield, going unseen could prove difficult.


    And there was also the purity the woman had mentioned.


    From her words and the man''s reaction to them, Arran surmised that not all Hunters were equally accepting and trusting of outsiders. Which meant the task of infiltrating them might be a difficult one.


    But that was a matter of later concern ¡ª first, he would have to search the battlefield for Elder Nikias''s writings on the Forms. And with Hunters around, that would be no easy task.


    Several hours of travel from the Hunters'' camp, Arran found a dense copse of trees that provided a good amount of shelter. He quickly put up a series of wards to offer further concealment, then dropped his Shadowcloak and tried to make himself comfortable on the cold ground, intent on getting a good night''s sleep.


    He would begin his search of the battlefield the next day, and with the new obstacles that had arisen, being well-rested would be no luxury.


    Moreover, if a new group of recruits was expected to arrive in less than a week, he would have to make the search a quick one.

 Chapter 303 Hunters

    Arran awoke before dawn, and after a quick breakfast of dried meat, he broke camp and set off toward the battlefield.


    A night of sleep had replenished most of his Shadow Essence and left his body well-rested. And that was a good thing, too, because his days of peaceful travel were at an end.


    He had traveled slowly during the past few months, careful to give his body the time it needed to recover. He''d walked instead of running, and feasted on the meat of every animal he encountered that had any Natural Essence worth mentioning.


    The regimen had worked remarkably well. While he hadn''t regained all his strength just yet, he was rapidly approaching his previous peak. And in a fight, that last bit of strength he still lacked would make little difference.


    Either way, it would have to be enough. His stay in the mountains had been longer than planned ¡ª well over the two years he''d intended to remain ¡ª and with every day that passed, war between the Hunters and the Ninth Valley was getting closer.


    If he was lucky, he''d have another five years. That would have seemed like an eternity before he entered the Shadow Realm, but now, he knew just how short it really was.


    Feeling the pressure of time weighing down on him, he ran toward the battlefield at a pace no commoner could have maintained for even a moment.


    As a youth, he''d had always been envious of wealthy merchants and their horses. But now, his own legs carried him faster and longer than any horse could.


    He did not use his Shadowcloak as he ran through the densely forested area around the battlefield. Although he knew there were Hunters in the region, he also knew that he might have little opportunity to replenish his Shadow Essence reserves once he reached his destination.


    His Sense was strong enough for him to avoid any threats, however. While he detected Hunters several times along the way ¡ª enough to make him think the camp he''d visited wasn''t the only one ¡ª he found them well before they had any chance of spotting him.


    Traveling normally, the battlefield would have been at least several days'' travel away. But at Arran''s hurried pace, it only took half a day before he could feel he was approaching his destination.


    The hum of unbound Essence grew into a rumble as he came closer, and several times, he took brief pauses to let his Sense grow accustomed to it.


    This close to the battlefield, it was clear that the area held every bit as much unbound Essence as he had encountered in the ruins of Uvar. More, perhaps. And although the feeling was a familiar one, it still took him effort to stop his Sense from being overwhelmed.


    His sword, however, seemed to have no trouble at all with the pressure emanating from the battlefield. Perhaps it was because it was formed from Essence itself, or perhaps its consciousness was entirely different from a human''s, but either way, its Sense was in no danger of being overwhelmed.


    Instead, the feeling that came through the bond was one of interest ¡ª that, and hunger.


    Arran continued onward, but at a slower pace than before. With Hunters in the area, he could not afford to let his Sense be overcome by the strengthening roar of Essence in the distance.Find authorized novels in Webnovel£¬faster updates, better experience£¬Please click www.novelhall.comfor visiting.


    By midday, there was a tingle on his skin. By now, the Essence had grown thick enough that it was just barely starting to affect him, though not so much as to hinder him. Not yet, at least.


    The vegetation was another matter, however. The area around the battlefield had been filled with dense trees and bushes, but the nearer he came, the sparser the trees and plants grew.


    At this, Arran slowed his pace even further. Without cover, staying out of sight of any roaming Hunters would require a great deal of care.


    He continued onward cautiously, spreading his Sense to detect any Hunters or other threats in the area. And while he found none, he remained alert.


    By late afternoon, the landscape had turned from a wilderness into a wasteland.


    A few plans and shrubs remained in the area, but other than that, the ground was filled with bare earth and stone as far as the eye could see. The destructive pressure of unbound Essence was simply too much for the vegetation here.


    And yet, Arran knew he still hadn''t entered the battlefield proper.


    The thought caused him some pause. He''d known the area held powerful destructive energies, but it seemed he had underestimated it even so. The rumble of Essence had already grown into a thunder, but he could Sense that he wasn''t even near its center yet. And there, it would be strongest.


    He could scarcely imagine what kind of battle could have caused such a thing. The sheer force of the magic used would have been enough to split the earth and tear apart mountains, and the mages involved must have been as strong as any he''d encountered.


    But they had still been defeated by Hunters.


    Arran was certain that none of the Hunters he had seen had the strength to do that. Not a hundred, not a thousand ¡ª not even a hundred thousand. While the burly man in the camp might match Arran, there was no way he would last even a second against mages who could unleash such quantities of Essence.


    And that, Arran knew, meant that there would be stronger Hunters out there ¡ª ones with the power to challenge Archmages, yet without using magic themselves.


    The thought caused a shiver to run down his spine. If there were Hunters like that present on the battlefield right now, he had no chance of achieving his task. Just escaping with his life would require a miracle.


    But he couldn''t simply turn around and walk away. Not when he was this close. The destructive power that filled the region was proof of the power the Forms held, and he could not give that up without even trying.


    Despite his misgivings, he continued onward through the barren wasteland, using both his own Sense and his sword''s to keep an eye out for any sign of Hunters or other threats.


    Evening was already falling when he found what he had feared ¡ª two Hunters, about a mile ahead of him.


    However, even as he prepared to move around them, he realized something was off. It was hard to tell from such a distance, but it seemed like the two were fighting each other.


    Arran frowned, then cautiously began to sneak toward them. He needed information more than anything, and if two Hunters were fighting each other, he wanted to know why.


    Yet his frown deepened when he drew closer, as he realized that the two had none of the skill he''d seen from the large man in the Hunters'' camp. While they couldn''t be considered clumsy, exactly, they fought with the skill of adepts ¡ª and only barely, at that.


    Recruits, then.


    When he realized this, a small smile crossed Arran''s lips, and he began to move faster. Even recruits should have information he could use, and if they were already fighting each other, a small accident shouldn''t draw too much attention.


    He walked toward them a calm pace, observing their fight as he approached.


    Both the fighters were young men with shaved heads, but one was short and slender while the other was tall and muscular. And from the look of it, the former was receiving a sound thrashing from the latter.


    The slender young man was knocked down before Arran reached the two, and as the youth went down, the larger recruit said in a sneering voice, "Just another worthless outsider. Now give me your belongings if you don''t want a further beating."


    Yet at that moment, the slender youth''s eyes shot toward Arran, who was now only fifty paces away. Absorbed in their fight, neither of the two had seen him approach.


    Noticing his defeated opponent''s gaze, the tall recruit quickly turned around. And as he laid eyes on Arran, a mocking expression appeared on his face.


    "Another outsider? I''m in luck today." He sneered, then continued, "What group are you in?"


    Arran felt some amusement that the recruit had mistaken him for one of their own, but then, it made sense ¡ª his head was shaved like theirs, and they doubtless didn''t expect to encounter any mages in the region.


    He did not reply to the young man. Instead, he continued to walk forward, his expression calm as he approached the recruit.


    "Don''t want to talk?" The tall recruit looked at Arran with open contempt. "Then I''ll have to beat some respect into you. Show you the difference between outsiders and the pure." He turned his drawn sword to Arran, a vicious look in his eyes.


    Arran observed the young man with an amused expression. Then, silently, he drew his own blade.

 Chapter 304 Recruits

    Arran faced the tall recruit calmly, waiting for his opponent to make the first move. Although the odds were in his favor, it would not do to be reckless ¡ª he still knew far too little about the Hunters to move without thinking.


    Moreover, even if his opponent was just a recruit, this was a chance to finally see a Hunter in action. And that was an opportunity he could not waste.


    The young man, however, seemed to mistake Arran''s caution for fear, and a confident grin appeared on his face.


    "I bet you wish you hadn''t interrupted me," he said, readying his sword. "But it''s too late to back down now."


    Without any further words, the young man attacked, launching a flurry of sword strikes at Arran. There was no restraint in the attack ¡ª in an instant, his full skill was on display, and he used every shred of strength he had with each furious strike.Find authorized novels in Webnovel£¬faster updates, better experience£¬Please click www.novelhall.comfor visiting.


    Arran accepted the attacks, parrying them without countering. And as the tall recruit continued to rain down blows on him, he retreated several paces, giving his opponent the chance to show the full extent of his skill.


    Yet after just a few moments, a frown appeared on Arran''s face.


    The youth was weak and slow, and his technique was riddled with flaws. While a hint of a more profound foundation could be seen in his swordplay, there was too little of it to be useful for Arran.


    The recruit, however, appeared to think he was winning the fight. Seeing Arran retreat, his smile grew broader, as if he was certain the battle was all but won.


    "A good effort," he said, "for an outsider. But I think it''s time we finish this."


    Arran couldn''t agree more.


    The youth barely had the skill to match a middling novice in the House of Swords. Fighting an opponent like this was a waste of time. It would teach him absolutely nothing about the Hunters.


    With a casual blow of his sword, he slapped the recruit''s blade aside, the young man''s parry no match for Arran''s strength. And even as the recruit''s eyes went wide with shock, Arran''s fist slammed into the side of his head.


    The young man collapsed instantly, his limp body dropping to the ground like a sack of grain. The blow shouldn''t be enough to kill him ¡ª or so Arran hoped ¡ª but he definitely wouldn''t be getting up again any time soon.


    His opponent defeated, Arran turned his eyes to the other recruit. The arrogant young man had been useless, but perhaps there would be something he could learn from the other one.


    He raised an eyebrow as he got a better look at the slender recruit, because as he now saw, this was no man. Rather, it was a young woman, barely out of girlhood. And although she had a shaved head and a figure without any curves to speak of, her tanned face was unmistakably female.


    Yet while Arran gazed at her with mild surprise, the look she gave in return was one of utter shock.


    "You''re not a recruit!" she said, her dark eyes wide with astonishment.


    "I am not," he replied calmly. There was no point in pretending ¡ª he knew too little about the Hunters to pass for one. "What''s your name?"


    "Negin," she said, still too shocked to consider whether she should be answering questions. Yet as she looked at Arran, her shocked expression slowly turned to one of suspicion. "Are you a mage?"


    "Do I look like a mage?" Arran smiled wryly, then shook his head. "I''m just looking for some treasure. After that, I intend to join the Hunters."


    It was a gamble, but he thought it was the best chance he had. He couldn''t pass for a Hunter, and he had no confidence that threats or torture would get him the answers he needed.


    But with a fresh recruit, deception might just work. And if it didn''t, he could always try a different approach.


    "You¡­ you want to join the Imperium?" She looked at him with a puzzled expression that still contained more than a little suspicion. "You don''t work for the mages?"


    "If I did, do you think you''d still be alive?" Arran asked calmly. "But what''s this Imperium you speak of?"


    "Hunters¡­ that''s what outsiders call us," she replied. "We are soldiers of the Darian Imperium." Despite the situation, she spoke the last words with pride in her voice.


    Arran glanced at the tall recruit, whose limp body still lay strewn across the rocky ground. "Didn''t he call you an outsider?"


    "He''s scum," she said sharply. "My parents were borderlanders, but I''m every bit as Darian as he is. No matter what they say." As she spoke, a frown came over her face ¡ª as if she realized she''d already said too much. "Why do you want to join the Imperium?"


    "I killed a few mages," Arran said. He shrugged, then continued, "More than a few, truth be told. If I join the Hunters ¡ª the Imperium ¡ª I figure they''ll have a hard time finding me."


    The girl gave him a curious look. Although it was clear that she was still suspicious, there was something else as well ¡ª interest, Arran thought.


    "You said you''re here to find treasure," she said in a thoughtful tone. "You''re looking for a weapon?"


    "I am," Arran lied. It was an obvious explanation ¡ª on a battlefield where thousands had fallen, there would be no shortage of lost weapons.


    "Then I''ll help you," the girl said. "But only if you help me find one, too."


    Arran frowned. He hadn''t expected it to be this easy. But then, from the girl''s expression, he thought there was more to it than a simple desire to have a decent weapon.


    "Having a good weapon won''t make you any better at using it," he said, hoping to provoke her into revealing more.


    She gave him a wry smile. "It will," she replied. "You''ll understand once you join the Imperium ¡ª if you decide to join the army. It''s not easy to get the means to grow strong. But if I return with a starmetal blade¡­" She didn''t finish the sentence, but a hopeful light remained in her eyes.


    "But why would I need your help?" Arran asked. "I''ve seen you fight¡­"


    He left the rest unspoken. There was no need to offend the girl too much ¡ª just enough to get her to talk.


    Of course, in truth, he had no intention of rejecting her offer. In just a few minutes, she''d already revealed things about the Hunters he hadn''t known before, and he was certain that he''d learn a great deal more if he spent some days with her.


    "There are others here," she replied. "Not just recruits, but Rangers as well. And if they find an outsider in this place¡­" She shook her head. "They''ll kill you in an instant. But with my help, you can pass for a recruit."


    A small smile formed on Arran''s lips, and he gave the girl a nod. "We have a deal, then."


    Naturally, he didn''t trust her in the slightest. But what he did trust was the desire on her face at the mention of a starmetal weapon. It was clear that she was desperate to gain such a treasure, and it was equally clear was that she had no confidence in finding one herself.


    Arran cast a look at the unconscious recruit. "What about him?"


    The girl hesitated, but only for a moment. "If you dig a hole, I''ll take his belongings. His clothes should fit you, more or less." She looked at the youth, then frowned uneasily. "I''ve never killed anyone before. Could you¡­"


    It was not the answer Arran had expected, but he did not object. This was no time to be sentimental. Breaking the young man''s neck was a simple matter, and digging a hole only took him a few minutes.


    A quarter-hour later, Arran was dressed in the tall recruit''s thick linen clothes. They didn''t fit him particularly well ¡ª the arms and legs were too long, and the chest too narrow ¡ª but for the time being, they would do.


    "What if someone finds out he''s missing?" he asked. He didn''t worry about anyone finding the young man ¡ª the grave was shallow, but he''d surreptitiously put several wards on it that would make it almost impossible to find.


    "They''ll assume he died," the girl replied, her expression only slightly uneasy. "It''s not uncommon for recruits to die during training ¡ª many go too far into the battleground and never return, while others take the opportunity to rid themselves of enemies."


    Arran nodded in response. "Anything else we need to take care of?"


    "Several things," the girl said. "But we should travel farther, first. There will be too many people this far from the battleground. Follow me, I know where to go."

 Chapter 305 Pills

    "So what else do we need to do?" Arran asked, dividing his attention between the girl beside him and the barren wasteland around them.


    That the girl ¡ª Negin ¡ª could not be trusted was obvious. She''d asked Arran to kill one of her fellow recruits for a chance at a starmetal weapon, and he had little doubt that she''d betray him as well, if she thought it would benefit her.


    Yet this was exactly what made her useful.


    Her desire for a weapon meant that she had no qualms about helping an outsider, and after the part she''d played in the death of another recruit, revealing Arran''s identity would implicate her as well.


    The balance was a precarious one, but for now, it got Arran what he needed. And if the girl decided to betray him, she''d soon discover the depth of her mistake.


    "That tingle you feel on your skin is magic," she said in response to his question. "And it''s much stronger in the real battlefield. If we go inside without proper precautions, we''ll burn long before we reach our destination."


    Naturally, Arran already knew about this. He''d faced the same thing in Uvar, and unless the unbound Essence grew much stronger than he expected, it should pose little difficulty to him.


    Still, he asked, "You have a way of dealing with that?"


    "I do," Negin replied, though she spoke with some hesitation. In a careful voice, she added, "You''re lucky you met me, or you never would''ve known about it."


    "Tell me what it is," Arran said curtly.


    He could tell that the girl was reluctant to share the information. And no wonder. She probably feared that he''d abandon or kill her once he no longer needed her help.


    Yet she need not have worried. Arran''s main reason for taking her hadn''t been her help in getting through the battlefield, but her knowledge about the Hunters ¡ª or rather, the Darian Imperium.


    Negin hesitated briefly, then said, "There are other obstacles ahead. So even if I tell you this, you''ll still need my help."


    Arran sighed. "If you keep your end of the bargain, I''ll help you get a weapon. But if you betray me, or keep secrets¡­"


    He left the rest of the threat unspoken. Doubtless, her imagination could come up with things far worse than any threat he could make.


    "I''ll tell you," she said after a moment. "When we came here, we were given pills that provide resistance to magic. But not enough to make it to the center of the battlefield."


    "So we''ll need to take them from other recruits." Now, Arran understood why the tall young man had tried to rob the girl''s possessions, and why she needed his help so badly.


    Negin nodded. "If we want to have a chance at finding weapons, we''ll need to take the pills from several dozens of recruits." Some concern in her voice, she hastily added, "And we can''t kill them. If one or two go missing, no one will care. But if you kill dozens of recruits, the Rangers will know something is wrong."


    "Beating up a few dozen recruits should be simple enough," Arran said. "But you said there were too many recruits here. If we''re looking for people to rob, isn''t that a good thing?"


    She shook her head. "If we rob too many people here, word will get out, and others will group up to take our pills." With an appraising look at Arran, she continued, "You might be strong enough to defeat them, but it will draw attention."


    Although he was unwilling to waste too much time, Arran gave her a reluctant nod in response. "Just tell me when we can start the hunt."


    They traveled along the edge of the battlefield for several days, avoiding the other recruits that roamed the area as best they could. This proved an easy task, since most of the recruits fled as soon as they saw two figures appear in the distance ¡ª few were willing to face superior numbers, it seemed.


    But there were some exceptions, as well.


    The first of these was a group of three recruits, all young men, who made the mistake of thinking their numbers would be enough to bring them victory.


    Arran quickly disabused them of this notion, giving them a beating that they wouldn''t soon forget. He took care to conceal his strength, but even so, the three recruits posed no challenge whatsoever. At a guess, he thought even the recruit he''d killed could have defeated them.


    The second, however, was more interesting.


    A handsome man, nearing the end of his twenties, ambushed them as they made their way through the wasteland. Arran detected the ambush from a mile away, but since there was no real risk, he made no attempt to avoid it ¡ª doing so would only make Negin even more suspicious.


    Yet to his surprise, the ambusher proved unexpectedly skilled. Not so much as to pose a challenge to Arran, but enough to leave him impressed. And eager to learn more about his opponent''s style, he let the fight continue for several minutes.


    There was a definite hint of an insight in the man''s skill, he saw ¡ª perhaps even more than one. It was still very far from becoming a true insight, but it intrigued Arran nonetheless.


    When Arran ended the fight ¡ª this time without giving his opponent too bad a thrashing ¡ª the man gave him a slight bow, then tossed him a small bag filled with pills. "I don''t suppose you''ll tell me your name?"


    Arran silently shook his head. Earlier, he''d wrapped a scarf around his face to hide his identity ¡ª something Negin said was common for recruits to do ¡ª so there was no risk of his opponent remembering him.


    The man sighed. "Even so, it''s good to know there''s talent like yours hiding among our ranks."


    After they''d left the defeated recruit behind, Arran said, "That one had some skill."


    Negin shot him an incredulous look. "Some skill? That was Eshkan, of the Bair clan. He''s famous among the recruits. I doubt there are a hundred among us who could defeat him."


    Arran shrugged. "Like I said, he had some skill."


    There were other encounters as they traveled around the edge of the battlefield, but none of them were particularly interesting. Arran ended the fights quickly, defeating the recruits before they had a real chance to defend themselves.


    In truth, he was far more interested in what he learned from Negin.


    After the first two days, she steadily grew more comfortable and talkative. And although she resisted Arran''s more obvious attempts at learning more about the Darian Imperium ¡ª he''d find out when he joined, she said ¡ª she still let slip more than she appeared to realize.Find authorized novels in Webnovel£¬faster updates, better experience£¬Please click www.novelhall.comfor visiting.


    Arran soon learned that the pills that granted resistance to magic only had a temporary effect ¡ª no more than a few days, if that. But even that was enough to give Hunters a major advantage when fighting mages, and if these were given to recruits, there would be stronger ones as well.


    He also discovered several things about the Darian Imperium, and though it was less than he would have liked, it was enough to unsettle him.


    From what Negin said, the Imperium was absolutely vast ¡ª several times as large as the Ninth Valley''s borderlands, and with dozens of major cities. And although she couldn''t ¡ª or wouldn''t ¡ª say how many recruits there were, what she did tell him suggested there were millions.


    If true, that spelled trouble for the Ninth Valley. While Arran could easily defeat these recruits, he knew novices and adepts would struggle to defeat them. And these were only recruits. Their leaders would undoubtedly be far stronger.


    Yet while the news for the Valley was bad, the things Arran learned related to his own mission were encouraging.


    According to Negin, there were no real requirements to join the Imperium. Anyone who wasn''t a mage could enter into the Hunters'' lands, and as long as they didn''t break any laws, they would be free to remain.


    It almost seemed too easy to be true. But then, Negin''s own parents had done the same thing, and she had clearly been accepted as one of the Hunters ¡ª or Darians, as she preferred.


    Arran did not simply take her word for it, of course.


    Even if she seemed to believe his claim of wanting to join the Darian Imperium, he knew there were many things she wasn''t telling him. But while he expected to find some unpleasant surprises, it seemed that infiltrating the Hunters would at least be possible.


    Then, after nearly a week of travel around the edge of the battlefield, Negin finally turned to Arran with the words he''d been waiting for.


    "We''ve gone far enough," she said. "There will be fewer recruits here, and none from my group. It''s time to hunt."


    Arran thought he could see some excitement in her expression, as if she was looking forward to the chance to rob her fellow recruits.


    But then, that made sense. By now, he understood that she was among the weakest recruits, and her parents being outsiders had further harmed her status. It was only natural that she was eager to get some revenge, now that she had the chance.


    "Then let''s not waste any more time," he replied. "Let''s rob some recruits."


    A hint of a smile flashed across her face, and with an eager nod, she followed him as they headed toward the battlefield.

 Chapter 306 Thieves And Robbers

    As they came closer to the battlefield, Arran could Sense that the violent pressure of unbound Essence was increasing. And even here, still a week''s worth of travel from the center of the battlefield, he could already feel the glow of Essence on his skin.


    It was no longer a mere tingle. Instead, it felt like the heat of campfire on a cold night, warming his skin in a manner that would have been pleasant had he not known its source.


    But since he knew the origin of the glow, he could not help but be alarmed.


    For Essence to have this effect at such a distance, the battlefield proper would have to be raging with it. And although he was prepared to face a situation like the one in Uvar, his resistance to Essence still had its limits.


    Negin could feel the pressure increasing as well, and she looked at Arran uncomfortably.


    "It''s strong, isn''t it?" she said, eying their surroundings uneasily. Yet although the effect was clear as day, no sign of its source could be seen with the naked eye.


    "It is," Arran said, his frown only partly feigned. "Have you ever experienced anything like this before?"


    She shook her head. "This is my first time in one of the training areas. I only became a recruit two years ago."


    "Just two years?" Arran looked at her in surprise. He had thought her skill lacking, but he''d assumed she''d been training for far longer ¡ª at least five years, and more likely ten. If she''d achieved her current level of skill in just two years, it was beyond impressive.


    Pride flashed across her face as she glanced at him. "Once you join the Imperium, you''ll see that our methods are unrivaled in the world."


    Arran suppressed a grin when he heard the bold claim. "You''re familiar with other empires'' methods, then?" he asked innocuously.


    She blanched at his words. "I haven''t seen other methods," she said, "but if even the mages can''t withstand our might, how could others possibly compare?"


    "The world is large and full of secrets," Arran said. Then, he shrugged. "But no matter. Perhaps you''re right. Either way, we should focus on the task at hand."


    He had already Sensed that there were more recruits in this area, and although they hadn''t run into any so far, he knew it wouldn''t be long before they found their first victims.


    "The pills," Negin confirmed with a small nod. "There should be enough other recruits around here. And with your strength, it should take us only a day or two to gather enough pills."


    There was a glint of eagerness in her eyes as she looked toward the barren wasteland that lay ahead of them. Most likely, she was already imagining a starmetal weapon in her hand.


    But first, they''d need to gather pills. And although Arran was confident in his strength, he was still wary of any surprises they might encounter along the way.


    "Are there any people to avoid?" he asked. "People other than recruits?"Find authorized novels in Webnovel£¬faster updates, better experience£¬Please click www.novelhall.comfor visiting.


    Negin frowned, then shook her head. "There shouldn''t be any," she said. "The Rangers don''t usually interfere with the recruits'' training in here." She hesitated for a moment, then added, "At the heart of the battlefield, there might be others training ¡ª but that''s no concern of ours. We''re not strong enough to go there."


    Though Arran kept a calm expression, he cursed inwardly. The heart of the battlefield was exactly where he planned to go. And if there were stronger Hunters training there, he had a problem.


    "But what about the pills?" he asked. "Don''t those allow us to go into the battlefield?"


    "The pills only give some resistance," Negin explained. "It''s enough for us recruits to reach places we couldn''t otherwise enter, but real resistance requires training."


    Arran raised an eyebrow at her answer. He thought he''d solved the mystery of the Hunters'' resistance to Essence, but it seemed there was more to it than just pills. "What kind of training?"


    Negin shrugged. "I don''t know. I''ve only been a recruit for two years."


    Arran was about to ask another question, but just then, he spotted a lone figure in the distance. Although he''d already Sensed the person ¡ª a tall young woman ¡ª he couldn''t say anything earlier, since Negin would doubtless grow suspicious if he found targets without seeing them.


    "There," he said, pointing toward the figure. "Our first victim."


    Negin looked over, and when she saw their target, she nodded eagerly. "Let''s get him before he escapes."


    They caught up to the young woman within a few minutes. She had made a half-hearted attempt at fleeing when she saw them approach, but when she realized it was already too late, she''d drawn her sword and stood her ground.


    "Pathetic," she said as Arran and Negin approached. "You''re too cowardly to fight on your own, and you even hide your faces? Where''s your honor?"


    Neither Arran nor Negin cared the least bit about honor, however. They effortlessly defeated the recruit, then relieved her of the small bag that held her pills.


    Unfair though it was, there was nothing their opponent could do. Although she was a fair bit stronger than Negin, she lacked the skill to match two recruits. And with Arran as one of her opponents, she didn''t even get the chance to put up a fight.


    As they left the recruit''s hateful gaze behind, Arran turned to Negin. "Anything good?"


    His companion nodded enthusiastically. "She must have defeated at least five people already. A few more like this, and we''ll have all we need."


    They slowly edged toward the battlefield over the two days that followed, the pressure of Essence steadily thickening around them as they robbed over a dozen recruits.


    None of their opponents were a match for Arran, though several of them offered insults when confronted by two disguised foes. He didn''t take offense, however ¡ª in their position, he''d be just as frustrated.


    Somewhat to Arran''s surprise, they only encountered two small groups among the recruits. When he asked Negin about this, she explained that the disgrace of grouping up was enough to stop most recruits from doing so.


    Still, if she felt any shame, she showed no sign of it. Rather, the closer they got to the battlefield, the more eager she seemed. And no wonder ¡ª if all went well, she was only days away from receiving the prize she so coveted.


    By now, he also understood why she was desperate to find the weapon.


    From what she said, outsiders ¡ª even those born within the Imperium ¡ª were often put at a disadvantage in training, receiving less guidance and support than those consider pure Darians.


    The most talented outsiders could still win their teachers'' favor through talent, but as Negin reluctantly admitted, she was a middling recruit at best.


    But if she brought back a starmetal weapon, her fortunes would change. She''d instantly be recognized as a promising talent and be given the support she needed to actually become one.


    And that, Arran understood, was something she wanted more than anything ¡ª to rise through the ranks and achieve glory within the Imperium.


    He felt some sympathy for her, but not too much ¡ª the Hunters were still his enemies, and if he encountered her in battle when the long-expected war broke out, he would not hesitate in killing her.


    But for the time being, they were allies. And with Arran''s help, her goal grew closer by the hour.


    After two days, she looked at their bulging bag of pills with just a hint of doubt.


    "I think this should be enough," she said in an uncertain voice.


    Arran gave her a questioning look. "But you aren''t sure?"


    "It''s enough to let us remain in the battlefield for two weeks," she said. "But if we can find two weapons in that time¡­" She sighed. "We''ll need to be lucky."


    "It''ll have to do," Arran said firmly.


    He had no idea if two weeks would be enough to find a weapon, but he was unwilling to wait any longer. Even if none of the recruits they''d robbed had shown any sign of recognizing something was amiss, he didn''t want to push his luck.


    Moreover, he didn''t want to spend any more time than necessary on the battlefield. Even if a week or two hardly made a difference, he''d already lost months in the Shadow Realm.


    "All right," Negin said. "But if we don''t find what we need¡­"


    "Then we''ll come back and get more pills," Arran said. "But there''s no point in worrying about that now. We should head for the battlefield and test our luck. Perhaps we''ll meet a few more recruits along the way."


    Negin agreed, albeit reluctantly, and once more they set off.


    Over the day that followed, the pressure of Essence steadily grew more intense, to the point where Arran could see in his companion''s expression that she was having trouble bearing it.


    But they hadn''t reached the battlefield yet, and she was unwilling to waste any of the pills they had ¡ª not before there wasn''t another choice left.


    Of course, Arran was still mostly unaffected by the pressure. Although he could clearly feel its effects on his skin, his body had no trouble bearing it ¡ª it could resist far more than this without effort.


    His Sense still functioned properly, too. This was a pleasant surprise, since he remembered well what effect the Essence in Uvar had on him.


    As they were already nearing the edge of the battlefield proper, Negin pointed at two figures in the distance. "There! If they''re heading inside, they must already have plenty of pills!"


    Arran had already spotted the two far earlier, but he hadn''t said anything. Not only did he have no real need for the pills, but he was also growing wary of unpleasant surprises. Things had gone too well for too long, and in his experience, that was rarely a good sign.


    Yet he could hardly let himself be guided by superstition. He sighed, then nodded. "All right, let''s get their pills. But after that, we''re heading straight into the battlefield."

 Chapter 307 Facing A Hunter

    As they approached the two figures in the distance, Arran looked at their targets with an increasing feeling of unease. Even if the two men looked no different from the ones they had faced, he had a bad feeling about these two.


    Both were dressed as recruits, with cloth veils wrapped around their faces to obscure their identity. Yet while there was nothing outwardly unusual about the two, to Arran''s eyes, was something about them that didn''t seem right.


    Or rather, about one of the two. Because while one was no different from the other recruits Arran had seen, the other moved in a way that caught his eye. There was something unusual about the man ¡ª something he didn''t like.


    But then, he suddenly saw it.


    "Stop!" he said, putting his hand on Negin''s shoulder to hold her back. "That''s no recruit!"


    He now realized that the supposed recruit''s movements held a hidden strength no recruit should possess. And while that was enough to alarm him, he also saw something different.


    Somehow, the way the man hid his strength reminded Arran of Shadow Essence, as if his very movements somehow concealed his body.


    Yet neither Arran''s Sense nor his sword''s detected any hint of Shadow Essence within the man. Rather, it was like the man had somehow taken an aspect of Shadow, and used it without magic.


    To others, the concealment would have been perfect. But Arran had spent numerous years in the Shadow Realm, and he recognized it almost immediately ¡ª though still not quick enough, it seemed.


    Because even as he came to a halt, with Negin looking at him in confusion, the man disguised as a recruit glanced their way. And as he saw Arran and Negin stop in their tracks, the man halted as well.


    Then, he turned and began to head toward them, with his companion following several paces behind.


    "Stand back," Arran said to Negin, speaking in a low voice. "This one is dangerous."


    She shot him a puzzled glance, and in an unconvinced tone, she began, "How can you¡ª"


    "Do it!" Arran sharply interrupted her. With a fight ahead, he could afford no distraction, least of all from a curious recruit.


    And he was certain that the man intended to fight him. The sudden stop in his approach had raised the man''s interest, and Arran guessed that he would be wondering if his disguise had been seen through.


    But there was no time for speculation. As the man approached him, Arran drew his sword, preparing himself for battle.


    Against this enemy, he would not hold back or try to hide his strength ¡ª anyone whose very movements could hold an aspect of Shadow was a threat that could not be underestimated.


    The disguised man drew his sword as well, and at a distance of about a hundred paces, he suddenly burst into a sprint, surging forward with inhuman speed.


    There would be no words, then. Just battle.


    The man''s first attack was a devastating one, a powerful overhead strike intended to end the fight in a single blow. And with his strength, it was a blow that few enemies could have withstood. Even if they managed to block it in time, it would do them little good.


    But Arran was no ordinary fighter. The crushing blow caused him to stagger backward, but he was strong enough to withstand his enemy''s attack.


    If his opponent was surprised, he showed no sign of it. Without pausing, the man unleashed a flurry of attacks at Arran, his sword moving with deadly precision as it flashed forward.


    Arran only barely managed to block and parry the attacks, and he clenched his jaw as he was forced backward. In the man''s attacks, he recognized hints of insight ¡ª and more than one.


    After a few moments, his opponent took a step back as well, some hesitation in his movements. It appeared the man hadn''t expected an enemy who could resist his attacks, and faced with someone as strong as Arran, he seemed to be having some doubts.


    Yet for Arran, the man''s brief moment of hesitation was an opening, and one he would not let go to waste.


    Unlike his opponent, he did not hesitate. He struck instantly, throwing all his power into a single blow and imbuing it with his true insight into severing. The result was a devastating attack ¡ª an unstoppable avalanche of deadly force.


    His foe moved to block the attack, but it was no use. Arran''s sword could cut even starmetal, and it tore through his opponent''s blade as if it wasn''t even there. An instant later, the man''s body was cleaved in two with equal ease.


    Arran sighed in relief as the man''s torn body collapsed to the ground. The fight had been brief but vicious, and his opponent''s skill had shocked him. He''d seen people whose styles held traces of insight before, but never this many.


    But before he could give it any more thought, he heard Negin''s voice.


    "I killed him," she said, her voice trembling with shock.


    When Arran looked over, he saw that she was standing next to the real recruit''s body, a look of shock on her face and a blood-covered sword in her hands.


    "Well done," Arran said. His attention had been fully focused on his own battle, and even if he''d wanted to, he couldn''t have protected Negin. But from the look of it, she''d done a good enough job of that herself.


    "But¡­" Negin stared at the dead man in front of her, eyes wide in disbelief. "He''s dead."


    "A severed head will do that," Arran said flatly. "Now take a look at this one."


    He moved to his defeated opponent''s body ¡ª the part that held the head, at least ¡ª and removed the man''s veil, revealing his face.


    He was a plain-looking man with dark hair who looked to be in his late twenties, thoug, even in death, his face held an agelessness that suggested his real age was well beyond that.


    As soon as she saw Arran''s dead opponent, Negin''s shocked expression turned to pale-faced astonishment. "That''s¡­" she said, though she didn''t finish the sentence.


    "Someone you know?" Arran asked.


    "He''s one of the teachers at my college," she said in a stunned tone. "He''s a Ranger." She turned her eyes to Arran, then repeated, "You killed a Ranger."


    Arran nodded thoughtfully. He''d wondered for some time how strong real Hunters were, and it seemed he now had an answer ¡ª though one that was less than encouraging.


    Although he had defeated his opponent, the man had been a real threat. He''d been slightly weaker than Arran himself, perhaps, but not much. And against two such enemies ¡ª or more ¡ª Arran knew he''d face serious difficulty.


    "Will anyone notice he''s gone?" he asked. He''d had a taste of the Hunters'' abilities, and he had no interest in meeting any more of them. Not while he was searching the battlefield.


    Negin shook her head. "He''s not supposed to be here. He isn''t with any of the groups. I don''t know why he¡ª"


    She stopped mid-sentence, and her shocked expression turned to one of outrage. "That treacherous bastard!" she cried out, her voice now trembling with anger rather than shock.


    Arran gave her a puzzled glance. "What is it?"Find authorized novels in Webnovel£¬faster updates, better experience£¬Please click www.novelhall.comfor visiting.


    "That bastard!" she repeated. "He came here to help that one!" She glanced at the recruit she''d killed, both hate and disgust in her eyes.


    At this, Arran couldn''t help but feel some amusement. "I take it that receiving outside help is frowned upon?"


    She shot him an angry glare. "That''s different!" she said. "I didn''t plan on meeting you. And this bastard¡ª" she kicked the recruit''s dead body "¡ªdidn''t need any help in the first place. He''s as pure-blooded as any Darian, with all the support he ever needed to grow strong."


    "Not strong enough to defeat you," Arran said. "Seems to me that he needed help more than you did."


    "That''s¡­" Negin''s voice trailed off as she looked at Arran in surprise. Then, a hint of joy flashed across her face. "I defeated him, didn''t I?"


    "You''re the one who still has a head," Arran replied. "So I''d say that makes you the winner. But you can celebrate another time. Let''s search these two before we bury them."


    As expected, the two dead Hunters had plenty of pills ¡ª easily twice as much as Arran and Negin had managed to gather. The dead Ranger had several other pills than the ones that granted resistance to magic, as well, which Negin excitedly explained should help with Body Refinement.


    Arran let the girl take half the pills. While he took several to study later, he didn''t have much other use for them ¡ª he certainly wouldn''t take any of the Hunters'' pills until he was completely sure of how they worked and what they did.


    After they had buried their enemies, Arran glanced at the wasteland ahead, then turned to Negin.


    "We have all the pills we need now," he said. "So let''s waste no more time, and head straight for the battlefield."


    Negin nodded, the excitement of defeating an enemy still clear in her eyes. "With this many pills," she said, "we will definitely find weapons for both of us."

 Chapter 308 Into The Battlefield

    "How did you do it?" Negin asked, her eyes narrowed as she glanced at Arran.


    "Do what?" Arran replied absently.


    They were on the very edge of the battlefield, where the barren ground already showed the occasional signs of a cataclysmic battle ¡ª gaping wounds in the earth, hundreds of paces long and deep enough to fully hide even a tall man.


    Yet while the sight was striking, Arran''s attention was fully focused on his Sense.


    This close to the battlefield, the roar of unbound Essence was strong enough that it was beginning to interfere with his Sense. More and more, it was beginning to crowd out his ability to detect anything else, overwhelming his Sense like the rumble of a raucous crowd might overwhelm his hearing.


    His sword, however, fared much better. Unlike Arran, it was somehow able to distinguish between all the different sources of Essence it detected, and it welcomed them with an eagerness that almost seemed giddy.


    "You defeated a Ranger," Negin said. "How is that possible?"


    In the aftermath of the battle, she had been too excited to ask any questions, instead vacillating between joy at defeating her opponent and shock at having killed the young man. But now that she had finally calmed down, she was starting to ask the questions she had ignored earlier.


    "I imagine there are many people in the Imperium with the strength to defeat Rangers," Arran replied with a shrug. "It shouldn''t surprise you that some outsiders can do so, as well."


    "But you don''t have any of the Imperium''s techniques," Negin insisted, clearly unsatisfied with the answer. "And you aren''t a mage, either. How can you be so strong?"


    "You''ll find that the world holds many strong people," Arran said. "Compared to some of the people and creatures I''ve met, I might as well be a common farmer. If you want to witness true strength, you should see what a dragon can do."


    "You''ve met a dragon?" Negin looked at Arran with wide-eyed astonishment. "A real one?"


    "More than one," Arran replied. "And one of them was a real monster, strong enough to crush entire mountains to dust. Friendly enough, though. For a few bottles of brandy, he''d help you with just about anything you needed. He even let me ride on his back."


    Negin scowled at Arran in annoyance. "You''re making fun of me."


    "Maybe," Arran said. "But my point stands ¡ª the world is filled with hidden strength. You''d do well to remember that."


    The girl did not reply, though a thoughtful look appeared in her eyes. Even if she didn''t believe Arran''s stories about Crassus, it seemed his defeating a Ranger had given her cause to reconsider her view of the world.


    They continued onward for several hours, with the landscape around them steadily showing more scars of battle. And as they traveled, the pressure of Essence grew stronger, too ¡ª strong enough that Arran knew Negin must already be having trouble enduring it.


    Indeed, barely an hour after he had the thought, she came to a halt, her expression suggesting that she was struggling with the pressure weighing down on her.


    Arran made an effort to look as if he was affected as well, though, in reality, the effect was still far from having any discernible impact on him.


    "We should take some pills," Negin said. "It won''t be long now before the magic becomes harmful to us."


    Arran nodded thoughtfully. "What about our belongings?" he said. Although he already knew the answer, he was curious to find out how she planned to handle the matter.Find authorized novels in Webnovel£¬faster updates, better experience£¬Please click www.novelhall.comfor visiting.


    She looked at him uncomfortably. "We''ll have to leave them behind," she said. "Our bags and our clothes¡­"


    Seeing her pained expression, it was all Arran could do not to burst into laughter. Yet he suppressed his amusement, and asked, "The bags with the pills, too?"


    Negin shook her head. "They''re made out of leather that comes from creatures with a resistance to magic. As long as we don''t go too far inside the battlefield, they''ll withstand it."


    Arran nodded. "What about our weapons?"


    She didn''t have an immediate answer to the question, and a frown crossed her face. "They''re made out of metal," she said, though her voice sounded doubtful. "I think they should be fine?"


    "All right," Arran replied. In truth, he knew the girl''s weapon would be anything but fine if they went far inside the battlefield ¡ª even in Uvar, the Essence had been violent enough to damage normal metal. And here, the unbound Essence would be far stronger.


    Yet his own weapon would only benefit from the harsh environment, and he had no intention of leaving it behind. But as he considered how best to keep its power hidden, Negin''s voice interrupted his thoughts.


    "Turn around." She looked at Arran with an uneasy expression, and her face was slightly red.


    "What? Why¡ª" Arran stopped mid-sentence. "Oh."


    Preoccupied with practical matters, he hadn''t yet considered the implication of their clothes being unable to resist Essence. But now, he realized that if they were to leave their belongings here, they''d have to travel the rest of the way naked.


    He gave her an awkward nod, then turned around and began to disrobe.


    Some moments later, her voice sounded again.


    "We should take some pills."


    Arran turned around again, trying his best not to stare. He only partly succeeded at this, and as his glance passed Negin''s body, he could not help but notice that her clothes had hidden more curves than he realized.


    Yet he forced himself to focus on her face ¡ª and found that she''d fared even worse at trying not to stare. But her eyes moved up to his a moment later, and red-faced with embarrassment, she quickly reached for the bag in her hand, then took two pills from it.


    "Two should be enough for now," she blurted out, then quickly handed Arran the pills before turning her eyes away from him.


    Arran gave the pills a brief glance. Then, moving his hand toward his mouth, he instead let them disappear into his void ring. He had no intention of taking pills whose effects he didn''t fully know, and for the time being, he had no real need for them.


    For the next few hours, they traveled in silence. Arran thought the pills were helping Negin withstand the increasing pressure of Essence around her, though, with the embarrassment that still lingered in her expression, it was hard to tell.


    His eyes wandered a few times as they walked ¡ª perhaps more than a few times ¡ª but he didn''t feel too bad about this, since he caught Negin stealing glances several times as well.


    Still, most of Arran''s attention was focused on the area around them. The earth was torn and cracked from the battle that had been fought here long ago, and he was wary enough of any unexpected threats that he did not let himself be distracted by the naked girl at his side ¡ª not too much, at least.


    More hours passed as they continued toward the center of the battlefield, with the pressure of Essence around them steadily growing stronger. Negin took another two pills to withstand it, and Arran hid another two of the pills in his void ring.


    "I think we''ve gone far enough," Negin said eventually, casting a studious look at the ruined landscape around them. "We should begin searching."


    "If you say so," Arran replied. He already knew that she was wrong ¡ª while his own Sense was useless here, his sword told him that there wasn''t a trace of starmetal nearby.


    But he could not tell his companion about this ¡ª not without raising her suspicion ¡ª and so, he dutifully pretended to search the area around them for a good hour.


    Eventually, Negin let out a disappointed sigh. "I don''t think there''s anything here," she said. "We''ll have to go deeper into the battleground."


    In the hours that followed, they stopped twice more to search the area, but each time Arran knew that the search was doomed. If there had ever been any treasure here, it had been looted long ago.


    When night fell, they paused to rest, with Negin taking another four pills to get her through the night. Arran, for his part, surreptitiously stored his pills in his void ring ¡ª while the unbound Essence here made his Sense all but useless, it was still far from enough to cause him harm.


    The next morning, they awoke at dawn. Negin quickly took another few pills that were clearly needed ¡ª by now, her bare skin was red from the violent force of the unbound Essence.


    "We should travel for at least half a day before we stop to search," Arran said. "This close to the edge of the battlefield, other recruits are bound to have looted anything of value."


    He was unwilling to waste any more of their time searching for nothing, and he had decided that if his sword did Sense something, he''d simply suggest they stop and search.


    Negin hesitated, then nodded. "I think you''re right," she said. "But we can''t go too far ¡ª the pills'' protection is limited."


    They spent another day traveling further into the battlefield, only stopping twice to search ¡ª and then, only because Negin insisted on it. Because Arran already knew there was nothing to be found.


    When the light began to fade in the evening, Negin turned to Arran with a worried expression. By now, if she still felt any embarrassment at their state of undress, the pressure of the Essence and their fruitless search far outweighed it.


    "Maybe we shouldn''t move any further toward the center tomorrow," she said, her voice troubled. "I don''t know how much more of this we can take. We can search along the outskirts, instead."


    Arran briefly feigned hesitation, then shook his head. "We''ll have to go deeper," he said. "So far, we haven''t found a trace of anything useful."


    He already knew that searching here would bring no results ¡ª neither starmetal weapons nor the true treasure he hoped to find. If they wanted a chance of finding what they wanted, they would have to enter the more dangerous parts of the battlefield.


    Negin sighed. "I suppose you''re right," she said. With a forced smile, she added, "There''s no reward without danger."


    "Don''t worry," Arran said. "I have a good feeling about tomorrow."

 Chapter 309 Suffering

    When they awoke in the morning, Arran felt some shock when he saw Negin.


    Her skin was bright red all over, and in some places, it was beginning to blister. Even with the pills, it seemed that she was already close to reaching her limit.


    And yet, he knew that they still had a long way to go. Because as his sword''s Sense told him, the area they were in was completely devoid of treasure.


    "You look like you''ve slept well," she said, casting a look at Arran that held suspicion and envy in equal parts.


    And no wonder. Even without the pills, Arran''s skin was only barely beginning to show signs of the barrage of violent Essence. While the feeling had become mildly unpleasant by now, the environment was no more than a small nuisance to him ¡ª certainly not the threat it was to Negin.


    Arran shugged. "I''m ahead of you in Body Refinement."


    There was some truth to the answer. With Arran''s strength in Body Refinement, his body would heal small injuries far faster than Negin''s would. Yet so far, his resistance to magic meant that there weren''t any injuries to heal in the first place.


    Negin looked at him with barely veiled incredulity. "How did you become so strong without the Imperium''s methods?"


    It was a question she''d asked at least a dozen times since they met, and none of Arran''s answers had satisfied her curiosity. But telling her the truth wasn''t an option, and he responded with another shrug.


    "I''ve already told you," he said. "Hard work and good fortune. But we should get moving. The sooner we''re out of here, the better."


    "Are you sure we should be moving further?" Negin looked at him uncomfortably, obviously fearful of the environment growing even harsher.


    "I am," Arran replied. "If we want a chance at finding weapons, we''ll have to head deeper into the battlefield."


    Negin sighed, then gave him a small nod. Although she said nothing, the worry in her eyes was as clear as the burns on her skin.


    They set off again only moments later, traveling further into the wasteland as the sun began its ascent into the sky. And as twilight faded, the light of day illuminated a landscape that spoke only of ruin and devastation.


    This far into the battlefield, the remnants of battle still looked fresh, as if the battle had been fought months rather than decades ago. The ground around them was rough, torn asunder by magic the likes of which Arran could only barely imagine.


    It looked as if mile-high giants had descended from the heavens and plowed the earth until not a single spot of ground remained untouched. There were gorges running haphazardly through the area, tens of paces deep, and gaping craters riddled the earth like giant pockmarks.


    Had Arran not know it was a battlefield, he might have thought it was the site of some great natural disaster ¡ª a cataclysm beyond human comprehension, with the earth itself rising up against those who dwelt its surface.


    Yet he knew that the devastation before him had been wrought by mages. And for all their power, mages were ultimately just humans.


    The sight made it easy to understand why commoners would distrust mages. The power to unleash destruction on such a scale caused even Arran to feel uneasy.


    They navigated the forbidding landscape as best they could, clambering across gorges and craters for half the morning. And the further they traveled, the stronger the effects of the Essence on Negin grew.


    By now, much of her body held burns and blisters, and although the wounds were still superficial, Arran knew that would not last much longer. This close to the center of the battlefield, the pressure of Essence grew stronger with every step.


    Then, he Sensed something through his sword ¡ª starmetal, barely half a mile away.


    "We should search over there," he said, pointing in the direction of the treasure his sword had found.


    "Why there?" Negin asked, somehow still curious despite her obvious suffering.


    "The damage is heavier over there," Arran said. "That could mean there was heavier fighting in that area ¡ª and perhaps more casualties."


    He''d invented the explanation on the spot, but with a closer look, he saw it might not be far from the truth. While the devastation was near-complete wherever he looked, the area his sword had indicated seemed particularly ravaged.


    Negin agreed without any further questions or objections. Even if the hostile environment hadn''t shaken her wits just yet, every second on the battlefield was an effort to her, and she had little energy to spare for argument.


    When they reached the area that held the piece of starmetal, Arran searched for half an hour, curious to see if there would be something his sword had missed. Yet he found nothing, and eventually, he moved to the spot his sword had Sensed.


    There, buried under some crumbling pieces of rock, he found a weapon ¡ª a long, curved dagger, exquisitely crafted and made completely from starmetal.


    He took the weapon in his hand, then called out, "I found something!"


    Negin came running instantly. While the pressure of Essence had slowed her earlier, the excitement of a discovery reinvigorated her in an instant.


    When she arrived, Arran made a disappointed face, then handed her the weapon.


    "It''s just a dagger," he said. "You can have it."


    "Are you sure?" Negin looked at him with astonishment, shocked that he''d give up the treasure so easily.


    Arran feigned a sigh. "It''s no use to me," he said. "I need a proper weapon. But this should help you, shouldn''t it? With this, you can head back."


    Yet as he spoke, a frown crossed her face. Then, she shook her head. "I can''t," she said. "Like you said, it''s not a proper weapon. Returning with this¡­" She sighed deeply. "It would bring me honor, but not nearly as much as a real weapon would."


    Arran frowned at her words. He''d expected that the dagger would be enough for her to leave the battlefield, especially in her current condition.


    In truth, he''d long wanted to be rid of her. It was clear that her body wouldn''t withstand the pressure much longer, and her presence was an obstacle to his real search.


    "But you can''t go much further," Arran said. "At most, you''ll last another day or two, and that''s if you''re lucky."


    "I have to," she replied sharply, her expression determined despite the burns on her face. "This is a chance I won''t get again. I can''t give up now. Not when we''re this close¡­"


    Arran realized that arguing would achieve nothing, so he gave her a nod. "Then let''s hurry."


    They set off again without delay, though Negin left her sword behind. Instead, she held the dagger in her hand, gripping it so tightly her knuckles were left white from the effort.


    By midday, they still hadn''t found anything else, and Arran was beginning to grow increasingly worried about his companion.


    He could see that the girl was struggling with every step she took, and she looked as if she''d fallen into a blacksmith''s forge. In several places, her skin was cracked and bleeding, and he worried that she could fall at any moment, never to get up again.


    Yet each time he urged her to return, she merely clenched her jaw and refused. Even now, with her body on the brink of failure, she was determined to achieve her goal.Find authorized novels in Webnovel£¬faster updates, better experience£¬Please click www.novelhall.comfor visiting.


    Arran wasn''t sure whether to be impressed with her perseverance or disappointed at her stupidity. It was clear that she was determined to succeed even if it cost her her life ¡ª which, if they didn''t find something soon, it most likely would.


    Just after midday, however, Arran''s sword Sensed something that instantly caused the girl to slip to the back of his mind. Just under a mile away, there was something he could not have dreamed to find in the battlefield ¡ª a shard of Living Shadow.


    At once, Arran pointed in the direction of the treasure. "There," he said, unable to fully keep the excitement from his voice. "We have to go there. Immediately."


    Negin did not reply, but she followed a few paces behind Arran as he hurried toward the treasure ahead.


    While Arran had no idea how he''d use another shard of Living Shadow, his heart was filled with excitement as he made his way toward the treasure. If a Living Shadow weapon lay ahead, someone truly powerful would have died there ¡ª and they would have carried more than just a weapon.


    He hurried across the rough terrain, clambering through two deep gorges and past a misshapen hill as he approached the treasure.


    But then, as he finally laid eyes on the area where he expected to find the treasure, his heart nearly stopped.


    The treasure was there, just as his sword had Sensed. Yet it did not lie buried beneath the rubble. Rather, it hung at the belt of a woman who was still very much alive. And she was looking straight at him.


    As Arran stared at the woman in the distance, Negin caught up with him. And when she saw the woman ahead, her reaction was wholly different from Arran''s.


    "Kneel!" she hissed, falling to her knees next to Arran. "That''s a Knight!"


    He hesitated, but only for an instant. Then, he fell to his knees at Negin''s side. And as he glanced up, he saw that the woman was approaching them.

 Chapter 310 A Knight Of The Imperium

    A surge of panic rushed through Arran''s body as he knelt down beside Negin.


    That the woman in the distance was strong, he knew for a fact. Negin''s reaction was enough to tell that him her status was high ¡ª far above that of a Ranger ¡ª and she was clad in a suit of armor that somehow resisted the unbound Essence of the battlefield.


    And worst of all, on her belt she carried a shard of Living Shadow.


    Arran knew that if his sword could Sense the woman''s weapon, then the opposite should hold true as well. And if she knew about his weapon, he could not see the encounter ending well.


    But that was only the start of it. Because the concealments Arran had used on his Shadow Realm and void ring were strong, but not so strong that his sword couldn''t see through them.


    The woman would already know he was a mage if her weapon could do the same. And if that was the case, the only question was whether she''d try to kill Arran immediately or attempt to capture him for interrogation.


    Either way, he would have to fight. And in a fight, he could only hope that the Knight wasn''t as strong as he feared she was.


    Yet even as he prepared for battle, a soothing feeling came from the bond he shared with his sword, almost as if it was trying to reassure him.


    It took him some moments to understand the weapon''s meaning, but then, he realized what it was trying to tell him ¡ª that the Knight''s weapon wasn''t its equal, neither in strength nor in Sense.


    He frowned briefly, wondering whether the weapon was right ¡ª and whether he could trust it with his life. But he had already entrusted his life to his weapon in battle, and as he considered the matter, he realized that it made sense for his weapon to be stronger than hers.


    The executioner''s blade had begun to form a semblance of consciousness even before its world fell to Shadow, and it had further built on that foundation in the countless years it had spent steeped in Shadow Essence.


    The Knight''s weapon would doubtless be weaker. And if he was lucky and his sword was right, it might be weak enough that his wards could fool it.


    As the woman drew closer, Arran maintained a calm expression despite his concern. If his disguise held up, it would not do for his nerves to betray him.


    Yet despite Arran''s worries, the Knight showed no sign of attacking. Instead, she approached them calmly, finally coming to a halt just five paces away.


    "Stand up," she said, her tone firm but not unfriendly.


    Arran did as she said, and now that he got a better look at her, he could not help but be impressed with her appearance. Her armor was fashioned from starmetal and leather ¡ª similar to that of the recruits'' bags, most likely ¡ª and there were two weapons on her belt.


    The larger of these was a sword, slender and curved. And although it was sheathed in a leather scabbard, Arran Sensed through his sword that it was made from starmetal. The other weapon was a large dagger. And this, he knew, was the shard of Living Shadow.


    Yet intrigued though he was by her arms and armor, her face was equally interesting. She had dark eyes and sharp features, and although she looked young, her expression was one of easy confidence.


    In any other situation, Arran would have found her beautiful. But now, the main thing he noticed was the aura of danger she exuded. Something about her expression and manner told him that she had fought many battles.


    As Arran studied the woman, she studied them as well, some curiosity showing in her dark eyes.


    "It''s a rare thing," she finally said, "to meet a recruit this far into the battlefield." Her eyes turned to Negin, and she continued, "It seems you have had some luck. Hand over what you found."


    Ever since receiving the starmetal dagger, Negin''s grip on it had not eased in the slightest. She''d held the weapon as if it was a treasure that might disappear if she so much as loosened her grip for even a second. Yet at the Knight''s command, she instantly handed it over.


    The woman took the dagger, then spent some moments carefully examining it. And as she inspected its craftsmanship, a hint of appreciation could be seen in her eyes. Then, satisfied, she handed the weapon back to Negin.


    "A good piece," she said. "Good enough to win you the favor of your teachers." She glanced at Negin''s blistered body, and continued, "But after finding such a treasure, the time has come for you to head back."


    Negin promptly shook her head, her jaw set as she faced the Knight. "I can''t," she said. "Not yet."


    The woman frowned, but an instant later, a trace of approval appeared in her eyes. "You''re brave," she said. "Foolish, but brave. If you continue, you may well die. But if you succeed¡­"


    The woman hesitated briefly, then produced a small bag, which she handed to Negin. "Should you survive, this will help you recover."


    Negin accepted the bag with wide eyes. "Thank you, Lady¡ª"


    "Merem," the Knight said. "If you make it back to the Imperium, seek me out. A recruit with your strength of will is a rare find."


    "You have my promise," Negin said, bowing deeply as she spoke, her voice filled with reverence.


    Yet before Negin even finished the bow, the woman had already turned her attention to Arran. And while she had looked at his companion with kindness, the look she gave him was wholly different ¡ª curious, though with no small amount of suspicion.


    "You are not a recruit," she said. "Yet you are no mage, either. Why are you here?"


    The certainty in her voice suggested to Arran that she''d relied on her shard of Living Shadow to examine him. Yet from the sound of it, his wards had held.


    Still, he could not afford to be relieved just yet. He remembered all too well what the townsfolk of Redhill had said about outsiders entering the battlefield.


    Arran met the Knight''s eyes, forcing himself to maintain a calm expression as he faced her. "I''m here to find a weapon before I join the Imperium."


    "Is that so?" She frowned, then cast a gaze at his body that lingered long enough for him to grow slightly uncomfortable. Finally, she turned her eyes back to him. "You''re strong. Who instructed you in Body Refinement?"


    "The Jiang Clan," Arran replied instantly. "In the Empire."


    It was the best explanation he could give ¡ª close enough to the truth that he could easily answer any further questions she had, but impossible to verify.


    The Knight gave him another appraising look, then asked, "Your Empire is far away. What made you decide to travel here? And why should I not kill you for trespassing upon our training grounds?"


    Arran could tell the latter question was meant to provoke him, yet he maintained his calm. "I was forced to flee the Empire after I killed some overconfident mages. As for why you shouldn''t kill me¡­" He shrugged. "Like you said, I''m strong. And word is that your Imperium is heading to war soon. Why waste strength when it could be yours?"


    The woman smirked in amusement. "Do not overestimate your strength," she said. Yet after a moment, she nodded. "I suppose you are right. Even modest gifts can be useful."


    She gave him a smile that almost seemed flirtatious, and continued, "Very well. For the good of the Imperium, I will overlook your transgression. But do visit me after you start your training. I might have use for someone with you¡­ talents."


    "I''ll do that," Arran said, giving the woman a small nod.


    Yet although he maintained a calm expression, he could not help but be puzzled by the woman''s behavior. If he didn''t know any better, he''d almost think her interest was in something other than his strength.


    "Take this," the Knight said. She produced a ring which she handed to Arran. "There are others here who might not be as forgiving as I am. This will serve as proof that you are under my protection."


    "Thank you?" Arran looked at the woman in confusion. While he was glad that she wasn''t trying to kill him, he had not expected¡­ whatever this was.


    "You''ll have plenty of opportunity to thank me in the future." She spoke with a smile, but as she turned her eyes back to Negin, her expression grew serious. "You, however, should consider returning. Stubbornness alone will not protect you."


    Negin merely clenched her jaw and shook her head. While meeting the Knight had briefly revived her flagging energy, it seemed the brief recovery was already at an end. Yet still, she was unwilling to give up.


    The Knight shrugged. "The choice is yours to make."


    She gave Arran a last smile, then turned and left without any further words. Just moments later, she had disappeared into the ruined landscape.


    Arran watched the woman''s departure with his brow furrowed in a deep frown. Of all the people he''d encountered in his travels, this was by far the strangest.


    Yet he soon turned his attention back to Negin, and as he looked at her, he felt some shock. Even in the short time they''d spent talking to the Knight, more blisters had formed on her skin.


    He''d thought she could last another day or two, but now, he began to worry that even a day would be more than she could bear.


    "She was right," he said. "You have to return."Find authorized novels in Webnovel£¬faster updates, better experience£¬Please click www.novelhall.comfor visiting.


    "No." She only spoke the single word, and even that with effort. Yet her meaning was clear ¡ª she would not return before she found the treasure she sought.


    Arran sighed, but it was clear that the girl''s mind was set. "Let''s hurry, then," he said. "The sooner you''re out of here, the better."


    Negin responded with a small nod, and they immediately set off once more, heading even deeper into the battlefield.


    They walked for several hours, the ruined landscape somehow still growing more chaotic around them. By now, it could barely even be called a landscape anymore ¡ª the ground was torn and twisted, rent apart by magic so strong Arran could barely even begin to imagine it.


    And as they walked, the pressure of unbound Essence still grew stronger, finally even reaching the point where it was causing Arran some discomfort.


    Yet while he merely frowned uneasily, Negin was another matter. The blisters and burns on her body had long turned bloody, and whatever protection the pills offered, it clearly wasn''t enough anymore ¡ª not this close to the center of the battlefield.


    Arran realized that if they were to continue like this, she would likely be dead before the day was over.


    It was something that shouldn''t bother him. He barely knew her, and she was an enemy, besides. Yet as he looked at her, swaying on her feet as she only narrowly clung to consciousness, he realized he could not let a companion of his meet such a fate ¡ª not even an enemy.


    "There!" he called out. "I see something!"


    Without waiting for the girl''s reply, he ran forward, toward a large pile of rock and rubble. Then, just out of her sight, he retrieved one of the starmetal swords he''d found in the tunnels near Amydon from his void ring, and triumphantly held it up.


    "I found a weapon!"


    The act was far from convincing, but in Negin''s current state, there was no need for subtlety. She was already too far gone to see through it.


    Arran hurried back to her, holding up the sword. "I found one!" he repeated. "You take it. With this, you can return."


    Negin''s cloudy eyes cleared for a moment, and as she accepted the sword, a look of utter bliss appeared on her face.


    "It''s real," she said, enraptured by the sight of the weapon.


    Then, she collapsed.

 Chapter 311 A Choice

    Arran looked at Negin as she lay on the ground. With her body covered in burns and blisters, it was a small miracle that she''d lasted as long as she had. Her strength had long failed her, and the last hours, she had persisted on nothing but sheer willpower.


    But there was only so much willpower could do.


    The moment she''d laid eyes on the starmetal weapon, her body had finally given out, and she''d collapsed into unconsciousness. She was long past her limit, and against the merciless assault of unbound Essence, no amount of determination could last.


    As Arran looked at her, he knew that leaving her behind was the sensible thing to do.


    In her current pitiful state, she wouldn''t last much longer. Another hour or two, at most. And once she died, what little she''d learned about Arran would be forgotten.


    That might save him no small amount of trouble down the road ¡ª although she didn''t know much about him, what little she knew was already more than enough to get him killed.


    Yet as he stared at her bloodied figure, he realized he couldn''t do it. Enemy or not, she had been his companion for several weeks, and he would not lightly abandon a companion to die.


    He cursed loudly as he realized what he had to do. But then, with a deep sigh, he stored the girl''s belongings in his void ring and threw her battered body over his shoulder.


    Even burdened with the girl''s limp body, not having to conceal his strength meant that Arran could travel far faster than he had before. The journey into the battlefield had taken them days, but running at full speed, it took him only a few hours to return.


    It wasn''t long before he reached the spot where they''d left their belongings behind, and when he arrived, he carefully laid the girl down on the ground.


    Her body was covered in dried blood, but he could see that her blisters were already beginning to fade. Although far weaker than Arran, she was clearly still a powerful Body Refiner.


    Yet although her broken skin was beginning to heal, her consciousness had yet to return. And not just that ¡ª as Arran examined her, he saw that her skin was deathly pale, and her breaths were shallow and uneven. He could still feel her pulse, but it was weak and rapid, with her body was struggling to endure the injuries she had suffered.


    He waited for a quarter-hour, but she showed no sign of improvement. If anything, she seemed to be getting worse, her skin growing paler still as her breathing almost came to a halt.


    Arran was no healer, but he understood she was dying. She''d pushed past her body''s limits in the battlefield, well beyond the point of recovery. He hadn''t recognized it at the time, but now, he realized he had overestimated her strength.


    Yet although he knew she was dying, he had no idea of how to save her ¡ª or even if she could be saved at all.


    With a thought, he took out the small bag the Knight had given her. The woman had said its contents might help Negin recover, and right now, the girl needed any help she could get.


    He found a small assortment of pills inside the bag, but a frustrated frown appeared on his face as he examined them. Not only did he not know what each of them did, giving Negin pills in her current state would more likely choke her than save her life.


    Arran groaned in frustration at the helplessness he felt. He knew a thousand different ways to kill an enemy, but saving lives was a different matter ¡ª and one he knew absolutely nothing about.


    Had Snowcloud been there, he knew she would have known a way to save the girl ¡ª some mixture of foul-tasting potions, no doubt. But she was months of travel away, and Arran had none of her knowledge about medicine.


    And without any knowledge of healing, all he could do was watch helplessly as the girl''s life slipped away right in front of him.Find authorized novels in Webnovel£¬faster updates, better experience£¬Please click www.novelhall.comfor visiting.


    But then, a thought came to him. Without hesitation, he grabbed the girl''s starmetal dagger, then made a deep cut across his hand. It only took a moment for the wound to heal, but as blood came from his hand, he poured it across Negin''s lips and into her mouth.


    Several times he repeated this, careful not to choke the girl. Then, finally, he pulled his hand back, and carefully observed her. If he was right, she might yet be saved.


    He had no idea if the plan would work. While he thought there was a chance, he knew that his attempt at saving her might well end up killing her, instead. But then, if he didn''t do anything, she was dead anyway.


    Still, he had some hope that she might survive. Not only was his blood rich in Natural Essence, it also held the Dragon''s Ruin. And with the girl on the verge of death, her body might just be weakened enough that the Dragon''s Ruin could take hold.


    For a good half hour, nothing happened. Yet while the girl showed no sign of recovery, her condition had stopped deteriorating. If nothing else, Arran''s help seemed to have staved off the most immediate threat.


    More time passed as Arran anxiously watched for any changes. But then, he saw it ¡ª a hint of color began to return to her skin, and her shallow breathing slowly grew steadier.


    The improvement was painfully slow, but it was an improvement nonetheless. And as the girl''s breathing steadied, Arran''s hope slowly turned into relief.


    It took another hour before she regained consciousness, and when she did, she looked at Arran in confusion for several moments. But as her eyes cleared, she said in a weak voice, "You saved me."


    "So I did," Arran said, unable to fully keep the grin from his face. He''d been all but certain the girl was doomed, but somehow, he''d managed to save her. It was a feeling nearly as good as defeating a powerful enemy.


    Several minutes passed before Negin spoke again, and when she did, her voice had already grown stronger. "I''m hungry," she said, some confusion in her eyes.


    The Dragon''s Ruin had taken hold, then. Or at least some version of it.


    "Eat something," Arran said, handing her a piece of dried meat he''d taken from his void ring earlier. "You need the strength."


    Negin hungrily devoured the meat, but as she did, the look of confusion in her eyes only grew stronger.


    "There''s something different," she said after she finished eating. "Something about my body¡­" She gave Arran a questioning look.


    Arran nodded. "I gave you something to make you stronger. It was the only way I could save you. Best not let others in your Imperium know about it, though. If they find out, they might kill you for it ¡ª and me as well, for that matter."


    His words caused a frown to appear on the girl''s bloodied face, but after a moment, the frown disappeared, a look of gratitude taking its place. And as she looked him in the eyes, she said "I owe you my life."


    "That you do," Arran replied. "And I fully expect you to repay the debt." He gave her a smile, then continued, "But I still have a weapon to find. I suggest you take a day or two to recover before you return to your group. I''ve left food in your bag."


    With that, he stood up and readied himself to leave. Now that the girl was saved, there was no reason for him to remain in the makeshift camp any longer.


    Yet before he could depart, she called out, "Wait! You don''t have to go!"


    Arran gave her a curious glance. "I don''t?"


    "The weapons," she began. "They''re yours. I can''t take them ¡ª not after you saved my life."


    "Don''t be foolish," Arran replied. "Finding them nearly cost you your life. Besides, I intend to find ones at least as good for myself."


    He flashed her a final grin, and before she could say anything else, he set off at a run.


    As he made his way back toward the ruined wasteland at the heart of the battlefield, he did not pause ¡ª not even when the light of day slowly began to fade from the sky. He''d grown familiar with darkness in the Shadow Realm, and he had already wasted too much time.


    He did not worry about the consequences of saving the girl as he traveled through the treacherous terrain. Saving her had probably been a mistake, but if it was, he had no regrets in making it. Not when his only other choice had been to let her die.


    And either way, the decision was made.


    Now, it was time to finally begin his search for the Forms. And he would allow no more obstacles to slow him down.

 Chapter 312 Searching The Battlefield

    Arran ran through the night, every step he took bringing him closer to the heart of the battlefield.


    Even in the dark, the treacherous terrain posed no real problem. He was strong enough to cross even the deepest gorges in a single leap, and his powerful body could easily endure hours of running.


    The thickening Essence that surrounded him, however, was a different matter. His resistance to magic was strong, but it wasn''t limitless. And as dawn approached, he felt that the violent Essence was beginning to cause him harm.


    He had expected this, though perhaps not quite as soon. Days earlier, he''d already realized that the battlefield held far more destructive power than anything he had encountered in Uvar. And as he neared the heart of the battlefield, it would only get worse.


    While the pressure of unbound Essence grew stronger, the landscape grew less chaotic. The land here had been eroded by the violent magic, and although the earth still bore scars of battle, many of those had begun to fade.


    Yet even as the terrain grew less hostile, Arran''s progress slowed to a crawl. By now, the pressure of Essence was weighing down on both his mind and his body, and his reddened skin was starting to blister.


    When he saw this, he groaned in frustration. Not at the pain, but at what it meant.


    There were still days to go before he reached the heart of the battlefield. And if he was struggling even now, then his body would give out long before he reached his destination.


    That his destination lay at the center of the battlefield, he knew for certain. If Elder Nikias''s belongings had not been looted already, then they would be where the Elder had fallen. And that could only be at the very heart of the cataclysm.Find authorized novels in Webnovel£¬faster updates, better experience£¬Please click www.novelhall.comfor visiting.


    Despite his misgivings, he struggled onward for several more hours after dawn, forcing his body to endure the ever-increasing assault from the unbound Essence around him.


    Yet by midday, he realized he could not go on. Already, his skin was covered in burns and blisters. And while his injuries healed faster than Negin''s, he knew it wasn''t enough.


    Not with days of travel still ahead.


    If he continued, the burns would grow worse with each passing hour, draining his strength as his body expended energy to heal. And as he grew weaker, he would heal more slowly, which would make him grow weaker still.


    It was a simple yet vicious process, and one he had no defense against.


    As it was, he was already nearing his limit. If he continued, he had no doubt that he would suffer the same fate as Negin sooner rather than later. Except he had no companion to carry him back to safety.


    He could not help but curse in frustration at the setback. Of all the obstacles he could have encountered, he had not expected unbound Essence to be the one that ruined his plans.


    His resistance to magic was among his greatest strengths, and it was the one thing he hadn''t expected to fail him. But now, it did just that.


    Arran briefly considered his options, and found them to be depressingly few. He lacked the time to train his resistance to magic, he was unwilling to turn back empty-handed, and continuing onward would cost him his life.


    That only left one choice: to use the recruits'' pills. And he already knew those wouldn''t be enough to get him to his destination.


    At most, the pills would buy him a few more hours. A day, if he was lucky ¡ª and only if he didn''t travel much farther into the battlefield. Which meant he wouldn''t be able to find the treasure he was after.


    Yet disappointed though he was, he knew that all was not lost. Not yet.


    Elder Nikias wasn''t the only mage who had died on the battlefield. His students, too, had fallen to the Hunters'' trap, killed in the same battle that had taken their teachers'' life.


    The Ninth Valley had been robbed of Elder Nikias''s teachings in one fell swoop, with only a single mage still retaining some slight knowledge of the Forms ¡ª Anthea''s teacher, who had been a mere novice at the time.


    But to Arran, the tragedy presented an opportunity. While he lacked the strength to reach the site of Elder Nikias''s demise, the Elder''s students might have fallen in other places. And if they had, their belongings might still remain there.


    Including, hopefully, any notes they had on the Forms.


    Arran knew it was a distant hope, but not an unreasonable one. And, more importantly, it was his only hope. Because whatever lay at the center of the battlefield was firmly out of his reach.


    His path decided, he took one of the recruits'' pills from his void ring, then gave it a cursory examination. But the pill revealed nothing to his untrained eye, and after a moment''s hesitation, he took it in his mouth and swallowed it.


    Several minutes passed without any effect, but then, he felt the pressure of the unbound Essence around him grow slightly less oppressive.


    The effect was undeniable, but it was also disappointingly small. Against the violent torrent of unbound Essence that raged around him, it offered no more protection than a silk robe against a sword.


    Arran sighed, then took a handful of pills and swallowed all of them.


    This time, the effect was better. A feeling of warmth spread through his body as the pills took effect, and the pressure of Essence weakened considerably. It wasn''t enough to block the onslaught entirely, but it would stop his condition from worsening.


    For a time, at least. Because Arran knew from Negin that the pills'' effects would only last a few hours. And although he had dozens of the pills, that would still barely last him a day.


    Fully aware of how little time he had, he left at once, this time moving around the center of the battlefield rather than toward it. And as he walked, he focused on his sword''s Sense, anxious to detect even the slightest hint of treasure.


    It barely took an hour before he discovered something, but he was disappointed to find that it was only a starmetal sword, buried beneath two feet of earth. A treasure to others, perhaps, but all but worthless to Arran ¡ª though not so worthless that he would leave it behind.


    In the hours that followed, he found several other starmetal weapons, swords and daggers both. All of these were buried beneath the crumbling rubble, which was likely the reason others had not already found them. But with the help of his sword, Arran had no difficulty finding the weapons.


    Yet while he found plenty of weapons, there was no sign of void bags or rings. This was not much of a surprise ¡ª in his final battle, Elder Nikias had killed thousands of Hunters, while he only had a small number of students.


    But even if the lack of success wasn''t a surprise, it still caused Arran some worry. The pills'' effects had begun to fade by late afternoon, and although another handful had renewed his protection, he knew his time was running short.


    His worries increased further when his sword detected another shard of Living Shadow barely half an hour later. Avoiding the Knight ¡ª if it was a Knight ¡ª was a simple matter, but making his way around the obstacle while keeping a safe distance wasted nearly a full hour of his time.


    Arran continued his search as night fell, though with each passing hour, his hopes grew dimmer.


    The battlefield was enormous ¡ª numerous miles of empty wasteland, enough to house a small kingdom. His sword''s unrivaled Sense gave him a chance of success, but no more than that.


    Whether he succeeded would depend on luck, and as the night progressed, he began to suspect that his luck had finally run out.


    But just before dawn, several hours after he''d swallowed the last of his pills, his sword found something at the very edge of its Sense. A mile or two toward the center of the battlefield, a small enchanted object lay buried in the ground.


    In an instant, Arran''s hope was restored. He knew his time was running short, but without so much as a moment''s hesitation, he set off at a run toward the buried object.


    The pills'' effects were already starting to wear off, but with success within reach, Arran barely noticed the blisters that were beginning to form on his skin. If a few moments of pain earned him the prize he sought, it was a trade he would happily accept.


    When he reached the location where the item was buried, he promptly began to dig into the ground with his sword. He could feel that the weapon did not approve of this use, but he had no time to take his sword''s feelings into account ¡ª not with thin strands of smoke already rising from his skin.


    Only moments later, he found a small ring, hidden in the dirt. A void ring, he knew.


    He snatched the ring from the ground at once, then stored it within his own void ring. There would be time to inspect its contents later.


    As he ran away from the heart of the battlefield, there was a broad grin on his face, his joy only slightly marred by the fact that parts of his skin had caught fire.

 Chapter 313 The Fores

    Arran''s exhilaration at his discovery barely lasted an hour, and as his excitement died down, he became aware of just how badly his time in the battlefield had injured him.


    While his injuries healed quickly as he moved away from the dense unbound Essence at the heart of the battlefield, he realized he had come perilously close to death. Another hour, maybe two, and the violent force would have overcome his body''s ability to heal.


    The thought troubled him, because it meant that his resistance to magic wasn''t yet as strong as he had believed. And although he didn''t expect to find many mages in the Hunters'' lands, he had no doubt that he would face mages again in the future.


    But that was a matter for another time. Right now, the most important thing was to find a quiet spot where he could safely examine the void ring''s contents.


    He traveled through the twisted wasteland at a hurried pace, without stopping for either rest or sleep. Whatever comfort a short repose might offer, it was no match for the diminishing pressure of Essence as he moved further from the battlefield.


    By the time he reached the small camp he''d shared with Negin, his injuries had fully healed, with just a hint of redness remaining on his skin.


    Yet while his body had healed, he knew that his strength had suffered from the ordeal. He still hadn''t fully recovered from his time in the Shadow Realm, and in his weakened state, the brief trip had exacted a sizable toll.Find authorized novels in Webnovel£¬faster updates, better experience£¬Please click www.novelhall.com for visiting.


    But then, that was not something he could complain about ¡ª not when he''d ventured into a place where most others would be burned to death in an instant.


    He quickly gathered his possessions from the camp ¡ª mostly clothes, since all his valuables were in his void ring ¡ª and found a scrap of parchment among them, with the words "Thank you" written upon it.


    Negin''s gratitude had little practical use, but it still brought a small smile to his face. After years of killing enemies, saving someone''s life had been a nice change.


    When he''d gathered his possessions, he took out the void ring he''d found in the battlefield and bound it to himself. There wouldn''t be time to properly study its contents yet ¡ª not here, with Hunters all over the area ¡ª but his curiosity had already grown too strong to contain.


    Yet before he sent his Sense into the ring, he felt a brief moment of hesitation.


    If the ring contained what he hoped it did, then he would have a path to continue his study of the Forms ¡ª a path that could make them useful as more than just a tool for training his skill in magic.


    But if what he sought wasn''t there, it would all have been for nothing. Not just the journey into the battlefield, but also the many hours he''d spent learning and practicing the Forms. He''d have wasted years pursuing a path that led only to a dead end.


    Unlike Anthea, he had no delusions about recreating the Forms himself. If the Ninth Valley''s best scholars had fruitlessly spent decades trying to do so, then he had no hope of success.


    Of course, he could strengthen his resistance to magic until he was able to search the battlefield properly. But that would take years, likely even decades. And by then, the war between the Hunters and the Ninth Valley would long be over.


    But no amount of hesitation would change what was inside the ring.


    With a deep breath, Arran focused his Sense and began to inspect its contents. And almost immediately, he felt his heart beat faster in excitement.


    Inside the ring were the possessions of a mage. There was an assortment of robes, several fine weapons, various alchemical pills and potions, and an impressive amount of Essence Crystals.


    Yet what caused his excitement were six small items that he instantly recognized as memory amulets. He hurriedly retrieved them from the ring, ignoring its other contents ¡ª if what he sought was present, one of these amulets would hold it.


    The first amulet proved a disappointment. While it held detailed instructions about various spells, none of them had anything to do with the Forms. With a sigh, Arran stored the amulet in his void ring, then moved on to the next one.


    The second, however, was worse than useless. With wide-eyed confusion, Arran saw it held a collection of poetry ¡ª and exceptionally bad poetry, at that. Again, he discarded the amulet, and moved on.


    He''d barely sent his Sense into the third amulet, however, when a broad smile appeared on his face and his eyes shone with relief and excitement in equal parts.


    The amulet was filled with instructions about the Forms. And although Arran saw at a glance that they were both terse and lengthy, he immediately recognized that they were far more advanced than anything he''d learned from Anthea.


    With a sigh of relief, he stored the amulet in his void ring. He''d found what he needed. And now, he''d need to find a place to properly study it.


    Before he departed, he looked through the three remaining amulets, and found his spirits raised even further.


    One of the amulets contained only alchemical recipes, but another contained a long series of notes that detailed its author''s studies of the Forms, going into far more detail than the amulet with instructions had.


    He recognized these as a student''s notes ¡ª something that might be every bit as useful to him as the actual instructions.


    Within the final amulet, he found a long journal. And though it held no name, a quick glance confirmed that the void ring had belonged to one of Elder Nikias''s students.


    While Arran hadn''t found the Elder''s possessions, he wasn''t the least bit disappointed. From what Anthea had told him, he knew the Elder''s students had been powerful mages in their own right, and following their path would certainly allow his knowledge of magic to grow with leaps and bounds.


    Moreover, without having Elder Nikias to instruct him, the student''s notes would be invaluable in helping him understand the Forms ¡ª perhaps even more so than the Elder''s own writings.


    He quickly moved the contents of the student''s void ring to his own, then departed immediately. What he needed now was a quiet place to study, and the battlefield would not do for that purpose.


    Traveling without Negin, it only took a few days before he''d left the battlefield behind. He ran at full speed ¡ª with his own Sense and his sword''s to alert him of any people nearby, there was no need to hide his strength.


    Several days were enough to get him past Redhill, but he continued northeast for another two weeks, moving away from the Hunters'' lands and into a large forest he''d found on Brightblade''s map.


    Of course, he knew that he could not yet fully study the writings he''d found. There wasn''t enough time for that. But he intended to spend at least several weeks learning what he could, and for that, he needed a place without others who could Sense magic.


    The forest was large and dark, with thick-trunked trees rising high into the sky, the dense leaf cover blocking all but a few rays of light from reaching the ground. It looked like a place no human had entered in centuries, which made it perfect for Arran''s purposes.


    He did not pause at the forest''s edge, either. Instead, he continued onward until he was a week''s travel away from the nearest road or village even at his inhumanly fast pace ¡ª months of travel, for a commoner.


    Then, finally, he came to a halt at a small glade that was hidden deep within the forest. It was far enough from civilization that no one would detect any magic he used here, and he knew that there was no chance of anyone disturbing his studies.


    Yet even with only animals around for hundreds of miles, Arran spent two days carefully warding the glade, ensuring that not even the slightest shred of magic he used would escape.


    When he was finally satisfied, the first thing he did was lie down and sleep ¡ª and for a full three days, that was all he did. Between his venture into the battleground and his hurried journey into the heart of the forest, his body had grown weak and weary.


    After he rested, he spent two days hunting down any animals in the area that contained even a shred of Natural Essence. While he had traveled into the forest to study the Forms, he also wanted to use that time to allow his body to recover before he traveled into the Hunters'' lands.


    The forest proved an excellent hunting ground. It had lain undisturbed for centuries, and in that time, the wildlife had grown strong enough to impress even Arran.


    In just two days, he''d already gathered enough meat to last him several months. It couldn''t compare to dragon meat, of course, but it was as good as anything he''d found during his journey to the battlefield.


    Then, at last, he sat down in the glade and retrieved the memory amulets from his void ring. Finally, he would get a glimpse of the true potential of the Forms.

 Chapter 314 Studying The Forms

    "I don''t get it."


    Arran looked at the two memory amulets in his hands with frustrated eyes. One of them held a terse set of instructions on the Forms, while the other held a detailed set of notes to accompany the instructions.


    And both, it seemed, were completely useless.


    He''d studied the amulets'' contents for nearly two weeks, using the student''s notes to make sense of the instructions. As he''d soon discovered, the notes were a necessity, since the instructions had clearly been written to accompany personal instruction, rather than to replace it.


    Combined, however, the two amulets were just enough for Arran to understand the instructions. And eager as he was to learn more about the Forms, he''d spent two weeks painstakingly studying everything contained within the amulets, making sure not to miss even a single word.


    Yet the result was not at all what he had expected. In fact, it was the complete opposite.


    The amulet that held the instructions had been divided into two portions, and the first of these covered all the Forms that Arran already knew. Except, the versions described in the amulet were worse in every way ¡ª slower, weaker, less efficient, and far harder to combine.


    Still, Arran had diligently studied these inferior Forms for several days, hoping that they might somehow prove useful. Yet while learning them had been simple enough, he''d soon grown convinced that they were every bit as useless as they seemed.


    But if the first portion of the instructions was disappointing, the second portion was downright infuriating.


    The Forms Arran had learned from Anthea separated spells into individual components, making it possible to create new spells at a whim. At least, that was the theory. In practice, using the Forms was far too slow to be useful, and the resulting spells were laughably weak compared to real ones.


    The second portion of the instructions, however, took this a step further. Instead of giving a way to combine the Forms, it took the Forms themselves and split them into thousands of even smaller techniques.


    The results were every bit as disappointing as expected.


    Combining these smaller Forms was every bit as slow and difficult as combining the larger ones had been. Even recreating Anthea''s Forms from the fragments was nearly impossible, and there was no need to even think about using them for real spells.


    Arran had hoped to find a way to combine the Forms more effectively. But instead, what he got was the opposite ¡ª a far larger set of techniques that were even less suitable for practical use.


    Worst of all, neither of the amulets contained any information about how to actually combine the Forms.


    A deep frown appeared on Arran''s face as he pondered the matter. The glaring omission surprised him, and he soon realized that none of the possible explanations boded well for his chances.


    Perhaps Elder Nikias had never bothered to write down the method to combine the Forms, instead explaining it to his students in person. If so, Arran would have to discover the method himself ¡ª a task that would take decades, if he could do it at all.


    Worse, however, was the possibility that the Elder had intentionally omitted the method from his writings. That he had kept the most crucial part of the Forms concealed, to stop it from falling into the hands of others.


    The thought was discouraging, but the more Arran thought it about it, the more it made sense.


    The Forms he''d learned from Anthea were simple, and the ones he''d found in the student''s void ring seemed even simpler. But perhaps the Forms weren''t the true secret. Perhaps the true secret was how to use them.


    If that was the case, then no amount of study would help him. Not unless he found the key to unlocking the Forms'' true power. And if Elder Nikias had intentionally kept that a secret, Arran''s search had reached a dead end.


    With a sigh, he stored the two amulets in his void ring, then stood up and stretched his limbs.


    He spent the next hour eating a large meal and taking a long walk through the dark forest that surrounded the glade. After being focused on the memory amulets'' contents for two full weeks, what he needed more than anything was to clear his mind and find a new perspective.


    He had barely walked three miles amid the trees when he stopped in his tracks. Suddenly, he realized what he had overlooked ¡ª the other memory amulets. In his focus on the Forms, he''d ignored the most obvious source of information.


    He turned around at once, then hurried back to his small camp. And when he arrived, he sat down again, then retrieved the four amulets he''d only given a cursory inspection.


    The first amulet he examined was the one filled with poetry. If the student had wanted to hide any secret information, endless lines of stilted poetry and awkward metaphors would certainly be a good place to do it.


    For several hours, he struggled through the students'' writings. Yet all he found were a thousand different ways to describe sunsets and flowers, none of which was the least bit useful in understanding the Forms.


    Still, when he finished the amulet''s contents, he found himself more relieved than disappointed. While he hadn''t found anything useful, at least he wouldn''t have to read the student''s tortured verse ever again.Find authorized novels in Webnovel£¬faster updates, better experience£¬Please click www.novelhall.com for visiting.


    He ate another quick meal ¡ª his body was still recovering, after all ¡ª then moved on to the journal.


    The journal proved much more tolerable than the poetry collection had been, and as he read it, Arran soon found himself engrossed in the students'' story.


    The student ¡ª the journal didn''t mention his name ¡ª had started the journal when he was just a novice. And from what he wrote, Arran understood that the young man''s talent had been middling at best.


    He''d spent well over a decade as a novice, struggling as he tried to reach the skill to become an adept. While he had started as a member of the House of Flames, he had been removed when his progress stalled, after which he had joined one of the lesser Houses.


    But there, too, his talent had proved insufficient.


    After several years of training without any progress to show for it, the lesser House had removed him as well. And after that, he had spent the next two years living in a tiny room in one of the many inns within the Ninth Valley''s capital, paying adepts for lessons whenever he had any coin to spare.


    That Elder Nikias had taken him as an apprentice was a matter of luck more than anything else.


    Eager to impress a serving girl at the inn, the student had boasted about his skill in magic, claiming that he was preparing himself to be tested by the Elder. The boast had won him the girl''s attention ¡ª though not her affection ¡ª but afterward, he''d been forced to maintain the lie.


    Several months later, however, it was announced that Elder Nikias was holding trials for new apprentices. And after months of lying, the student had no choice but to go even though he was certain he had no chance.


    The journal made no mention of the trials, nor of the student''s performance in them. Yet in the next entry, the student''s complaints about Elder Nikias''s arduous training made it clear that he had somehow succeeded.


    After that, the entries in the journal grew sparser, with weeks or even months passing between each. And when the student did write, he wrote briefly, most often merely noting that his training was progressing at a steady pace.


    The young man did not describe the training itself, but it was obvious that his progress was fast ¡ª barely a year after joining Elder Nikias, the journal noted that the student had finally become an adept.


    The entry contained none of the jubilation Arran would have expected. Instead, the student merely mentioned it in passing, then continued to observe that his insights were still growing steadily.


    The comment was made casually, but at once, Arran recognized its importance. And after rereading it several times to make sure he wasn''t mistaken, his expression turned excited.


    The student had not mentioned skill or spells, but insights. This was something the Ninth Valley''s Matriarch had mentioned before ¡ª that the Forms relied heavily on insights.


    Arran spent several minutes contemplating how the Forms related to insights, and as he thought it over, he began to suspect that the Matriarch had it wrong.


    He''d studied the Forms carefully, both the versions Anthea had taught him and the versions described in the student''s memory amulets. Between the two, Anthea''s versions seemed more like real spells, while the ones detailed in the amulets more resembled training exercises.


    And now, he thought that might be exactly what they were. Training exercises, but for insights rather than spells. The Forms didn''t rely on insights, as the Matriarch had believed, but instead developed them.


    Arran immediately set to work on testing the theory, quickly looking up the technique among the Forms that most closely resembled severing. With his true insight, it should be an easy matter to find out whether his suspicion was correct.


    Finding the proper technique barely took any time at all, and he began to practice it at once. Except this time, he did not try to make the technique into a spell. Instead, as he executed it over and over, he carefully watched for similarities between the technique and his true insight.


    The work took him several hours, but slowly, he began to understand how the technique was supposed to be performed. And as his understanding grew, he realized he''d been right ¡ª what the technique taught was a path toward insight into severing.


    The path wasn''t a perfect one, he saw. If someone other than him followed it, it would not lead them to a true insight. But what it would do was give them a foundation to build on ¡ª a way to build their insights.


    A shiver ran down Arran''s spine when he realized the implications.


    Using the Forms, mages could gain insights into every single element of a spell. Every spell they cast would be near-perfect, terrifying in power even with limited Essence. And if a spell could be built from insights they already possessed, they would instantly surpass even people who had studied the same spell for centuries.


    But that was just the start of it.


    The further their insights grew, the stronger their magic would become. Lesser insights would already grant a staggering amount of strength, and greater ones would grant unrivaled power. And if a mage managed to turn his insights into true ones¡­


    Suddenly, Arran''s eyes widened in shock, as he realized what the Forms truly represented.


    What they offered wasn''t just a path toward becoming a powerful mage. It was a path toward becoming a Sage.


    Long ago, Snowcloud''s grandfather had explained to Arran that Sages'' power came from their unparalleled insights into magic. And as Arran had later discovered, just a few insights were already enough to grant a stunning level of power.


    Elder Nikias had somehow devised a path toward gaining thousands of insights. Which meant that he must have been on the verge of becoming a Sage when he died, if he wasn''t one already.


    And still, he''d been defeated.


    Arran could not help but shudder at the thought. If the Hunters had defeated a mage that powerful, there would be truly monstrous warriors among their ranks. And Arran had not forgotten that his task was to infiltrate those ranks.


    An uncomfortable frown crossed his face as he considered the danger. Yet he knew there was an opportunity as well. If the Hunters had techniques that allowed them to match even an Elder on the verge of becoming a Sage, learning those techniques would be invaluable.


    Arran sat silently for some moments, then shook his head. There was no point in dwelling on whatever the future might hold.


    He''d finally found the secret behind the Forms, and now, it was time to put his discovery to use.

 Chapter 315 Preparation

    Arran spent an entire month going through the thousands of Forms contained within the amulets, committing them to memory as best he could.


    With the amulets safely in his possession, there wasn''t any real need to do so ¡ª not when he could look up the information whenever he wanted. Yet after losing his supply of dragon meat, he had come to realize that he''d put too much faith in the void ring''s protection.


    Whether he carried it with him or hid it, there was always a risk that it could be damaged, lost, or stolen, its contents lost to him forever.


    That was an unavoidable risk with material items, but for the Forms, he had one truly safe place to store them ¡ª his own mind. And if that meant spending an entire month memorizing the amulets'' contents, the time it took was well worth it.


    But unfortunately, memorizing the instructions was a very different thing from truly learning the Forms.


    Arran could only guess how long it would take to master them, but he was certain that it would be a matter of decades rather than years. And that was if he devoted all his time to his studies.


    If he''d had the time, that was exactly what he would have done ¡ª go into secluded training for several decades, and emerge with enough power to match even the strongest Archmages.


    Yet with the Ninth Valley and the Hunters slowly moving toward war, that wasn''t an option. Some years might still remain before the two groups truly went to war, but Arran would spend those years infiltrating the Darian Imperium.


    That meant he would have little time to study the Forms. He''d have to perform his studies in secret, using Shadow Essence to practice whenever there was no one around with the power to detect it.


    Dangerous though it would be, Arran was confident that it was possible. With his skill in wards and his sword''s Sense to protect him from unwanted observers, he should be able to practice unseen even amid the ranks of his enemies.


    But what wasn''t possible was to study all the Forms. Not with the limited time he would have available to devote to the task.


    Instead, he would have to make a selection.


    He could not study thousands of Forms, but a hundred or so should be doable. With that, he would be able to cover all the elements of two or three spells.


    It was nowhere near enough to make him a truly powerful mage, but it would suffice to make him a far more dangerous fighter than he already was, while also preparing him for studying the remaining Forms.


    Deciding which spells to choose wasn''t difficult. Even as Arran asked himself the question, he knew the first spell to pick ¡ª Shadowcloak.


    Already, it was a tool that made him all but invincible to those who could not see through it. And imbued with insights, it would become stronger still, allowing him to strike even powerful enemies at will.


    Just the thought was enough to fill him with excitement.


    He got to work at once, trying to deconstruct the complex spell into its many components. This was no simple task, but with the stripped-down versions of Anthea''s Forms he''d learned from the memory amulet, he knew it was possible.


    Arran now understood that these weren''t real Forms. Rather, they served as a step between spells and the ¡ª much smaller ¡ª true Forms, making it easier to break down spells or construct new ones.


    He spent well over a week analyzing and breaking down the Shadowcloak spell, and although his efforts were successful, the excitement he''d felt soon died down, making way for disappointment.


    Shadowcloak was the most complex spell he knew, but as he discovered, this complexity meant that it required nearly a thousand Forms ¡ª far too much to learn in a reasonable amount of time.


    With a sigh, he abandoned Shadowcloak and moved to his other spells, hoping he''d have more luck there.


    It wasn''t long before he discovered that both Shadowflame and Flamestrike were out of reach, as well. While simpler than Shadowcloak, they would still require him to learn hundreds of Forms.


    Windblade was another matter, however. It was one of the simplest spells he knew, and as he broke it down into Forms, he made a discovery that brought a wide smile to his face.


    The Windblade spell only required a few dozen Forms, and the very last of these was the one that contained an insight into severing ¡ª one of Arran''s two true insights.


    While he could not be certain, he strongly suspected that once he learned the other Forms needed, his true insight would make the spell far more powerful than it had any right to be.


    Just the suspicion was enough for him to choose the spell, and he carefully noted all the Forms he''d need to practice.


    Once he finished, the choice for a second spell was a simple matter. With his first pick an offensive spell, the second would have to be a defensive one. And while he''d learned more spells in the Ninth Valley, the defensive spell he knew best was Force Shield.


    When he broke it down into Forms, he was relieved to see it didn''t involve too many elements ¡ª just under a hundred, a handful of them already among the Forms he''d need to learn for Windblade.


    In all, that meant he would need to learn slightly over a hundred Forms. That was still a daunting task, but he thought it was something he could manage.


    Yet when he finished noting the collection of Forms he''d have to learn, another thought came to him.


    Long ago, Master Zhao had taught him a technique to draw Essence from Realms. It wasn''t a spell exactly, but it was close enough to one that Arran found himself wondering whether it could be broken down into Forms.


    If it could, the benefits would be immeasurable. The technique allowed him to recover his Essence just slightly faster than it would by itself, but imbued with insights, it would be far stronger.


    That would not only help Arran in combat, but also give him a path toward becoming a Master in all his Realms, rather than just Shadow. And perhaps, it would allow him to progress even further.


    Again, he set to work, and in just a few hours he''d broken down the technique into Forms. It was far simpler than the spells he''d analyzed, and he was pleased to see that it required only a dozen Forms.


    He carefully noted these Forms as well, then finally returned the memory amulets to his void rings. After that, he breathed a deep sigh of relief.


    He was ready.


    The Forms he''d selected would take years of practice before yielding any real results, but he now had a path forward.


    As he infiltrated the Hunters, he would study the Forms whenever he could. He would grow his strength in secret, and when the time came to leave, there would be few who could stand in his way.


    His body had mostly recovered, too. The time he''d spent in the forest had been enough to regain all but a sliver of his past strength, and although it would take more time to reach his previous peak, the difference was negligible.


    Of course, he would have preferred to spend another few months ¡ª or years ¡ª in the forest, to focus all his efforts on studying the Forms. But there wasn''t time for that. Not with war between the Hunters and the Ninth Valley on the horizon.


    As it was, he''d done all he could.


    He had learned the Shadowflame spell, studied Brightblade''s wards, and found the Forms. And in the process, he''d accidentally become a Master and discovered a weapon that should shock even Archmages.


    It was everything he''d set out to do, and a great deal more besides. But now, it was time to face his final task ¡ª to travel into the Hunters'' lands and infiltrate their ranks.Find authorized novels in Webnovel£¬faster updates, better experience£¬Please click www.novelhall.com for visiting.


    He did not leave immediately, however. Instead, he spent several days doing little but rest and eat, preparing himself for the journey to come.


    He also took the time to absorb a number of the large Essence Crystals he''d found in the underground city, sharing half of them with his sword. There would be little chance for that once he reached the Hunters'' lands, and absorbing the purified Essence might give him some slight help in practicing the Forms.


    Then, finally, he retrieved Brightblade''s map from his void ring.


    A brief search was enough to find what he needed ¡ª a large town named Esran, barely two weeks from the forest and right on the edge of the border.


    If his guess was correct, there would be other travelers bound for the Hunters'' lands in such a town, which should help him in avoiding unwanted attention. Mixed in with the commoners, a rough-looking mercenary would barely stand out.


    He gave the map a final brief inspection, then put it away. His destination clear, the only thing that remained now was to go there.

 Chapter 316 The Road To Esran

    Arran traveled to Esran at a steady but relaxed pace, practicing the Forms while he made his way toward the border.


    He would continue his training in the Hunters'' lands, but it might be a long time before he got several weeks of uninterrupted practice. So while he still had the chance, he made good use of the drudgery of travel.


    The training went much as he''d expected.


    His real goal was not just to learn the Forms, but to gain the insights that were buried deep within them. And from the insight he had discovered within Master Zhao''s sword style, he knew that would be no simple matter.


    And so, instead of trying to rush things, he spent the weeks it took to reach the border merely familiarizing himself with the Forms he''d chosen to learn. There were just over a hundred of those, and as he traveled, he repeated them until he could perform each without even the slightest effort.


    That was only a first step on the path to the insights they contained, but it was enough that he would be able to practice wherever and whenever he wanted. Just as long as he used Shadow Essence and there were no Darian Knights around.


    But while Arran''s training was like he''d expected it to be, that was not the case for the road to Esran.


    The journey from the forest was quiet, but when Arran reached the road that led to Esran, he found it filled with travelers. There were far more than he''d expected to find, and all but a few were heading in the same direction as Arran.


    That alone would have caused him some wonder, but even stranger was that there were entire families of what looked to be farmers and villagers on the road.


    He''d expected the people traveling to the Hunters'' lands to be young men and women, seeking adventure and opportunity. But instead, what he saw were complete households, many of them traveling with small children and elders.


    That these people had uprooted their entire lives and left their towns and villages behind could not mean anything good. It could well mean that war had already broken out, years earlier than expected.


    Anxious to find out what happened, Arran approached one of the families ¡ª a middle-aged couple with two children just a few years shy of adulthood, traveling with a mule-drawn cart.


    The man ¡ª a farmer, from the look of him ¡ª eyed Arran warily as he approached, and Arran could see his hand inching toward the knife at his belt. It seemed he was already expecting trouble.


    But Arran had no intention of robbing a few poor farmers, nor did he have anything to fear from the man''s knife. He ignored the farmer''s weapon and made a friendly gesture in greeting, then asked, "You heading to Esran?"


    The farmed looked at Arran suspiciously. "What''s it to you?"


    "I''m heading that way myself," Arran said. "But I was wondering why there are so many people on the road."


    A puzzled look flashed across the farmer''s face. "You don''t know?"


    Arran shook his head. "I only just returned to the area. Spent the last few months guarding a caravan down south."


    "You''re a caravan guard, then?" The farmer''s tone grew friendlier, though not by much. "If that''s the case, there should be good business for you here, with the bandits and all."


    "Bandits?" Arran looked at the man in confusion. He''d expected to hear about war or disaster, not something as common as bandits.


    The farmer nodded in response. "They''re the reason we''re leaving. Ever since the mages pulled out of the borderlands, it''s been nothing but chaos. After the second time our village was attacked, I decided not to wait for a third time." He glanced at his family, then added in a softer voice, "Not with a family to protect."


    Arran creased his brow in thought. "You said the mages pulled out of the borderlands? When did that happen?"


    "It started about a year ago," the man replied. "Didn''t think too much of it at first. Truth be told, I was glad to see them leave. But once they left, there was no one to keep the bandits in check." He shook his head in disgust. "Never thought I''d miss the bastards."


    "If you miss the mages'' protection, why are you traveling to the Hunters'' lands?" Arran asked, giving the farmer a curious look.


    The man shrugged. "Word is they''ll go to war again, and I remember my grandfather''s stories well enough to know who''ll win."


    "You don''t want to go there." Arran glanced at the farmer''s daughter, a red-cheeked girl who''d only barely left childhood behind. "Not with her by your side."


    Immediately, the farmer''s eyes filled with suspicion once more. "What are you talking about?"


    "Unless I''m mistaken," Arran said, "she''s got a touch of magic to her."


    The man paled at his words. "How did you¡­ Are you a mage?"


    "Do I look like a mage?" Arran laughed, then shook his head. "But I''ve seen enough to recognize them. And she''s got the look to her, as sure as grass is green."


    It was nonsense, of course, but what wasn''t nonsense was that the girl had some magical talent. It was too weak for Arran himself to Sense, but from his sword, he knew she had a Fire Realm ¡ª and one that was already partly open.


    He had no idea how she''d managed to open a Realm without any guidance, but in the Hunters'' lands, that good fortune might as well be a death sentence.


    The farmer exchanged a short look with his wife. "We always knew she was different, but¡­" He hesitated before continuing, "Do you think they can tell? The Hunters?"


    Arran shrugged. "I''m just a mercenary. But if I noticed it¡­"


    There was no need for him to finish the sentence. And as he spoke the words, the farmer looked almost sick with worry.


    "But where will we go?" His earlier suspicion completely forgotten, the man looked at Arran with desperate eyes.


    Arran gave it a moment of thought, then said, "Go south. A few months of travel, and your family should be safe."


    He did not suggest that they travel to the Ninth Valley. The farmer and his wife had almost certainly known about their daughter''s magical talent, and they clearly wanted to keep her as far away from magic as they could.


    Perhaps it was a waste of the girl''s talent, but that was no business of Arran''s. He''d given them the warning they needed. Beyond that, what happened was their own responsibility.


    Yet it looked like the farmer had taken the warning to heart. He exchanged a few whispered words with his wife, then turned back to Arran.


    "Thank you," he said in a soft voice. "I''ll heed your advice."


    Arran gave the man a friendly nod, then continued on his way. He had neither the time nor the desire to get involved in the farmer''s problems.


    Over the week that followed, he steadily made his way past the endless masses of slow-moving travelers, drawing closer to Esran with every step.


    Yet even now that he knew what was happening, he still found himself astonished by the sheer scale of it. There were thousands of people traveling along the road, as if the entire population of a large city had decided to move all at once.


    Arran ¡ª or rather, his sword ¡ª also spotted several more people with opened Realms among the masses. But although he had warned the farmer and his family, he told none of the others about what lay ahead.


    Even warning the farmer had been a risk, and he could not endanger his life and his mission to save a few foolish mages from their own decisions. If the path they had chosen would lead to their deaths, then they could only blame themselves.


    Still, even if Arran knew it was the right choice, he had some difficulty actually making it.


    He had been much like these nascent mages not too long ago, taking risks he barely understood and nearly losing his life many times over.


    But his knowledge of the world had grown since then, and the task ahead would require that he hid his strength as best he could. This close to the Hunters'' lands, he could not afford any mistakes.


    After a full week of trudging past the travelers who filled the road, Arran finally reached the town of Esran.Find authorized novels in Webnovel£¬faster updates, better experience£¬Please click www.novelhall.com for visiting.


    Or rather, the city of Esran. Because despite what Brightblade''s map might claim, it was obvious that this was no mere town.


    While Esran had none of the splendor of the great cities Arran had seen in the past, it made up for that in sheer size. The houses might be cramped, ugly, and shoddily built, but there were endless thousands of them.


    From a distance, it looked as if the city''s population had exploded to the point where its builders had given up on building anything worthwhile and had instead chosen to simply erect as many bare shelters as they could.


    Yet it seemed not even that had been enough. Because as Arran approached the city, he saw that several large tent camps stood around it, making the already vast city appear even larger.


    Most of these tents were constructed from little more than rags and sticks, and as he drew closer, Arran saw that the spaces between the tents were filled with large numbers of travelers, adults and children both.


    The sight was one of poverty and desperation, and the smell was even worse.


    But Arran knew he had to visit the city. It was his last chance to gain information before he entered the Hunters'' lands, and if it was filled with desperate travelers, learning a thing or two should be a simple matter.


    With a small sigh, he began to head toward the city. Perhaps the situation inside wouldn''t be as bad as he thought.

 Chapter 317 The City Of Esran

    The moment Arran set foot inside the city, he knew things were even worse than he could have imagined.


    That the streets were filled to the point of bursting was no surprise. The large tent camps that lay around the city were enough to tell Arran that the city itself would be overflowing with people.


    But what he hadn''t expected were the chaos and filth.


    The streets were covered in waste, and the air was filled with a nauseating stench so thick it nearly made Arran gag in revulsion.


    And the waste wasn''t even the worst of it. He had barely walked a hundred paces when he saw a body on the side of the road, robbed of its clothes and abandoned, several large knife wounds visible on the dead man''s torso.


    Arran found himself shocked by the sight. Not because of the body itself, but because the masses that crowded the filthy streets paid it no attention whatsoever. Instead, they stepped around it with practiced ease, treating the body no different than they would any other piece of waste.


    Yet amid the muck, there was commerce as well. Barely a few dozen paces beyond the dead body, Arran passed a small food stall, its owner loudly announcing that he had the cheapest food in the city.Find authorized novels in Webnovel£¬faster updates, better experience£¬Please click www.novelhall.com for visiting.


    And no wonder. If the pervasive stench of the city hadn''t already been enough to sour Arran''s appetite, then a quick look at the hawker''s wares would have achieved the same thing. Because what the man sold was clearly rat meat.


    Arran could not help but be astonished by the state of the city. Filthy, overcrowded, and lacking even the slightest semblance of order, it was a hellhole that no sane person would want to remain in even a second longer than necessary.


    And yet, there were thousands of people in the city, most of whom looked to be travelers of the sort Arran had already seen in multitudes on the road to Esran.


    He could not help but feel some wonder at this. If they wanted to travel to the Hunters'' lands, why remain in this sad excuse for a city?


    The border was barely a week''s travel away. With their destination that close, there was no reason to spend more than a single night in Esran ¡ª not when the city offered neither comfort nor safety.


    That could only mean there was something stopping them from traveling onward. And with that the case, Arran might face trouble in reaching his destination as well.


    But there was nothing he could do without information, and the best place to get that would be an inn.


    The first three inns he entered, he left immediately. Like the rest of the city, they were filthy and overcrowded, filled with rough-looking travelers. And while Arran did not mind rough company, he could see at a glance that none of these inns would have private rooms available.


    As he moved closer to the center of the city, the streets steadily grew slightly less crowded and decidedly less filthy. Even the stench that had filled the city''s outskirts was less pungent here, if still not entirely absent.


    When Arran came across another inn that looked at least halfway acceptable, he quickly went inside, and found the common room mostly clean and empty ¡ª a rarity in Esran, he understood by now.


    He approached the innkeeper, then asked, "Do you have rooms available?"


    "Of course," the man replied, an ingratiating smile on his face. "And at very reasonable prices, too. Just two gold for the week."


    Arran looked at the man in astonishment. No wonder the inn was mostly empty. Two gold was more than most commoners earned in a year of work.


    But Arran was no commoner, and gold meant little to him ¡ª certainly less than a warm, clean bed for the night.


    "I''ll take a room, then," he said. "And I''ll give you another gold if you answer some questions."


    Without waiting for a reply, he produced three gold coins, then handed them to the innkeeper.


    The innkeeper accepted the fortune with a smile so broad it looked like his face might split in two, and after giving the coins a brief inspection, he turned his eyes back to Arran. "I will be happy to answer any questions you have, of course."


    "Good," Arran said. "Why are there so many people in town? And why haven''t they left for the Hunters'' lands yet?"


    The innkeeper looked at him in wonder. "You don''t know?"


    "I wouldn''t be asking if I did," Arran replied flatly. "So explain it to me."


    "Of course," the innkeeper said, though a puzzled look remained on his face. "Some months ago, the Hunters closed the border to most travelers. Now, anyone they find traveling into their lands is branded an enemy."


    Arran frowned. "They closed the border? Why?"


    The man gave a small shrug. "Nobody knows for certain," he said. "Though I''d wager it''s because too many people were arriving ¡ª well over a thousand a day from Esran alone."


    For a few moments, Arran considered the changed situation. Then, he asked, "You said the border was closed to most travelers. So some people are still allowed to enter?"


    "Correct," the innkeeper said. "They allow two hundred people a day to enter from Esran. But to be among those chosen is no simple matter."


    "How so?" Arran asked, giving the man a curious look.


    "The governor''s men have a list," the innkeeper explained. "For a single gold coin, anyone can be put on it, and they''ll eventually be allowed to go. But the wait is long ¡ª months, if not more. And new people arrive every day."


    He glanced around, then continued in a softer voice, "But of course, for a man of means, there are ways to shorten the wait."


    "I intend to leave within the week," Arran said. "How much will that cost me?"


    Given the state of the city, he wasn''t the least bit surprised that bribery was the answer. But if gold would save him a long wait, then he had plenty to spare.


    "A week?" The innkeeper hesitated, but only for a moment. "It will be costly, at least fifty gold. I don''t know if you¡­"


    Although there was doubt in his words, his eyes showed only greed. Clearly, he expected to get a cut of the profits.


    "Gold isn''t an issue," Arran interrupted him. "Do you know someone with the power to arrange it? If so, I''ll reward you well."


    "I do," the innkeeper said in an eager voice. "My wife''s brother is one of the governor''s stewards. If you have the coin, I''ll send for him right away."


    "Then do so," Arran said. "But first, bring me some drinks."


    He took a seat at one of the empty tables in the common room, then patiently waited for what would happen, drinking the inn''s lukewarm ale as he watched the innkeeper set into motion.


    At a guess, he thought it was more likely than not that the innkeeper would try to cheat or rob him. But anything the man tried, he could handle. And just the chance that the man could help shorten his wait would be well worth it.


    Barely an hour later, an ornately dressed man entered the inn, two city guards in tow. The man glanced around the common room, and when he spotted Arran, his eyes lit up and he immediately walked over.


    He gave Arran a friendly smile, then said, "Good afternoon, Master¡­?"


    "Arran," Arran said. He''d already decided to use his real name within the Hunters'' lands ¡ª after years of being known only as Ghostblade, it was as good an alias as any.


    "Master Arran," the man said. "A pleasure to meet you. My name is Bijan. My brother-in-law informed me that we might do business together."


    "I hope so," Arran replied truthfully.


    "Very good," the man said. "But it would be wise to discuss these matters elsewhere." He cast a knowing look around the room. "Perhaps you would care to accompany me to my mansion?"


    Arran nodded. "I''ll be glad to," he said, feigning a smile. "The sooner we get this business over with, the better."


    As they exited the inn, he glanced at the man beside him, and saw a hint of malice mixed in with the greed. It appeared the man was about to make a poor decision.

 Chapter 318 A Stewards Aid

    Arran followed the steward with some curiosity, a friendly smile on his face as they made small talk while crossing Esran''s crowded streets.


    That the man intended to trick him, he knew for certain. While the steward''s oily smiles and flattering words might have worked on someone more trusting, years of peril had taught Arran to always be vigilant.


    But in this case, there was no real danger. The steward was expecting to rob a hapless traveler, not someone with strength like Arran''s.


    "Your accent," the man asked as they made their way past the crowds, "is it imperial?"


    "You have a good ear," Arran replied. "It''s true, I grew up in the Empire."Find authorized novels in Webnovel£¬faster updates, better experience£¬Please click www.novelhall.com for visiting.


    "It''s rare to meet imperials in these lands," the steward said. "Few people are willing to forgo the safety the Empire offers. What brought you here?"


    He gave Arran an appraising look as he spoke, and Arran surmised that the man was trying to glean how dangerous his intended victim would be.


    "I made some enemies in the Empire," Arran responded. "After I traveled to the borderlands, I spent several years working as a mercenary in the south. But when I heard about the Hunters, I figured they might have use for my talents."


    It was as clear a warning as Arran would give the man. If the steward was smart, he''d catch the hint, and abandon whatever he had planned. And if he wasn''t, he would only have himself to blame for the outcome.


    Yet if the steward felt any hesitation, he showed no sign of it. Instead, he merely nodded thoughtfully, then said with an unconvincing laugh, "I can''t imagine traveling that far, myself. I get anxious just visiting the nearest town."


    Arran understood that the steward had some sort of trick up his sleeve. If the man was willing to continue with his plan despite knowing his intended victim was a hardened mercenary, then he had stronger backing than just the two city guards who accompanied them.


    Still, Arran wasn''t worried. He doubted there was even a single person in the city who posed a threat to him. And if there was, they certainly wouldn''t waste their time robbing travelers.


    And so, he followed the steward without complaint or hesitation ¡ª not even when they reached a quieter area of the city, filled with craftsman''s workshops and large stone warehouses.


    The steward came to a halt in front of one of these warehouses, then turned to face Arran. "My business partner is waiting inside," he said. "With his help, we''ll get you out of the city within a day or two."


    Arran nodded, then followed the steward inside. His Sense had already told him someone was waiting within the warehouse ¡ª a single man, tall and muscular, with a sword at his side.


    As they entered the building, the two guards followed behind them and closed the door. And even with his back turned, Arran knew they were reaching for their swords.


    Yet he paid them no mind. Even if they struck him, they were only commoners ¡ª far too weak to injure him even if he ignored them entirely.


    The man ahead, however, was a Body Refiner. And even as the door to the warehouse closed, he drew his sword and attacked, raising his sword to strike with all his might.


    Arran effortlessly caught the blade in his left hand. And with his right, he struck his opponent in the face.


    The man was a Body Refiner, but compared to Arran, he might as well have been a commoner. He didn''t even have the time to look shocked before Arran''s fist crashed into his face and his lifeless body collapsed to the ground. Moments later, he was joined by the two guards.


    Arran sighed, then turned to the steward, who was looking at him with wide-eyed shock, frozen in panic at the scene he''d just witnessed.


    "I didn''t know¡ª" the man began, his voice trembling with fear.


    "Shut up," Arran interrupted him. "I have no interest in excuses or apologies. Despite your treachery, I still need to get into the Hunters'' lands. Can you help me with that, or not?"


    The man looked at Arran with fearful eyes. Yet after a moment, he nodded, then said, "I can. It will take a few days, but I can make good on my word if you give me a chance."


    Arran gave the man a look, then shook his head. Something about the steward''s expression told him that the man still had not given up on the idea of treachery.


    "I think you still don''t understand," he said. "Whether you return with ten guards or a hundred, it doesn''t matter. They will all die. And after that, both you and your family will suffer the same fate. Your only way out of this is to give me what I came for."


    Arran had no intention of harming the man''s family, but it couldn''t hurt to give his threat some additional weight. And it seemed that this time, the threat worked.


    The steward reached into his coat and produced a small black amulet, which he handed to Arran.


    "This is my personal seal," he said, his expression flat. "The people allowed to travel into the Hunters'' lands leave every day at sunrise. If you show this to the guard captain, he''ll let you join them." He hesitated, then added, "But please, don''t harm my family."


    Arran smiled wryly. "If you haven''t lied to me, your family is safe." He reached for his coin purse and retrieved a fistful of gold. "And here''s your payment."


    The man accepted the gold with a puzzled look on his face, but he did not dare object to the gift. "Thank you," he said instead, though he glanced at his fallen companions as he spoke.


    "I suggest you don''t speak of this to anyone," Arran said. "If you do, there will be consequences."


    In truth, he didn''t worry about anyone discovering what had happened in the warehouse. He did not intend to hide the fact that he was a Body Refiner when he entered the Hunter''s lands, only the true extent of his power.


    But still, it was a good idea to avoid any unnecessary attention.


    The steward nodded, sincerity written across his pale face as he gazed at Arran. "No one will know."


    "Good," Arran replied. "Now then, I''ll return to the inn. I hope for your sake that we don''t have to meet again."


    Without waiting for a reply, he exited the warehouse, then began to head back to the inn. And as he made his way through Esran''s dirty streets, he could not help but be relieved that he would be leaving the next day.


    When he arrived at the inn, the innkeeper looked at him with a puzzled expression. Clearly, the man had not expected him to return.


    "Thank you for your help," Arran said, a friendly smile on his face as he spoke. He handed the man a few pieces of gold from his coin purse, then added, "Your brother-in-law proved most useful."


    The innkeeper nodded silently, though there was a hint of concern in his eyes.


    Arran paid it no mind. Instead, he had the innkeeper guide him to his room immediately. He would be leaving early the next day, and he wouldn''t forgo the chance to get a good night''s rest before he departed.


    Before he fell asleep, he could not help but smile in satisfaction. All considered, it had been a day well-spent.

 Chapter 319 Leaving The Borderlands

    Arran awoke early the next morning, with several hours still to go before dawn.


    While he had gone to sleep feeling relaxed and confident, the morning found him unexpectedly filled with worry. Suddenly, he realized that this would be his last day in the borderlands ¡ª his last day in relative safety.


    Once he entered the Hunters'' lands ¡ª the Darian Imperium, as he would have to call it ¡ª he would be surrounded by enemies, with any mistake he made a threat to his life. And if anyone even suspected him of being a mage, a fate far worse than death might await him.


    But that wasn''t the only danger.


    He would journey into lands where he knew neither the laws nor the customs. And while others traveling into the Imperium could afford to learn slowly, that was not the case for Arran.


    He had two tasks, and precious little time for either. Accomplishing the things he''d set out to do would involve no small amount of risk, and both tasks would involve their own challenges.


    The first of these tasks was the one Brightblade had given him: to learn as much as he could about the Hunters. That would mean traveling their lands, learning their customs, and ¡ª if he could ¡ª learning about their military.


    This was the reason he could not simply show the Knight''s amulet to be allowed into the Imperium. Once he did so, he would be bound to whatever she had planned for him, likely leaving him unable to travel freely.


    And so, he would have to enter the Imperium on his own power, going unnoticed as he studied the vast enemy nation. And his curiosity drew attention, it would certainly draw suspicion as well ¡ª especially with the Imperium on the verge of war.


    That no mages had succeeded in infiltrating the Imperium so far could only mean that the Hunters guarded their nation jealously, catching any spies before they could succeed.


    Yet the second task would be the more difficult ¡ª and dangerous ¡ª one. He would get recruited into the Hunters'' ranks, learn as many of their secrets as he could before the war began, and then flee the Imperium just as the Hunters moved to battle the Ninth Valley.


    With only a few years available, learning their secrets would require him to make a meteoric rise through their ranks. Rather than avoiding attention, he would have to seek it out ¡ª to draw the eyes of the Imperium''s best teachers and strongest fighters.


    The plan bordered on madness, but it was the only way to get the knowledge he sought. As an average recruit, he would only learn average things. But if he was to risk his life, then he wanted a suitable reward.


    He sighed as he pondered the path ahead.


    If he had a decade or two, achieving both tasks would be an easy matter. As it was, however, he''d have to do two decades of work in just a few years. And all without being found out.


    But his concerns were eased when he remembered the previous day''s events.


    Just a few years earlier, the Body Refiner he''d slain would have been a deadly enemy. Now, however, the man had been no more of a threat than a pesky insect he could swat with his palm.


    He''d come far over the years, and he would go farther still. The Darian Imperium, for all its purported strength, was just another obstacle to overcome. And when he did, he would emerge stronger once more.


    With a deep breath, he stood up and stretched his body. Then, the worries he''d felt all but gone, he began to pack his belongings.


    He left the inn well before sunrise, though not before eating an unexpectedly lavish breakfast. If nothing else, it seemed his actions of the previous day had won him the man''s fear ¡ª which was nearly as useful as respect.


    Then, he stepped into Esran''s filthy streets.


    Even at this early hour, the streets were already filled with people, though not quite as many as there were during the day.


    If the crowd was rough in the daylight, it was even rougher before dawn. While a few merchants and craftsmen were preparing for the day ahead, most of the people Arran saw wandering the streets were drunks, beggars, thugs, and whores.


    Just in the few short miles it took Arran to reach the western edge of the city, two rag-dressed thugs made abortive attempts to rob him, which he took as a sign of desperation rather than overconfidence.


    He could not help but sigh at the state of the city. It truly was a cesspool. And when war broke out between the Ninth Valley and the Imperium, things would only get worse ¡ª rather than thousands, there would be millions trying to flee the borderlands.


    This was something he had not considered earlier, but now, it was all too clear. Whatever disaster the Ninth Valley might face in the war to come, the borderlands would face something far worse than that.


    Between the two powers stood millions of people whose lives would be thrown into chaos, with entire towns and villages set to be uprooted and abandoned as people tried to escape the violence.


    And amid the chaos, bandits and brigands would seize their opportunity to rob and loot and plunder with abandon, without anyone there to stop them.


    But in the end, there was nothing he could do about that. All he could do was try and help the Ninth Valley win the war. And even that might not be possible.


    At the western edge of the city, he found a large crowd of people ¡ª thousands, rather than the hundreds he had expected to find, with many of them shouting and trying to push their way forward through the masses.


    Yet as he approached, he saw that the crowd was held back by a line of guards, their weapons bared as they stopped the desperate mass of people from pushing through.


    Even with his strength, it took Arran several minutes to push and jostle his way to the front of the crowd, where he was met by the steel of an anxious-looking guard''s blade.


    "Stand back!" the man snapped as Arran moved forward.


    Arran calmly held up the black seal the steward had given him. "Bijan sent me."


    The guard barely gave it a glance, then stepped aside just long enough for Arran to pass through the line. "Go see the captain," he said as Arran passed, though his eyes remained fixed on the crowd in front of him.


    As he stepped past the guards, Arran saw that there was a group of several hundreds of people standing a small distance further, accompanied by a few dozen guards.


    He walked toward them unhurriedly, studying the group as he approached.


    The group was a strange mix of wealth and poverty. About a quarter of the people were dressed in fine clothes and carrying well-made packs ¡ª the ones who''d bribed their way in, Arran thought.


    The rest, meanwhile, ranged from families of farmers and villagers to gaunt vagrants in ragged clothes. These would be the ones who''d scrounged up the coin to get onto the list, only to have to spend months in Esran, using up what little wealth they had as they waited for their turn to leave the borderlands.


    When Arran was a few dozen paces away, one of the guards stepped out from the group ¡ª a tall man in a well-fitting uniform, with a weary expression on his face. The captain, Arran knew.


    When he reached Arran, the man gave him an appraising look, then asked, "Name?"


    Once more, Arran produced the steward''s black seal. "Bijan sent me," he said again. No point in telling the captain more than needed.


    "Hand me that," the captain said. He inspected the seal, then pocketed it and turned his eyes back to Arran. "That must''ve cost you a pretty penny." He gave Arran a look of barely veiled disgust ¡ª not a fan of bribery, then.


    Arran shrugged. "Nothing I couldn''t afford."


    When he saw that his disdainful look had no effect, the captain sighed. He gestured at the group behind him, then said, "Join the others. We leave in half an hour."


    Arran did as the man said and joined the group of borderlanders. And as he stood among them, he could see that most had expressions of relief and joy ¡ª though more than a few looked anxious, as well.


    "Spent a long time waiting?"


    When Arran turned toward the voice, he saw that it came from a middle-aged farmer. The man and his family looked better than most of the others in the group, if only slightly.


    "Not too long," Arran replied. "Though longer than I would have liked."


    The farmer nodded thoughtfully. "Me and the family, we waited for two months. Would''ve been more if I hadn''t had a bit of extra gold with me." He cast a look at the crowd in the distance. "A good thing, too, that we''re leaving today. I can''t see the city staying peaceful much longer."


    Arran frowned, then glanced at the crowd as well. "You think they''ll try to break through?" The thought hadn''t occurred to him earlier, but now that he looked at the mass of desperate people, it didn''t seem unlikely.


    "Not today," the farmer said. "But sooner or later. Keep a herd of sheep fenced in without plenty of food, and they''re bound to break the fence. Can''t see people being any different."


    "They could just go around the city," Arran offered. "Make their way into the Hunters'' lands on their own."


    The farmer shook his head. "Can''t do that. Any who''ve tried, their heads turned up right outside the city a day later. Only safe way to get into the Hunters'' lands is to be with one of the groups."


    Arran spent the next half hour making small talk with the farmer. Although he didn''t learn anything useful about the journey ahead, there was little else to do while he waited.


    More people arrived to join the group, though only a handful. With a chance at leaving the borderlands, it seemed there were few who would risk being late.


    Then, as the sun began to creep up above the horizon, the guard captain called out, "Attention!"


    At once, the group fell silent and two hundred pairs of eyes were immediately focused on the tall man.


    "In a moment, we''re heading to the Hunters'' lands," he began. "My men and I will accompany you for the next two days. After that, you''re on your own."


    He paused briefly to look around the crowd, then continued, "After we depart, you must stay with the group at all times. Wander off or fall behind, and you will die. Do not leave the road, no matter the reason. Any questions?"


    Some murmurs sounded in the crowd, but none spoke. The instructions were clear enough ¡ª stay with the group, no matter what.


    "Good," the captain said. "Any of you have a change of mind, this is your last chance to turn back. We leave now."


    Nobody took the opportunity to turn back, of course. Most of the people in the group had spent months waiting for a chance to leave, and they''d sooner have fallen on their swords than change their minds.


    Just a few minutes later, the group had set off to the west, with the continued shouts of the larger crowd soon fading in the distance.


    They traveled at a slow and steady pace, pausing halfway through the morning for a quick meal before continuing onward.


    The surroundings were much as could be expected ¡ª densely forested wilderness, with no sign of civilization other than the road they walked on. In another place, the woods around them might long have made way for farmlands. But here, they were completely untouched.


    Arran passed the time by talking to some of his fellow travelers, and found them to be in high spirits ¡ª having finally left Esran behind, they were eager to face the final leg of their journey.


    The same was true for Arran himself. The worries he''d felt in the morning had faded, and now, all he wanted was to reach his destination and face whatever obstacles lay ahead.


    About an hour after midday, they met a returning group of guards. The two groups'' captains spoke for a few minutes before saying their goodbyes, and from their weary expressions, Arran deduced that they had nothing of interest to share.


    At nightfall, the group set up camp right on the road, ignoring the dense woods on either side of the road. As the captain had told them, stepping off the road would cost them their lives.


    Yet when morning came, they found one of their group missing ¡ª the young son of the farmer Arran had spoken with the previous day, a boy of only barely ten years old.


    The farmer searched the camp in a panic, despair on his face as he begged the guards for help.


    "We have to get him!" the man cried out as he approached the captain. "He must have wandered off during the night. He can''t have gone far¡­"


    The captain shook his head, though his expression was pained. "We can''t. If your son left the road, then he''s already dead."


    Arran knew this wasn''t true. His sword could Sense the boy, less than a mile from the road. Yet not too far from the boy, there was another presence, rapidly moving closer.


    "Then I have to find him myself," the farmer said, jaw set despite his haggard look. It was obvious that he was prepared to give his life for a chance to rescue his son.


    Yet before the farmer could step off the road, Arran grabbed the man''s shoulder.


    "Stay here. I''ll get him."


    Perhaps it was a stupid thing to do. While it wouldn''t risk his life, it might force him to reveal the Knight''s ring to the Hunters. And that would cause more than a little trouble for his plans.


    But then, Arran had once been a foolish boy himself. And if he hadn''t received plenty of help from well-meaning strangers, he''d have died long ago.


    "Don''t," the guard captain said when he saw what Arran was about to do. "More than likely, he''s already dead. And if you go after him, you''ll die as well."


    Despite the firm words, there was some sympathy in his eyes, and Arran guessed that the captain would have searching himself had he believed there was any chance of success.


    Arran shrugged. "We''ll see about that."


    Without further words, he dashed into the tree line. Although he didn''t use his full strength, he moved at a pace well beyond anything a normal human could achieve, and he reached the boy barely a few minutes later.


    Yet even as he found the boy, the presence he''d felt earlier arrived. And just as Arran reached the boy, so did the other person ¡ª a woman, clad in leather armor, with a slender sword at her side.


    As Arran''s eyes met hers, he briefly considered his options ¡ª whether to kill her or to show the Knight''s ring.


    Yet the woman glanced at the boy, and her face softened. "Go," she said in a low voice. "And hurry." Then, without waiting, she disappeared into the surrounding brush.


    Arran breathed a sigh of relief, but he knew better than to ignore her warning. She wasn''t the only Hunter in the area.


    "I just went to go pee¡­" The boy looked at Arran with fearful eyes. His feet and hands were covered in mud, and several streaks of mud covered his face as well.


    "And like the mule-headed dunce you are, you got lost," Arran said. He sighed deeply, though not without remembering his own childhood. "Let''s get you back to your father."


    He unceremoniously picked the boy up from the ground and threw him over his shoulder like a sack of grain. Then, before any other Hunters could arrive, he hurried back to the group.


    When he arrived a few minutes later, the farmer and his wife received their son with tearful eyes ¡ª and no small amount of harsh words. From the look of it, the boy would have trouble sitting for at least a few weeks. Hopefully, he''d learn from the punishment.


    As Arran turned away from the reunited family, the guard captain approached him.


    "That was a foolish thing you did," the man said. "Brave, but foolish." Despite the words, he looked nearly as relieved as the farmer had.


    Arran shrugged. "I''ve been known to act before thinking."Find authorized novels in Webnovel£¬faster updates, better experience£¬Please click www.novelhall.com for visiting.


    That, he knew, was something he''d have to change ¡ª and soon. Because although he did not regret the risk he''d taken in saving the boy, in the Imperium, foolish bravery would not end well.


    And if he failed in his tasks, not just his own life would be at risk.

 Chapter 320 The Border

    The group broke camp shortly after Arran had rescued the farmer''s son. Although the boy''s disappearance and retrieval had caused some consternation, there was no time to discuss the matter at length ¡ª not with the border of the Imperium fast approaching.


    As the captain had made clear, the guards would accompany them for another day before turning back. And only after that would the group''s members discover whether their decision to leave the borderlands had been the right one.


    While nobody said it outright, Arran could tell that there had been a subtle change in his fellow travelers'' mood. They weren''t quite as eager to continue as they had been before, as if the boy''s brief misadventure was suddenly causing them second thoughts.


    From the captain''s reaction, it was obvious that he had truly believed the boy''s life was lost. And even if Arran had safely returned the boy, at least some of the travelers seemed to wonder just how dangerous and ruthless the Hunters were.


    Even bandits would not kill a child for so small a matter. But it seemed the guard captain had no doubt about the Hunters'' willingness to do so ¡ª a grim omen for the reception they would receive.


    Yet while the others spoke in hushed whispers of their destination, Arran''s attention was focused elsewhere.


    As they followed the road through the densely forested wilderness, he Sensed that they were not alone. On either side of the road, barely two hundred paces into the forest, two small groups of people moved along with them.


    Hunters, Arran knew. And while he had no reason to believe they meant harm, he could not help but feel uneasy at being surrounded in hostile lands. But then, the Hunters did not know that he was an enemy ¡ª nor would they find out, if all went well.


    Despite the borderlanders'' concerns and their unseen escorts, the morning passed quickly, with the group maintaining a steady pace as they traveled toward their destination.


    By midday, they met another group of returning guards. Much like the previous day, the captains spoke briefly, though the exchange lasted slightly longer this time. And from the glance the other group''s captain gave Arran, he knew the boy''s tale had already begun to spread.


    They departed again some minutes later, and after they set off once more, Arran spent some time pondering the constant stream of people traveling into the Imperium.


    Every day, two hundred people left Esran to join the Imperium. While a sizable number, it wasn''t so much that it would have a noticeable effect on the war to come.


    But Esran wasn''t the only city on the border.


    Arran had studied Brightblade''s map well, and he knew that there were at least several dozens of other towns and cities that bordered the Imperium. If each of these was allowed to send two hundred people each day, the total would run well into the thousands.


    And that was only the number for a single day.


    In a month, there could be well over a hundred thousand borderlanders who joined the Imperium. In a year, the number would swell to over a million. And even if they were only commoners, Arran could not help but think such numbers would have no small effect.


    Suddenly, he found himself doubting the wisdom of the Ninth Valley''s strategy. They intended to delay the war as long as possible, preparing their mages for the battle ahead as well as they could.


    But with each passing day, the Imperium was adding to its numbers ¡ª building its strength while the Ninth Valley tried to do the same. Yet mages were slow in training, and if the Darians'' methods were faster, then time might not be on the Valley''s side.


    The Shadowflame Society should be well aware of this, of course. Yet Arran knew that most mages had a blind spot for commoners, and he could easily see the Ninth Valley''s leaders dismissing the borderlanders as unimportant.


    He considered the matter for several hours, but eventually, he let out a deep sigh as he realized there was nothing he could do.


    Years would pass before he returned to the Ninth Valley, and he could only hope that Brightblade wasn''t as blind as he expected the Valley''s other leaders to be.


    Arran''s own task was a different one ¡ª and one that would soon begin in earnest.


    The group continued onward until early evening. Then, suddenly, the captain raised his hand.


    "Halt!" he called out, causing the guards to stop in their tracks immediately.


    The borderlanders followed their example a moment later, and as Arran looked ahead, he saw that there were two massive boulders on either side of the road. They were the size of small houses, far too large to have been placed there by normal means.


    "We have reached the border of the Hunters'' lands," the captain said in a loud voice. "We will camp here tonight. In the morning, my men and I will return to Esran, and you will travel onward to face your future."


    There was a hint of grimness in his voice, as if he didn''t have much hope for the borderlanders'' prospects.


    Yet most of the borderlanders had traveled here out of desperation, not choice. If they returned to Esran ¡ª assuming they still could ¡ª nothing would await them but a slow descent into wretchedness. Their coin would eventually run out, and when it did, they''d have to resort to stealing, begging, or worse.


    None of them knew what they would find in the Imperium, but it offered something that Esran lacked: hope. Perhaps they would meet only disaster in the Imperium, but just the chance of replacing the homes they''d left behind was enough for them to accept the risk.


    The group made camp quietly, with all but a few of the borderlanders occasionally casting nervous glances at the lands that lay behind the two large rocks.


    Arran, for his part, ignored the sight. Rocks or not, it was no different from the wilderness behind them.


    The true difference would not be in the landscape, but in the actions of the small group of Hunters who had followed them for the past day.


    The Hunters had gathered in a small camp barely half a mile away, and Arran suspected that once the borderlanders entered the Imperium, it wouldn''t be long before they emerged from the trees to welcome the outsiders.


    The real question was whether the welcome would be a friendly or a hostile one. And for that, Arran still had some preparations to make ¡ª though not before night, when most of the others would be asleep.


    Yet to Arran''s surprise, as the sun began to set and the borderlanders wrapped themselves in their blankets on the cold ground, the guard captain came over to him.


    The man had a serious look on his face as he approached Arran, and in a low voice, he said, "Come with me for a moment."


    Arran frowned, but he did as the captain said, following him a few dozen paces back along the road ¡ª as far as the man dared to go, Arran guessed.


    When they were just out of earshot, the captain faced Arran. "You shouldn''t go," he said in a grave voice. "Return with us tomorrow. The city guard has plenty of room for a brave man like you."


    Arran gave the man a puzzled look. "You want me to return to Esran?"


    The captain nodded, and said, "It isn''t safe to cross the border. I don''t know what it is they do to the travelers, but it can''t be good ¡ª no one''s ever returned, not even to visit their family."


    "I''ve heard as much," Arran replied. "But I figured it''s just because they''re wary of spies. With the conflict, I can''t say I blame them for being cautious."


    "That''s another thing," the captain said. He cast a wary look at the two boulders in the distance, then continued at a whisper, "Even if they let you join them, nothing good will come of it. When they go to war against the mages, they''re bound to lose."


    "How do you figure that?" Arran asked, suppressing a smile at the man''s unexpected faith in the Shadowflame Society. It certainly was more confidence than he himself felt.


    "My father was a scholar," the captain replied. "Told me that the mages were here long before the Hunters came, and that they''d be here long after the Hunters disappeared."Find authorized novels in Webnovel£¬faster updates, better experience£¬Please click www.novelhall.com for visiting.


    It wasn''t much of an argument, but the look of conviction in the man''s face suggested that he considered it an indisputable fact.


    "Perhaps you''re right," Arran said. "But I''ll take my chances with the Hunters. It''d be a waste to turn around after having come this far."


    The captain shook his head, a disappointed expression on his face. "It''s your choice to make. But when the mages defeat the Hunters, remember my words."


    Arran chuckled. "If it comes to that, I''ll remember your words. I''m sure I''ll feel like a right fool when some mage sets me on fire."


    When he returned to the camp, Arran quickly wrapped his blankets around himself, then pretended to sleep as twilight slowly turned to night.


    He lay quietly for several hours, observing the surroundings with his Sense even while his eyes were closed. Then, when the sky was pitch black and most of the borderlanders and guards were asleep, he set to work on his final task before entering the Hunter''s lands ¡ª hiding his weapon.


    Once they crossed the border, Arran knew there was a good chance that the Hunters would not allow the outsiders to keep their weapons. Yet if he stored his sword in his void ring, he wouldn''t be able to rely on its Sense.


    The only way around that was to get his sword to change shape. And although he knew it could do so, it was something he had little experience with.


    For well over an hour, he tried unsuccessfully to get his sword to do what he wanted. Yet although it seemed to understand his intent, it was like it was reluctant to follow the command ¡ª as if it disliked being anything other than a sword.


    Just as Arran was starting to feel desperate, however, a feeling of acceptance suddenly came through the bond, almost like the sword had felt his desperation and decided to put a stop to it.


    In an instant, it shrunk to a fraction of its previous size. Then, a slight blur went through the air around it, and a moment later it reformed itself into a simple steel ring.


    Arran sighed in relief as he put the ring on his finger, not at all surprised to find it was a perfect fit. And although its shape was now wholly different, he found that its Sense had not diminished in the slightest. The only real difference was that a mild feeling of discontent now came through the bond.


    But the sword would just have to endure. Because the next morning, Arran would finally enter the Imperium.

 Chapter 321 Into The Imperium

    When morning came, the guards wasted no time in leaving. They broke camp even before the first light of day brightened the sky, clearly anxious to leave the border.


    The guard captain gave the group of borderlanders no further advice or warnings. While his expression suggested he believed they were making a grave mistake, he merely spoke some quick words of farewell before leading his men back along the road to Esran.


    Yet where the guards had left quickly, the borderlanders were slow in packing up their belongings. Many of them shot nervous glances at the two boulders along the road ahead, and it was obvious that they were hesitant in continuing the journey.


    To Arran''s dismay, however, more than a few of the borderlanders looked at him with questioning eyes, as if they were waiting for him to lead the way.Find authorized novels in Webnovel£¬faster updates, better experience£¬Please click www.novelhall.com for visiting.


    Leading the group was the last thing he wanted, but it seemed that his actions of the previous day had left more of an impression than he''d expected. And with the guards gone, his fellow travelers were now looking to him for leadership.


    Arran let out a deep sigh. From the look of the borderlanders, it could easily be another hour before they mustered the courage to enter the Imperium.


    "Listen up!" he called out. "Pack your bags and finish your meals. We leave in a quarter-hour!"


    His words had the intended effect. At once, a ripple of motion went through the group.


    The group was packed and ready to leave just a few minutes later, well before the quarter-hour was up.


    "Everyone ready?" Arran called out. Some nods and murmurs came from the crowd, but there were no objections. "Then let''s go!"


    Arran started toward the two boulders at a calm pace, with the group setting into motion behind him. Now that they had a leader, the borderlanders no longer dawdled ¡ª all they had needed was someone to take charge and lead the way.


    Yet while he had reassured his companions, Arran felt a hint of hesitation as he passed between the two large boulders.


    At his side now hung a simple steel sword ¡ª one of the many weapons his void ring contained. Though it was well-made, it lacked even a single enchantment. That would avoid unwanted attention, but it also meant the weapon would be useless against any real threat.


    A better weapon was only a thought away, but having the executioner''s sword take its real shape or retrieving a starmetal weapon from his void ring would instantly expose him as a mage. If that happened, he would have to find a way to deal with the witnesses.


    And with two hundred borderlanders behind him, there would be many of those.


    But after a moment, Arran forced himself to set these worries aside. Unless things went disastrously wrong, there would be no need for him to use a weapon at all.


    Instead, he focused his attention on the road ahead ¡ª and the Hunters who were still following them, hidden behind trees and brush as they traveled along with the borderlanders.


    Now that they had entered the Imperium, Arran believed it wouldn''t be long before the Hunters revealed themselves. Within their own lands, there was no need for stealth ¡ª as far they would know, the borderlanders were completely under their control.


    And so, Arran progressed at a slow but steady pace, readying himself for the encounter that was to come.


    Just as he had expected, they had barely been within the Imperium''s borders for a quarter-hour when he Sensed the Hunters approach the road, one group moving in front of the borderlanders and one group behind them.


    The large group of travelers came to an abrupt halt when they saw the Hunters, and several gasps and whispers sounded among them. While many of them had previously seen Hunters in the borderlands, meeting them here was far more intimidating ¡ª here, they could not simply look away and hope to go unnoticed.


    Arran, however, looked at the half-dozen Hunters on the road ahead with some interest. Walking at the very front of the group, he''d been the first to see them, and with narrowed eyes, he studied the Hunters while he waited for them to make a move.


    There were six Hunters ahead of him, all dressed in leather armor, with slender swords at their sides and bows strapped to their backs. Now, finally, Arran could see why they were known as Hunters in the borderlands ¡ª judging from their look, they resembled huntsmen more than anything.


    Of course, the Hunters looked at Arran as well. Not only was he first among the group of borderlanders, his stance and movements also revealed him as a Body Refiner.


    This was a deliberate decision on his part. While he could conceal all his abilities, doing so would be difficult. And if he slipped up for even a moment after having hidden his strength, he would immediately draw no small amount of suspicion.


    Far easier to reveal just enough to be noticed and dismissed.


    And indeed, the man at the front of the Hunters ¡ª their leader, Arran guessed ¡ª only gave Arran a brief look before turning his attention to the rest of the group.


    "Everyone!" he said in a loud but calm voice. "I welcome you to your new home ¡ª the Darian Empire."


    The group of borderlanders breathed a collective sigh of relief at his words, their worries fading as they understood they would not be treated as enemies. Whatever else lay ahead, at least the worst of their fears had not come to pass.


    The Hunter waited for the murmurs to die down, then continued, "We will accompany you for the next half day, to ensure your safety. Understand that while you have been welcomed, you are not yet citizens of the Imperium. Should you stray from the group, the punishment is death."


    This time, his words caused a more muted response, and Arran could not help but think the warning was unnecessary. With a dozen Hunters guarding them, none of the borderlanders would even dare to think of fleeing.


    But then, this was far from the first group to enter the Imperium. And perhaps some of the previous outsiders had been more foolish.


    Or, Arran suddenly realized, some of the previous groups might have included mages, confident in their ability to slip away undetected. If that was the case, it would also explain the Hunters'' care in following the group over the previous days.


    But either way, Arran had no intention of trying to escape. His best chance to infiltrate the Imperium was to blend in with the borderlanders. And should that fail, he had the Knight''s ring to protect him.


    "All of you, follow us," another of the Hunters called out, a woman this time. And as she spoke, the other Hunters turned around and set off along the road, with Arran and the borderlanders quickly following behind them.


    Several hours passed mostly in silence, with none of the Hunters saying another word to the borderlanders, and the borderlanders themselves too fearful to speak.


    Yet by late morning, the farmer whose son Arran had saved walked up beside him, then said in a low voice, "Not a talkative lot, are they?"


    It appeared that several hours in the Hunters'' presence had been enough for his fears to erode somewhat, though Arran thought that had he known the Hunters could easily hear him, the man might have chosen his words more carefully.


    "I''m guessing these are the border guards," Arran replied. "Can''t expect those to be too friendly. It''ll be different when we reach whatever place they''re taking us too."


    "I suppose," the farmer replied, though he didn''t sound entirely convinced. "It''d be nice to learn a bit more about them, though. Especially after we''ve come all this way."


    "You will learn soon enough."


    The voice came from one of the Hunters a few dozen paces in front of them, and the farmer''s face went paper-white in an instant.


    "I apologize," he said hurriedly. "I didn''t think¡­" He stopped talking mid-sentence, apparently realizing that admitting to talking behind the Hunters'' backs wasn''t the best of ideas.


    The Hunter, however, seemed neither amused nor offended. Instead, he said in a calm voice, "Matters will be explained to you when we reach our destination. For now, you would do well to be patient."


    The farmer nodded hastily, no longer daring to speak. And as the Hunter turned back toward the road ahead, the farmer wasted no time in falling back several dozens of paces, disappearing into the crowd as best he could.


    More hours passed as they traveled along the road, with the Hunters barely saying a word and the borderlanders speaking only in whispers.


    Slowly, however, the landscape around them changed. While there was still no sign of farms or villages, the trees grew less dense and eventually disappeared entirely, with open grasslands taking their place.


    Then, close to midday, Arran saw something in the distance ¡ª a vast fortress, tall and thick-walled. And even from half a mile away, he could see that it had been built to withstand more than just commoners ¡ª the walls were far too massive for that.


    He did not need to look at the road ahead to know that the fortress was where the Hunters were taking them.

 Chapter 322 Advice

    Although Arran''s sword had been turned into a ring, its Sense was still every bit as sharp as before. And as the group approached the fortress, what he felt through the bond caused him to clench his jaw in worry.


    Inside, there were shards of Living Shadow, and not just one or two. Rather, the fortress held nearly two dozen of them, all similar to the Knight''s weapon he''d Sensed on the battlefield.


    The discovery caused Arran no small amount of worry. While he could conceal his abilities from Knights, he hadn''t expected to encounter two dozen of them so soon after entering the Imperium.


    He did not know exactly how strong Knights were, but he was certain they weren''t weak ¡ª at least as strong as Grandmasters, and possibly beyond even that.


    With enemies like those around, there would be no chance of escape if he was discovered.


    Until now, he had hoped that even if things went awry, he would have the ability to escape. But now, after finding two dozen Knights in the very first place he visited in the Imperium, he knew that would not be an option.


    And there was another problem, too.


    He carried the Knight''s ring he''d received in the battlefield outside his void ring, because if he needed it, retrieving it from his void ring would immediately mark him as a mage.


    Yet the ring was made from starmetal. And if he came close enough to the Knights in the fortress, their shards of Living Shadow would allow them to Sense it with ease.


    He briefly considered storing it in his void ring, but after a moment, he rejected the idea. While having the Knight''s ring be discovered would interfere with his plans, not having it when he needed it might cost him his life. And between those things, the choice was an easy one.


    As the group approached the fortress, however, Arran realized that the ring might not be detected after all. Because behind the stronghold''s massive walls, there were hundreds of pieces of starmetal ¡ª weapons and jewelry both, with no small amount of rings among them.


    The discovery offered Arran only partial relief. While it meant he might not yet have to reveal his hidden, it also meant the Hunters were better equipped than he had expected.


    His thoughts were interrupted when a group of people emerged from the stronghold''s gate. There were about thirty, each wearing thick metal armor. Yet despite their bulky protection, they approached Arran''s group at a jog ¡ª Body Refiners, then.


    Arran watched them approach silently, his eyes focused on the new group''s weapons and armor. While well-crafted, there wasn''t anything extraordinary about it. It was thicker than most armor, magic should still tear through it with ease.


    That, at least, was a small relief to Arran. If even the Hunters'' normal soldiers had been outfitted with starmetal weapons and armor, he might have given up hope for the Ninth Valley''s chances altogether.


    The group of soldiers came to halt near the Hunters who had accompanied the borderlanders, and the leaders of the two groups exchanged some quick words. Arran could not hear what was said, but he tensed up when the Hunters'' leader pointed at him.


    Yet the soldiers'' leader merely gave Arran a passing glance, then turned his eyes back to the other man. From his disinterested expression, it seemed he did not find the presence of a Body Refiner among the borderlanders noteworthy.


    The two men barely talked for a minute, after which the Hunters'' leader abruptly turned around. He raised his hand and made a gesture that was unfamiliar to Arran, and without giving either the borderlanders or the soldiers so much as another glance, the Hunters departed, setting off back toward the border.


    As the group of Hunters left, the soldiers'' leader turned his attention to the borderlanders. A heavy-set man with cropped dark hair, he had an unfriendly face, and he looked at the people before him with cold eyes.


    "Outsiders!" he called out. "Follow me!"


    The borderlanders did as they were told, following behind the group of soldiers as they made their way back to the fortress''s heavy gate.


    When they neared the fortress, Arran felt some awe as he finally got a good look at the walls. They were a good fifty feet high, and up close, he saw that they were fashioned from an unnaturally smooth type of rock.


    Barely fifty paces, the soldiers'' leader suddenly shouted, "Halt!"


    As the group came to a stop, and Arran looked at the large man with a puzzled expression. He''d expected that they would enter the fortress. Large enough to hold thousands, it was certainly enough to take in a few hundred borderlanders.


    "Outsiders, line up!" the man called.


    Arran wasn''t the only one who was confused by this turn of events, and a ripple of chaos went through the group of borderlanders as they formed an unsteady line. Evidently, this wasn''t enough to satisfy the soldiers'' leader, and he ordered his men to put the borderlanders in line ¡ª something they did with brusque efficiency.


    After that, several minutes passed without anything happening, the borderlanders standing in line with nonplussed expressions as they waited for what would come next.


    Arran realized what was to happen well before the others, as he Sensed a shard of Living Shadow moving their way within the fortress''s walls.


    An inspection, then. And one that would certainly reveal the Knight''s ring.


    Yet when the person carrying the shard of Living Shadow emerged from the gate, Arran frowned in surprise. He had expected to see a Knight, but the person who came forth looked wholly different.


    It was a tall, gray-haired man, dressed in a white robe. Though there was a Living Shadow dagger at his side, that was the only weapon he carried. Rather than a warrior, the man looked more like a scholar ¡ª or even a mage.


    Arran eyed the man uncertainly. While the tall man''s clothes and movements did not necessarily mean he wasn''t a Knight, the impression Arran got was that this man was no warrior. Yet if he wasn''t, Arran had no idea what else he might be.


    The white-robed man walked toward the borderlanders at an unhurried pace, moving with the authority of someone who expected to be obeyed. And indeed, the soldiers bowed as he approached, a hint of reverence in the eyes of some.


    Since Arran was at the very front of the line of borderlanders, he was the first to face the white-robed man. Yet the reaction he expected did not come. Instead, the man merely gave him a studious look, then moved on.


    The man slowly made his way past the rest of the group, facing each person several seconds before moving on. Unlike the others, Arran knew what the man was doing ¡ª using his Living Shadow dagger to check for mages.


    It took nearly a quarter-hour before the gray-haired man had inspected all the borderlanders, and as expected, he found no mages among them ¡ª if there were any, Arran would have Sensed them long ago.


    Then, having finished his inspection, the white-robed man made his way back along the line. Yet just as Arran was starting to believe he''d somehow escaped notice, the white-robed man glanced at him.


    "You, come with me." It was a simple order, said in a tone that brooked no objection. "The rest of you, wait here."


    Arran suppressed his desire to curse in frustration. Instead, he gave the man a polite nod, then followed him through the opened gate.


    The white-robed man did not speak as he guided Arran inside the fortress''s walls. Instead, he walked at a dignified pace, eyes straight ahead as he moved, as if the surroundings were unworthy of his attention.


    Arran, on the other hand, eagerly seized the opportunity to study what lay within the walls, and despite his anxiousness, he found himself impressed with what he saw.


    Within the walls lay a settlement the size of a small town, with numerous large, fortified buildings strewn across the area. There were soldiers, too ¡ª hundreds that Arran could see, and likely thousands more within the many buildings.


    Many of the soldiers were training ¡ª sparring, drilling, and performing all manner of exercise, each group under the watchful eye of an instructor.


    Although there was no time for anything but a brief glance, even that was enough for Arran to see that without exception, the soldiers were all both skilled and strong.


    While these common soldiers lacked the power of Shadowflame novices, there was something in their movements that suggested they had no small amount of experience ¡ª and real experience, rather than mere practice.Find authorized novels in Webnovel£¬faster updates, better experience£¬Please click www.novelhall.com for visiting.


    Once more, Arran felt a shiver of worry as he thought about the war to come. He had barely seen a glimpse of the Imperium, and already, he''d discovered it held far more strength than he had expected.


    But his worries were interrupted when he saw where the white-robed man was leading him. It was a building unlike the others within the fortress walls. Built for elegance rather than raw strength, its walls featured intricate patterns, and it was topped with a spire that appeared strangely delicate.


    When they stepped inside, the contrast to the rest of the fortress was even greater.


    Much of the building''s space was taken up by a spacious hall that featured several grand murals, along with a dozen expertly crafted statues placed against the walls.


    To Arran''s eyes, there was something eerie about the statues ¡ª all of them faced the hall''s interior, and the faces had been crafted so that it looked as if the statues observed all who passed before them.


    There were people, too. At the far end of the hall, Arran saw half a dozen robe-clad men and women kneeling before some small object that was stood upon a dais. He could not see what the object was, but it was clear that these people revered it greatly.


    "Come along," the gray-haired man said ¡ª his first words since he''d ordered Arran to follow him.


    Arran did as the man said, and he soon found himself in one of the side chambers of the main hall. There, the man sat down on a large wooden chair with red velvet upholstery.


    "Hand it over."


    The man spoke in a soft but firm voice, and without complaint or objection, Arran handed him the Knight''s ring ¡ª although the man had not said so, he understood that the ring was what had drawn the man''s interest.


    The gray-haired man studied the ring for some moments, then turned his eyes back to Arran.


    "How did you acquire this?"


    "It was given to me," Arran replied. "By a woman ¡ª she said she was a Knight of the Imperium."


    "Indeed." The gray-haired man frowned, then gave Arran a studious look. "Then I assume you understand that with this, there was no need for you to travel here as a common refugee. Yet you did so anyway. Why?"


    Arran hesitated in answering, but only briefly. "I prefer to earn my own keep, instead of relying on favors."


    The words earned him an unexpected look of approval from the white-robed man.


    "The heavens smile on those who spurn the easy path," the man said, speaking in a practiced tone that suggested the words weren''t his own. "Very well, I will allow it. There is honor to be found in toil and labor. You may earn your citizenship along with the others."


    Arran looked at the man in confusion. He understood little of what the man before him meant, but the mention of toil and labor sounded less than promising.


    "After you earn your citizenship," the man continued, "consider your path carefully. The invitation you were given¡­" He paused mid-sentence, his expression almost seeming pained. "The Knights'' existence is necessary, but their path is a flawed one. Before you accept the invitation, you would do well to visit one of our temples. There, you may find a better path."


    "If you aren''t a Knight, what are you?" Arran asked, his brow deeply furrowed as he looked at the white-robed man in front of him.


    "What am I?" The man let out a cheerful laugh. "I am but a humble priest, a lowly servant of the gods."


    Although Arran took care not to show his incredulity, he could not help but think that this man was anything but humble. If anything, he seemed unusually pleased with himself.


    But it wouldn''t do to say so out loud. So instead, Arran feigned a thoughtful expression, then said, "I thank you for your advice, and I will consider your words carefully."


    The priest gave him a pleased look, then handed back the ring. "In the years to come, as you earn your place in the Imperium, remember that no effort goes unseen by the gods. If you do, I believe you have a bright path ahead of you."


    To this, Arran nodded awkwardly, unsure of how to respond. "Thank you," he said again, for want of a better response.


    The priest briefly touched his hand to his forehead. "You may leave."


    Arran gave the man a bow much like the one he''d seen the soldiers make. Then, somewhat uncertainly, he stepped out of the priest''s office.


    There was no escort to watch him as he made his way back to the group of borderlanders, so he did not hurry in returning, instead using the opportunity to take a good look at the fortress.


    When he finally stepped out of the gate again, he found the borderlanders and soldiers still waiting there. Only now, several mule-drawn carts stood among them, filled with supplies for what looked to be a long journey.


    The soldiers'' captain looked at him with a deep frown as he approached.


    "What did the Archon want with you?" the large man asked, some hesitation in his voice.


    "There were some questions he wished to ask of me," Arran replied. "And he gave me advice for the journey ahead."


    At this, the captain''s frown deepened further. "Go join the others," he said, though there was some doubt in his voice as he gave the command, as if he was suddenly uncertain of Arran''s position.


    Arran did as the man said. Yet when he rejoined the borderlanders, he saw that they looked at him with uncertain eyes as well.


    There was no time for any of them to ask questions, however. Almost immediately, the captain called out, "Outsiders! Prepare to depart!"


    They set off moments later in a large column, with the soldiers taking the lead, the borderlanders following behind them, and a handful of soldiers guiding the carts at the back of the column.


    While Arran did not know what their destination was, a frown crossed his face when he remembered the priest''s words about toil and labor. And suddenly, he wondered whether he shouldn''t have accepted the Knight''s invitation.

 Chapter 323 The Fate Of Refugees

    As Arran had already guessed from the carts, the journey from the fortress was as long as it was slow. For days on end, the column of soldiers and borderlanders moved through wide grasslands, traveling at so slow a pace that Arran could not help but be frustrated.


    After the first few days, Arran began to see signs of civilization among their surroundings ¡ª farms, several villages, and even a small town. And although they didn''t stop in any of those places, he could see farmers working the fields, and several merchants passed them as they moved along the road.


    The familiar sights caused Arran some pause.


    He''d known there was more to the Imperium than just a powerful army, but knowing it was different from seeing it with his own eyes.


    Of course, even this was only barely a glimpse. Half a dozen villages and a small town represented an utterly insignificant part of the Imperium. But it was enough for Arran to understand that the Darian Imperium would resemble the Empire, where the vast majority of the population consisted of commoners.Find authorized novels in Webnovel£¬faster updates, better experience£¬Please click www.novelhall.com for visiting.


    Arran did not dwell on the comparison. In the end, what mattered was that he was an enemy of the Imperium. And that wouldn''t change ¡ª not with Arran being a mage.


    And so, he focused his efforts on gathering what information he could.


    This proved no easy task. Most of the soldiers refused to talk to any of the borderlanders, and those few who did said nothing of interest. Although none said so outright, it was clear that they had been ordered not to mix with the men and women they guarded.


    Perhaps the captain would have been at liberty to say more, but Arran did not dare risk approaching the man. Too much curiosity would certainly be conspicuous, and he had already drawn more attention than he would have liked.


    Yet three days into the journey, he was presented with an unexpected opportunity ¡ª one that came in the form of a wide-eyed young soldier.


    As they were setting up camp for the night, the young man approached Arran hesitantly, and asked, "Did you really speak to the Archon?"


    "I did," Arran replied. He noticed the reverence in the soldier''s eyes at the mention of the Archon, and with a thought, he added, "He gave me some valuable advice about my future in the Imperium."


    At this, the young man''s eyes went wide with surprise ¡ª as well as a hint of awe. "What did he tell you?"


    "He said he believed my future path might lie in the priesthood," Arran said. "After I earn my citizenship, of course."


    The soldier gave him a joyous smile in response. "To receive such advice from an Archon is a great honor," he said. "In truth, I long hoped to become a priest myself. But my family¡­" He sighed. "They insisted I chose a different path."


    Arran gave the young man an understanding look. "Our duties and desires are often at odds with each other," he said. "But there are many ways to serve the gods. Remember, the heavens smile on those who spurn the easy path."


    He copied the Archon''s words as best he could, adding in some empty platitudes to feign profoundness. And to his relief, the attempt appeared to be successful, as the young soldier nodded eagerly.


    "I see why the Archon thought you suited for the priesthood," the soldier said, his expression thoughtful as he pondered Arran''s words. "And you''re right ¡ª even as a soldier, I can still serve the gods. Thank you for reminding me of that."


    "Of course," Arran replied. Then, in an intentionally hesitant voice, he continued, "But could I perhaps ask you a question? About what I must do to earn my citizenship?"


    The young man gave him an uncomfortable look. "We''re not really supposed to talk about that," he said in an awkward voice.


    "No need to worry," Arran said. "All I want to know is how best to prepare myself, so that I waste no time in following the Archon''s advice. I am not looking for an easy path ¡ª just an honorable one."


    The soldier narrowed his eyes, then gave a small nod. "There isn''t much to tell," he began. "Outsiders have to earn their citizenship through labor. Some choose to work on the farms, some in the mines, and others as servants."


    Arran suppressed a grimace. "That sounds like a fair system," he said, concealing his frustration. "How long does it usually take to fulfill one''s duties?"


    "It depends," the young man replied. "But the easier the work is, the longer it takes. Servants often have to spend over a decade earning their place."


    "The Archon told me that there is honor in toil and labor," Arran said. "What''s the most difficult path?"


    "You want a difficult path?" The soldier looked at Arran in astonishment, but a moment later, his expression turned to one of respect. "Working in the mines is both difficult and dangerous. You can earn your citizenship in just a couple of years there, but many who go there never return. Even for Body Refiners, the mines are filled with peril."


    Arran had no desire for either difficulty or danger. But he wanted as quick a path as he could find, and he had little doubt that he could handle whatever dangers awaited the miners.


    "Thank you for your help," he said. "I will take the Archon''s advice to heart, and choose the difficult path."


    The young soldier gave him a respectful nod, then lightly touched his hand to his forehead. "May your path be a blessed one."


    Arran repeated the gesture. "The same to you."


    As the young man made his way back to the other soldiers, Arran cast a troubled look at the empty road ahead. Much as he''d expected, infiltrating the Imperium would be a difficult matter.


    Of course, the Knight''s ring offered him a different path ¡ª a way to skip the things that were required of other outsiders, and join the Darians'' ranks immediately.


    Yet doing so would likely cost him the chance to freely explore the Imperium. And unless there was no other way, that wasn''t a price he was willing to pay.


    Not yet, at least.


    They resumed their journey the next morning, continuing onward through the hilly grasslands that filled the edge of the Imperium.


    While Arran found the pace painfully slow, several of the children among the group still had trouble keeping up. Yet to Arran''s surprise, the otherwise gruff-faced captain did not scold them for it.


    Instead, the captain gave only a brief frown, then allowed the children to ride on the carts that trailed the long column.


    And that wasn''t the only thing to catch Arran''s attention. Because while the food the borderlanders were given was simple, the quality was good and the portions generous. And although most of the soldiers weren''t exactly friendly, they showed no sign of hostility either.


    That the borderlanders were treated well came as a relief to Arran. He''d worried how he might react if they were mistreated or abused, but it appeared his concern had been unnecessary.


    Still, as more days passed, the borderlanders grew restless, and some grumbles of discontent sounded among the group. Many of them had likely expected to have found a place to settle by now, but instead, they were traveling to some faraway destination.


    After roughly a week, Arran was approached by the farmer whose son he had saved.


    Ever since his talk with the Archon, the other members of the group had looked at Arran with wary eyes, still unsure of what his relationship with the Imperium was. The only exception to this was the farmer, and even he approached Arran uncertainly.


    "I had a question for you, if you don''t mind," the man said, his tone cautious.


    "What is it?" Arran asked.


    The farmer looked at him uneasily. "The others and I, we''re wondering when we might reach our destination. Not that we''re complaining, mind you ¡ª it''s just that we''ve been on the road an awful long time already."


    Arran shrugged. "I have no idea where we''re going," he said. "But there''s less than a week''s worth of supplies in the carts, so I figure that wherever we''re going, it''s bound to be close."


    The farmer had more questions to ask, of course, but Arran had answers to none of those. What little he knew about their destination, he kept to himself.


    Though the borderlanders would doubtless be unhappy when they learned they''d have to spend years earning their citizenship, that was something they''d discover soon enough.


    They reached their destination barely half a week later, and when Arran saw it, he looked ahead in wonder. Because what lay before them was a vast tent camp, easily large enough to hold tens of thousands of people ¡ª like a city without a single building.


    This was no camp like the ones he''d seen on the outskirts of Esran, however. There was none of the chaos and disorder he''d seen there. Instead, the people he saw in the distance looked clean and well-fed, and the tents seemed to be large and well-maintained.


    Yet to Arran, the more interesting thing was the sheer number of people he knew the camp must house. Tens of thousands, all of them likely borderlanders who fled their homes.


    Now that he knew they would all have to earn their citizenship, his thoughts returned to the war ahead. Contrary to what he had feared, the borderlands had not provided the Imperium with fresh soldiers.


    Instead, they gave the Darians something just as important ¡ª the labor to supply an army.


    As the column of soldiers and borderlanders approached, a group of several dozen soldiers emerged from the camp ¡ª or guards, rather, Arran saw when he got a closer look at them.


    Unlike the soldiers, they were unarmored, instead wearing dark uniforms with a red symbol embroidered on the chest. At the head of the group was a tall woman whose uniform was similar to that of the other guards, except with a silver rather than a red symbol.


    When she reached the soldiers, she spoke to the captain for some minutes, and Arran was unsurprised to see the man briefly point at him. Then, the woman stepped forward.


    "Outsiders," she said in a loud but calm voice. "For the next few weeks, this camp will be your home. You will be escorted to your tents shortly, where you will be provided with food and clothes for those who need them."


    She cast a look at the group, and when no questions came, she gave a satisfied nod. Then, she walked up to Arran.


    She gave him an appraising look, then asked, "You''re a Body Refiner, correct?"


    "I am," Arran replied.


    "Then come with me."

 Chapter 324 A City Of Tents

    As Arran followed the woman through the camp, he could not help but be impressed by the vast number of people he saw.


    Earlier, he''d thought there had been tens of thousands, but now, he thought that estimate was off. There had to be at least a hundred thousand people here, and probably even more than that.


    But despite the large number of people, there was little sign of filth or disorder. While it might lack actual buildings, it was a far more pleasant place than Esran had been.


    "Awful lot of people you''ve got here," he said to the woman.


    "It gets crowded," she replied in a casual tone. "Especially near the end of the month. But we do our best to keep the conditions acceptable."


    "What happens near the end of the month?" Arran asked. Although he already suspected what the answer would be, it couldn''t hurt to ask. He''d been wary of giving voice to his curiosity earlier, but here, he suspected that it would be more suspicious not to ask questions.


    "This is merely a temporary gathering place," the woman said. "At the end of each month, those gathered here will move on to their next destination."


    "And where''s that?"


    The pious soldier had already given Arran the answer several days earlier, but he was curious to hear what this woman would say ¡ª and whether she would tell the truth or not.Find authorized novels in Webnovel£¬faster updates, better experience£¬Please click www.novelhall.com for visiting.


    "You will be given a choice," she said. "But that is a matter of later concern. Right now, I''m taking you to the other Body Refiners."


    Arran frowned. "You''re keeping us Body Refiners apart from the others? Why?"


    The woman gave him a flat look. "Because wolves and sheep make for poor companions. But that''s enough questions from you. Now come along, but please, do so quietly."


    Arran reluctantly held his tongue, instead turning his attention to their surroundings.


    The camp was alive with people, most of whom looked clean and well-fed. And although they kept a respectful distance between themselves and the guards who patrolled the areas between the tents, there was little sign of fear in their eyes.


    Instead, all Arran saw as he looked at the borderlanders was comfortable boredom. Perhaps the camp wasn''t where they wanted to be, but it was obvious that they were well-treated.


    He could not escape the thought that to these people, the Imperium would seem far friendlier than the Ninth Valley. While the former had taken them in and fed them, the latter dismissed them as commoners, unworthy of even the slightest bit of attention.


    After some minutes, Arran and his escort neared the far edge of the camp. And although the woman was silent, he could tell that there was a hint of hesitation in her step when they approached their destination.


    Finally, she came to a halt.


    "The Body Refiners'' grounds are just up ahead," she said.


    Arran gave her a curious look. "You''re not taking me there?"


    "There''s no need for me to waste my time," she replied. "From here, you can find your own way. There should be plenty of empty tents available."


    As Arran looked at her, he saw that there was a hint of unease in her eyes as she looked at the area ahead. It wasn''t fear, exactly. Rather, it resembled the look of a shopkeeper who had just seen a difficult customer enter his store.


    It was clear that the woman had no intention of going forward even another inch. Arran shrugged, and with a friendly nod, he started toward the camp''s far corner, curious to see what could stop the guards from moving freely in their own camp.


    After only a few dozen paces, he began to see a change in the people around him.


    Because where the rest of the camp was filled with farmers, craftsmen, merchants, and other commoners, the people here were clearly Body Refiners.


    Yet with just a few glances, Arran saw that although they all shared the same source of strength, that was where the similarities ended.


    Some of the people around him looked like bandits or mercenaries, while others wore the robes of scholars or monks. And there were others still who were dressed like common farmers and villagers, with only their movements betraying their powers.


    Arran looked around with great interest, and in return, he received many curious glances as he passed.


    Toward the edge of the camp, however, he noticed another change in the people around him. The diversity faded, and instead, all but a few of the Body Refiners in the area had the rough look of mercenaries.


    "Newcomer!" a voice suddenly sounded.


    Arran turned toward the sound, and found that it had come from a tall, dark-skinned man with a powerful build. Yet while he had the physique of a warrior, his clothes gave Arran some pause.


    The man before him wore an elegant outfit of red and black, dressed more like a courtier or wealthy merchant than a mercenary. And on his head, he wore a large, wide-brimmed hat, topped with what looked to be a peacock feather.


    Arran gave the man a mystified look, to which the man responded with a wide grin and an elegant bow.


    "Captain Kalesh, at your service," the man said. "And who might you be?"


    "Name''s Arran," Arran said. Then, eyebrow raised in puzzlement, he asked, "You''re a captain? Of what?"


    "I am, indeed, a captain," the man replied. "The captain and commander of the Wolfsblood Company, in fact."


    "The Wolfsblood Company?" Arran''s puzzled grown grew deeper as he stared at the man before him, uncertain whether he was the victim of some bizarre joke.


    "Indeed," the man replied. "Finest mercenary company in the borderlands ¡ª or it was, before we traveled here. The brave men and women you see around you are my loyal underlings."


    "We''re not your bloody underlings!"


    The man glanced at the source of the shout ¡ª a young but hard-faced woman who sat in front of one of the tents, a mug of ale in her hand as she gave him an exasperated look.


    The man sighed, then said himself, "My esteemed colleagues, as they prefer to be called." From the look in his eyes, he thought his own description the better one.


    "What brings a mercenary company to the Imperium?" Arran asked. "I''d think the war to come would be good for a business like yours."


    "Not all wars are created alike," the man replied. "And in the particular one, I deemed it prudent to ally myself with the winning side."


    Arran nodded. While the rest of what the man said made little sense, this, at least, he could understand. "So do you know why they''re keeping us apart from the others?"


    The man gave him an uneasy look. "I''m afraid you may have us to blame for that. There was a small scuffle, nothing serious, but¡ª"


    "Our idiot leader beat up one of the guard captains," the woman interrupted him. "Broke his jaw, and a bunch of his ribs besides."


    The man gave her an annoyed look. "Now, Lasha, you know full well the fiend deserved it. I cannot let some uniformed buffoon besmirch our honor."


    The woman rolled her eyes, but then turned her attention back to her mug of ale, clearly uninterested in arguing the matter any further.


    The man returned his gaze to Arran. "As I was saying, there was a small scuffle. Nothing too serious, really. And as a result, we''ve been given our own quarters in this camp."


    He gave Arran an appraising glance, then continued, "But enough about that. You look interesting ¡ª stronger than most here, I''d say."


    "I have a bit of strength," Arran replied cautiously.


    "Then perhaps you''d be interested in a small wager?" A small smile formed on the man''s face as he looked at Arran. "A little sparring match between the two of us, for a gold coin or two?"


    Arran hesitated, but after a moment, he nodded in acceptance. A bit of sparring would do him good after months of travel, and he was curious to see the level of strength these mercenaries possessed.


    "Excellent!" the mercenary captain said, his small smile turning into a broad grin in an instant. "Let''s see what you can do! But no blades, mind you ¡ª the guards don''t like us using weapons."

 Chapter 325 The Wolfsblood Company

    Arran faced the mercenary captain cautiously.


    They had removed their shirts for the match ¡ª and the captain his hat ¡ª and without the gaudy outfit, Arran''s opponent suddenly appeared a lot more like the mercenary captain he was supposed to be.


    Broad-shouldered and thick-muscled, the man''s body bore numerous battle scars, and he moved with the easy confidence of an expert fighter. Had it not been for his neatly trimmed beard and carefully coiffed hair, Arran could almost have mistaken him for an entirely different man.


    But Arran was no common fighter, either. Even while concealing most of his strength, he was still more than a match for most Body Refiners. And if his skill in unarmed combat was limited, he had plenty of strength and speed to compensate for that.


    For some moments, the two fighters merely circled each other, each studying the other''s movements to get an idea of what they were up against.


    After all, the differences between Body Refiners were large. Where some would struggle against even a handful of commoners, others had the power to singlehandedly defeat entire armies.


    The mercenary captain was the first to attack. Moving so fast it was only barely visible, he struck a series of blows at Arran''s face and body, each of the attacks carrying the power of a charging bull.


    Powerful though the blows might be, against Arran, they accomplished little. The mercenary captain realized his mistake almost instantly, but it was already too late ¡ª even as the man moved to retreat, Arran''s fist smashed into his midriff, sending him staggering backward.


    Yet the captain remained on his feet, and as the two fighters moved back into position, both their faces held a hint of confusion.


    If the mercenary was surprised that Arran had withstood his blows so easily, Arran was equally surprised to find his opponent still standing. Although he restrained his strength, his attack had been powerful enough to easily defeat even a strong adept.


    They began to circle each other once more, with some jeers sounding from the crowd that had formed around them.


    "He got you good, captain!" one of the mercenaries shouted, seeming amused at seeing his captain knocked back so easily.


    Captain Kalesh did not respond, silently eying Arran as they faced each other. Yet his expression wasn''t one of frustration or annoyance. Rather, it was a look of interest, with just a hint of amusement.


    Again the mercenary attacked, moving even faster than before. And this time, the blows he struck were more powerful. While nowhere near strong enough to injure Arran, they easily held the force to kill commoners outright.


    But again, Arran simply weathered the storm of blows, then responded with a single strike that sent the captain staggering backward.


    This time, a puzzled frown crossed Arran''s face when he saw that the mercenary still remained on his feet. He''d put a decent amount of power into the punch ¡ª enough to smash through a rock wall.


    And yet, his opponent was clearly uninjured.


    More exchanges followed, and each time, both Arran and his opponent used a little more of their strength, but to no avail. While Arran''s power and toughness were superior to his opponent''s, he could tell that the other man was faster and more skilled in unarmed combat.


    Arran understood that the mercenary was no common Body Refiner, and it wasn''t long before he began to feel some worry that he was showing too much of his power.


    But then, with Arran on the verge of conceding the fight, the other man stepped back after having received another of Arran''s powerful punches.


    "The fight is yours!" the mercenary captain said, wincing in pain as he clutched his chest.


    Arran looked at the man with a raised eyebrow. That his opponent had thrown the fight was obvious, and the man''s theatrics did little to hide that fact.


    The captain let out a deep sigh. "It''s no use," he said, casting a dejected look at the crowd of mercenaries that had formed around them. "Against the power of youth, my old body is no match. I have only my wits to protect me."


    "Sounds like you''re screwed, then!" one of the mercenaries yelled in response, drawing jeers and laughs from the others.


    Captain Kalesh ignored the mockery. Instead, he turned back to Arran, and said, "Let''s take a walk. I owe you some gold, and for your efforts, I''ll add something more."


    "Something more?" Arran gave the man a curious look.


    "Information," the mercenary said, his expression suddenly serious. "About your future in the Darian Imperium."


    "Is that so," Arran replied, trying not to sound too eager. "Then I''ll join you for a walk."


    He cared little for gold, but information was a different matter. That was more valuable than any treasure.


    A few minutes later found them at the edge of the camp, the mercenary captain once more wearing his garish outfit and feather-topped hat.


    "Come," he said. "Let''s move out of the camp for a bit, where there are fewer listening ears."


    "Out of the camp?" Arran cast a wary look at the guards in the distance. "Is that allowed?"


    "It''s not," the man replied flatly. "But the guards and I have an understanding. As long as they don''t bother me, my men don''t cause trouble for them."


    Indeed, as Arran looked at the guards, he saw that they made a conspicuous effort not to notice the pair of Body Refiners who''d passed the camp''s boundary. For all the captain''s bluster, it seemed there was some truth to his words.


    "So what is it you wanted to tell me?" Arran understood that there was more to the man than met the eye, and now, he found himself wondering what information he had.


    "To start," the mercenary began, "a week from now, a big group of nobles, priests, and merchants will arrive in this camp. When they do, you will be told that you have to earn your citizenship. A year or two of working in the mines, and you''ll be a citizen."


    Arran nodded. "I''ve heard something along those lines."


    "You have?" The mercenary briefly looked surprised, but then, he gave Arran an appreciative smile. "I suppose I should have expected that. But there is something you likely haven''t heard ¡ª that it''s a lie."Find authorized novels in Webnovel£¬faster updates, better experience£¬Please click www.novelhall.com for visiting.


    "A lie?" A frown crossed Arran''s face as he looked the mercenary in the eyes. "How so?"


    The man responded by gesturing at the camp. "Right now, we''re under the care of the Imperial bureaucracy. And although the Imperium loves its rules entirely too much, it''s nothing if not fair."


    A wry smile crossed his face, and he continued, "But the nobles are a different matter. And it''s them we''ll be working for to become Darians. Especially for us Body Refiners, that poses a problem."


    "The nobles?" Arran furrowed his brow. "We won''t be working for the Imperium?"


    Captain Kalesh shook his head. "We''ll be given the choice of which noble house to follow, but after that, they will be the ones who decide when we''ve done enough to earn our citizenship. And while they can be generous to commoners, few of them will easily give up more gifted workers."


    At this, an ugly expression appeared on Arran''s face. "You mean they won''t give us our citizenship? To keep us working for them?"


    "Exactly," the captain replied. "And even if you do win your freedom, they''ll bind you with oaths so tight you might as well be a slave."


    The news was unwelcome, and Arran could not help but wonder whether it was true ¡ª and, if so, how the man had learned so much about the Imperium.


    Supposedly, the Imperium''s secrets were well-kept, with the Ninth Valley having learned little about it despite centuries of war. Yet somehow, it seemed this mercenary captain had achieved what the Ninth Valley could not.


    "How do you know all this?" Arran asked.


    The mercenary gave Arran a broad grin. "Unlike you, I did not come here unprepared," he said.


    His expression suggested he would reveal no more than that, and for some moments, Arran looked at the camp, several hundreds of paces from where they stood. If the mercenary was correct, then it was little more than a trap ¡ª and one he''d already entered.


    He had a way out, of course, in the form of the Knight''s ring. But he couldn''t fully trust that, either. The truth was that he still knew too little about the Imperium to predict the consequences of his decisions.


    With some hesitation, he turned his eyes back to the mercenary.


    "If one received the favor of a Knight," he asked in a cautious tone, "would that help in gaining one''s freedom?"


    Captain Kalesh smirked in response. "Only if you wish to exchange one set of chains for another. Above each Knight, you will find a Lord or Lady. And accepting a Knight''s favor will put you in debt with their master."


    "So what do you have to offer?" Arran asked.


    He did not believe for a moment that the mercenary captain had shared the information solely out of the goodness of his heart. Rather, he was working up to something ¡ª an offer.


    "Not one for subtlety, are you?" The man looked at Arran in amusement. "Very well. I did not come here to flee the war. Rather, I came here to learn the Darians'' methods. Which I suspect is the reason you came here, as well."


    "Perhaps," Arran replied. "But even if that were true, how could you help me with that?"


    "I have connections," Kalesh replied. "Ones that will help me and my men earn our citizenship in months, rather than years. And once we do, we will travel to the far end of the Imperium, to win the status and wealth we need to gain the secrets we desire. Without any oaths or masters to hold us back."


    The mercenary paused briefly as he gave Arran a calculating look. Then, in a sly tone, he continued, "If you wish, I would invite you to join us."


    A frown crossed Arran''s face. "What do you have to gain from helping me?"


    "Your strength," the man replied instantly. "Since arriving here, I''ve found only a handful of worthy recruits, and none of them were even half as strong as you. If you join the Wolfsblood Company, you will be free to leave when you wish, but until you do, your sword is mine to command."


    Arran considered the offer for some moments. Then, slowly, he nodded. "I''ll accept your offer," he said. "For now."


    Trusting the mercenary captain was a risk, but then, so was trying to forge his own path. And although he was reluctant to rely on the help of a stranger, he was painfully aware of just how little he knew about the Imperium.


    "Wonderful!" the mercenary said, flashing Arran a bright smile. "Our company grows stronger by the day. But we should return to the camp ¡ª the guards are beginning to look worried."


    With a glance at the camp, Arran saw that the captain was right. Several of the guards were now looking at them with troubled faces, seemingly unsure of how to handle the blatant disregard for their rules.


    "But I almost forgot," Kaleesh suddenly said. "I still owe you your winnings!" He reached into his coat and produced a handful of gold, which he carelessly handed to Arran. "Though you should know that in the Imperium, gold is only barely more valuable than copper."


    "It is?" Arran looked at the large handful of gold he''d been handed so casually. It was enough to represent a fortune in the Empire. "Then what do they use?"


    "Shadowmetal," the man replied. He reached into his coat and took out a small coin, then held it up for Arran to inspect.


    Arran saw that the coin was jet black and polished to a shine. And almost at once, he realized he had seen the material before.


    In the underground city near Amydon, he''d found numerous coins exactly like this one.

 Chapter 326 Arrival

    "I''ll bet you a gold that he doesn''t last another exchange," the woman next to Arran said, a bored expression on her face and a mug of ale in her hand.


    Arran narrowed his eyes as he looked at the two fighters. A moment later, he shook his head. "That''s a sucker''s bet. You''re not taking my gold this time."


    A week had passed since he''d arrived in the camp and joined the Wolfsblood Company, and he''d already lost a small fortune in gold betting on Kalesh''s fights.


    The captain took it upon himself to test each new Body Refiner who entered the camp, and Arran had soon discovered that the man never won. No matter how weak his opponent, he''d drive them to their limit, then suddenly concede the fight in a dramatic fashion.


    Yet while the outcome was set from the start, there was plenty of betting about how long each fight would take. And as Arran had learned, the woman next to him ¡ª Lasha ¡ª had an almost preternatural gift for predicting the captain''s actions.


    But then, she''d had plenty of opportunity to learn. Lasha was one of the Wolfsblood Company''s three commanders, with the other two being a cheerful giant named Gar and a staid middle-aged man named Sassun.


    Arran had already sparred against all three of them, and he''d found that each was a powerful Body Refiner ¡ª though they were still far behind their captain.


    "Any idea when we''re getting out of here?" he asked Lasha, eyes fixed on Captain Kalesh while the man predictably allowed himself to be defeated by his nonplussed opponent.


    "Should be today," she replied. She took another swig of ale, and continued, "If the captain is right, at least. And he usually is."


    This was something Arran had already discovered. For all his theatrical swagger, Captain Kaleesh was almost frighteningly well-informed. And while his men mocked him relentlessly, they obeyed his orders without question or objection.


    The captain handed his opponent his winnings ¡ª a single piece of gold, more for the young man''s efforts than for his performance ¡ª then gave him a graceful bow. Apparently, he''d decided the young man lacked the strength to join the Wolfsblood Company.


    He spent some moments putting his shirt and jacket back on, and some more moments fiddling with his hat. Then, satisfied with his outfit, he turned his attention to the group of mercenaries.


    "Lasha, please be so kind as to join me. Sassun, you too." He briefly looked around the crowd, a frown on his face. Then, in a loud voice, he called out, "Gar, you big ox! Get out of bed! There''s work to do!"


    "Coming," a muffled voice sounded from one of the tents.


    As the three waited for Gar to make his appearance, Captain Kaleesh turned his attention to Arran. "Arran, get over here. You''re coming with us."


    Arran got to his feet and joined the small group, curious to see what the captain had planned. After a week of nothing but sitting around and twiddling his thumbs, he was eager for a change.Find authorized novels in Webnovel£¬faster updates, better experience£¬Please click www.novelhall.com for visiting.


    Gar emerged from his tent moments later. Seven feet tall, with shoulders like boulders and a neck as thick as Arran''s waist, he looked like he might be distantly related to Elder Naran.


    "What''s this about, then?" he asked, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he faced Captain Kaleesh.


    "The first representatives of the noble houses should arrive any moment now," the captain replied. "And the five of us are going to take a look."


    "You''re taking the newcomer?" Gar asked, a curious eye on Arran.


    "He''s gotta start training your replacement at some point," Lasha interjected. "Only a matter of time before your ox-headed self gets run through by some soldier."


    The giant man shot her a vaguely annoyed glare, but he didn''t say anything. Size notwithstanding, she was easily the stronger of the two ¡ª though not as strong as Sassun, whose expressionless face concealed a strength that had surprised even Arran.


    Captain Kaleesh ignored the bickering. "Gar, put those muscles of yours to use and carry a barrel of ale along for us." He frowned. "Better yet, make that two. The day is young, and we have several hours of waiting ahead of us."


    Gar grumbled, but he did as the captain said, picking up two large barrels of ale which he balanced on his shoulders.


    "Now then," Captain Kaleesh said. "Let''s be off. There''s a show ahead, and I would not gladly miss it."


    He set off toward the edge of the camp without any further explanation, Arran and the three commanders following behind him.


    They met the camp''s boundary shortly after, and the captain crossed it casually, then began to head toward a hill a few hundred paces in the distance. When they reached the hilltop, Captain Kaleesh laid down his jacket, then sat down upon it.


    "Take a seat," he said to the others. "And have a drink or two. What you''re about to witness will be most instructive."


    Arran did as he said, though not without noticing that the guards in the distance were casting nervous looks at them.


    A quarter-hour passed without anything of note happening, with the captain talking about all manner of things ¡ª except the reason he had brought them there.


    But then, a group of about fifty guards emerged from the camp, led by the woman who''d welcomed Arran''s group to the camp. And nervous though their expressions might be, they headed toward Arran''s small group at a firm pace.


    Yet the captain seemed unconcerned, and when the group of guards reached them, he greeted their leader with a friendly wave.


    "How nice of you to join us!" he called out. "Would you perhaps care for a drink?"


    The woman gave him a flat stare. "You can''t be here. Not today."


    "But, my dear lady, I already am here," Captain Kaleesh replied. "And you''ll find me quite difficult to remove."


    Though his voice was friendly, it held a subtle undertone of threat, as if he was warning the woman to stand down.


    The guardswoman seemed to pick up on his meaning, and for nearly a minute, she stood silently, worry written plain across her face. Finally, in a pleading tone, she said, "Please, don''t cause any trouble. Not today."


    "Cause trouble? Me?" The captain flashed her a bright smile that was not the least bit reassuring. "I wouldn''t dream of it. We''re merely here to enjoy the view ¡ª it wouldn''t do to waste such a pleasant day."


    The day was indeed a pleasant one, with the sky clear and the warm sun shining down upon the land around them. Yet Arran did not see a view worth mentioning ¡ª the only things before them were the camp and a large stretch of empty grasslands.


    The woman hesitated in answering, but then, she sighed. "Just don''t cause trouble," she said in a weary voice. "Please."


    As the group of guards left again, Arran cast a look at the captain. "So what are we waiting for?"


    "Patience, my friend," the man replied. "You''ll see soon enough."


    Half an hour passed without anything happening, with Arran and the others drinking ale as they waited for whatever it was that the captain expected.


    But then, in the distance, Arran saw a column of people approach. Dressed in white uniforms, there were roughly two hundred of them, and they carried a large black banner that held a solitary silver star.


    "You can always count at the church to arrive on time," Captain Kaleesh said in a cheerful voice. "Perhaps we should consider joining them? Sassun, with that dour face of yours, I imagine you''d be a perfect priest."


    Sassun said nothing, though he gave the captain a dark look, which the captain answered with a bright smile.


    "But no," Captain Kaleesh continued a moment later. "The church is here to find young acolytes, gentle of mind and disposition. A bad fit for our men, alas. But let''s see who else arrives."


    Arran had little doubt that the captain knew exactly what other groups had yet to arrive, but it seemed the man enjoyed leaving his commanders in the dark.


    For another quarter-hour, they watched as the group set up camp, erecting several large tents that were as white as their uniforms. But then, the captain called out, "Aha! Another group approaches!"


    Indeed, as Arran looked in the distance, he saw another, smaller group approach. Unlike the first group, they wore no clear uniform, looking more like merchants and townsfolk than priests or soldiers.


    "One of the crafters'' guilds," Captain Kaleesh explained. "Here to poach the craftsmen among the borderlanders, no doubt. But alas, I''ve never had much talent for knitting or woodworking." He frowned, then added, "Though I could do with a new set of clothes. Perhaps we should pay them a visit later?"


    Over the next hour, several other groups arrived, all of them crafters'' guilds according to the captain. And as the groups set up camp, Arran and the others drank mug after mug of ale, still waiting for whatever it was the captain expected to happen.


    But then, yet another group came into sight. Larger than the previous groups, Arran could see even at a distance that the group was mostly composed of soldiers, all of them armed and armored. And they carried a large, red banner, with a white sign shaped like an eagle.


    "There they are!" Captain Kaleesh said when he saw them. "Lord Kadun''s troops ¡ª our allies, for the next few months. Come, let''s give them a good welcome."


    At once, he stood up and began to head toward the troop of soldiers at a casual, swaggering pace. And behind him, Arran and the three commanders followed, albeit with some hesitation in their step.


    Yet Arran wasn''t too concerned. While he could Sense several pieces of starmetal among the group they were approaching, there was no sign of Living Shadow.

 Chapter 327 A New Deal

    Arran and the three commanders followed Captain Kaleesh warily as he made his way to the large group of soldiers in the distance, but the man himself showed no sign of concern. Whistling under his breath, he walked with a spring in his step, clearly eager to meet the newcomers.


    The soldiers, however, watched his approach with cautious eyes. While it was unlikely that they expected to find enemies this close to the borderlanders'' camp, they still met the ornately dressed stranger with open suspicion.


    And no wonder ¡ª even Arran had to admit that Captain Kaleesh looked more than a little questionable.


    Yet the captain made no attempt to be discreet. He stopped right in front of the front group of soldiers, bringing the entire column behind them to a halt in an instant.


    At once, a middle-aged man stepped forth from the group of soldiers. Dressed in a uniform that was subtly different from that of the other soldiers, Arran took him to be a sergeant or commander. And from his expression, he was clearly outraged by the unexpected obstacle.


    "What''s the meaning of this?" the man demanded, eyes wide with anger. "Who dares get in the way of Lord Kadun''s troops?"


    "A pleasure to meet you, as well," Captain Kaleesh replied in an unconcerned tone. "Now be a good soldier and fetch me your leader. We have business to discuss."


    "You think some outsider can just step up and make demands from us?" the man snarled, his anger only fueled by the captain''s words. "You think¡ª"


    "What''s going on here?" a voice interrupted him. When Arran looked, he saw that it came from a short man, dressed in a fine silk robe.


    As the man stepped forward and saw Captain Kaleesh, recognition flashed across his eyes. "Ah! You must be Kaleesh. I was expecting to meet you here, though perhaps not so soon. I am Payam, one of Lord Kadun''s stewards."


    "Captain Kaleesh," the captain corrected him. "And I thought you might want to get our negotiations over with quickly, before the other Lords'' representatives arrived." He shrugged, then continued, "But if you wish, we can wait. Lord Rannoc''s delegation should be arriving soon. Perhaps I should pay them a visit."


    At this, the man''s face grew pale in an instant. "There''s no need for that," he said hurriedly. "Come, we can discuss your employment while my men set up camp."


    It took the steward some minutes to direct the soldiers in their tasks, but after that, he returned to Captain Kaleesh.


    "It is a pleasure to meet you," the man said. "Though I have to admit that I expected you to have more men with you." He cast a look at Arran and the three commanders, then nodded thoughtfully. "But I suppose the five of you are a good start."


    "These are my commanders," the captain replied, some amusement in his voice. "The rest of my troops are still in the camp."


    "Your commanders?" The steward frowned, and with a curious expression, he asked, "Then you have more Body Refiners under your command? How many, exactly?"


    "About two hundred," Captain Kaleesh replied, a slight smile on his face as he looked at the steward.


    The steward''s reaction did not disappoint. In an instant, his eyes went wide with shock. "Two hundred?! And all of them are Body Refiners?"


    "Correct," the captain said. "Now, can we do business?"


    "Two hundred¡­" There was a tremble in the steward''s voice, as if he could scarcely believe it. "What do you want?"


    Captain Kaleesh smiled. "Three months to earn our citizenship, and we keep half of what we find in the mines during that time."


    "Impossible," the steward replied instantly. "You ask too much. A year, maybe. And perhaps Lord Kadun would agree to give you a tenth of what you find, but no more than that."


    "Three months," the captain repeated, his voice firm despite the friendly smile on his face. "And half of what we find."


    The steward gave him a miserable look. "It''s too much. Lord Kadun would have me whipped for agreeing to that."


    Captain Kaleesh stretched out lazily. "Then I''ll have to visit Lord Rannoc''s delegation, and see if he has a better offer to make."


    "Wait!" the steward exclaimed, a tremble of panic in his voice. "Four months, and a quarter of whatever you find. I can''t offer more than that. Please, be reasonable."


    "Very well," the captain said. "I will accept your offer. Should I gather my men now, or would you prefer to wait for the other Lords'' delegations to arrive?"


    The steward cast a worried look at the other groups that were already setting up camps in the area. "How much time do you need?"


    Captain Kaleesh frowned. "An hour should be enough."


    "Then please, hurry," the steward said in an anxious voice. "I hadn''t expected¡­" He stopped talking mid-sentence, then shook his head. "Just hurry. We''ll leave as soon as you return."


    "Very well," the captain said. "Though I do expect a proper meal tonight, and a decent amount of wine for my men."


    "Whatever you want," the steward pleaded. "But please, hurry. The sooner we''re gone, the better."


    Some minutes later, Arran and the others were halfway back to the camp, and there was a broad smile on Captain Kaleesh''s face.


    "That went better than expected," he said. "I''d planned to settle for sixth months and a fifth."


    "Any reason the little man was so anxious to leave?" Gar asked, with a look over his shoulder at the soldiers who were already breaking down the camp they''d set up just moments earlier.


    "Plenty," the captain replied. "I imagine the other Lords will be none too pleased when they learn of Lord Kadun''s good fortune. Especially Lord Rannoc. From what I''ve heard, the two of them have been at war for decades."


    Lasha gave the captain a frustrated look. "Just what kind of mess did you get us into this time?"


    "There shouldn''t be a mess, this time," he replied. "Though I suggest we don''t linger here any longer than necessary."


    Though the captain sounded unconcerned, Arran could not help but notice that he was walking significantly faster than before. And if his expression was still cheerful, it held a hint of tension that hadn''t been there before.


    When they reached the camp, Captain Kaleesh wasted no time in gathering his troops.


    "Everyone! Gather up! Now!" he called out, in a voice that carried none of his usual familiarity. Instead, he suddenly sounded every bit like the mercenary captain he was supposed to be.


    Encouraged by the captain''s urgent tone, it only took the mercenaries a few minutes to gather around the man. And while those who had joined the group only after arriving in the camp looked at him with casual curiosity, Arran saw that the others'' expressions were suddenly tense and alert.


    "We''re moving out immediately!" Captain Kaleesh shouted. "Troops, get your belongings, then join your commanders!"


    A ripple of motion went through the crowd at his words. Just moments later, most of the mercenaries had left, following behind the three commanders who''d already left the camp.


    Still, a good portion of mercenaries remained behind. Roughly half of these were obviously veterans, who looked at the captain with patient expectation. The other half, however, were all newcomers. And their expressions showed only confusion as they stared at the captain.


    Captain Kaleesh waited until the others had left. Then, in a loud voice, he called out, "Newcomers! This is Arran!" He gestured at Arran, then continued, "From today onward, he will be your commander. Disobey his orders on the battlefield, and it''ll be your life!"


    If the mercenaries looked confused, none were more astonished than Arran himself. Yet when Arran gave Captain Kaleesh a dumbfounded look, the man merely shrugged and said, "You''re the strongest among them."


    Before Arran could find the words to respond, the captain turned to one of the veteran mercenaries ¡ª an older man with plenty of gray in his hair. "Ervin, you will be his sergeant. Help him out until he gets the hang of it."


    "Sure thing, captain," the man replied. He cast an appraising glance at Arran, then said, "Let''s get this rabble out of here, shall we?"


    This proved easier said than done, as both Arran and his new troops lacked the coordination and practice of which the other mercenaries clearly had plenty. Yet after a quarter-hour of chaos and confusion, Arran finally led the men and women out of the camp, where he found the others already waiting for him.


    Other than his own, he saw that there were four groups, one of them led by Captain Kaleesh and the others led by the three commanders. And at a glance, he saw that while his own group was little more than a disorganized huddle of men and women, the other groups had all lined up into neat ranks.


    Yet the captain merely nodded in approval, as if the result was no worse than he''d expected. "Commanders, join me!"Find authorized novels in Webnovel£¬faster updates, better experience£¬Please click www.novelhall.com for visiting.


    Lasha, Gar, and Sassun immediately responded, and after a reassuring nod from Ervin, Arran did the same. In truth, he was certain the sergeant would do a better job at controlling his group than he could.


    When he met the others, Gar gave him a broad smile. "Congratulations," the giant said. "Fastest promotion I''ve ever seen."


    Arran, however, merely looked at Captain Kaleesh in confusion. "Why did you choose me to lead a group?"


    The captain shrugged in response. "You''re strong," he said. "More importantly, I can''t have a bunch of untrained newcomers mess up our ranks. If we run into any trouble, your task is simple: keep your men out of our way. Understood?"


    Arran nodded. Though he was less than pleased with the unexpected promotion, he was relieved to hear that he wouldn''t actually have to command his group. Because for all his strength, he had no experience whatsoever in leading others.


    "Now then," the captain continued. "We should be on our way. I expect Lord Rannoc''s delegation to arrive soon, and if they see that we''ve joined Lord Kadun, I suspect they may be slightly displeased."


    They set off only moments later, with Captain Kaleesh and the four commanders leading the way as four groups of mercenaries followed behind them. Three of those groups moved with the practiced ease of disciplined soldiers, but the final one more resembled a disorganized mob, lagging a good fifty paces behind the others.


    "Looks like you''ve got your work cut out for you," Lasha said to Arran, only partly suppressing her amusement.


    Arran did not respond, because just then, he saw yet another column of soldiers appear in the distance. There were easily four hundred of them, and they carried a large red banner that was decorated with a white sigil of two crossed swords.


    When Captain Kaleesh noticed the group of soldiers in the distance, he let out a small sigh.


    "That''s unfortunate," he said. "I had hoped Lord Rannoc''s forces wouldn''t arrive for another hour or two."

 Chapter 328 Imperial Politics

    As Arran and the other mercenaries continued toward Lord Kadun''s delegation, he saw that a group of several dozen soldiers had broken off from Lord Rannoc''s newly arrived forces. And now, those soldiers were approaching them at a rapid pace.


    Captain Kaleesh glanced at the approaching soldiers, a frown on his face. "Keep going," he said after a moment. "And whatever happens, remain calm."


    Arran felt anything but calm, but he did as the captain said, continuing onward at a steady pace. Whatever was about to happen, rashness could only make matters worse.


    As the group of soldiers came closer, he realized they hadn''t been the only ones who noticed what was happening. A group of soldiers had broken off from Lord Kadun''s forces as well, and they were now rushing over, too.


    Yet Lord Rannoc''s forces were the first to arrive, and at their head was a tall woman. She had dark hair and cruel eyes, and from her belt hung a starmetal sword.


    "Halt!" she commanded as she approached Captain Kaleesh. "What is the meaning of this? Where are you taking these men?"


    "We accepted a contract with Lord Kadun," the captain replied. He spoke in a calm voice, and although he made no attempt to further provoke the woman, there was no fear to be seen in his eyes.Find authorized novels in Webnovel£¬faster updates, better experience£¬Please click www.novelhall.com for visiting.


    The woman looked at him with a mixture of fury and astonishment. "All of you?"


    From the look she gave the mercenaries, it was obvious that she recognized them as Body Refiners. And equally obvious was that the mere thought of relinquishing hundreds of Body Refiners to Lord Kadun nearly drove her mad with rage.


    "Is that a problem?" Captain Kaleesh asked. He spoke in a friendly tone as he faced the woman, his expression relaxed despite her anger.


    It was the wrong question. In an instant, the woman moved forward, her fist ramming into the captain''s stomach. And as he went sprawling to the ground, her hand shot to the starmetal sword at her side.


    Yet before she could draw the weapon, an outraged voice sounded.


    "Jala! What do you think you''re doing!?"


    Lord Kadun''s steward had arrived just in time, with nearly fifty soldiers behind him. And from the look in their eyes, all of them were ready for battle.


    The woman calmed down at once, the rage disappearing from her face in an instant. "Payam," she said in a contemptuous tone. "You thought you could steal these men for your master? Right from under my nose?"


    The steward faced her with a determined expression that nevertheless held a hint of worry. "Where they go is no business of yours," he said. "They accepted my master''s offer, as is their right."


    "And you think I would just let that happen?"


    Though the woman spoke in an icy voice, Arran did not fail to notice that her hand was still on the hilt of her sword. And behind her, her soldiers seemed ready for battle as well, with more than a few even looking eager for it.


    For several moments, the two groups faced each other silently, with the tension in the air around them so thick Arran thought a battle could erupt at any moment.


    But then, another group arrived ¡ª a hundred camp guards, led by the guardswoman who''d welcomed Arran to the camp.


    "Stand down, both of you!" the guardswoman called out, though there was more than a trace of worry in her voice. As she approached, she shot an exasperated look at Captain Kaleesh, who was only just getting back to his feet.


    Arran knew the captain had allowed himself to be knocked down, however. When they sparred, he had attacked the man far more forcefully, and with far less to show for it. But it seemed the captain preferred to hide his strength, at least for the time being.


    Lord Rannoc''s steward ¡ª if that was what she was ¡ª gave the guardswoman a scornful look. "Kadun''s lackey claimed all these Body Refiners for himself. Why did you allow this?"


    The guardswoman hesitated in answering, reluctance clear in her eyes. "It''s not my decision to make," she said. "I cannot control the outsiders'' choices."


    "Nonsense!" the hard-faced woman replied. "They''re mere outsiders! And you''d risk creating a rift in the Imperium over their choices?"


    Yet as the guardswoman sought the words to reply, more groups arrived, their curiosity drawn by the open confrontation. There were three separate groups from the crafters'' guilds, and another from the priests. And although they kept a distance of several dozen paces, they looked on with great interest.


    Lord Rannoc''s delegate looked at the newly arrived groups, and as she did, a small smile formed on her face.


    "Everyone!" she called out. "Kadun''s servant has tried to swindle us all, claiming the Body Refiners for himself before any of us had a chance to even look at them. I propose a compromise ¡ª we divide them equally." She cast a look at the guardswoman. "Surely the Imperium would benefit from keeping the peace?"


    Relief flashed across the guardswoman''s face. "Such a compromise seems fair," she said. "Especially if it prevents needless conflict."


    As Arran looked at the groups of newcomers, he could see a spark of greed in their eyes. Clearly, they welcomed the idea of recruiting a few dozen Body Refiners as well.


    But at that moment, Captain Kaleesh spoke up. Turning his eyes to the group of priests that was standing a few dozen paces away, he called out, "Most revered teachers, may I call upon you for your wisdom?"


    A ripple of confusion went through the crowd around him. Yet after a moment, one of the priests stepped forward ¡ª a heavy-set man in immaculate white robes, with a face that showed just a trace of satisfaction for being called upon.


    "Certainly, my child," he said. "What is it you wish to know?"


    "As refugees to the Imperium, come to seek the favor of the gods," the captain said, his voice suddenly filled with reverence, "is it not our right to choose our own path? To choose how we wish to earn our status as citizens of the Imperium?"


    The priest remained silent for a moment. Then, a flicker of amusement in his eyes, he said, "Indeed it is so. All those who come to us in good faith are free to choose their own path ¡ª so long as they wish to earn the gods'' favor."


    Captain Kaleesh gave the man a polite bow. "Then my men and I choose to accept Lord Kadun''s offer."


    "No!" The woman representing Lord Rannoc faced the priest with red-faced outrage. "This is unacceptable!"


    The priest returned her gaze, some mockery in his expression. "Do you wish to oppose the church, my child?"


    "I¡­" The woman looked as if she was about to speak, but then, her expression pained, she shook her head. "Of course not," she said, her voice trembling with the effort of restraining her fury. "But should they not each choose for themselves? Surely one man cannot speak for all of them."


    Captain Kaleesh smiled. Then, he suddenly turned toward the mercenaries, and in a loud voice, called out, "Wolfsblood Company! All those who wish to remain with me say ''aye''!"


    "Aye!" The answer was instant, two hundred mouths speaking as one.


    The captain turned back to Lord Rannoc''s delegate, and said, "It seems my people agree with my decision."


    The woman looked at him with impotent fury, her brow furrowed as she tried to find another objection. But before she could, the priest spoke up.


    "The matter is settled, then." The priest gave the woman a mocking smile, then continued, "These Body Refiners have chosen to accept Lord Kadun''s offer. Whether they have chosen correctly, only the gods know."


    Without waiting for a response, he turned around and began to head back to the priests'' camp, with the others in his group following behind him.


    The groups from the crafters'' guilds looked displeased with the situation, but within moments, they departed as well.


    That left only the guards, the two groups of soldiers, and the mercenaries. And with a pained face, the guardswoman said, "The matter has been decided." She looked at Lord Rannoc''s representative, then said, "Please, do not blame us for this matter."


    The hard-faced woman looked at her with an expression that made it clear the plea would go unheard. But then, the woman glanced at Captain Kaleesh and Lord Kadun''s steward, and in a low voice, she said, "You will pay for this."


    Lord Kadun''s steward did not respond. Instead, he silently watched as the woman and her soldiers retreated to their camp. Only when he was confident they would not return did he turn to Captain Kaleesh.


    "There will be trouble," he said.


    "Perhaps," the captain replied. "So we should not linger here. I assume your troops are ready to depart?"


    The steward nodded. "We''ll make our final preparations right away."


    Finally, the captain turned to the guardswoman. "I thank you for your assistance," he said, giving her a friendly smile.


    She responded with a cold stare. "Just get out of here."


    The captain gave her a small nod, and moments later, the group of mercenaries was heading toward Lord Kadun''s forces once more.


    "Remember this," the captain said to his commanders. "The Imperium bows to its lords, but in these lands, the church bows to no one."


    Lasha cast a look at Lord Rannoc''s forces in the distance. "When that bitch hit you, I damn near put my sword through her throat."


    The captain shrugged. "You may get the chance for that yet," he responded. "And perhaps sooner than you think."

 Chapter 329 Battle Approaches

    Under the watchful eyes of the steward, Lord Kadun''s troops wasted no time in taking down their hastily erected camp.


    And while they loaded their tents and supplies back onto the carts as fast as they could, the steward ¡ª Payam ¡ª watched them anxiously, shouting abuse at any soldier who so much as dropped a tent peg.


    It was obvious that the man was on the verge of panic. Even while urging his men to move faster, he kept casting worried looks at Lord Rannoc''s troops, as if he expected them to attack at any moment.


    Yet when Arran looked at the hundreds of soldiers in the distance, he saw no indication of an impending attack.


    While they weren''t setting up camp, there was no sign that they were in a hurry, either. Instead, they appeared to be resting and eating, with no more than a few sparing either the mercenaries or Lord Kadun''s troops any attention. And those who did gave them no more than a passing glance.


    Arran frowned. Turning to Captain Kaleesh, he asked, "Do you think they''ll attack?"


    "Of course," the captain replied, his tone unconcerned. "That they will attack us is a certainty. The only question is when they will do so."


    "Any idea when that will be, captain?" Lasha eyed Lord Rannoc''s troops warily, clearly not as confident as the captain appeared to be.


    Captain Kaleesh remained silent for several moments. Then, brow creased in thought, he began, "With the carts, it will take us roughly three weeks to reach Kadun''s lands. Payam will already have sent out messengers, and they should move faster ¡ª a week and a half before they reach their destination."


    He paused briefly, his expression thoughtful. After a moment, he continued, "If Kadun sends reinforcements, they will travel lighter. They might reach us as soon as two weeks into the journey." To Arran''s surprise, the captain turned his eyes to Gar, and asked, "Gar, what do you think?"


    The giant man hesitated no more than a second before answering. "They''ll strike as soon as they can, without giving us time to prepare. Definitely within the next two days."


    Captain Kaleesh considered the words, then shook his head. "An interesting thought, but I must disagree. They will need time to prepare their attack, and Rannoc''s troops will not want to risk offending the church by attacking so openly. Sassun, your opinion?"


    Where Gar had answered instantly, Sassun took several moments to consider the question. Finally, he said, "By the end of the second week. Kadun''s troops will be weary with travel by then, and their attention will have started to slip after two weeks of constant worry."


    Again, the captain shook his head. "They cannot risk waiting that long. After the battle, they''ll have dozens of wounded to transport. If Kadun''s reinforcements are only days away, Rannoc''s troops won''t be able to outrun them. They''ll be hunted down and slaughtered. Arran, your turn."


    Arran had already expected the question, but his heart still skipped a beat when he saw the others'' attention suddenly turn to him.


    Yet after several moments of hesitation, a thought suddenly came to him. When fighting, he''d always found that seizing opportunities when they appeared worked best. And perhaps the same thing held true for larger battles.


    "They''ll wait for an opportunity," he said. "Have several scouts watching us, then attack when the terrain is good and our forces are exposed."


    Captain Kaleesh gave him an appreciative nod. "Very good," he said. "But still wrong. That could work for a smaller group, but with hundreds of soldiers, any opportunity they see will have long passed before they''ve readied themselves to attack. Lasha, you''re up."


    Lasha, however, merely gave the captain a flat stare. "Just tell us already," she said in an exasperated tone.


    The captain sighed. "You take all the fun out of war. But very well, I will tell you."


    He looked at the four commanders, then began, "They''ll attack at the end of the first week ¡ª long enough for Kadun''s troops to grow tired and careless, but not so long that reinforcements will be near. Even if Kadun sends Rangers ahead of the others, Rannoc''s forces will be long gone when they arrive."


    Lasha nodded thoughtfully. "So what''s your plan?"


    "Glad you asked," the captain replied, a broad smile on his face. "On the day of the attack, they will leave behind their supplies on the road, along with a small force to catch any of us who try to escape. The main force, meanwhile, will overtake us and lay an ambush ¡ª to defeat Kadun''s forces, which they believe to be the biggest threat. And that mistake will cost them dearly."


    He cast another look at his commanders, and sighed in disappointment when he saw only blank looks.


    "Rannoc''s main force," he continued, "will split into two groups. One to halt Kadun''s forces, and another to flank them. But they will ignore us, believing that we will try to flee. Darians think little of outsiders, after all. And so, we will flank the flankers." A glint of excitement in his eyes, he added, "We''ll tear through them like paper."


    "That''s all well and good," Lasha said, "but shouldn''t you inform Kadun''s steward of this?"


    Arran nodded in agreement. From the sound of it, the captain intended to use Kadun''s troops as mere bait, relying on his own forces to win the battle. But with their enemies all Body Refiners, he could not help but think the strategy a reckless one.


    "Absolutely not," Captain Kaleesh replied. "It is essential to my plans that Kadun''s troops are taken by surprise."


    "I don''t suppose you''ll tell us those plans?" Sassun asked, only a hint of annoyance in his otherwise flat expression.


    The captain shook his head. "You''ll find out soon enough," he said. "But rest assured ¡ª the Wolfsblood Company has plenty to gain from this small obstacle."


    Gar let out a loud laugh. "Just tell us when to fight, captain. My sword is eager to taste some Darian blood."


    Lasha gave the giant man a sideways glance. "If you say that any louder, it might get the chance sooner than you''d like."


    Indeed, Arran could see that several of Kadun''s soldiers were eying them suspiciously. Yet before any more could come of it, Kadun''s steward shouted, "Everyone! Get ready to leave!"


    It took another quarter-hour before the large group of people finally set into motion, and as they did, Arran looked warily at Rannoc''s forces in the distance.


    If Captain Kaleesh was right, he would meet them again before the week was over.


    The days that followed passed quietly, with the long column of soldiers and mercenaries making steady but slow progress. All those present might be Body Refiners, but that did not make the mule-drawn carts that carried their supplies move any faster.


    That, at least, gave Arran some hope for the war between the Ninth Valley and the Imperium. The Darians might be strong, but their lack of void bags and rings would be no small hindrance when war erupted.


    Still, with another battle only a week away ¡ª assuming Captain Kaleesh was right ¡ª the thought brought Arran little comfort. If he died in battle or was forced to expose his powers, the Ninth Valley''s advantages would do him little good.


    Yet if Arran was frustrated at the sluggish pace, he could tell that the soldiers had it even worse. Constantly, they looked at the forests and hills along the road, with eyes that plainly expected to see enemies emerge at any moment.


    And in the evenings, when they made camp for the night, the soldiers did not relax in the slightest. Even while eating or resting, their hands never strayed far from their weapons.


    Arran felt much the same, but he distracted himself by training with the mercenaries under his command.


    At first, several of the mercenaries complained about his command. They were all newcomers to the Wolfsblood Company, and not all of them were happy to have another newcomer be put in charge.


    A few sparring matches, however, were enough to show exactly why Arran had been chosen to lead them. While some of the newcomers were surprisingly strong, none of them came even close to being a match for Arran.


    That was enough for the men and women to accept Arran''s command. For Body Refiners, the easiest way forward was to learn from stronger Body Refiners, and Arran''s strength filled his troops with hopes for their own progress.


    But although Arran booked steady progress in training his group, most of his thoughts were still focused on the battle ahead. Although Captain Kaleesh was confident in their chances, Arran found himself frustrated at how little he knew about their opponents.


    While he was certain there were no Knights, the captain had informed his commanders that Rannoc''s troops held several Rangers. And after having faced a Ranger in combat, Arran knew that most of the mercenaries would be no match for such a foe.Find authorized novels in Webnovel£¬faster updates, better experience£¬Please click www.novelhall.com for visiting.


    Yet the days dragged on relentlessly, and before long, the first week of their journey was nearing its end. And as their group set up camp for yet another night on the road, Captain Kaleesh gathered up his commanders.


    "I''ve had a look at Payam''s maps," the captain said, "and I''m certain the attack will come tomorrow. In the afternoon, most likely."


    Arran gave the man a curious look. "What do you want us to do?"


    "You?" the captain faced Arran, then shook his head. "Nothing. You are to keep your group behind, away from the battle. While you are strong enough, the other newcomers lack the training to be useful. Only move if you come under attack."


    Arran nodded silently. Though he didn''t like the idea of remaining idle during a battle, he knew that his group still lacked practice and discipline. In a large battle, chances were that they''d get in the way rather than help.


    At Arran''s nod, the captain turned to his other commanders. "The rest of you," he began, "will do nothing until I give the order to move. We want Rannoc''s troops fully occupied when we attack them. Understood?"


    The three commanders nodded in response, though Gar did so with significantly less enthusiasm than the others. While the other mercenaries and soldiers might be filled with worry, the giant man''s only concern seemed to be that he might miss part of the battle.


    "When I give the order," the captain continued, "I need all of you to move immediately. Gar, you are to charge straight into the enemy''s flank while they''re fighting Kadun''s troops. Lasha, you back him up. I will move my group around and attack from behind. Sassun, you cover us and strike where needed."


    The orders were simple, but again, the three commanders nodded in response ¡ª though this time, Gar showed far more enthusiasm than before.


    Yet Lasha frowned as she looked at the captain. "What if they don''t do as you expect?"


    "Then we''ll adapt to the situation," Captain Kaleesh replied. "But all of you, get some sleep while you still can. Tomorrow will be a long day, but we should all be richer at the end of it."


    As the commanders moved to their groups and began to give them instructions for the next day, Arran spent another two hours practicing with his own group. Even if they weren''t supposed to take part in the battle, he needed to get a feel for their strengths and abilities.


    Yet after two hours, Ervin approached him. "Sir," the old man said in a cautious tone, "you should let ''em get some rest, with a fight ahead tomorrow and all."


    At once, Arran realized the man was right. While he did not feel the least bit tired, he could see that his troops were tired. And although Body Refiners would recover quickly from the exertion, they would need to be fresh the next day.


    He quickly dismissed the mercenaries, with most of them taking the opportunity to have another evening meal before seeking out their bedrolls.


    Arran, however, turned his attention to his sergeant. While they had spoken several times over the previous week, he still knew little about the old man.


    "Have you fought at the captain''s side before?"


    Ervin nodded. "Many times," he replied. "Been with him for a good twenty years, and not once seen him lose a battle that could be won. There''s no need to worry about tomorrow ¡ª if the captain is confident in our chances, then you should be, too."


    The man''s words reassured Arran, though only partly, as he still felt some unease at putting his life in the hands of another. Yet there was nothing for it but to hope for the best.


    He awoke early the next day, well before dawn. And as he looked around, he saw that he wasn''t the only one. Several of the mercenaries were already awake, eating their breakfasts and sharpening their weapons.


    The group left shortly after dawn, and Arran could see that the mercenaries weren''t the only ones who felt tense. While the soldiers did not know what was to come, it was as if the mercenaries'' tension had spread to them as well, and they looked even more alert than they normally did.


    Midday came and went without anything of note happening, with Arran and the other mercenaries following quietly behind the long column of soldiers and carts. And as afternoon came, Arran felt some small hope that the captain had been wrong.


    Maybe Rannoc''s forces had decided not to attack, realizing that with the mercenaries there, they only barely held the advantage in numbers. Because while they had easily twice the numbers of Kadun''s forces, the mercenaries almost completely negated that advantage.


    Yet Arran''s hopes were short-lived.


    By late afternoon, they entered into a wide valley, with densely forested hills on either side of the road. And as soon as the column of soldiers and mercenaries had fully entered the valley, Arran heard panicked shouts ahead. A moment later, the shouts were joined by the clatter of weapons.


    It seemed Captain Kaleesh had been right.

 Chapter 330 A Taste Of Battle

    Arran tensed up as he heard the sounds of battle in the distance. Even if he wasn''t expected to fight, he knew enough of battle to understand that the situation could change in an instant.


    Yet to his astonishment, he saw that Captain Kaleesh stepped away from the column and casually walked over to a small knoll on the side of the road. Seemingly unconcerned, the captain gestured at his commanders.


    "Get over here!" he called out. "Arran, you too!"


    Arran gave Ervin a dumbfounded look, but the old sergeant merely shrugged. "Better do as the captain says."


    After a moment''s hesitation, Arran hurried toward Captain Kaleesh, arriving a few moments after the other three commanders.


    "Look," the captain said, pointing toward the front of the column. "The first blow has been struck."


    Atop the knoll, Arran could clearly see the situation ahead. Around two hundred of Rannoc''s forces had confronted Kadun''s soldiers, and the two sides were clashing at the front of the column, with more of Kadun''s soldiers hurrying forward to face their enemies.


    Yet with a single glance, Arran saw that neither side had fully committed to the battle. Kadun''s forces held the line, but no more than that. And while Rannoc''s troops were pressuring them, it was only just enough to keep their opponents occupied.


    "Now look over there, by the tree line," Captain Kaleesh said, pointing at the hillside a few hundred paces away from the battle.


    It only took Arran a moment to see what the captain wanted them to see. Amid the trees, he saw shapes and movement, only barely concealed. Another group of Rannoc''s forces, ready to strike their enemies'' flank.


    "What are they waiting for?" Arran asked. With Kadun''s troops already occupied, this second group would be enough to decide the battle in moments.


    "Us," the captain replied. "While they don''t expect us to act, they want to be certain before they commit. If we were to step in now, they would likely break off the attack."


    "But we''re not doing that," Lasha said, eyes fixed on the battle ahead.


    "And give up an opportunity like this?" Captain Kaleesh chuckled. "But look ¡ª it seems they''ve made a decision."


    Indeed, Arran could see a second force emerging from the tree line. Kadun''s troops noticed it as well, and calls of alarm sounded from the mass of soldiers.


    Yet although they formed an improvised line on their flank, Arran knew it wouldn''t be enough. Not with another force already attacking them.


    As the second group of attackers began to advance on the flank of the column, Captain Kaleesh nodded thoughtfully. "Gar, Lasha, join your groups and wait for my signal," he said. "It shouldn''t be long now."


    While the captain still sounded unconcerned, Arran could feel the tension rise in his body. There was a battle happening just a few hundred paces away, and from the look of it, their side was losing.


    "There he is," Captain Kaleesh said, "though I''d expected him sooner."


    From the back of Kadun''s soldiers'' ranks, a solitary man had emerged ¡ª Payam, who was running toward the captain and his two remaining commanders.


    "We''re under attack!" the steward exclaimed as he approached.


    "So I''ve noticed," Captain Kaleesh replied, his face expressionless.


    Payam faced him with wide-eyed astonishment. "Why aren''t you helping?!"


    "You hired us as miners, not mercenaries." Captain Kaleesh sounded indifferent, as if the battle was no concern of his. "If you lose, it only means we''ll have to serve another Lord. Why should we risk our lives?"


    "You¡­" The steward stared at the captain in horror. "You''ll just stand by and do nothing?!"


    He glanced back at the battle, where the second group of attackers was only moments away from reaching Kadun''s forces. It didn''t take a practiced eye to see that Kadun''s men were in a desperate situation.


    "A third of what we find in the mines," Captain Kaleesh said. "And we''ll stay another two months, but in return, we will have Lord Kadun''s blacksmiths at our disposal. Agree, and we''ll fight for you ¡ª but only once."


    Disbelief filled the steward''s eyes, but he didn''t hesitate for even a second. "Fine! But fight, damn you!"


    The captain remained silent for a moment, watching as the second group of attackers bore down on Kadun''s troops. And as they did, he turned his eyes to the steward. "You have a deal." Then, in an instant, his expression changed. "Gar, Lasha, charge! Sassun, with me! Arran, keep an eye out!"


    A ripple of motion went through the mercenaries. Faster than Arran had thought possible, Gar and Lasha''s groups charged at the enemies'' flank, covering the few hundred paces between them in mere moments.


    And even as two groups of mercenaries crashed into the flank of Rannoc''s forces, the group led by Captain Kaleesh himself circled around and charged into the back line of the attacking force. Meanwhile, Sassun''s group remained a few dozen paces behind the others, watchful for any changes in the battlefield.


    It barely took half a minute for the battlefield to change entirely, and Arran could only watch in awe as the mercenaries struck with practiced precision. It was like seeing a master swordsman cut down a drunken robber, and within moments, Arran saw the beginnings of panic among Rannoc''s forces.


    Yet his awe was short-lived.


    Even with a battle unfolding just a few hundred paces away, he hadn''t forgotten about his surroundings. And now, he saw more movement among the tree line ¡ª more attackers, and as he saw them, he cursed loudly.


    He glanced at Sassun''s group, then cursed again when he realized the commander was fully focused on the battle ahead. And with the noise of battle filling the air, calling out to him would achieve little.


    There was no time to hesitate. With four bounding leaps, Arran reached his own group of mercenaries. "With me! Now!" he shouted, then turned around without waiting to see if they followed the command.Find authorized novels in Webnovel£¬faster updates, better experience£¬Please click www.novelhall.com for visiting.


    He could not afford to wait even a second. Because with a single look, he''d seen that these new attackers carried bows. And at this distance, their attacks would not miss.


    The tree line was a good two hundred paces away, but Arran crossed the distance in seconds, sword drawn as he reached the group of attackers who were only just emerging from the tree line.


    One of them managed to loose an arrow that glanced Arran''s shoulder, but Arran cut the man down a moment later. And then, he was among them, his sword dancing from enemy to enemy as he ruthlessly cut down all before him.


    They might be Body Refiners, but none of them had Arran''s strength or skill. And within moments, more than a dozen dead lay around him.


    Yet the group of soldiers did not collapse into disorder. Almost immediately, they began to fall back, forming ranks to slow the unexpected attacker.


    With each attack Arran made, he suddenly found himself opposed by half a dozen blades, his opponents closing their ranks whenever he cut one down. And in just a few exchanges, he sustained several shallow wounds.


    The sudden change in situation filled him with frustration. He could force his way through the soldiers'' ranks, but not without revealing his true strength. And as it was, he could not defeat them ¡ª because for each he killed, another would manage to wound them.


    The soldiers'' disregard for death seemed insane, but Arran knew what was driving it. Just behind the front rank, a large man was shouting orders. He was clearly more powerful than the others, and in his hands he held a large starmetal sword.


    Arran knew that if he killed their leader, the soldiers would likely break. Yet against their tight ranks, only overwhelming power would be enough ¡ª and that would expose him as surely as using magic would.


    But then, Ervin arrived at his side, and suddenly the soldiers could no longer focus all their attention on Arran. Then, another of Arran''s troops joined, and another still.


    As the soldiers were forced to fend off these new attackers, Arran saw an opportunity ¡ª a sudden weakness in the line. At once, he rushed forward, cutting down two enemy soldiers as he broke through their ranks.


    The large man with the starmetal sword shouted in anger when he saw his ranks broken, and without hesitation he dashed toward Arran, raising his blade for a powerful strike.


    Arran attempted to block the attack, but the steel sword he wielded was no match for his opponent''s blade. There was only a moment of resistance as the two weapons met, and then, the starmetal sword cut through Arran''s weapon.


    Yet Arran had expected this. Before the attack hit him, his left hand shot forward and took hold of the man''s wrist. Realization flashed across the man''s face as he finally understood that his opponent had been hiding his strength, but it was too late.


    An instant later, Arran rammed his broken blade deep into the man''s chest. And as his opponent collapsed to his knees, he snatched the starmetal sword from his dying enemy''s hands.


    He looked up without giving his fallen foe another look, ready for the next enemy. Yet to his surprise, he saw that the soldiers had already broken. Some were still engaged in losing fights against the mercenaries, but most were now trying to flee, being cut down even as they attempted to run.


    Still, Arran showed them no mercy. Each enemy killed here was one he wouldn''t have to face later.


    Between Arran and the mercenaries, it only took a few minutes to wipe out what little was left of their opponents. And as the last of the soldiers fell, Arran turned his eyes toward the mercenaries'' other battle.


    But this battle, too, had already come to an end. Without their reinforcements, Lord Rannoc''s troops had been defeated utterly. And from the bodies that littered the ground, Arran knew that few of them had managed to escape.


    Yet Lord Kadun''s troops had suffered serious losses, too. At a glance, Arran saw that a good half of them lay dead or injured, with the rest still in a state of disorder.


    It seemed that only the mercenaries had weathered the battle relatively unscathed. While some of them nursed fresh injuries, their losses appeared to be minimal.


    Recognizing that the battle was over, Arran began to make his way down the hill, his troops following behind him. And as he did, Captain Kaleesh approached him with a cheerful wave.


    "Well done!" the man said. "And I see you found a new weapon, too."


    Arran saw that he wasn''t the only one who''d found a starmetal sword. The captain, too, carried a new blade that was covered in blood ¡ª blood that was somehow absent from the man''s clothes.


    "There was another group," Arran said, casting a look at the bodies that littered the hillside.


    The captain nodded. "One of the crafters'' guilds threw their lot in with Rannoc''s forces. A mistake they won''t soon make again."


    Arran raised an eyebrow. "You knew?"


    "I suspected it," Captain Kaleesh replied. "But it was a good opportunity to test your mettle. Of course, if you hadn''t acted, Sassun would have intervened."


    "You''d risk your men''s lives like that?" Arran asked. "Just to test me?"


    "I would, and I did," the captain replied. "In a small battle like this, the risk was a small one. Better to find out now whether I can trust you than to wait for a serious battle." He gave Arran a serious look, then continued, "But as I said, you did well."


    The blunt answer gave Arran some pause, but after a moment, he nodded in understanding. If the captain considered this battle a small one, then it made sense for him to test his new commander.


    "Glad you understand," the captain said. Then, a grin on his face, he said, "But the day isn''t over yet. We still have to gather the spoils of battle."


    "Spoils?" Arran gave the man a puzzled look. "What spoils?"


    Captain Kaleesh sighed, then shook his head. "You have some talent, but you forgot the most important thing. A few miles back down the road, we should find our enemies'' supplies, along with their leaders."


    A dark smile crossed the captain''s face as he spoke, and he continued, "I do not intend to let either of those escape us."

 Chapter 331 The Spoils Of Battle

    "Commanders!" Captain Kaleesh called out. "Gather up!"


    The three commanders joined them moments later, and as they did, Arran saw that only Gar had some small wounds. Sassun and Lasha, meanwhile, had somehow escaped the battle unharmed.


    "Looks like they got you good," Lasha said with a glance at Arran''s bloodied clothes. There was a hint of disapproval in her eyes, as if she thought being wounded by the soldiers was almost shameful.


    "Just some small scratches, is all," Arran replied.


    In truth, the wounds he''d received were already long gone. The soldiers'' deaths had provided his Blood-imbued Dragon''s Ruin with plenty of power to feast upon, and none of his shallow wounds had lasted for more than a moment.


    But that was a secret he could not share. The mercenaries might be his allies, but he would not reveal the full extent of his powers even to them. To do so would be every bit as dangerous as announcing that he was a mage.


    Lasha gave him a doubtful look, but before she could say anything more, Gar stepped forward, a broad smile on his bloodied face.


    "Can''t have a good fight without a few wounds," the large man said. "And unlike you, we got something out of the battle."


    With a pleased look, he patted the new sword at his side ¡ª starmetal, like the ones Arran and Captain Kaleesh had taken.


    "Well done," the captain said, giving the giant commander an approving nod. "Now give that new sword of yours to Sassun, if you will."


    Gar''s satisfied expression faded in an instant, and he stared at the captain in bewilderment. "You want me to give up my sword?"


    "Correct," Captain Kaleesh replied. "We''re about to hunt down our enemies'' leaders, and I expect them to have several Rangers at their side. I need my strongest fighters well-armed."


    "What about him?" Gar said, pointing at Arran. "Why not have him give up his weapon?"


    "He''s stronger than you," the captain said. "He will join me and Sassun in confronting the enemies'' Rangers, while Lasha and yourself will handle the others." A frown crossed his face, and he continued, "Besides, that sword is far too small for you. You''ll have something more suitable in an hour or two."


    That, at least, was true. The sword Gar had captured was slender and somewhat sword, making it look almost like a dagger in the giant man''s hands. But even so, Gar parted with it only reluctantly, a dark look in his eyes as he handed the weapon to Sassun.


    "I expect another before the day is over," he grumbled.


    "And you shall have one," the captain said. "But now, we must prepare. Gar, Lasha, I want your groups to advance on either side of the road. When we reach our enemies'' camp, we will attack¡ª"


    "You will do no such thing!" Payam interrupted him loudly. The steward had only just arrived, and rather than showing relief at still being alive, his face was filled with outrage.


    "Oh?" Captain Kaleesh faced the steward with a friendly smile, but his eyes held a hint of danger.


    "You¡­" Payam paused briefly, perhaps remembering how easily the mercenaries had defeated the soldiers who would have slaughtered his men. When he continued, there was a fearful tremble in his voice. "Killing their leaders and Rangers will be a provocation that cannot go unanswered."


    "If I hadn''t intervened," the captain replied, "they would have butchered your troops to a man and taken my men for themselves." He paused as he looked the steward in the eyes. "You mean to say that Lord Kadun lacks the honor to answer such an insult?"


    The steward gave him a pained look. "We killed their soldiers. Isn''t that enough? To attack their Rangers, it would be¡ª"


    "A reminder," Captain Kaleesh interrupted him. "A reminder that Lord Kadun will brook no insults. A reminder that your Lord is no less than his rivals." A thoughtful look crossed his face. "Or do you believe he is?"


    Payam paled at the captain''s words. "I didn''t say¡­" he began, then stopped mid-sentence. A moment later, he shook his head. "I cannot stop you from acting. But know that facing Rangers is different from facing soldiers. You may not find these opponents so easy to defeat."


    Without further words, he turned around and began to head back to the group of soldiers in the distance.


    Captain Kaleesh waited until the steward was out of earshot, then turned back to his commanders.


    "As I was saying, Gar and Lasha, your groups will take the forward flanks. Do not let even a single one of our enemies escape. As far as the world is concerned, Kadun will be the one responsible for this."


    Both Gar and Lasha nodded silently, but Arran frowned at the last words. From the sound of it, the captain''s plans extended beyond merely seizing the spoils of battle.


    Rather, it sounded like Captain Kaleesh intended to fuel the tensions between Lord Kadun and Lord Rannoc. Yet what purpose the captain had for earning their new employer enemies, he could not tell.


    "Sassun," the captain continued, "our enemies were kind enough to leave us an ample supply of bows and arrows. Our groups will gather these, and take the back flanks."


    As Sassun nodded, Captain Kaleesh turned to Arran. "Your group is to remain on the road behind us. Their sole task is to look threatening ¡ª enough to keep our enemies from getting foolish ideas about charging forward."


    Arran nodded. He''d been impressed with his troops'' performance during the battle, but not so much that he was eager to have them face Rangers.


    "Finally," the captain said, his eyes on Arran and Sassun, "the three of us will face the Rangers. There should only be two of them, but do not let that trick you ¡ª Rangers are formidable enemies. Wait until I give the command to attack, and do not take any foolish risks."


    After the four commanders had been given instructions, it barely took the mercenaries a quarter-hour to gather their enemies bows and prepare for the battle ahead.


    They left a few of their number behind to care for the wounded, but other than that, the mercenary force that set off was almost as large as it had been in the morning. Bloody though the earlier battle had been, all but a handful of the bodies that littered the ground belonged to the soldiers.


    As they made their way back down the road, Arran studied the formation the captain had chosen.


    Gar and Lasha''s groups led the formation, walking a few dozen paces on either side of the road. Behind them were the captain, Sassun, and Arran himself, with two more groups of mercenaries flanking them. And finally, at the back was Arran''s group.


    Arran knew little of strategy, but he could tell that if their enemies had massed on the road, the simple formation would be devastating.


    And yet, he could hardly imagine that the Darians would be so foolish. By now they certainly would''ve heard of their forces'' defeat. If they had any sense at all, they would have long fled the area.


    But less than an hour''s travel from the first battlefield, he saw that he was wrong.


    In the middle of the road stood a group of around a hundred people, many of them dressed in the fine silks of courtiers and merchants, their stances relaxed, almost casual. And while a good half of the group were soldiers, even they looked strangely unconcerned.


    The only ones who showed any tension at all were two men who stood a few dozen paces ahead of the others. These, Arran instantly recognized as Rangers. Even without the starmetal weapons in their hands, their movements betrayed them as powerful Body Refiners with no small amount of skill in combat.


    To Arran''s bafflement, the group made no attempt to prevent itself from being flanked. And rather than panic, the men and women in the group showed annoyance more than fear at their enemies'' approach.


    Captain Kaleesh waited for his mercenaries to get into position, then finally called out, "Halt!"


    At this, a heavy-set man stepped out from the group of Darians. Dressed in ornate robes, he was clearly a noble or merchant rather than a warrior, despite the starmetal dagger at his side.


    "What is the meaning of this?" he called out to Captain Kaleesh, in a tone that suggested mild annoyance. "You have your victory, do you not? What need is there to bother us any further?"


    Captain Kaleesh ignored the man completely. "Nock!" he shouted, and the two groups of mercenaries on the rear flanks immediately nocked arrows to their bows.


    A hint of worry flashed across the ornately dressed man''s face. "Wait!" he called out. "If you want compensation for your dead and wounded, we can make you a suitable offer. There is no need for¡ª"


    "Draw!" the captain''s voice sounded.


    Finally, the man''s face turned to panic. "Stop! My guild can offer you¡ª"


    "Loose!"


    Whatever the man''s guild had to offer, they would never hear. Because in an instant, the man was riddled with arrows, dead before he even hit the ground. And behind him, another dozen among his group met the same fate.


    "Fire at will!" the captain shouted, and the mercenaries wasted no time in following the order. More arrows struck the group of Darians only moments later, and their composure disappeared in an instant, the merchants and nobles fighting to hide behind their soldiers.


    But it was no use. Exposed as they were, there was no safety to be found. In mere moments, half their number lay dead on the road, and the mercenaries showed no sign of letting up.


    Yet the two Rangers were still unharmed. While they, too, had been struck by arrows, it seemed that mere arrows were not enough to cause them serious injury.


    "Run, you idiots!" one of the Rangers shouted, moving his body between the men and women behind him and the archers.


    If the mercenaries arrows had caused chaos among the Darians, the Ranger''s words were enough to send them running in an instant. Yet even as they began to move, Arran knew they would not get far ¡ª not with Gar and Lasha''s groups already closing in on them.


    There was no time for him to give any further thought to their fate, however. Because at that moment, Captain Kaleesh said in a calm voice, "Our turn."


    He unsheathed his sword and started toward the two Rangers at a calm pace, with Sassun and Arran falling in beside him a moment later.


    Despite the situation, the two Rangers showed no sign of panic. Instead, they faced their opponents with cautious eyes, focused on the battle even while the screams of their dying allies sounded in the distance.


    "Kadun will pay for this," one of them snarled as the two small groups faced off, outrage in his voice despite the look of utter concentration on his face.


    "Perhaps," the captain replied, some amusement in his voice. "But you''ll be long dead by then."


    No further words were spoken, as one of the Rangers suddenly dashed toward Arran, unleashing a furious flurry of blows in an attempt to quickly even the numbers.


    Despite the man''s terrifying skill, Arran managed to parry the blows, allowing himself to be driven backward several paces. And before the Ranger could push his advantage, Captain Kaleesh joined the fight.


    While the Ranger held the upper hand against Arran ¡ª without Arran showing his full strength, at least ¡ª the odds were reversed when the captain stepped in. Even with the Ranger''s skill, the two enemies were too much for him, and he was forced to retreat several steps.


    Yet before they could defeat their enemy, the captain suddenly darted away, joining Sassun just in time to save the commander from being cut down by the other Ranger.


    Arran''s opponent recognized the opportunity, and at once, he attacked Arran with full vigor, driving Arran back several paces with a series of powerful strikes. But the attacks failed to achieve anything, and even as he pushed forward, a hint of frustration appeared on his face.


    Arran, on the other hand, fought eagerly. Although he was forced to hold back his strength, he gladly seized the chance to study a Ranger''s techniques. And much like before, he found that they held some hints of insight.


    The battle continued for a good quarter-hour, with the captain darting between the two separate fights whenever one of his commanders came under too much pressure.


    But while it was little more than a practice session to Arran, he soon saw in the corner of his eye that Sassun was struggling to keep up. The commander had already sustained several shallow wounds, and although his face was expressionless as always, his movements were gradually growing slower.


    Moreover, Arran''s own opponent was beginning to fight more cautiously. Where he had earlier shown only frustration, some suspicion was now beginning to appear in his eyes, as if he was starting to realize that Arran was holding back.


    It was time to end the fight, Arran knew.


    When the Ranger launched yet another powerful attack, he did not step back as he parried. Instead, he caught his enemy''s blade in a bind, then pushed the man back with unexpected force.


    The Ranger''s eyes filled with realization as he stumbled backward, but it was already too late. He was only caught off-balance for a fraction of a second, but that was enough for Arran''s blade to find his heart.


    Arran did not pause to savor his victory. Instead, he immediately rushed over to Sassun''s opponent, who was already struggling to defend himself from two enemies. And with a third enemy added, it only took seconds before he was cut down, too.


    As the second Ranger collapsed to the ground, Sassun let out a deep sigh. "Son of a whore," he grunted, face soaked with sweat. "That was one tough bastard."


    Yet although Sassun looked like he might collapse from exhaustion, Captain Kaleesh seemed as fresh as ever. So much so, in fact, that Arran found himself wondering whether he''d been the only one to hold back in the fight.


    "A good battle," the captain said with a look at the defeated Rangers'' bodies. "And now, it''s time to collect our rewards."


    Arran looked around at their surroundings, and found that the other mercenaries had gathered in a wide circle around them. But while they had watched the fight with great interest, none of them had been foolish enough to get involved.


    But now that the Rangers were defeated, both Gar and Lasha stepped forward with excited faces.


    "Good fight, captain!" Lasha said. She held up a starmetal sword, then grinned wickedly. "I put my sword through that bitch''s throat just like I said."


    Captain Kaleesh frowned, then nodded. "Well done," he said. "But I suggest you speak no more of that. We''ll get rid of that sword, too. We don''t want it getting out that you killed Rannoc''s niece."


    Lasha''s eyes went wide with shock. "Rannoc''s niece?"


    "His favorite niece, in fact," the captain said. "I imagine he''ll be quite displeased with Kadun."


    Ignoring the horrified look Lasha gave him, he gathered the two fallen Rangers'' swords, then handed the larger of the two to Gar.


    "A sword for you, as promised," he said. "And one that should be more to your liking. Lasha, hand me that cursed thing you''re holding."


    She gave the captain an ugly look, but nevertheless, she handed the sword to the captain, receiving the remaining Ranger''s weapon in return.


    "Now then," the captain said. "Let''s see what we won today."


    As the mercenaries began looting their defeated enemies'' carts, Arran looked at the bodies that littered the ground.


    As far as he could tell, not a single mercenary had fallen in the battle. In truth, it could hardly be called a battle at all ¡ª rather, it had been a massacre.


    He did not feel sympathy for their fallen enemies. They''d had no qualms about sending hundreds of soldiers into battle, but had believed themselves safe from retribution. Perhaps if they''d known their own lives were at stake, they would not have gambled others'' lives away so carelessly.


    And yet, he could not bring himself to feel happy about the slaughter, either. Not when their enemies had lacked the strength to defend themselves.


    "Why the glum look?"


    When Arran looked up, he saw the captain standing next to him. He hesitated, then said, "Killing defenseless enemies¡­ it doesn''t feel right."


    "Defenseless?" The captain looked at him with wide eyes, then burst into laughter. "You think them defenseless? Their soldiers were their weapons, and if we hadn''t killed them, they would''ve taken up arms again without hesitation."


    The captain shook his head, then continued, "An army is a greater weapon than any sword could ever be. Enemies who wield swords, you can afford to show mercy. But those who wield armies should never be spared."


    Arran pondered the man''s words for some moments, then finally nodded. "I suppose you''re right."


    "I usually am," Captain Kaleesh said. "But enough of that. There''s looting to be done, and feasting after that. You won''t believe what these bastards had in their supply wagons."

 Chapter 332 Lord Kadun

    "Tastes like water to me." Gar looked at the bottle in his hand with disappointed eyes, then drained it in a single swig and cast the empty bottle aside.


    The captain shook his head in disapproval. "This is the finest wine the Imperium has to offer. Just one bottle can buy you a farm." He took a sip from his own bottle, then frowned. "Though it''s more subtle than I would have expected."


    They sat atop the wooden wagons they''d taken from the defeated Darians, some miles away from where the battle had taken place. And as the mercenaries around them feasted on the Darians'' supplies, Arran could not help but frown in wonder at what they''d discovered.


    He had expected to find simple supplies ¡ª food and drink for the troops, and whatever else a small army needed. Yet while the wagons held plenty of rations for the soldiers, they also carried large amounts of luxuries.


    There were fine wines and brandies, sets of silken clothing, jewelry and gemstones, and many other valuable goods besides.


    Arran wasn''t the only one to wonder at this. Holding up a red silk dress, Lasha frowned deeply, then asked, "Why did they bring all this?"


    "To bribe the borderlanders into joining them," Captain Kaleesh replied. "A few small luxuries are a small price for years of service from a Body Refiner or skilled craftsman."


    "We didn''t get anything for joining Kadun," Gar pointed out. He''d found another bottle of the supposedly exquisite wine, and after speaking, he drained half of it in a single gulp. This time, there was a hint of appreciation in his eyes, though Arran suspected this had more to do with the wine''s value than its taste.


    "I expect that our host brought some valuables, as well," the captain said. "Though nothing as grand as this ¡ª Lord Kadun cannot afford to waste his wealth so carelessly."


    "You mean he''s poor?" Lasha gave the captain a questioning look. "Of all the Lords we could have joined, you picked the poor one?"


    "I wouldn''t call him poor, exactly," Captain Kaleesh replied. "But it''s true that Lord Kadun''s wealth falls short of his peers''. Which is exactly the reason I chose him."


    Lasha made an ugly face. "You don''t like us having nice things?"


    The captain shook his head. "A Lord like Rannoc would have showered us with trinkets," he explained, "but he would never have agreed to my terms. We would have spent years earning our freedom, rather than months. But Kadun¡­" A sly smile flashed across his face. "Kadun is a different matter. He cannot pass up an opportunity like this ¡ª even with a deal any other Lord would take as an insult."


    Arran looked at the captain with curious eyes. While he understood the man''s reasoning, the more he heard, the more he wondered how Captain Kaleesh knew so much about the Imperium.


    "How did you learn all this?" he asked. "In the borderlands, people barely know anything about the Imperium. But you¡­" He did not finish the sentence, instead glancing at the captain with narrowed eyes.


    "I spent a long time preparing this," the captain replied. "Even when I built the Wolfsblood Company, it was with the goal of one day learning the Imperium''s most treasured methods and techniques. Naturally, I made sure to know anything that could aid me in my purpose."


    "Captain likes planning ahead," Gar said. He paused to take another swig of wine, then continued, "Always has. Usually works out well enough."


    Arran nodded, though he remained unconvinced. From what he knew, mere planning could not explain how the captain knew so much about the Imperium. Secretive as the Darians were, learning all this in the borderlands would be nigh impossible.


    But whatever the explanation was, he knew he would not learn it tonight.


    After a day filled with battle, the mercenaries were eager to celebrate their victory, and they feasted with abandon, laughing and jeering as they drank priceless wines and dressed in the Darians'' fine silks.


    Yet the soldiers, camped out several hundred paces away, showed little sign of joy. While a handful joined the mercenaries in their festivities, most of the soldiers merely watched with dark looks.


    And no wonder. While the mercenaries had suffered only minor losses, the soldiers had not been nearly as fortunate. A good fifth of their number had fallen in battle, and that many again had been wounded.


    Yet as Arran considered the soldiers'' losses, another question emerged in his mind.


    The soldiers were all Body Refiners, most of them every bit as strong as the mercenaries. And if the Darians had such forces at their command, it made no sense for them to value the borderlanders so highly.


    He pondered the question for some time, but try as he might, he could not figure out the answer. Whichever way he looked at it, even the entire Wolfsblood Company should hold little value to the Imperium''s Lords.


    Curious for an answer, he approached Captain Kaleesh.


    "I have a question," he said. "About the Imperium."


    "Another one?" The captain faced him with a raised eyebrow. "What is it this time?"


    "Why do the Darians need us?" Arran gestured at the soldiers in the distance, and continued, "They have plenty of Body Refiners. Why not send them into the mines?"


    A small smile crossed the captain''s face. "I''m glad to see that at least one of my commanders has a modicum of curiosity," he said. "But the answer to your question is simple. No self-respecting Darian would ever let himself be sent into the mines. Every single one of these soldiers would sooner face an army by himself than lift a pickaxe."


    The answer did little to satisfy Arran''s curiosity. "But why?" he asked. "With such numbers, there must be some who are willing to work in the mines."


    The captain responded with a firm shake of his head. "Despite what the church says, this is an empire built on battle, not toil. Any true Darian is expected to prove himself on the battlefield. The weak remain soldiers, while the strong become Rangers, Knights, or even Lords. But to become a common laborer¡­" He sighed deeply, a dark expression crossing his face. "To Darians, there is no greater disgrace than that."


    "Then what about the crafters'' guilds?" Arran asked.


    "Their leaders and soldiers may be Darians," the captain replied, "but the guilds rely on outsiders for labor. In that sense, they are much like the Imperium itself ¡ª the Darians rule and do battle, while outsiders do the work."


    At this, Arran suddenly understood why the Imperium was so generous in accepting the borderlanders into its lands. And it wasn''t out of kindness or charity, as he''d briefly believed.


    Rather, the Imperium needed the outsiders'' labor to function.


    The thought caused Arran some pause. He''d thought the Imperium was like the Empire, where all but a few people were commoners ¡ª farmers, villagers, and others without any powers worth noting.


    But if all true Darians were Body Refiners and soldiers, then the strength the Imperium commanded would be utterly terrifying.


    Captain Kaleesh smirked as he saw Arran''s dumbfounded expression. "Beginning to understand, are you? The Imperium holds strength that few forces in the world can match. You may be a decent fighter, but in the Imperium, we are like wolves in a forest full of dragons."


    Arran nodded absently, his thoughts already turning to the conflict between the Ninth Valley and the Imperium. If what the captain said was true, then the Ninth Valley''s situation was even more dire than he had imagined.


    "But that''s enough talk," the captain continued. "We won two victories today, and I will not let the night pass without celebration. Come, let''s join the others!"


    Arran reluctantly followed the captain as the man returned to the other mercenaries, where he loudly joined in with a bawdy song about a farmgirl and her horses.


    The mercenaries'' celebrations lasted well into the night. Although they had suffered only minor losses, all realized that they could easily have been among those few who had fallen. In battle, a single moment of bad luck was all it took to lose one''s life.


    And that they hadn''t been among those unlucky few was cause enough for celebration.


    But even as the mercenaries drank and feasted to their hearts'' content, Arran''s thoughts kept wandering to the Imperium. Even now, he found it difficult to believe that all true Darians could be Body Refiners.


    In the Empire, Body Refiners were rarer than mages, and a commoner could go a lifetime without meeting a single one. Yet if Captain Kaleesh was right, the Imperium held untold numbers of them.


    Night had long fallen when the sounds of celebration within the camp came to an end, but even so, Arran lay awake for several more hours. And even when sleep finally found him, his dreams were filled with endless armies of Body Refiners.


    The next morning, the column departed in silence.


    Although the tension of impending battle was gone, there was a gloomy mood among the soldiers, as beside the road now lay dozens of graves that held the bodies of their fallen comrades.


    The mercenaries had been more fortunate, but most of them remained silent as well. Although they''d spent the night celebrating their victory, they could sense the soldiers'' mourning, and few of them were so discourteous as to disturb it.


    But more days of travel followed, and gradually, even the soldiers regained some of their spirits. They understood that they had only barely avoided a far greater catastrophe, and although they did not go so far as to celebrate, relief was plain in their eyes.


    Meanwhile, as they traveled, Arran spent most of his time with his own group of mercenaries. Sometimes he practiced with them, and other times he merely listened as they spoke.


    Any doubts they''d had about his leadership had disappeared when they watched him face a Ranger, and now, they shared their stories with him eagerly.


    Arran found himself more surprised than he should have been at the paths that led them here. While some had been mercenaries or bandits, others had been members of obscure sects of Body Refiners, with others still whose path had been little more than a series of lucky coincidences.


    Yet what they all had in common was that they''d seen plenty of battle and adventure. In the borderlands, at least, there was no other way for a Body Refiner to gain power.


    A week of travel passed slowly and quietly, with the column following the road through the hills and forests of the Darian countryside. Occasionally, they passed by towns and villages, but they stopped at none of those.


    And as they advanced, Arran gradually grew more comfortable with the idea of leading the group of borderlanders. Perhaps he wasn''t as experienced in leading troops as the other commanders, but when it came to experience in battle, few could match him.


    But then, a week after the battle, Arran suddenly Sensed something through the bond he shared with his concealed sword ¡ª three other pieces of Living Shadow, moving along the road toward their group.


    A shiver went down Arran''s spine as he Sensed the distant power. He understood that these would be Lord Kadun''s reinforcements, but he hadn''t expected there to be a Knight among them, much less three of them.


    Still, there was nothing for it but to continue. His Living Shadow sword ¡ª still shaped like an iron bracelet, much to its dismay ¡ª had no concerns about Arran''s wards holding up, and so far, its judgment had been flawless.


    Moreover, Arran had spent months maintaining the wards, with his sword''s Sense constantly alerting him to any weaknesses they held. That constant practice had improved his skill greatly, and by now, even his own sword had difficulty seeing through the wards.


    The column came to a halt some minutes later, and as it did, Captain Kaleesh motioned for his commanders to join him.


    His expression unusually serious, he said, "We''ll be summoned in a minute or two. When that happens, follow my lead. And don''t say anything ¡ª not unless you''re spoken to. Understood?"


    Arran and the other commanders nodded without objection. From the look in the captain''s eyes, this situation was a more dangerous one than the battle against Rannoc''s forces had been.


    As the captain had predicted, a soldier came hurrying toward them barely a minute later.


    "Captain," the man said, his voice unexpectedly respectful, "Lord Kadun requests your presence."


    The captain gave the man a friendly nod, apparently not the least bit surprised that Lord Kadun himself had appeared. "Lead the way," he said in a calm voice.


    Yet although the captain seemed unconcerned, a tremble of unease went through Arran''s body at the soldier''s words. Suddenly, he realized he would be facing a Lord rather than Knights.


    It was a test he knew he would have to face sooner or later, but he hadn''t expected to face it quite as soon as this.


    Still, he was as prepared as he could be. His wards should conceal his Realms, and while he might not be able to hide all his physical strength, it was a normal thing for a Body Refiner to conceal part of his power.


    If all went well, Lord Kadun would barely even notice his existence.


    Arran took a deep breath, then set his jaw and suppressed his concerns as he followed behind Captain Kaleesh.


    They reached the front of the column only moments later, and as they arrived, Arran could not help but marvel at the sheer power that stood before him.


    Two Knights stood at Lord Kadun''s sides, clad in dark armor and with starmetal swords and Living Shadow daggers on their belts. Both of them radiated power, and although neither of them moved, Arran could see with a single glance that both were every bit as powerful as the Knight he''d met months earlier.


    But the two Knights were only part of the Lord''s company, as behind him stood a group of roughly fifty men and women. And while Arran could not be certain, he thought all of them were Rangers. Many of them had starmetal weapons, and even those who didn''t exuded the confidence of powerful warriors.


    But neither the Knights nor the Rangers could compare to their master.


    Lord Kadun was a plain-looking man, with long dark hair and a face that was neither ugly nor handsome. His height was only barely above average, and although he was muscular, he wasn''t overly large.


    And yet, when Arran laid eyes on the man, he felt something very close to terror surge through his body.


    With a single look, he could tell that the Lord''s body held a terrifying amount of power. Despite the man''s unremarkable appearance, there was something about him that suggested that he had a strength that dwarfed even Crassus in his full draconic form.


    Arran had long wondered whether he could match a Knight, but he had no such questions about Lord Kadun. In an instant, he knew that this was someone who could kill him without effort.


    And at the man''s side, there was a full-sized Living Shadow sword.


    The only thing that kept Arran from panicking was his own sword''s disdain at the Lord''s weapon. Whatever power it might hold, the executioner''s blade thought it only barely worth noticing.


    Arran regained his composure just in time to see Captain Kaleesh kneel before Lord Kadun. Without hesitation, he followed the captain''s example ¡ª as much as he disliked bending the knee, this Lord was someone he would not dare offend. Not before his strength increased greatly, at least.


    Lord Kadun looked at the newcomers for several moments, not a word leaving his lips as he studied them the way a farmer might appraise a horse. Then, at a calm pace, he walked toward the captain and his commanders.


    "My new subjects," he said in a cold voice. "Already, you have caused me no small amount of trouble."

 Chapter 333 To The Mines

    "Your Lordship," Captain Kaleesh said, eyes fixed on the ground as he remained on his knees before Lord Kadun. "I did not intend to cause you trouble."


    "But you did," the Lord said. "Explain yourself."


    The captain remained silent for a moment, and when he finally spoke, it was in a soft voice. "Your Lordship, their attack was a clear provocation. To let such a thing go unanswered would have tarnished your honor in the eyes of the world."


    "Is that so?" Some amusement sounded in Lord Kadun''s voice. "And what would an outsider like you know about that?"


    "Your Lordship," Captain Kaleesh said again, his voice firmer now. "I know little of the Imperium and its customs, but I do know battle. To let an insult like this go unpunished would merely invite more of the same. Only strength demands respect, and with your power, none should dare insult you."


    At this, the Lord let out a loud laugh. "Hear that, Payam? Even this outsider thinks you''re a coward."


    "My Lord," the steward said, speaking in a respectful tone that carried just a hint of frustration, "I merely attempted to protect your interests, to avoid a costly conflict. Your lands'' finances are¡ª"


    "Bah!" Lord Kadun interrupted him. "What good is coin without honor? The outsider has the right of it. Insults must be answered."


    "Of course, my Lord," the steward said. "As always, I bow to your wisdom."


    "As well you should!" The Lord said sharply. "As for you outsiders, you did well. For that, I will forgive your insubordination ¡ª but only once."


    Without any further words, he turned around and headed back to the Knights and Rangers, then ordered them to get moving again.


    Still, Captain Kaleesh remained on his knees for several more moments, clearly unwilling to risk giving even the slightest offense. But finally, he rose to his feet again, and after a final bow at the Lord''s turned back, he led his commanders back to the group of mercenaries at the back of the column.


    None of them said a word as they made their way past the soldiers. Whatever thoughts they had, they kept to themselves ¡ª at least until they were well out of earshot of any Darians.


    When they''d finally rejoined the mercenaries, Arran glanced at the captain. "That was¡­"


    He struggled to find the right words. Even now, the Lord''s power filled him with awe. And yet, the man had shown no sign of the wisdom he''d expected in someone so strong.


    "The most dangerous fool you''ll ever meet," Captain Kaleesh said in a low voice. "Do not mistake his strength for wisdom, or his dullness for weakness. He is every bit as dangerous as he appears, but a simpleton all the same."


    Sassun cast a worried look at the soldiers in the distance. "Captain¡­"


    "You''re right," the captain said. "We shall speak no more of this. But all of you, remember my words. Every single Lord within the Imperium earned his position through boundless might, and even the least of them can crush us all in an instant."


    It was a warning Arran did not need. Just the glimpse he had seen of Lord Kadun was enough to tell him this was someone he was still far from being able to match. And if the other Lords held similar power, then he needed no encouragement to steer clear of them.


    Within moments, the long column of soldiers and mercenaries set into motion once more, only now with Lord Kadun and his troops at its head.


    Another week of slow travel followed. While Lord Kadun''s presence might have inspired the soldiers and mercenaries to move faster, the mules that drew the supply carts were the ones that set the column''s pace. And to them, a Lord was no different from a common farmhand.


    Eventually, however, the column came to a halt barely a mile away from what looked to be a large city. But Arran''s hopes of seeing more of the Imperium were quickly quashed, as only Lord Kadun and his troops departed for the city.


    The rest of them remained waiting, until after nearly half an hour, a small group of guards joined them. The guards exchanged some words with the soldiers'' leaders, after which the soldiers set off for the city as well.


    After that, the much-diminished column set into motion once more.


    If the soldiers had shown little interest in conversing with the mercenaries, the guards barely even seemed to notice their presence. Although the mercenaries outnumbered them ten to one, the guards paid the group of Body Refiners no attention whatsoever.


    Instead, they merely headed the group, seemingly unconcerned with whatever happened behind them. Had any of the mercenaries wanted to escape, doing so would have been as simple as walking away.


    After several days of this, Arran approached Captain Kaleesh, curious to hear what the explanation for the guards'' odd behavior was.


    "Why aren''t they guarding us?" he asked, eyes turned toward the guards at the front of the group.


    "They have no reason to," the captain replied. "Until we receive our citizenship, any priest within the Imperium will instantly recognize us as outsiders. Even if we fled, we''d be discovered the moment we set foot in any town."


    Arran frowned deeply. "The priests can see whether someone''s a citizen? How?"


    "The priests'' secrets are their own," Captain Kaleesh replied with a shrug. "All I know is that they have the ability. So if you mean to leave us, you''d best wait until they''ve made you a citizen."


    While the captain might not know the answer, Arran was all but certain it had to involve magic. And although he didn''t know how such a thing could be achieved, if the priests somehow used magic, it was an important discovery.


    The thought had already occurred to him, but now, he had reason to believe it might actually be true. And if it was, then he would have to reconsider his view of the Imperium.


    But there was still far too much he did not know, and that would not change until he got the chance to explore the Imperium. And to do that, he would first have to become a citizen.


    Their journey lasted longer than Arran would have liked. Led by the guards, they spent well over a week sluggishly moving along the Imperium''s many roads, with little indication of how much further they would have to go.


    Yet when Arran saw the shapes of mountains appear in the distance, he knew they were at last nearing their destination.


    This was confirmed the next day, when they passed through a town in the mountains'' foothills. Large and dirty, it had numerous inns, taverns, and shabby stores ¡ª a mining town, Arran knew, much like the ones he''d passed in the mountains near Amydon.


    The column of mercenaries drew a large crowd of curious onlookers, and Arran knew with just a glance that most of them were borderlanders. While a handful of the people were Body Refiners, the vast majority were commoners, little different from the people with whom he''d crossed the border.


    The guards passed through the town without pausing, and barely an hour later, they arrived at a vast camp. Filled with numerous low stone buildings that Arran took for barracks, it was a thoroughly unpleasant place, clearly built for function rather than beauty.


    Here, too, all but a few of the people were borderlanders, and they looked at the newcomers with eyes that showed curiosity and suspicion in equal measure.


    As the group came to a halt, a tall man dressed in a set of rumpled silk robes came hurrying toward them.


    "Are these the new¡­" he began, but he stopped mid-sentence, his eyes going wide with surprise. "Are all of them Body Refiners?!"


    One of the guards gave a small nod in response and handed the man a sealed letter. "Lord Kadun''s steward said to give you this."


    The tall man cast another puzzled look at the group of mercenaries, then hurriedly opened the letter. And as he read it, a look of shock gradually formed on his face.


    When he finally looked up from the letter, he had an expression of barely veiled horror. "This can''t be right," he said.


    The guard shrugged. "Not our problem. If there''s an issue, you''ll have to take it up with the steward. Either way, we''re leaving."


    The group of guards wasted no time in departing, ignoring the tall man''s pleas as they headed back out of the camp. And when they were gone, the man faced the mercenaries with a panicked expression.


    Several moments passed before Captain Kaleesh finally broke the silence.


    "Is there a problem?"


    The tall man nodded emphatically. "I''m afraid a mistake has been made," he said, his eyes flitting across the hundreds of mercenaries before him. "This mine ¡ª I don''t have enough guards to keep order. Not with such a large group of¡ª"


    "We don''t need your guards," the captain interrupted him. "My men answer to me, and they will not cause disorder. Not unless I order them to do so, at least."


    "Then you''re their leader?" Some relief showed in the tall man''s eyes, but he continued, "I''m afraid they sent you to the wrong mine."


    "How so?" the captain asked.


    "This mine," the man began, "it''s only a simple iron mine. We have no need for Body Refiners. There''s nothing of value here ¡ª not unless you enter the lower levels." He shook his head. "But no one has gone down there in centuries. It isn''t safe."


    His eyebrow raised, Captain Kaleesh stepped forward to face the man. "What''s in the lower levels? And why isn''t it safe?"


    Again, the tall man shook his head. "There is no need for you to know that," he said. "What''s down there is no business of yours."


    "You will tell me," the captain said, "and you will do so now. If not, there may be some disorder after all."

 Chapter 334 What Lurks Below

    "You''re an outsider," the tall man said, casting a worried look at Captain Kaleesh. "You wouldn''t dare¡ª"


    "I''m an outsider with two hundred well-armed troops at my back," the captain interrupted him. "And you are the overseer of a worthless mine. Tell me what you know, or you will discover exactly what I would dare."


    Despite the obvious threat in the captain''s words, his voice was friendly, as if he had only given the man a friendly reminder of the situation. Yet there was a coldness to his eyes that suggested the threat was not an empty one.


    The overseer faced Captain Kaleesh with a stunned expression, and briefly, it looked like he was about to burst into anger. But just a moment later, the outrage fled his eyes and he gave the captain a small nod.


    "I suppose there''s no harm in telling you," he said. "Though I suggest we discuss this matter somewhere more private." He looked around nervously, then added in a low voice, "If word spreads among the miners, the work here will come to a standstill."


    "Very well," the captain said. "Have your people arrange barracks for my men. After that, you can explain the situation to me and my commanders."


    Though the overseer hurried in doing as Captain Kaleesh said, it still took him a good quarter-hour to summon his subordinates and set them to work on providing quarters for the mercenaries.


    After that, when he was satisfied the task was handled, he invited the captain and his commanders into his offices, which were situated in one of the many stone buildings the camp held.


    Arran found that the overseer''s offices were only barely worthy of the name. The building held little more than some wooden desks and chairs, and a thick layer of rock dust covered much of the ground.


    As they sat down, the overseer let out a deep sigh.


    "Like I said," he began, "this is only an iron mine. While the lower levels were once rich in valuable metals and gemstones, nobody has ventured down there in centuries."


    "Why?" Captain Kaleesh asked curtly, some impatience in his tone.


    The overseer hesitated in answering, but after a glance at the captain''s irritated expression, he said, "As far as the miners know, the lower levels are unstable, at risk of collapsing at any moment."


    "But that''s not the truth," the captain said. "So what''s the real reason?"


    "Diggers," the overseer said. "They''re¡ª"


    "I know what diggers are," Captain Kaleesh interrupted him. "Vicious creatures, but hardly worth closing a mine over. Why haven''t Kadun''s men cleared them out?"


    The overseer shook his head. "It''s not that simple. All of this happened long before I came here, but from what I''ve heard¡­" He took a deep breath, then continued, "The diggers first appeared several centuries ago. Naturally, they were cleared from the mines at once. Some soldiers died in the effort, of course, but they succeeded in their task."


    "Then what''s the problem?" the captain asked.


    "Just weeks later, the diggers returned," the overseer said. "And in greater numbers than before. Again the mines were cleared, but again they returned. This repeated for several times, until finally, Kadun sent a large group of Rangers and soldiers to explore the deepest parts of the caverns."


    "And?" By now, there was curiosity in the captain''s eyes, and Arran was growing interested as well. While he did not know what sort of creatures these so-called diggers were, anything that could cause trouble for Kadun''s forces was worth learning more about.


    "And nothing," the overseer replied. "Not a single one of them ever returned to the surface. Whatever they found down there, none of them lived to tell the tale."


    A frown crossed Captain Kaleesh''s face. "Kadun didn''t think to send a Knight?"


    "He did," the overseer said, smiling wryly. "But the Knight he sent never returned, either."


    "A Knight died down there?" The captain stared at him in disbelief. "There''s something down there with the strength to kill Knights, yet the mine remains open?"


    The overseer shrugged. "The upper levels are safe enough. I''ve been here for over three decades, and I''ve not once heard of any of the miners so much as seeing a digger. But on the upper levels, you''ll only find iron."


    Captain Kaleesh sighed. "I''ve heard enough. You may leave."


    At this, the overseer looked at him in confusion. "Leave? But this is my¡ª"


    "And send someone to clean this place," the captain interrupted him. "Now, off with you. My commanders and I have matters to discuss."


    The overseer hesitated before leaving, but no more than a moment. Evidently, he''d decided that he would rather relinquish his authority to the mercenary than risk conflict.


    And as the stepped out of the room, Captain Kaleesh groaned in frustration. "That bastard Payam got us good," he said. "Solving this mess won''t be an easy matter."


    "I don''t see a problem," Gar said. "We stay here a few months, mine some iron, and leave. What''s the issue?"


    The captain gave him a dark smile. "If only things were that simple," he said. "But Kadun won''t give us our citizenship for some months of mining iron. To earn our freedom, we''ll have to do more than that."


    "But captain," Lasha interjected, "didn''t you make a deal with the steward? What difference does it make whether we mine iron or gold?"


    "The deal I made," Captain Kaleesh said, "is only as good as Kadun''s word. Should he wish, he could keep us here for years, even decades. And if our efforts aren''t to his liking, he''ll gladly seize the excuse to change our deal."


    "Then why send us here?" Lasha gave the captain a frustrated look. "If there''s only iron to be found on the upper levels, and we cannot enter the lower levels¡­" Her voice trailed off as realization finally dawned in her eyes. "They want us to enter the lower levels?"


    The captain laughed mirthlessly. "Of course. I imagine that they expect us to mine what we can while fighting off diggers. And slow as that will be, we certainly won''t produce anywhere near enough to satisfy Kadun''s demands. If we''re lucky, we might be free in five years ¡ª at least, those of us survive that long."


    For some moments, all of them remained silent. Spending half a decade in the mines while fighting off monsters would be a disaster even if they all survived. And from the overseer''s tales, that seemed an unlikely outcome.


    Finally, Arran turned his eyes to the captain. "These diggers, what kind of creatures are they?"


    "They''re vicious monsters," the captain replied. "Eyeless beasts, eight feet long from head to tail, with skin like steel and a bite strong enough to crush rock. Legend has it that they subsist on rocks and ores that lie buried deep within the earth. But if true, that certainly hasn''t diminished their taste for flesh in the least."


    Arran nodded thoughtfully. "And are they strong enough to threaten Knights?"


    "No," the captain said. "Any of us five could easily defeat half a dozen of them, if not more. Perhaps they could overcome a Knight through sheer numbers, but I cannot even begin to imagine how many of the creatures that would take."


    For a moment, Arran remained quiet. But then, a thought came to him.


    "I should scout out the mines'' lower levels," he said. "See if the creatures are still there, and how many there are. It''ll be easier for a single person to move unnoticed."


    Lasha looked at him in astonishment. "Did the iron dust begin to rot your brain already? The overseer said even a Knight did not escape. What chance do you have?"


    The captain, however, gave Arran an appraising look. "What makes you think you can survive down there?"


    "I''ve spent some time underground," Arran replied. "I''m used to the dark. And from what the overseer said, only the deepest parts of the mines should be truly unsafe. I''m not planning to go that far."

 Chapter 335 Into Darkness

    "Are you certain you want to do this?" Captain Kaleesh looked at Arran with troubled eyes, but he did not reject the idea out of hand.


    Before Arran could answer, Lasha turned to the captain. "You actually plan to let him go through with this idiot plan?! Are you mad?!"


    "It''s not that I want this," the captain replied. "But right now, our options are few. If Arran wishes to go¡­" He did not finish the sentence, though he cast another troubled look at Arran.


    "Other than the captain, I''m the strongest among us," Arran said. "And by myself, I have a good chance of escaping even if the creatures are still around. But with a larger group, we''ll wake every single that''s lurking down there."


    It was all true, of course. A single scout''s chances would have a better chance of success than a large group, and of all the mercenaries, Arran was the most suitable for the task ¡ª even if he hadn''t been hiding his strength.


    Yet eager though he was to shorten their stay at the mines, that was not why he''d made the suggestion.


    Rather, what drew him was the dead Knight.


    The Knight who''d been sent into the mines had never returned, and although centuries had passed since then, Arran did not think anyone had claimed the body. Another Knight would certainly not risk it, and if a Lord had gone there, the mines would have been cleared of monsters.


    Which meant that the Knight''s treasures should still be there, ripe for the taking.


    At the very least, there should be a Living Shadow weapon and starmetal armor. That alone was enough to draw Arran''s greed, but what interested him even more were the Knight''s other treasures ¡ª if there were any.


    He still knew far less about Knights than he would have liked, and studying a fallen Knight''s possessions might give him the chance to finally learn something useful. For an opportunity like that, he would gladly brave whatever the mines might hold.


    Captain Kaleesh faced Arran, his expression serious. "If you make the offer of your own will, I shall not refuse it. But first, you should spend a week or two resting and preparing."


    Arran shook his head. "I''ll leave today. There''s no point in delaying. The sooner this is over with, the better."


    "Today?" Lasha made an ugly face. "Are you so eager for death that you can''t wait even a week? If you''re going to gamble with your life, at least take the time to prepare."


    "I don''t plan on dying," Arran replied. "And what''s there to prepare? I only need a good sword and a bag of supplies, and I already have one of those."


    "Then we''ll take care of the other," Captain Kaleesh said. He frowned, then added, "But perhaps some armor would be helpful, as well? Maybe a second weapon?"


    Again, Arran shook his head. "Best to travel as light as I can. And armor will be too noisy. All I need is food and water for a week or two."


    Of course, his void ring held enough supplies to sustain him for years, but that was something he could not admit. And from the looks the others gave him, he knew it couldn''t hurt to give them something to do.


    Barely an hour later, Arran stood at the entrance of the mines, a heavy leather bag slung over his shoulder and the captain and other commanders at his side.


    They''d brought the overseer, too, along with roughly a dozen of his subordinates.


    "Again," the tall man said, "this is a terrible idea. The lower levels of the mines are like a vast maze, and that''s without even considering the other dangers there."


    He put a heavy emphasis on the last few words. Although he could not speak freely with others there, it was clear that he thought Arran''s mission little more than suicide.


    "The decision''s been made," the captain said. "Now guide us inside."


    They spent the next few hours slowly making their way through the mines, and Arran soon understood that even the upper levels were much like a maze.


    Endless tunnels twisted and turned through the dense rock that lay beneath the mountains, and although they carried torches, even the overseer''s men had some trouble finding their way.


    Yet Arran needed no torches to see in the dark, and as they made their way through the tunnels, he felt a strange sense of comfort.


    After he''d emerged from the tunnels in the mountains near Amydon, he''d felt no small amount of relief at seeing the open sky again. Yet now, he was surprised to realize that descending into the earth somehow felt familiar, almost like he was meeting an old friend.


    The tunnels near the mines'' entrance had been wide, but the deeper they went, the narrower the tunnels grew. Soon, they were only barely wide enough for three men to walk abreast, and Gar had to bend his neck to avoid hitting the tunnels'' roof ¡ª a lesson he learned only after bumping his head half a dozen times.


    Finally, the tunnel they followed into a larger chamber, and the overseer came to a halt.


    "This is one of the shafts leading to the lower levels," he said, his eyes wary as he looked at the center of the chamber. "And if you insist on continuing, this is where our ways will part."


    Arran looked at the center of the chamber, where a massive iron grate covered a large hole in the ground. "It''s down there?"


    The overseer nodded. "Opening it up will be difficult, but with all of us here, it should take no more than half an hour."


    Arran shot the man an amused glance as he walked over to the grate. Then, with a single arm, he lifted the edge and pulled the grate to the side, its weight leaving deep grooves in the rocks beneath it.


    "When I''ve returned," he said, "I suggest you replace it with something heavier."


    The overseer looked at him in astonishment, but Arran paid the man no further attention. Instead, he turned to face the captain and the other three commanders.


    "If I''m not back in a week or two, you''ll know the mines are unsafe. And don''t send anyone after me. If I don''t return, the rest of you don''t stand a chance."


    "Understood," Captain Kaleesh said. "But do try to make it back alive. Good commanders are difficult to replace."


    They spent some minutes saying their goodbyes, but then, Arran knew it was time to leave.


    The climb down the shaft was difficult. While there was an iron ladder that led down, it was rusted through in many places, and several times Arran nearly fell into the depths below.


    That wasn''t necessarily a threat to him, but without knowing how deep the shaft went, it was a risk he''d rather not take. And so, he clambered down as best he could, taking care not to put too much weight on the rusted ladder.


    Some three hundred feet down, the shaft emerged into a large chamber, and as Arran entered it, he saw that there were several tunnels on the sides of the chamber.


    He chose one of these at random, and spent a good quarter-hour following it before finally coming to a halt.


    The first thing he did was to store the bag of supplies in his void ring. Although its considerable weight did not bother him, it was far too large and bulky to carry through the tunnels.


    Then, he took off the bracelet that held his shard of Living Shadow.


    "Time for you to become a sword again."


    While the weapon might not understand his words, it could sense his intent through the bond they shared, and it eagerly transformed itself into a near-exact copy of the starmetal sword he''d seized in the battle against the Darian soldiers.


    No one else would see the difference, but a grin appeared on Arran''s face when he felt the perfect balance of the Living Shadow weapon. Well-crafted though the starmetal sword might be, it was like a child''s toy compared to the executioner''s blade.


    After that, Arran continued his journey through the depths, taking care to mark his path whenever the tunnels split.


    It wasn''t long before he realized that the mines had once been rich with wealth. Through his sword, he could Sense large numbers of starmetal chunks buried deep within the rock around him. And though they were small, to anyone else they would represent an unrivaled treasure.


    But Arran had more starmetal than he could use in a lifetime stored in his void ring, and though he noticed the chunks of metal, he made no attempt to retrieve any. To him, there were far more important treasures within the mines.


    He spent half a day moving through the narrow tunnels, the dark no obstacle to his progress as he descended further and further into the depths. Yet for the first few hours, he Sensed no life around him whatsoever.


    But then, when it would already be deep into the night on the surface, he faintly Sensed two creatures in the distance.


    At once, he increased his pace, moving toward the two creatures rapidly. And as he made no attempt to conceal the sounds of his movement, it wasn''t long before he Sensed the creatures hurrying his way, doubtless eager to taste flesh for the first time in centuries.


    When he met the creatures, he briefly looked at them in wonder.


    They looked like nothing so much as giant newts, smooth-skinned and at least seven feet tall. But as he came closer, he saw that there were differences. The creatures'' limbs were longer, and they had round, smooth heads, almost like eyeless turtles.


    Arran slowed when he approached the two creatures, and as he neared cautiously moved further toward them, they snapped their large jaws at him, producing a loud sound that resembled a steel trap snapping shut.


    Now, Arran began to wonder if the captain had been right. With just a glance, he was convinced that the creatures could easily bite through rock.


    Yet Arran faced them without worry. Instead, a curious look appeared in his eyes as he drew his sword.


    "Let''s see how strong you are," he said softly as he eyed the two large creatures.


    Then, he attacked.

 Chapter 336 Diggers

    Arran attacked the two creatures cautiously, staying just out of reach of their snapping jaws as he struck at them with his sword.


    This wasn''t because he feared their power. While the creatures were strong, he''d determined almost instantly that they were no threat to him.


    Tough though their steel-like skin might be, it was no match for Arran''s Living Shadow blade, and he easily bested the creatures in speed and strength as well.


    But while killing the creatures ¡ª the diggers, as the overseer had called them ¡ª would be easy, Arran wanted to study them, first. There might be stronger ones deeper in the mines, and anything he learned now could only help him later.


    But it wasn''t long before he realized there was little to learn. While the creatures were strong and fast, they fought with the mindless viciousness of wild beasts, and fooling them was a simple matter.


    After some minutes, he decided he''d seen enough. With a single brutal blow, he struck one of the diggers across its side, leaving a deep wound that left the creature writhing on the ground in agony.


    Yet a moment later, he looked in astonishment as the other creature suddenly turned on its companion. Smelling blood, it seemed to have forgotten all about Arran, and in an instant its sharp jaws shot toward the other digger''s open wound.


    An outraged expression flashed across Arran''s face when he saw the digger tear a large chunk of flesh from its wounded companion. He fully intended to eat both the creatures, and he had no desire to share his catch.


    With all his might, he kicked the seven foot creature in its side, sending it flying two dozen paces before it crashed into the wall. Yet even with its body shattered, it struggled to get back on its feet ¡ª an effort that came to an abrupt end when Arran rammed his sword through the beast''s skull.


    Arran finished off the other creature as well, then let out a deep sigh.


    Now, he understood why Captain Kaleesh had been puzzled when the overseer told them the reason for the lower levels'' closure had been diggers. Because while the creatures were by no means weak, strong Body Refiners should have little difficulty killing them.


    But as he gave the matter some thought, Arran realized things weren''t that simple. While he could kill the creatures with ease, neither the Darian soldiers nor the Wolfsblood Company would have it quite as easy.


    If a handful of diggers attacked a group of Darian soldiers, the soldiers would doubtless be victorious, but not without losing some men.


    A single such battle would hardly be a disaster. But if the diggers kept coming day after day, taking the lives of miners and guards with each attack, it wouldn''t be long before even the toughest men would start to dread the mines.


    From what little Arran had seen of the creatures, he already knew they lacked the intelligence to fear death. In that sense, they reminded him of the juvenile dragon he''d once encountered ¡ª a creature of pure, mindless hunger.


    The memory brought a frown to Arran''s face.


    Dragons, too, ate their own kind. That was one of the things that allowed them to grow incomparably powerful. If diggers were the same, then the depths below might hold things far more powerful than Arran had expected.


    But then, a Knight had fallen in these depths. Which meant that whatever lurked in the depths, it had to be powerful.


    Arran spent some minutes butchering the two dead diggers. Then, when he''d gathered a sizable pile of pale meat, he unsealed his Fire Realm and used Fire Essence to roast a large chunk of it.


    He tasted the meat with some hesitation, but to his surprise, the taste wasn''t bad at all. Like chicken or lizard, the meat was somewhat bland but not unpleasant. And more importantly, it was rich in Natural Essence.


    His spirits lifted by the unexpected windfall, Arran gathered up the meat and stored it in his void ring, then quickly continued his journey through the tunnels.


    He encountered several more diggers in the hours that followed, either moving alone or in small groups. And with each group he encountered, he studied the creatures before killing them and moving on.


    While the diggers lacked eyes, he soon realized their other senses more than made up for that. The slightest sound was enough to draw their attention, and even when he stood perfectly still, it was as if they could smell his presence.


    At first, this didn''t pose too much of a problem. The creatures were easily defeated, and a good half-hour passed between each group he encountered.


    Yet the further he descended, the more numerous the diggers grew. And although he still slaughtered them with ease, the noise of each fight drew the attention of others, slowing his progress and drawing even more of the creatures.


    Moreover, the creatures lower in the tunnels were stronger and faster as well, and Arran sustained several wounds as he fought his way further down.


    For Arran, this wasn''t much of a problem. The blood-imbued Dragon''s Ruin meant that each creature''s death nourished his body, allowing him to heal even as he fought.


    But he knew that for the soldiers who''d been tasked with clearing the mines centuries earlier, the situation must have been dire. Each hard-won victory would have only brought them more enemies, their numbers slowly dwindling with each pace they advanced.


    As Arran imagined it, he could not help but feel sorry for the Darians who had died here. To them, the dark tunnels must have been like a hell on earth.


    Yet his own experience was markedly different. Even if he was slightly frustrated with the slow pace, he killed the creatures avidly, making sure to gather their meat after each battle.


    A bemused smile crossed his face when he pondered the situation.


    After leaving Amydon, he''d spent months hunting creatures that were rich in Natural Essence. Yet now, they came to him willingly, almost as if they were eager to help him build his supplies.


    He spent well over a day clearing the mines'' lower levels of diggers. And with the creatures'' deaths feeding his strength, he felt not even the slightest bit of weariness.


    Yet eventually, their numbers began to thin. And although Arran''s Sense told him that he''d already explored most of the tunnels the mines'' lower levels held, he still hadn''t discovered where the creatures came from.


    He knew that the creatures must have come from somewhere ¡ª they couldn''t just have appeared in the mines. But where they came from, he could not figure out.


    When he could find no more creatures to kill, he reluctantly came to a halt, then set up a small camp deep within the tunnels, which he protected with several wards that should alert him to any danger.


    After that, he ate a large meal of fresh digger meat, stuffing himself until he could eat no more. And then, he took some blankets from his void ring, and tried his best to fall asleep.


    He was awoken several hours later when a digger crossed through one of his wards. At once, he got to his feet, killing the beast even while his mind was still clouded with sleep.


    The fight was brief, but just loud enough to draw the attention of other diggers. And for the next quarter-hour, Arran laboriously finished off these new enemies.


    Arran was well awake by the time the last digger died, and this time, he ignored the fresh batch meat that had presented itself to him so willingly.


    Instead, he frowned in wonder at the creatures'' unexpected appearance. Just hours earlier, the tunnels had been all but empty of the creatures. Yet now, dozens more had appeared.


    Or rather, hundreds. Because as Arran spread out his Sense, he realized the tunnels once more held numerous diggers.


    At once, he realized the tunnels must be connected to another space ¡ª a place that held far more of the creatures he''d spent the last day fighting. And if he was right, that would be the place where the Knight had died.


    Of course, that still left Arran with the task of finding it. But this time, he knew where to look.


    With the help of his sword''s Sense, he sought out the area of the tunnels that held the largest number of diggers. And when he was confident he''d found it, he set off at a hurry.


    This time, he wasted no time gathering the diggers'' meat as he slaughtered his way through them. He advanced at a hurried pace, ruthlessly cutting down any of the creatures that got in his way, eager to find where they''d come from.


    Although he knew where to look, the search still took him longer than he would have liked ¡ª and no wonder, because when he finally found what he sought, he saw that it was a crack within the tunnels'' walls that appeared to be little more than a dead end.


    He''d already passed it the previous day, but had paid it no attention as he fought his way past it. Yet this time, he saw that the crack continued deeper than he''d realized. And without hesitation, he stepped inside.


    The natural tunnel was small and narrow, forcing Arran to bend his neck as he made his way through. And it was longer than he''d expected, too. Yet after several miles, he suddenly Sensed something ahead.


    With wide eyes, he realized there was a vast cavern at the end of the narrow tunnel ¡ª miles wide, if not more. And within, there were thousands of diggers.

 Chapter 337 Battle

    When Arran Sensed the large cavern ahead, he came to an immediate halt.


    While the creatures in the cavern were diggers, many were far larger than any of the ones he had encountered so far.


    Within the mines, even the largest diggers were no more than eight feet from head to tail. But in the cavern, some of the creatures he Sensed were easily five times that size, if not larger.


    Arran did not need to guess why he''d seen none of the larger creatures within the mines. There was no way they''d possibly fit through the narrow tunnel that connected the cavern to the mines.


    And it was equally easy to see why, centuries earlier, the Darian soldiers had struggled to find the source of their problem. Dark and filled with cracks and crevices as the mines were, Body Refiners without Arran''s Sense would have taken the tunnel for a dark corner even if they''d walked right past it.


    Yet while they fought and killed the diggers, more would enter the mines through the tunnel. And against those endless numbers, soldiers would not stand a chance.


    That only left the question of what had happened to the Knight. But here, too, Arran thought he knew the answer.


    Within the large cavern that lay a quarter mile ahead of him, he could Sense several pieces of starmetal, shaped like weapons and armor. If these had belonged to the Knight, as he expected, it meant his predecessor had fallen within the cavern.


    That the creatures had the strength to defeat a Knight did not surprise him.


    While he could not imagine even the larger diggers to be a threat individually, the sound of battle would immediately attract every single one of the creatures the cavern held.


    Though the Knight had doubtless been powerful, that was a fight no ordinary fighter could have won. Each wound the Knight sustained would have slowed and weakened him, and with thousands of opponents, it would only have been a matter of time before he was overwhelmed.


    Yet the thought of this did not deter Arran from continuing onward.


    While he was unsure whether he could match a Knight in pure strength or skill, he had an advantage that gave him far greater chances ¡ª one that the dead Knight had lacked.


    Arran''s blood held the blood-imbued Dragon''s Ruin. And while large numbers of weak enemies might be a threat to warriors far stronger than Arran, they posed no threat whatsoever to him. Rather, their deaths would fuel his strength and heal his wounds, and the more there were, the stronger the effect would be.


    And with thousands of diggers in the cavern, there would be no lack of fuel for Arran''s fury.


    The only way his advantage could have been greater was if the diggers relied on sight rather than sound. Had that been the case, his Shadowcloak would have stopped them from even knowing what was killing them.


    But the Dragon''s Ruin alone was enough for Arran to be confident in his chances. Even if the larger creatures were stronger than he expected, killing the smaller ones would provide him with the strength to slay the others.


    He briefly considered how he would approach the cavern ¡ª whether he would attempt to sneak in silently and remain hidden for as long as he could, or whether he would charge in with his sword drawn, unleashing a massacre from the moment he stepped inside.


    The decision was a quick one. In the battle ahead, chaos and bloodshed would only help him. And besides ¡ª he''d spent far too long without being able to use all his power.


    As Arran advanced through the final part of the tunnel, he could feel his sword''s desire for battle.


    Whether this was because it longed for bloodshed or because it could feel Arran''s own eagerness, he did not know, nor did it matter ¡ª whatever the case, both the sword and its owner approached the cavern with an almost fiendish desire for battle.


    Arran emerged from the tunnel without stealth or subterfuge, and almost immediately, his approach drew the attention of a dozen nearby diggers.


    The first of these died in an instant, Arran''s blade cleaving through its skull before it even had a chance to attack. And while the others had a moment before Arran fell upon them, it did not matter in the slightest.


    Neither the creatures'' steel-like skin nor the pale flesh beneath it so much as slowed his blade as he cut them down, for once using all the strength his body held.


    A dozen diggers died in as many seconds, and as the life fled their writhing bodies, Arran could feel a trickle of strength entering him.


    There was no time for him to savor the feeling, however, as the racket had drawn the attention of other nearby groups of diggers. And already, hundreds more were scrambling toward him, the muffled sound of their movement echoing through the cavern.


    Arran met the creatures with a wicked smile and an eager blade. Too much time had passed since he''d last used his full strength. Now that he had the chance, he would not hold back in the slightest.


    The creatures attacked him with a vicious hunger, their sharp jaws snapping at him as they tried to devour him. Yet instead of the prey they hoped for, they found only death, Arran''s blade tearing through their bodies with a viciousness they could not hope to match.


    The trickle of strength Arran had felt earlier soon swelled to a stream, and then a river. And as his strength grew, so did his joyous fury.


    Wherever he went, he left only death in his wake. And if he''d been powerful even when he stepped into the cavern, now, he controlled an irresistible might, the power at his command far beyond anything he normally possessed.


    It wasn''t long before the larger monsters began to attack him, but they, too, had no chance of withstanding his power. While they might match Rangers in single battle, Arran''s power had grown far beyond that level. And with each enemy he slew, his strength grew further.


    The feeling was not unlike what he''d experienced years earlier, when uncontrolled Blood magic had coursed through his veins.


    Yet now, even while his body was trembling with power, his mind did not falter. However much strength the blood-infused Dragon''s Ruin gave him, it remained his to control.


    Still, even without Blood magic clouding his mind, the feeling of power filled him with excitement. It was enough power to give him the confidence to face even dragons, and against the diggers, it felt as if he was a god facing mortals.


    Arran did not know how long the battle continued, nor did he care. He felt no weariness or pain as he fought the monsters. Any wounds he received healed in moments, and as the hours passed, the creatures'' deaths filled him with strength and energy.


    Had there been enough enemies, he had no doubt he''d eventually have reached the strength to face even gods.


    But although the creatures were many, their numbers weren''t endless. And eventually, after hours and hours of battle, the creatures'' numbers were beginning to grow thinner.


    The cavern''s floor had long filled with corpses, and the sounds of slaughter had drawn diggers from even the furthest corners of the cave. Now, all that remained were a few hundred of the creatures, and many of those were focused on devouring their companions'' dead bodied instead of fighting Arran.


    But suddenly, a thunderous sound came from the far end of the cavern, and Arran was briefly stunned when he realized part of the cavern''s wall had collapsed.


    Yet before he had a chance to even worry about the entire cavern collapsing, similar sounds came from two more places.


    It took only a moment before Arran realized what had happened. It wasn''t that the cavern was collapsing. Rather, three giant diggers had broken through the walls of the cavern, and all three of the creatures were now moving toward him.


    In an instant, Arran knew that these creatures were nothing like the diggers he''d faced so far. Rather than being dozens of feet tall, these were hundreds of feet tall ¡ª the size of small dragons.


    But that wasn''t all. He realized at once that they were more intelligent than the ones that now lay dead on the cavern''s rock floor. Rather than being distracted by the other creatures'' corpses, they moved straight toward Arran, intent clear in their movements.


    Under any other circumstance, Arran would have fled at once. These creatures were far beyond anything he could normally defeat.


    Yet as the creatures advanced toward him, his body was still filled with the strength of the thousands of lives he''d taken. And now, it seemed, he''d finally found worthy opponents for that strength.


    A small smile crossed Arran''s lips as he looked at the towering beasts before him. And then, sword in hand, he rushed toward them.

 Chapter 338 Three Monsters

    Despite the overwhelming power that coursed through Arran''s veins as he charged the creature nearest to him, he did not allow himself to be careless.


    Perhaps the creature could not quite compare to a dragon like the one Crassus had slain, but it wasn''t far off, either. Even with a Living Shadow weapon, just seriously injuring it would be a difficult task.


    And then, if he defeated it, there were another two left.


    But with battle already upon him, all he could do was focus on the moment. And before anything else, he would have to test whether the creature''s strength and speed matched its size.


    He ran toward the giant beast with his sword raised, eyes fixed on its movements. Yet while the creature could clearly sense his approach, it did not respond, remaining still ¡ª almost as if it was waiting for him.


    But then, when he came within twenty feet of it, a sudden twitch of motion ran through the creature''s massive body.


    At once, Arran darted to the side ¡ª just in time to avoid the giant claw that slammed down next to him, tearing a two foot deep gash within the rock.


    Although the creature''s surpassed what he''d expected, he did not pause to marvel at it. Instead, he rushed at the beast''s other foreleg, swinging his blade at its armored skin with all his might.


    His first strike achieved little. While his blade tore through the giant digger''s skin with ease, the creature was simply too large, its muscles and bone buried too deep beneath its skin for Arran''s sword to reach.


    But Arran wasn''t so easily repelled. In an instant, half a dozen more attacks fell on the creature''s leg as Arran furiously hacked into it, the Living Shadow blade tearing through the creature''s skin and shredding the flesh that lay beneath.


    Then, he jumped back ¡ª and not a moment too soon, because even as he moved away, the creature''s giant jaws crashed into the ground where he had stood, crushing the dense rock beneath with a deafening sound.


    The attack would have killed Arran if it hit him, but now, a vicious smile appeared on his face when he saw his chance.


    Without hesitation, he jumped on the creature''s barn-sized head, then rammed his blade into the beast''s skull with all his might.


    A lesser opponent would have died right then, but this creature was no common monster. It screeched in anger at the attack, then violently moved its head, desperately trying to shake off its tiny attacker.


    Yet Arran''s sword was embedded in its skull up to the hilt, and as the creature furiously shook its head, he held on as best he could.


    The violent motion continued for some moments, but the beast''s desperate attempts to throw Arran off only worsened its condition. Each time it moved, the blade embedded in its skulled moved as well, further aggravating the already grievous wound.


    Then, suddenly, the titanic creature''s movements came to a stop, and its vast body collapsed a moment later, falling to the ground like a puppet with its strings cut.


    Perhaps the damage had finally become too much, or perhaps some vital part of its brain had been destroyed, but either way, it died in an instant.


    Arran felt a surge of energy entering his body as the creature died, but he had no time to savor the feeling. Because as the creature collapsed, one of the other two arrived. And as he pulled his blade free from the creature''s body, a giant claw slammed into his body.


    The blow hit Arran like an avalanche crashing into a straw shed, knocking him a hundred paces away and sending his body sprawling across the ground.


    Pain surged through his body as he hit the rock floor, and he knew instantly that dozens of his bones had been broken or even shattered.


    At any other time, the attack might have crippled or even killed him. But after slaughtering thousands of diggers, there was little punishment his body could not withstand.


    He felt his bones heal even as they were broken, and although the pain caused him to scream in anguish, his body recovered in an instant.


    He shuddered as he got back to his feet, his mind still reeling with the pain he''d felt only seconds earlier. Yet there was no time to dwell on it ¡ª although he''d killed one of the creatures, two more remained.


    He eyed the two creatures warily. While he''d recovered from this attack easily, he could not help but wonder what would happen if he lost a limb ¡ª or worse.


    Whatever power he''d gained from killing thousands of diggers, he had little faith that it would heal him if either of the remaining creatures'' massive jaws snapped him in half.


    But the two creatures seemed to be in no rush to attack him, either. Instead, they kept their distance, facing him without advancing.


    Once more, Arran realized that these vast creatures were more intelligent than their smaller cousins. While he''d overwhelmed the first before it had a chance to defend itself, it seemed the remaining two had no wish to meet the same fate.


    The two sides faced off silently, and Arran felt some unease when he considered his position.


    He was confident in facing either of the creatures alone, but against both of them, he was at a disadvantage. If he attacked one, the other would seize the chance to strike at him, and he now knew they had the power to kill him.


    Yet he couldn''t draw out the fight for hours, either. Right now, he was still filled with the power of his earlier massacre, but most of that strength was only temporary. Some small part of it would strengthen him permanently, but the bulk of it would be gone in a matter of hours.


    Worse still, he could sense that healing his injuries had used up a sizable chunk of his strength. Much still remained, but if he went head to head with the creatures, he knew would run out of power sooner rather than later.


    But the creatures didn''t know any of this. And that, Arran realized, still gave him a chance of victory.


    Alien though the creatures were to Arran, as he looked at them, he saw that their movements betrayed something he recognized as fear. Fear of the foe that had slain their companion so easily.


    Despite the danger of the situation, he could not help but smile at the irony. Had these two creatures been as mindless as the smaller diggers, they would have attacked at once ¡ª and most likely defeated him.


    But instead, they had enough intelligence to fear the fate that had befallen their companion. And now, that fear was the one thing that gave Arran a chance of defeating them.


    He knew he had to move quickly. While the creatures feared him now, they would surely grow more confident if he failed to attack. Eventually, they would take the initiative, and then, Arran''s only choice would be to flee back to the mines.


    That was something he had no intention of allowing to happen. Not with the treasures he sought almost within reach.


    Once more, he approached the creatures. First at a jog, then accelerating to a run as he drew closer.


    Vast though the creatures were, they hesitated at his attack, with one of the two titanic beasts even taking several steps backward. And no wonder ¡ª though it was many times Arran''s size, a similar beast lay dead just a hundred paces away.


    Arran''s run turned into a sprint as he came upon the nearest creature, and he dodged and turned as the behemoth lashed out with its claws and tore through the cavern''s dense rock as if it were paper.


    Yet Arran narrowly avoided the attacks, and a moment later, he was underneath the creature.


    This, he knew, was his only chance of winning ¡ª to stay so close that his enemies'' size became a hindrance to them.


    He ran beneath the beast, sword slashing at its legs and belly. This time, he did not linger long enough to do serious damage ¡ª with both of the creatures swiping at him with their claws, to stand still for even a moment would mean death.


    After some moments of this, the monster seemed to recognize its disadvantageous position, and it moved to retreat, to get Arran out in the open where both creatures could freely attack him.


    Arran had no intention of allowing this to happen. He circled the creature''s legs, forcing the other creature to hold back its attacks for fear of injuring its ally.


    Yet while the colossal creature lacked Arran''s speed and agility, having to dodge both creatures'' attacks hindered Arran greatly. With giant claws tearing through the rock just feet away from him, much of his attention was occupied merely keeping himself from being torn apart.


    Despite his best efforts, he could not prevent the creature from moving away. Just a few more moments, and it would be clear of him entirely.


    That was something he could not let happen.


    Out in the open, he had no hope of matching these opponents. Their reach alone would make it all but impossible to defend himself, and if they were able to use their full strength, he had no chance of winning.


    Lacking any better options, he quickly jumped on the creature''s side, using his sword for leverage as he clambered up its back, leaving a trail of deep wounds behind him.


    But this time, he could not ram his sword into the creature''s body to steady himself ¡ª not without giving the other creature the chance to strike him. And as the monster violently shook its body, Arran was sent flying.


    Before he even hit the ground, he was hit by the other creature''s claws, swatted from the air like a fly. The blow was strong enough to break several of his bones, and even more injuries followed when he crashed into the ground.


    He got to his feet in an instant, his wounds once more healed immediately. Yet although he remained uninjured, he could feel that he''d lost another portion of his strength.


    Again, he charged forward, focusing his fury on the injured beast as he dodged the other''s attacks. But although he spent several minutes further injuring his foe, it was not enough ¡ª the beast remained on its feet, barely even slowed by the wounds Arran had caused it.


    And then, Arran was struck again.


    He rose to his feet with an angry shout, furious at his inability to defeat his opponents. By themselves, he could defeat either one with ease. But together, they left Arran unable to do enough damage to decide the fight.


    This repeated several times, with Arran growing increasingly frustrated as he felt the strength steadily seep from his body. If this continued, he would have no choice but to flee. And once he fled, there was no going back ¡ª not without thousands of diggers to grant him strength.


    It seemed that the creatures had finally recognized their advantage, as well.


    Although the injured beast was now noticeably slower than before, its many wounds did not deter it in the slightest. Meanwhile, the other monster was growing increasingly vicious, now charging at Arran whenever he wavered for even a moment.


    Face twisted in frustration, Arran groaned when he realized he was losing the battle.


    Despite his strength, and despite his weapon, he was slowly losing whatever advantage he might have held at the start. At this rate, he would soon be at risk of losing even his life.


    And so, he began to retreat, steadily moving backward after each exchange, rising to his feet slower than before after every blow he took.


    Yet the direction he retreated in wasn''t that of the tunnel through which he''d entered the cavern. Instead, he moved in the opposite direction, steadily heading even further into the dark depths.


    A mile passed, and then another. And while Arran caused the injured creature a few more wounds, those merely slowed it down. However much pain it might feel, its anger far surpassed it.


    The other creature, meanwhile, was growing mad with bloodlust. Sensing victory within its grasp, it no longer held back in attacking and chasing Arran. And if most of its attacks only tore deep wounds into the cavern''s rock floor, some still struck true, sapping Arran''s strength even further.


    When he''d gone two miles into the cavern''s vast darkness, Arran slowly got to his feet after suffering yet another attack. Already, his foes were moving in on him, eager to seize their impending victory.


    Yet Arran had no intention of being killed by the creatures.


    "You want to kill me, you pair of overgrown worms?" he yelled. "Then catch me!"


    At once, he set off at a sprint, moving back toward the tunnel as fast as his legs would carry him. And behind him, he heard the thunderous sound of his enemies pursuing him.


    But while they might be stronger than he was, he still held the advantage in speed, and it wasn''t long before the thunderous sounds of their footsteps grew distant.


    When Arran reached the tunnel that led back to the mines, he came to a halt and took some moments to catch his breath. Then, instead of moving inside, he turned around, a small smirk appearing on his face as he readied his blade.


    Just a few moments later, the unwounded monster appeared, viciously charging at Arran as it shrieked in rage. But then, it came to a sudden halt barely fifty paces away from its quarry, its movements suddenly filled with hesitation.


    "Finally caught on, have you?"


    Only one of the colossal creatures stood before Arran. The other one, meanwhile, was still well over a mile behind, slowed by the wounds that had failed to kill it.


    And while Arran''s strength was waning, there was still far more of it left than he''d revealed ¡ª more than enough to defeat the monsters one on one.


    He attacked without hesitation, rushing toward the giant creature with a bared blade in his hand and a vicious grin on his face. Hours of battle had taught him much about how the creatures moved and fought, and now, he put that knowledge to good use.


    In an instant, the roles were reversed.


    Strong though the giant digger might be, it had no answer to Arran''s speed and agility ¡ª not without a second creature to protect it. And as it desperately tried to hit Arran, the Living Shadow sword cut dozens of deep wounds into its body.


    After only moments of this, the creature knew it could not win, and it turned to run ¡ª to flee the tiny demon with the impossibly sharp blade.


    But it was already too late. Even as it moved to escape, Arran clambered onto its back, his sword leaving a path of wounds as he moved toward the creature''s head.


    This time, there was no shaking him off ¡ª not when he could ram his sword into the beast''s body to steady himself. And as he moved toward the monster''s head, there was nothing it could do but shriek in fear and despair.


    The other creature arrived some minutes later, but by then, its companion was already long dead, its skull pierced in a dozen places by Arran''s blade.


    The last giant monster barely put up a fight. Wounded and tired, it made no attempt to flee. When it finally collapsed to the ground, it almost seemed relieved to be put out of its misery.


    After the final creature stopped moving, Arran spent several minutes staring at the giant bodies. And as he did, he could not help but feel a sense of awe.


    He now knew that each of these creatures had been every bit as strong as the dragon Crassus had slain for him. But while he''d been unable to finish even that single enemy by himself back then, now, he''d killed three such creatures by himself.


    He could not have done it without the blood-infused Dragon''s Ruin, of course. But then, that was as much a part of him as his own hands ¡ª more so, perhaps, since it was present in every single drop of his blood.


    Moreover, in the large battles he expected to see when war broke out, there would be plenty of enemies to fuel his strength.


    He''d spent years without fighting a single serious battle, and although he''d known that he''d progressed no small amount, he still found himself surprised by just how much stronger he''d become.


    With power like this, he would not be a mere pawn in the war between the Ninth Valley and the Hunters. He''d be an actual threat even to the strongest of his enemies.


    There were still many powers he could not hope to match, but for the first time, he felt like he might actually warrant the title of Master.


    He shook himself from these idle thoughts after only a moment. There was plenty of work to do in the cavern ¡ª gather the monsters'' meat, find the Knight''s remains and armor, and figure out what had happened to the Knight''s shard of Living Shadow.


    Because although he could Sense pieces of starmetal scattered throughout the cavern, he had yet to detect even a hint of the Knight''s most important treasure.


    That was a matter of later concern, however. First, he would need to butcher the three giant creatures he''d slain. And that would be no small task.


    Yet as he was about to start the work, he felt a sudden chill in the air, and a shiver of unease ran down his spine.


    "What strange sort of creature are you?" a soft voice sounded behind him.


    Arran turned around with a start, and his breath halted when he saw a woman barely a dozen paces away from him. She was black-haired and deathly pale, with eyes that were a milky white and held no pupils.


    Neither Arran nor his sword had Sensed anything before, but as he faced the woman, he realized that at her side, there was a dagger-shaped shard of Living Shadow.

 Chapter 339 The Blood Ruin

    A strong sense of dread filled Arran as he looked at the pale woman before him.


    As far as his Sense was concerned, she was nothing but a commoner. And yet, even ignoring her strange appearance, he knew at once that she was terrifyingly powerful.


    He subconsciously took two steps backward before stopping himself ¡ª whatever she was, running would do little to help him, and it might risk offending her.


    Yet while Arran''s gaze was fearful, the woman''s expression was one of curiosity.


    "You bear the legacy of Mardek," she said. "But it''s twisted with the power of Narzhan''s blood. What are you?"


    His fear momentarily forgotten, Arran stared at her in bewilderment. Neither of the names meant anything to him, yet the woman seemed to think he was somehow connected to these people ¡ª if that was what they were.


    Either way, he could not let the misunderstanding remain. If the woman thought he tried to deceive her, no good would come of it.


    "I don''t know either of those names," he said carefully, brow furrowed in a deep frown. "Who are they?"


    "You carry my brothers'' gifts, yet you claim not to know their names?" Anger briefly flashed across the woman''s face, but when she recognized that Arran''s confusion was genuine, amusement took its place. "You truly don''t know, do you?"


    Arran shook his head. "I don''t."


    At this, the pale woman let out a laugh ¡ª a dreadful sound that sent a shiver down Arran''s spine. And when her white eyes returned to Arran, her expression was one of malicious delight.


    "Their memory is fading already?" Gesturing at her body, she said, "This one, she still knew their names. But you say you''ve never heard of them?" Again, she laughed. "Those fools. To have thought themselves gods, wasting their lives for a people who''d forget them so quickly."


    Arran was deeply uncomfortable with the situation, but he could not restrain his curiosity. As dangerous as he knew the woman was, he was certain that she could answer many of his questions ¡ª some of which he hadn''t even known he had until a moment ago.


    "The gifts you mentioned," he began, his voice hesitant. "Do you mean the Dragon''s Ruin?"


    "Mardek''s legacy has been named many things," she replied. "But I am not here to answer your questions. For the diversion you provided me today, I will grant you your life. Collect your spoils, then leave my domain. Do not return."


    Before Arran could respond, she seemed to fade into the shadows, disappearing from his view entirely just an instant later.


    For several moments, he stood silently, eyes fixed on the spot where the woman had just stood. Yet no sign of her remained. As far as his eyes and Sense could tell, she''d never been there at all, and even his sword detected nothing.


    Arran could not help but be shocked by the casual display of power. His Sense was strong enough that no common mage should be able to fool it, and his sword''s Sense should see through even the strongest mages'' disguises.


    And yet, the woman had vanished before his eyes. Which could only mean that her powers far exceeded not just his own, but those of virtually any mage he''d ever encountered.


    The two self-proclaimed gods, Panurge and Senecio, could likely do the same. And although he couldn''t be certain, Arran suspected that Master Zhao was capable of such feats as well.


    But other than those three, he didn''t know a single mage he believed capable of evading his sword''s Sense so easily. Not even Karanos, who''d spent untold years within the Shadow Realm.


    The thought was a discomfiting one, but Arran quickly put it aside.


    The woman had told him to collect his spoils and leave the cavern, and that was exactly what he intended to do. Once he''d returned to the relative safety of the mines, there would be plenty of time to ponder everything that had happened.


    At once, he set off to retrieve the pieces of starmetal he''d earlier Sensed within the cavern.


    Much as he''d expected, they turned out to be pieces of armor, many of them still attached to torn pieces of dark leather. The armor that had failed to protect the Knight, he knew.


    Yet he found no trace of the Knight''s other possessions. This was a disappointment to Arran, but not a surprise. He understood that the strange woman had somehow taken the Knight''s body for herself, and it seemed that with the body, she''d also taken the Knight''s possessions.


    Briefly, he wondered whether the Knight had still been alive when her body was taken, and found that neither possibility made him the least bit more comfortable.


    Rather than dwelling on the issue, he quickly turned his attention to his next task ¡ª butchering the three giant creatures he''d slain and gathering their meat.


    While he''d prefer to leave the cavern sooner rather than later, that was something he could not skip. He''d lacked proper food ever since he emerged from the Shadow Realm, and now that he''d finally found a replacement for his dragon meat, he would not soon abandon it.


    The task took him well over a day of hard labor. The work was difficult to begin with, and as most of the strength he''d gained from killing a cavern full of diggers faded away, it became even harder.


    When he finally finished the work, he could not help but smile in satisfaction.


    The giant diggers'' meat was nearly as potent as the dragon''s meat he''d lost, but the amount was far greater ¡ª enough to last him a very long lifetime, if he figured out a way to keep it from going bad.


    He cast a last look at the vast, dark cavern. He knew that there were other tunnels to explore, leading even deeper underground ¡ª perhaps to even greater challenges and rewards.


    Yet to go any further would certainly draw the pale woman''s ire, and he had no illusions about his ability to match her.


    He sighed, then turned to the narrow tunnel that would lead him back to the mines. And as he approached it, he drew his sword.


    When he entered the tunnel, he did not hurry in making his way back to the mines. Instead, he laboriously collapsed the tunnel behind him as he progressed, his Living Shadow blade crushing and cutting through the rock with ease.


    It was slow work, and twice, part of the tunnel collapsed on top of him, forcing him to dig his way through tons of rock. Yet he could not risk leaving the passage open ¡ª not if the mercenaries were to spend months mining beneath the mountains.


    Although he''d cleared the cavern of diggers, he did not believe they were the only creatures that lurked in the depths. And whatever else would enter the cavern in their absence might well be worse.


    The task took him nearly two days, and when he finally stepped into the mines once more, he was swaying on his feet with exhaustion.


    The strength he''d gained from killing thousands of diggers was long gone, and although some small part of it had strengthened him permanently, that wasn''t enough to erase the fatigue of the previous half-week.


    He only barely managed to put up some wards, and then, without even bothering to lay down blankets, he fell asleep on the cold rock floor.


    Without the sky to tell him the time, he did not know how long he slept. Yet when he awoke, his exhaustion was gone and hunger had taken its place.


    This was easily remedied, since he now possessed a supply of meat that would make even the cooks of the Ninth Valley exclaim in astonishment. And he did not hold back in making full use of it, eating digger meat until his body felt like it could burst if he so much as took another bite.


    Then, rested and nourished, he leaned back against the tunnel wall and turned his thoughts to the events of the previous days.


    Even now, he felt some unease when he remembered the pale woman ¡ª or rather, the being that had taken the Knight''s body for itself.


    While she hadn''t told him much, what little she''d said raised numerous questions in Arran''s mind.


    Foremost among these was the identity of Mardek and Narzhan ¡ª the people or creatures whose legacies he supposedly carried. He had little doubt of what these legacies were ¡ª the Dragon''s Ruin and the Blood magic that had tainted it.


    He''d believed the two were entirely separate things, combined through sheer chance, with one an innate power of dragons and the other some dark kind of magic. Yet from the woman''s words, it sounded like their original sources were different ones ¡ª ones related to what the woman had called her brothers.


    This, at least, made sense to Arran. He''d long wondered how the two powers could have combined so perfectly. But if their ultimate origins were similar in nature, then it made more sense for them to have merged so well.


    And that they had merged well, he knew for a fact. In truth, what he had no longer fully resembled either of the powers he''d received. It wasn''t so much a blood-infused Dragon Ruin that coursed through his veins, but something new altogether.


    A frown crossed Arran''s face, and after a moment''s thought, he decided that it was perhaps better called a Blood Ruin ¡ª because although it filled his blood with power, if the world discovered it, it would ruin him as surely as the Dragon''s Ruin ruined dragons.


    Brow creased in thought, he remembered the woman''s other words ¡ª how her supposed brothers had thought themselves gods, and wasted their lives for a people who would not appreciate the gift.


    At once, Arran was reminded of the Imperium''s priests. He''d long wondered what gods they worshipped, and now, he thought he might have the beginning of an answer.


    Of course, if that answer was right, it only added to his problems. Because if what the Imperium worshipped as gods were real beings, then the aid they provided might be more than just the strength of faith.


    It was a thoroughly unpleasant thought, and one that caused him serious concerns ¡ª both for his own mission and for the Ninth Valley''s chances against the Imperium. If the Imperium had beings strong enough to call themselves gods on its side, then the situation might be even bleaker than he already thought.


    Yet Arran knew that there was nothing to gain from despair.


    When he returned to the surface, he would have to find some Darian priests and try to learn what he could about their gods.


    That, at least, should be a simple matter. Finding a priest willing to extol the virtues of his gods should be as easy as finding a dog willing to chew a bone. All he would need was to feign a sufficient amount of piety.


    Still, he could not help but sigh when he thought about the work ahead. He''d have to study the Forms, find more information about the Imperium, train the mercenaries he commanded, and question the Darian priests about their gods.


    And most importantly, he would have to address the weaknesses he''d found in his fighting skills during the battle. Because although he had achieved victory, the fight had allowed him to see several problems that had previously slipped his attention.


    Again, he sighed deeply. But then, he stood up from the ground, and began to make his way back to the surface.

 Chapter 340 A Warm Welcome

    As Arran made his way back to the mines'' upper levels, he took care not to kill any of the few diggers that still remained alive within the mines.


    Instead, he avoided them as best he could, while also making sure to leave several dozens of small digger corpses scattered throughout the dark tunnels ¡ª enough to make it seem like he''d done his best in clearing the mines, but not so many that others would grow suspicious of his strength.


    When he neared the upper levels, he retrieved the bag the mercenaries had prepared for him from his void ring, then relieved it of most of its contents before slinging it over his shoulder.


    He did not switch out his sword, however. The Living Shadow weapon resembled his starmetal sword so perfectly that none but Arran would see the difference, and his control of its transformations was still too unsteady for him to rely on in battle.


    While Karanos had been able to transform his shard of Living Shadow in an instant, Arran''s weapon wasn''t nearly as quick in responding to his wishes. When he''d crossed the border into the Imperium, it had taken him a full hour to get it to turn into a bracelet.


    Fortunately, it was faster in taking the shape of a sword, but even that task took it well over a minute. In battle, that was time he would not have.


    He expected that as his bond to the weapon strengthened and his experience with it grew, his control would eventually reach the point where he could copy Karanos''s feats.


    But right now, that was still far away.


    When he reached the shaft leading up to the mines'' upper levels, he found it exactly as he''d left it, with no sign that anyone ¡ª or anything ¡ª had passed while he was in the depths below.


    After a last look at the darkness around him, he sealed off his Realms, then made his way back up the shaft, cautious as he clambered along the rusty ladder that led back to the mines'' upper levels.


    The climb was slow but easy, and it wasn''t long before he reached the top of the shaft.


    To his surprise, the thick steel grate hadn''t been put back in place. Yet as he emerged into the tunnels, he saw at once that the upper levels had been well-protected all the same. Because, just a few dozen paces from the chasm in the rock, he saw Captain Kaleesh and the other three commanders.


    The four were sat on the ground next to a small fire, and no small amount of bottles stood around them ¡ª many of which appeared to be empty.


    As he emerged, a triumphant look appeared on Gar''s face. "Told you he''d make it," he said with a glance at Lasha. "Now pay up."


    Lasha reached into her coat and tossed Gar a shiny coin, a trace of relief on her face. "Glad I was wrong."


    The captain, however, looked at Arran with curious eyes. "Did you find anything?"


    Arran nodded. "Lots of diggers," he said. "I killed most of them, though I doubt I got them all. But once those are dead, the lower levels should be safe."


    "Oh?" Captain Kaleesh gave Arran a questioning look. "Then you found out where they came from?"


    "I did," Arran confirmed. "There was a small crack in the rocks at the lowest part of the mines, with a long tunnel behind it. Easy enough to miss, in the dark."


    "Then you succeeded where a Knight failed?" The captain''s tone wasn''t suspicious, exactly, but it held an unmistakable hint of doubt at Arran''s claim. "Where did the tunnel lead?"


    "No idea," Arran replied flatly. "I just collapsed the tunnel, then headed back up."


    "You collapsed the tunnel?" The captain looked at Arran in disbelief. "Without even bothering to explore what lay behind it?"


    "Of course." Arran shrugged, then continued, "Whatever''s in there, it killed a Knight. No point in risking my life to satisfy my curiosity."


    For some moments, Captain Kaleesh remained silent. But then, he let out a loud laugh. "Practical to a fault, I see. I don''t know if I would''ve had your self-control. Even finding the Knight''s weapon¡­"


    The captain''s voice trailed off, and a longing look appeared in his eyes. Yet after a moment, he shook his head. "No matter. You made the right decision. Are you confident the way is blocked?"


    Arran nodded. "The tunnel was unstable to begin with. I only went a few hundred paces inside, but I can''t imagine any portion of it still remaining intact. Even if whatever''s down there tries to reach the mines, we should be long gone by the time it makes it through."


    "Good," the captain said, brow creased in thought. "Sassun, Gar, you and your groups will go down tomorrow, to clear any diggers that remain. I trust that won''t be a problem?"


    Sassun gave a slight shake of his head, while Gar smiled broadly. "Couldn''t stop me if you tried," the giant man said, his hand subconsciously caressing the hilt of his sword.


    Captain Kaleesh shot Gar an approving smile, then continued, "Once the mines are fully clear, we''ll start work on earning our freedom. And since Arran has already contributed his share, the rest of that task will fall to us."


    "You don''t want me to help with the mining?" Arran asked, pleasantly surprised at the news.


    "You already did your part," the captain replied. "And besides ¡ª you have studying to do."


    "Studying?" At this, Arran frowned. While he did indeed have plenty of studying to do, he doubted the captain knew of that.


    Captain Kaleesh nodded. "Strategy. While you have some talent ¡ª and considerable strength ¡ª commanding soldiers is no simple matter. If you are to be a commander in the Wolfsblood Company, there are things you need to learn. These next few months will give you the opportunity to do just that."


    The other three commanders seemed unsurprised by the announcement, and Arran realized Captain Kaleesh had probably done the same thing with them in the past. It certainly would help explain how effective the mercenaries had been in their battle against the Darians.


    He briefly considered the captain''s words, and could not help but be pleased with the idea. He had little experience in leading troops, and with war in the future, it was a skill that would certainly be useful.


    "Alright," he said after a moment. "I''m looking forward to learning."


    Captain Kaleesh laughed. "Don''t be too eager ¡ª learning strategy is very different from practicing swordsmanship. But you''ll discover that soon enough. First, we''ll return to the surface and celebrate."


    When they emerged from the mines, Arran found that Captain Kaleesh had taken control of the camp in all but name. While the overseer still nominally held power, it was clear that the tall man followed the captain''s orders without question.


    Some doubt could be seen on the overseer''s face when he heard that the lower levels had been cleared, but he did not object when the captain ordered him to organize a feast for the miners and mercenaries.


    The feast itself turned out to be a raucous affair, with ale flowing by the barrel as the men and women of the mining camp sang loud, drunken songs.


    Several times, Captain Kaleesh spoke loudly of Arran''s achievements in the mines, embellishing his achievements to the point that they exceeded even what he''d so carefully kept silent.


    At first, this made little sense to Arran. While clearing the mines'' lower levels was certainly an important thing to the Wolfsblood Company, the captain''s praise seemed more than excessive.


    Yet as the evening passed, Arran saw that many of the mercenaries gave him looks of admiration and approval. And that, he realized, would also help him on the battlefield.


    He''d never felt much need to brag about his accomplishments, instead preferring to keep quiet when possible. But if others were to follow him into battle, then he would need to win their trust.


    And the captain''s lavish praise, uncomfortable though it made him, would certainly help with that.


    When the evening came to an end, the captain approached Arran. Through the night, he''d made an almost intoxicated impression, but now, his expression was suddenly serious.


    "You understand why this was necessary?" he asked, eyes narrowed as he looked at Arran.


    "I think I do," Arran replied. "You want the men to trust me, correct?"


    The captain nodded. "If your troops trust you, they will follow you into the gates of hell itself. But you can''t earn their trust if you remain quiet."


    Arran had never thought of himself as particularly quiet, yet when he considered it, he realized he wasn''t the most talkative of people. Still, he countered, "Sassun doesn''t exactly say much, either, and his men follow him well enough."


    "Sassun has had decades to prove his skill," the captain replied. "But you won''t get that long. Less than half a year from now, we''ll be gone from here. And after that, it won''t be long before we see battle in earnest."


    A frown crossed Arran''s face as he faced the captain. "What exactly is it you''re planning?"


    Captain Kaleesh shook his head. "I''ll explain that in due time. For now, focus on learning all you can about strategy. I''ve had the overseer prepare quarters for you. Inside, you will find several manuscripts. Over the next two months, I want you to study those as well as you can."


    "Manuscripts?" Arran gave the captain a puzzled look. "What kind of manuscripts?"


    "You''ll see soon enough," Captain Kaleesh said, a small smile on his face. "Study them well. Once you''ve done so, we''ll continue your training."

 Chapter 341 Studying Strategy

    Arran awoke before dawn, his thoughts occupied with the captain''s manuscripts even as he opened his eyes.


    He''d arrived in his new quarters the previous night, and had found them more than sufficient. Located at the very edge of the camp, the building he''d been given held an ample bedroom, a small but clean study, a well-stocked kitchen, and a spacious practice room.


    He had found the captain''s manuscripts on the small wooden desk in the study, and just the sight of them had caused his eyes to go wide with surprise.


    The pile of books and manuals was well over a foot tall, comprising numerous different documents. Many of these, he suspected were written by the captain, but there were more than a few by author authors as well.


    He''d gone through the manuscripts immediately after arriving, but he''d quickly learned that the writings were nothing like what he''d expected to find.


    In his mind, manuscripts about strategy would surely be epic tales of major battles, detailing the heroics of legendary warriors in the distant past.


    But instead, he''d found the manuscripts to be filled with dense and inscrutable writing, reading more like scholarly works on magic than the battle stories he''d expected.


    In fact, even the titles alone were enough to make him frown in wonder.


    Among the large pile of documents were manuals and books with names like "Meditations on the Nature of Warfare,""Musings Concerning Military Matters,""Commentaries on the Rivian War," and "The Art of Attrition," none of which did much to rouse Arran''s imagination.


    Eventually, he''d settled on a book simply titled, "The Warlord," but he''d found it contents every bit as dry as the other books'' titles suggested. Rather than detailing great battles, it mostly focused on politics and logistics, neither of which were topics that held much appeal to Arran.


    After an hour of study, Arran had given up and gone to bed, deciding that he''d best approach the writings with a fresh mind.


    But now, with a new day ahead of him, he knew he could delay the work no longer.


    There was nothing for it but to delve into the works and learn from them as best he could. Because if the captain had ordered him to read these works, there must be something to gain from them.


    And so, after a hearty breakfast of tough bread and grilled digger meat, he set to work on examining the large pile of documents.


    He began with the manuscripts he believed were Captain Kaleesh''s own works. This was mostly because Arran was curious to see a glimpse of the captain''s thoughts, though part of it was that these manuscripts were simply thinner than the others.


    Yet as he soon discovered, size meant little.


    Rather than merely containing writing, the captain''s own notes were filled with numerous diagrams. And although he knew that the diagrams described battle tactics and maneuvers, their complexity reminded him more of the wards and seals he''d learned from the Ninth Valley''s Matriarch.


    Still, he persisted, and as the morning passed, he slowly began to understand more of what the diagrams were describing.


    They were indeed battle tactics, but rather than merely describing single movements, they detailed series of exchanges between different armies. And for each action either side might choose in any particular situation, the captain had somehow figured out all the other side''s responses.


    It was dry reading, but the more Arran studied it, the more he realized how valuable it was.


    The diagrams described battles between groups as small as a dozen soldiers and armies of hundreds of thousands, covering numerous different positions and terrains. And for all of them, the captain had analyzed the many different paths a battle might take.


    Arran could scarcely begin to imagine the effort that had gone into preparing these manuscripts, but he understood their importance all too well.


    With a thorough understanding of these writings, one could plan battles far ahead, anticipating enemies'' actions and answering them instantly. In the chaos of battle, with the pressure of an attacking enemy, that would be an invaluable advantage.


    In that sense, studying these manuscripts was somewhat like studying swordsmanship, learning the many attacks and counters one might face in battle, and how best to deal with them.


    Still, Arran soon realized that if swordplay was complex, it could only barely begin to compare to the intricacies of organized battle. Just the formations in the writings alone were more numerous than the attacks and counters Arran knew, and the maneuvers were even more plentiful.


    When midday came, he felt like he''d only barely scratched the surface of what the manuscripts contained. Yet already, he was struggling to maintain his concentration, and although he tried to press on, he found that the diagrams and formations slipped from his mind almost as soon as he read them.


    He briefly considered continuing, but then, he decided against it. When it came to studying, there was only so much he could endure in a day.


    Instead, he ate a quick midday meal ¡ª more bread and meat ¡ª and then headed into the camp, where he immediately sought out Captain Kaleesh.


    He found the captain instructing his own group of men, practicing various formations. Some of these, Arran now recognized, though the majority were unfamiliar as ever.


    The captain greeted Arran with a smile and a wave. "Started your studies yet?"


    "I have," Arran confirmed. He frowned, then continued, "The manuscripts you gave me¡­ they''re not what I expected."


    The captain gave Arran a look, amusement written plain across his face. "You were expecting tall tales and epic battles?"


    "I wasn''t¡­" Arran began, but then, he sighed. "I suppose I was. I thought I''d find heroic stories. But instead, it''s¡­ different."


    "Fighting depends on strength and skill," the captain said. "But battle is different. It requires knowledge ¡ª knowledge of history, geography, and strategy. To win a war, you need to think a hundred steps ahead, yet be prepared for all of them to change in an instant." He paused briefly, then continued, "Warriors win fights, but to win battles, you need to be a scholar."


    Arran nodded thoughtfully, realizing that it made sense. Yet after a moment, a frown crossed his face. "But why teach me this? You''re the captain, after all."


    "I require all my commanders to study these matters," Captain Kaleesh said. "Sassun, Lasha ¡ª even Gar, as much as he dislikes it. When I make mistakes, I expect you and the others to notice them. And if the battlefield changes mid-battle, you need to have the skill to adjust your tactics. Even without me."


    "I understand," Arran said. "But learning all of this in a few months seems impossible. Just memorizing the manuscripts you''ve given me would take a year, or even longer."


    At this, the captain let out a loud laugh. "A year? I imagine it would take decades, unless you''re a far more gifted student than I was." He shook his head, though the smile on his face remained. "You need to study the manuscripts enough that you will recognize tactics when you encounter them. Mastering these matters, however, is a lifetime worth of work."


    Arran sighed in relief at the captain''s words. He''d feared that the man expected him to understand everything contained within the stack of manuscripts, and that task seemed all but impossible.


    Merely studying the manuscripts, however, was a different matter. That was something he could do.


    They spoke for another quarter-hour, with the captain answering several of Arran''s questions about the tactics he''d studied so far.


    Then, finally, Captain Kaleesh said, "But enough of this. You should spend a few hours training with your men, and take some time for yourself as well. You can continue your studies tomorrow."


    Arran eagerly accepted the suggestion, and he spent the next several hours practicing swordplay with his own group of mercenaries.


    He found them eager for practice. They''d already spent a week in the camp with little to do but wait, and now that their commander had returned ¡ª and successfully, at that ¡ª they were glad to get in some practice.


    Once more, Arran was impressed with their skill and strength. Although they still lacked the discipline of the other mercenaries, there wasn''t a single one among them who hadn''t earned his strength through years of practice and battle, and the results of that were plain to see in their ability.


    He only returned to his quarters when evening was already approaching, then prepared a quick meal for himself.


    Yet as he ate, his thoughts turned to another matter ¡ª the battle he''d fought in the cavern below the mines.


    Ostensible, the battle had been a resounding success. He''d killed three giant monsters, each of which with the strength to rival the dragon that Crassus had killed for him years earlier. Moreover, he once more had a large supply of meat that was rich in Natural Essence ¡ª enough to last him years.


    And yet, as he thought about the battle, he could not help but see several large problems with his newfound strength.


    The first of these was that the strength he''d used was only temporary. While he had unrivaled power against a large group of weaker enemies, he still lacked the strength to match truly powerful enemies without that help.


    On a battlefield, he might be all but invincible, but against a solitary enemy, he would be far weaker. And if he showed any of his power on a battlefield, that might earn him enemies he could not yet match in his normal state.


    The second problem was related to this. Because although his physical strength benefited from the Blood Ruin, his magical strength didn''t. And that meant his offensive magic would be all but useless in major battles.


    For this, however, he had a path forward. He''d found the Forms, and over the next several months, he should have plenty of time to study them. With any luck, that should help him make a start in reaching a level of magical power to match his physical strength.


    And then, there was the final problem ¡ª his weapon.


    He''d spent many thousands of hours studying swordsmanship, but as he''d found during the battle against the giant diggers, normal swords weren''t suited to all types of battles.


    Of course, his Living Shadow weapon could transform itself if he had enough time, but even then, it would do him little good. Because while he could use swords as easily as he could use his own hands, he lacked any sort of training with other types of weapons.


    That, he now realized, was something he would need to fix. He needed a weapon that could be used against other types of enemies ¡ª a weapon suitable for slaying giants.

 Chapter 342 Weapons And Training

    Arran spent a quarter-hour considering the type of weapon that might be most useful against enemies like dragons and the giant diggers, but the more he pondered the matter, the more options he saw.


    A spear would greatly increase his reach, which would help not just against monstrous opponents but also against dense ranks of human enemies. Yet while it would increase his reach, it would also do less damage, especially against armored opponents.


    Something like a glaive or halberd would address that problem, but it would sacrifice some reach and speed in favor of damage. And against groups of opponents, weapons like those would leave him exposed with each attack.


    Each option he saw would solve some of his problems, but at the price of introducing entirely new ones.


    But then, a thought came to him ¡ª there was no need to settle on any single choice.


    The Living Shadow weapon could take any shape. And if he selected a handful of weapon types and taught it their shapes, it should be able to assume those familiar forms far in a matter of moments.


    With that, he would have a small armory at his disposal. He would have the weapon to suit any type enemy ¡ª whether it be a single monster or an entire army.


    Because as he''d discovered in the battle against the Darians, a normal sword wasn''t ideal against dense ranks of enemies, either. Each attack he''d made had brought him within reach of his enemies'' weapons, and he''d suffered several wounds just trying to force his way through their line.


    Of course, he could have easily relied on his strength to break their ranks. But that would require him to reveal his full power. And worse, it would only work against enemies as weak as these soldiers had been.


    Intent on addressing these problems, he spent a half-hour making a list of weapons that might help him. But the two dozen weapons he came up with were far too many, and he spent another half-hour whittling down the number.


    Finally, he cast a satisfied look at the short list before him. Just four weapons remained, and learning to use each of them should benefit him no small amount.


    After giving it some thought, he put the list aside. While he could try to have his sword take the shapes he had in mind, it would be far easier to have proper versions crafted, then copy their designs after he''d studied them.


    That would take time, but for once, time was something he did not lack. With the mercenaries in the mines for at least several more months, there was little he could do but wait and train.


    Fortunately, the quarters Captain Kaleesh had arranged for him included a spacious training room, and it was there that Arran headed after finishing the list of weapons.


    There had been little opportunity for him to study the Forms after he arrived in the Imperium. Even if others would not have been able to detect his Shadow Essence, spending several hours standing around making obscure gestures would certainly have drawn attention.


    But in his new quarters, he had enough privacy to train properly. And that was an opportunity he would not soon pass up.


    He practiced for several hours, finding the Forms every bit as difficult as before as he used Shadow Essence to execute them to the best of his ability.


    But although he had memorized them painstakingly, the true challenge wasn''t merely to use them. Rather, it was to unearth the insights they contained.


    And that would require countless hours of practice.


    As expected, a single night''s practice yielded little progress. Arran did not let this discourage him. The Forms were a path he''d only barely begun to explore, and he could not expect immediate results.


    He studied intently until midnight, continuing until his focus began to waver. Finally, when his mind had grown too weary to continue, he headed to bed.


    The day of study had left him exhausted, and his thoughts slipped away as soon as his blankets touched his skin.


    When morning came, he ate a quick meal of digger meat, then set to work once more, studying Captain Kaleesh''s manuscripts.


    Here, at least, he knew he was making progress. While he was still far from fully understanding the details and nuances of the manuscripts, with each hour he spent studying his comprehension grew.


    The more he learned, the more impressed he found himself with the documents. The captain''s own writings in particular contained a wealth of knowledge, more than a person could gather in a lifetime.


    And the diagrams, too, slowly began to make sense to Arran. While he''d previously wondered what the abstract schematics could teach about the fury of battle, he now saw that there was something to them ¡ª something that could almost be called beautiful.


    The diagrams distilled battle lines into abstract forms, each with their own strengths and weaknesses, and the battles they described were like duels between master swordsmen ¡ª only wielding armies rather than swords as their weapons.


    Still, when midday came, Arran found himself predictably weary.


    For all their beauty, the diagrams and their explanations were fiendishly complex, and a morning of study left Arran every bit as exhausted as he would''ve been after an entire day of hard training.


    But another meal did much to replenish his energy, and as he ate, he felt the Natural Essence in the digger meat fill his body, the Blood Ruin greedily devouring it and adding it to his strength.


    He could not help but be relieved that he''d found the digger meat. While most of his strength had already recovered from his time in the Shadow Realm, the gap that still remained would have been hard to close without the meat he''d won in the mines.


    Now, however, it should only be a matter of weeks before he''d recovered the last of his strength. And after that, he would soon surpass his previous peak.


    When he finished the meal, he left his quarters and headed into the camp, intending to spend an hour or two training with his group of mercenaries. This was another task he could not neglect ¡ª not if he was to lead the mercenaries into battle.


    But he was surprised to find that none of them were present in the camp. Nor, for that matter, were most of the other mercenaries.


    Yet he did find Captain Kaleesh, who was sat at a table in front of his quarters, a ponderous frown on his face as he wrote in a small notebook.


    The captain did not see Arran approach until he was within half a dozen paces of the man. When he finally heard his commander approach, he looked up with puzzled eyes.


    "Finished your studies already?" the captain asked. "Morning has barely begun ¡ª you should spend at least a few more hours studying."


    "It''s past midday," Arran replied. "Where are the troops?"


    "Past midday?" The captain glanced at the sky, making an ugly face when he saw that Arran had not lied. "Time passes too quickly. As for the troops, they''re in the mines. Gar and Sassun cleared out the last of the diggers last night, and I want to get as much work as possible done before Kadun''s men arrive."


    "Kadun''s men?" Arran raised an eyebrow. "Isn''t the overseer one of Kadun''s men?"


    The captain shook his head. "The overseer has no power. But when Kadun ¡ª or rather, his stewards ¡ª find out that the lower levels are clear, it won''t be long before they send people to get in our way. We have a week or two, at most."


    Arran looked at the captain in confusion. "Why would they get in our way? Don''t they benefit from our work?"


    Captain Kaleesh let out a sharp laugh. "They sent us here to fail, so they could break the deal I made with them. Once they discover that we ¡ª or you, rather ¡ª have put a stop to their plans, I imagine they won''t waste any time in finding new ways to get in our way."


    At this, Arran could only sigh. "Will there be trouble?"


    The captain frowned, then shook his head. "Not trouble, exactly. Or least, nothing we can''t handle. But the more we get done before they arrive, the better."


    "I suppose we''ll find out soon enough," Arran said. Whatever happened, he had little choice but to trust in the captain''s plans. And after studying the manuscripts, he was confident that Captain Kaleesh had already prepared for whatever difficulties they would face. "But I had a question to ask of you. There are some supplies I need."


    "Supplies?" The captain gave Arran a puzzled look. "What kind of supplies?"


    "I need some weapons," Arran said, then handed over the list of weapons he''d made the previous night.


    The captain studied the list for some moments, and when he looked up again, there was some confusion in his eyes. "Some of these, I understand," he said. "A good spear could certainly be useful, and poleaxes have their uses. Even the staff makes sense." A frown crossed his face, and he continued, "But this last one¡­ it sounds impractical, to say the least."


    Arran shrugged. "It''s just something I want to try. If it doesn''t work out, I''ll still have my sword to use. Can you arrange it?"


    "I can," the captain replied. "I''ll try to have it made in a week ¡ª if only to see what you''ll do with that thing."


    "Thanks," Arran said. Then, with a glance at the mines'' entrance, he asked, "Should I join my men in the mines? I should be of some help."


    Captain Kaleesh shook his head. "Focus on your training and studies. Right now, that''s more important than another miner."


    Arran nodded thoughtfully, a small smile appearing on his face. A few weeks to focus on his training would certainly be useful.

 Chapter 343 A New Tool

    Arran''s life in the mining camp soon developed a familiar rhythm.


    In the mornings, he would study Captain Kaleesh''s manuscripts, carefully reviewing the knowledge contained within the writings. It was difficult work, and at first, Arran struggled to keep his focus as he memorized the dense texts.


    Yet as the days passed, he slowly developed some small skill at studying. And while he was still far from being a scholar, he found that the work was not altogether unpleasant.


    Hidden within the inscrutable writings lay numerous pieces of thought and wisdom, and even if he only picked up on some of them, he was surprised to discover that they helped increase his understanding of the world.


    This wasn''t just true of the captain''s own writings, but also of the more philosophical books that lay among the stack of manuscripts, many of which were only tenuously related to strategy and tactics.


    Arran had previously thought of war as little more than a series of large-scale battles, but now, he developed some appreciation for the politics and organization that shaped and decided conflicts.


    Yet to his surprise, he also discovered that many of the manuscripts directly contradicted each other.


    Some argued that battle should be waged whenever it offered even a slight advantage, while others said battle should only be a last resort. And while some argued that tactics and training decided battles, others firmly stated that true power lay in organization and logistics.


    When Arran asked Captain Kaleesh about his opinion on these questions, the man gave him an amused smile in response.


    "I imagine there''s some truth in all of them," the captain said. "I wouldn''t have given you those texts if I didn''t think they contained wisdom, but as for which one is right¡­ I''d say all of them are, at times."


    To this, Arran could only nod in agreement. While he still understood less of these matters than he''d want, he''d already recognized that none of the manuscripts'' authors had arrived at their conclusions easily.


    Yet studying strategy was not all that Arran did.


    In the evenings, he spent his time practicing the Forms using Shadow Essence, repeating the same patterns over and over, slowly growing his understanding of them.


    Here, his progress wasn''t anywhere near as fast as he would have liked. Although his true insight into binding and severing helped him recognize what he was supposed to be looking for, he found that only made a small difference.


    While he knew that there were insights hidden within the Forms, the more he studied them, the more he began to realize how different they were from each other.


    Each represented a piece of understanding of the world, and each was wholly different from all the others. And to learn them, all he could do was to review them endlessly, repeating the familiar patterns over and over again in hopes of gleaning some small shred of understanding.


    He did not let the lack of results discourage him. Studying the Forms was a long-term endeavor, and he did not expect to find success any time soon. But if he continued his practice, he was confident the work would eventually pay off.


    And then, wedged in between mornings and nights spent studying, there were the afternoons.


    Whenever his group of mercenaries wasn''t down in the mines, Arran spent his afternoons training with them, helping them improve their swordsmanship and teaching them some of the simpler maneuvers he''d learned the captain''s writings.


    The latter bit proved more challenging than expected. While each of the borderlanders was a skilled Body Refiner and only few of them were dull of wit, coordinating the movements of four dozen people was no simple matter ¡ª and even less so with other mercenaries standing by and jeering in laughter.


    Yet here, Ervin showed himself more valuable than Arran could have imagined.


    The middle-aged sergeant had no small amount of experience, and with his terse commands, it wasn''t long before Arran''s mercenaries succeeded in forming and maintaining rough formations.


    While the borderlanders'' movements were still awkward and often had them scrambling to take their proper positions, Arran knew that the main thing they lacked was practice. But with months still ahead in the mining camp, there was still plenty of time for that.


    Overall, Arran quickly grew accustomed to life in the mining camp. While his studies and training rarely left him a free moment, he enjoyed both the work itself and the progress he made.


    And his good spirits were raised even further when his weapons arrived, delivered by a weaponsmith from the nearby town ¡ª a bald, brawny man who observed at Arran with curiosity as he inspected his new tools.


    A brief examination was all it took for Arran to know that the weapons were exactly as he''d wanted. Sturdy yet well-crafted, they lacked any unnecessary decoration, their design focused purely on function rather than form.


    Yet even after Arran expressed his approval and unloaded the weapons from the cart, the burly man showed no sign of leaving.


    "Is there something wrong?" Arran asked with a frown.


    "Wrong?" The man shook his head. "I want to see you use the big one, is all." He laughed, then continued, "It took three of us just to load it onto the cart."


    At that moment, Captain Kaleesh joined them, Lasha and Gar at his side. And as they laid eyes on the big weapon, an amused grin appeared on the captain''s face.


    "I wouldn''t mind seeing you swing that, myself," the captain said. "I''ve seen many weapons in my life, but nothing quite like¡­ that."


    Arran sighed, but he could not blame them for their reaction.


    The weapon was exactly as he''d described ¡ª a giant sword, with a six-foot blade and a footlong hilt. That alone would have been enough to raise eyebrows, but the sword''s blade was unlike that of a normal sword.


    Where most swords had slender blades, this one''s blade was half a foot wide and over an inch thick at its center ¡ª like the blade of an axe rather than a sword, except far longer.


    As he looked at it, Arran could not help but wonder whether he''d gone too far in the description he''d given the captain. The weapon was exactly what he''d asked for, but in his mind, he hadn''t fully realized just how ludicrously oversized it would be.


    But there was no changing it now.


    He frowned, then took the weapon in his hands, raising the blade toward the sky. Its heft was shocking ¡ª far more than a commoner would be able to lift by himself, much less wield.


    Then, he gave it a few cautious practice swings.


    At once, he realized that even if its shape resembled that of a sword ¡ª and only vaguely, at that ¡ª using it was another matter entirely. While the weight did not bother him, the weapon balance was completely different, and he had to brace against the momentum just to keep from being pulled off his feet.


    And yet, after giving the weapon a few more swings, a smile slowly appeared on his face, which grew into a broad grin as he swung the weapon around some more.


    "I''d almost think you''re compensating for something," Lasha''s voice suddenly sounded.


    Before Arran could find a retort, Gar spoke up. "That''s a good weapon," he said in an enthusiastic voice. "Maybe I''ll get one like it myself."


    Lasha guffawed. "You? I doubt you could even lift that ridiculous thing."


    The exchange was interrupted by the captain, however. "Gar," he said. "Try having a little sparring bout with Arran. He''s not used to the weapon yet, so for once, you might have a chance of winning."


    Gar shot the captain an annoyed look, but he did as told, drawing his own weapon as he faced Arran. "Let''s see what you can do with that thing."


    The giant man did not wait for a response. Instead, apparently hoping that the new weapon would slow Arran down, he attacked at once with a deceptively fast lunge.


    Yet heavy though the massive sword might be, Arran had the strength to use it. Before Gar could even come close enough for his weapon to threaten Arran, the giant sword came to a halt an inch from his chest.


    Being used to having the advantage in reach, Gar frowned in annoyance, but he tried again a moment later ¡ª and again, he was stopped before he could even reach Arran.


    He shot Arran an annoyed look. "How are you so fast with that thing?"


    Arran shrugged, then gave the big man a smirking grin. "It really isn''t all that heavy. But then, I''m stronger than you."


    The bout continued for a quarter-hour, and with each exchange, Arran grew more excited at his new weapon. Ridiculous though it might look, it was a perfect match for his strength. And while learning to use it properly would take time, he could already see the advantages it would offer.


    With this, obstacles like the giant digger''s thick hides or the Darians'' ranks would be far less of a problem. The reach it gave him alone would give an advantage against most enemies, and the power he could put into his strikes was simply staggering.


    Finally, the captain''s voice sounded again. "Gar, step back. Lasha, you give it a try."


    The giant man stepped back with a resigned look, and a moment later, Lasha took his place, eyes twinkling with eagerness at the fight ahead. If Gar''s performance had caused her any doubts, no sign of those could be seen in her eyes.


    It wasn''t long before Arran discovered the reason for her confidence.


    Gar was big and strong, but with the giant sword, Arran countered those advantages perfectly, easily besting the large man''s biggest strengths.


    Yet Lasha was fast and nimble, and against Arran''s new weapon, those advantages were magnified tenfold. While he could normally match her speed, the giant sword slowed him enough that hitting her became nearly impossible ¡ª without revealing more of his strength than he wanted to, at least.


    But if Arran could not hit his opponent, she struggled to even come near him. With a normal weapon, he already had a reach advantage. And now, she struggled just to come near him without coming in range of his oversized weapon.


    The fight dragged on for half an hour, with neither side gaining the advantage. Yet as Arran grew more accustomed to the weapon, his movements grew faster, and his skill with the blade increased.


    Finally, Lasha stepped back, a mixture of annoyance and astonishment on her face. "I can''t believe that stupid thing actually works," she said, looking at the weapon in disgust.


    In truth, Arran was almost as surprised as she was. While he''d expected the weapon to be useful, he hadn''t expected it to fit him this well.


    "It seems you made a wise decision," the captain said. "Though I still wonder how you plan to carry that monstrous thing around."

 Chapter 344 Unwelcome Company

    Arran spent several hours testing out his new weapons, getting a feel for each as he familiarized himself with their weight and balance.


    The giant sword was easily his favorite. Although using the massive hunk of sharpened steel was very different from using a normal sword, there were enough similarities that wielding it felt natural.


    It was slower to strike and harder to control, but Arran had enough strength for that to only be a slight obstacle. And while truly mastering it would be a matter of months or even years, he already knew that it would eventually prove its worth.


    He found the poleaxe to his liking, too. With a head that featured a razor-sharp axe blade and a curved hook, as well as a sharp spike on its end, it was a vicious thing, made to cut and stab anyone with the misfortune of facing it.


    From the captain''s manuscripts, Arran knew that weapons like these were intended to be used against armored opponents, and he could easily see why.


    The hook would be perfect for catching on enemies'' armor and pulling them off balance, and the spike was narrow enough to penetrate the small gaps between plates of armor.


    The giant sword would easily defeat armor as well, of course, its sheer weight enough to crush whatever it didn''t cut. But where the sword would need space to be swung to full effect, the poleaxe would be useful even within dense battle ranks.


    It was a soldiers'' weapon through and through, designed for the battlefield rather than single combat. And even if Arran still did not know the captain''s plans, he had little doubt that the man planned to lead them into battle.


    Yet where both the giant sword and the poleaxe immediately felt natural in Arran''s hands, the staff was a different matter.


    It was a simple weapon ¡ª a heavy hardwood pole, six feet long and shod with steel tips on both ends. And while its heft was enough to deliver staggeringly powerful blows, it would not look out of place in the hands of a traveler, either.


    That was the reason Arran had chosen the weapon. While swords and the like were effective, they drew attention. Even the simplest sword was enough to mark someone as a warrior in the eyes of the world.


    But a staff? That was something even farmers carried.


    With simple laborer''s clothing and a staff in his hand, few people would so much as give Arran a second glance if he passed them on the road. And those few who did look his way would see nothing worth remembering.


    Still, although he knew how useful a tool it would be, the weapon felt awkward in Arran''s hands. It was as if he was a boy swinging a stick and pretending it was a sword, like he had done so many times in his childhood.


    But if the staff felt awkward in his hand, the spear was even worse.


    Arran had next to no experience wielding spears, and although the one Captain Kaleesh had arranged for him was expertly crafted, he soon discovered that the weapon was wholly unsuited for him.


    In battle, Arran relied mostly on strength and ferocity. Yet the spear, he found, required patience and finesse. And neither of those were things that came naturally to him.


    Several sparring matches against Gar and Lasha confirmed this. While he could defeat them with the giant sword, and match them ¡ª more or less ¡ª with the poleaxe and staff, he did not win a single exchange with the spear.


    While the reach it provided even that of the giant sword, both Gar and Lasha easily had the skill to get past the spear''s sharp end. And when that happened, the exchange was all but lost.


    Arran struggled with the weapon for some time, his mood slowly souring as he failed to achieve any quick results. But before he could give up, Captain Kaleesh ¡ª who had been watching his struggles with amused interest ¡ª spoke up.


    "Keep practicing," the captain said. "Spears are best used in massed ranks, and the Darians use them to great effect. What you learn now will be useful in the future."


    At this, Arran could not help but sigh. Not just because it meant he''d have to continue training with the weapon, but also because he recognized how dangerous a line of massed spears would be.


    A staggered line of eight-foot spears would be nearly impossible to break without being struck. And from the captain''s manuscripts, Arran already knew that behind the line of spears would be a group of archers.


    He continued his training until nightfall, sparring against Gar and Lasha several more times with his new weapons, trying different tactics as he slowly grew more used to the unfamiliar tools.


    When night began to fall, he thanked his sparring partners for their help, then retired to his quarters to study the Forms. Because important as the weapons training was, it was by no means his only task.


    Then, the next morning, his efforts started anew.


    Over the weeks that followed, Arran did little but eat, sleep, study, and train. Each day he would wake well before dawn and only retire well after midnight, his only rest in between the brief breaks he took to eat.


    He studied the captain''s manuscripts in the mornings, continuing until his mind could absorb no more. Then, he would spend the afternoons training, either sparring and practicing with his group of mercenaries or studying his new weapons by himself. And finally, when night fell, he would study the Forms for as long as he could, not stopping until exhaustion overtook him.


    In between all of this, he would have his Living Shadow weapon change its form several times a day, repeatedly guiding it into his new weapons'' shapes and back again.


    Much as Arran had hoped, the weapon learned quickly. Soon, it managed to assume the familiar shapes in seconds rather than minutes ¡ª fast enough to be useful in battle.


    Arran''s own progress was rapid, as well.


    His experience in battle made training the new weapons much easier than it would have been otherwise. Soon, using the giant sword felt almost as natural as using a normal one. And while he''d never be a master spearman, he gained some proficiency with the spear, as well.


    This was further helped by his steady diet of giant digger meat. Within two weeks of emerging from the mines, he once more had his full physical strength. And after that, his body continued to strengthen ¡ª albeit at a much slower pace.


    But if Arran''s physical prowess increased rapidly, his understanding of battle advanced even quicker.


    The captain''s manuscripts provided a constant supply of new thoughts to challenge his beliefs, and with each manuscript he studied, he learned new things. Now, he no longer wondered why the writings focused so heavily on logistics and politics ¡ª both these things were integral to warfare.


    Of course, a few weeks of study was barely enough to scratch the surface of these matters. But even that was already enough for Arran to feel like he''d discovered an entirely new world ¡ª and one whose existence had wholly escaped him in the past.


    He''d always had little interest in politics, preferring the directness of battle. Even in the Ninth Valley, he''d paid less attention than he should have to the machinations that took place around him.


    But he now began to understand that politics was merely battle by other means. A single spoken sentence could be as devastating as any attack, raising or destroying entire armies.


    And the more he learned, the more he realized how little he knew. Yet far from discouraging him, this only served to grow his interest further.


    There was only part of Arran''s efforts that showed no meaningful results ¡ª his training in the Forms.


    Although he spent hours practicing the techniques each night, even after weeks of effort he barely had anything to show for it. While performing the techniques steadily grew easier, he hadn''t come even the slightest step closer to gaining any real understanding of them, much less revealing the insights he knew they contained.


    Arran could only sigh in frustration at this lack of progress. Without a teacher, there was no way to know whether he was on the right path or whether the hours he spent practicing were a useless waste of time.


    But a few weeks without results was nowhere near enough to make him give up, and so, he continued to study the Forms as best he could, hoping that the path he''d chosen was the right one.


    Nearly a month passed like this, with Arran spending every waking moment studying and training.


    The constant effort left him weary, but somehow, he found himself enjoying almost every moment of it. Between the different types of study and practice he had new goals to reach every day, and every step forward encouraged him to try even harder.


    Then, one morning, as Arran was studying the captain''s manuscripts, there was a sudden loud knocking on his door.


    "Commander!" an anxious voice sounded. "Come quick!"


    Arran hurried over to the door at once, and when he opened it, he saw Ervin, red-faced and bearing an unusually worried expression.


    "What is it?"


    "The captain!" the old man blurted out. "He''s in trouble! The Rangers ¡ª they just arrived, five of them. They spoke to the captain, and¡ª" He stopped mid-sentence, then shook his head. "You should come quick."


    Arran grabbed his sword immediately, then rushed out the door at once. By now, he knew Ervin well enough to know that the old man would not be shaken easily.


    Just moments later, he arrived at the center of the camp, where he found a large group of people.


    On one side stood nearly a hundred mercenaries, hands on their weapons and tense looks on their faces. At their head were Captain Kaleesh and Sassun, and to Arran''s shock, he saw that the captain was on his knees, the side of his face badly bruised and a trickle of blood coming from his mouth.


    There was no need to guess who was responsible.


    Before the captain stood five Rangers, backed up by well over a hundred Darian soldiers, each of them armed and armored. And as Arran approached, he saw that the front Ranger looked at the captain with a contemptuous glare.


    "Know your place, outsider dog!" the man snarled, his hand clenching the hilt of his sword as if he was eager for any excuse to use it.


    Arran grabbed his sword more firmly as he approached, rage already welling up inside him. Whoever these Rangers were, just the thought of them treating his friends like this caused a murderous glint to appear in his eyes.

 Chapter 345 Provocation

    As Arran approached the group, the Rangers'' leader gave him a dismissive look.


    "Another outsider dog has come to join us?"


    One of the Rangers chuckled, but the other three showed no response. Instead, their expressions remained cautious as they observed the situation, as if they were expecting battle to erupt at any moment.


    And no wonder ¡ª even ignoring Arran, a hundred mercenaries were standing just a few dozen paces away, eyes filled with fury and with hands that were dangerously close to drawing their weapons.


    Arran, meanwhile, clenched his jaw, only barely restraining himself from drawing his weapon and cutting down the Rangers where they stood. Strong though they might be, with the hidden strength he held they''d be no match for him. If there was no other choice, he wouldn''t hesitate to reveal that strength.


    Yet he recognized the Rangers'' intent ¡ª to provoke a fight. And if he''d learned one thing from the captain''s manuscripts, it was to never do what his enemies expected.


    Of course, if the Rangers got their wish, they would soon regret it. Perhaps their leader would even feel a moment''s remorse before he drowned in his own blood.


    Still, Arran contained his anger. Whatever satisfaction killing the Rangers would bring, it would likely be outweighed by the trouble it caused.


    The Rangers'' leader sighed in disgust when he saw that Arran did not respond to the provocation.


    "Yet another spineless outsider," the man said, a mocking smile on his face. "Just a whiff of real strength, and you cower like dogs."


    Before Arran could respond, Captain Kaleesh rose to his feet. He gave Arran a tiny nod of approval, then turned to face the Ranger, his expression calm despite the blood on his bruised face.


    "If Lord Kadun is displeased with our work," he said, "we shall redouble our efforts." He paused to wipe the blood from his chin, then continued, "Though I had hoped that clearing the mine would earn us at least some leniency."


    "You thought killing some diggers would allow you to shirk your duties?" The Ranger gave him a contemptuous stare. "From now on, all of you will sleep in the mines. Perhaps that will get some work out of you."


    The captain nodded. "Very well. For our citizenship, a few months of hardship is a small price to pay. We will go at once."


    Frustration flashed across the Ranger''s face, as the captain''s reaction clearly wasn''t what he''d hoped for. Yet after a moment''s hesitation, he scowled and said, "Get going, then!"


    The captain gave him a small bow, then turned around. "Everyone, the Rangers have seen it fit to grant us new sleeping quarters. Start moving into the mines."


    Some grumbles sounded among the mercenaries, though Arran suspected that this was more out of anger at the Rangers than annoyance at their new quarters. From the looks in their eyes, he knew that there wasn''t a single one among them who wouldn''t attack the Rangers if ordered.


    Yet the captain''s bruised face showed no anger whatsoever. Instead, there was a cold, calculating look in his eyes, as if he was already planning his next move.


    And whatever that next move was, Arran had little doubt that it would bring a thoroughly unpleasant surprise for the Rangers.


    They spent the next hour moving the troops and belongings into the mines, careful not to do anything that would give the Rangers cause to act.


    That the Rangers were still looking for an excuse to start a conflict was obvious ¡ª they watched the mercenaries closely as they moved into the mines, offering threats and insults at even the smallest mistake.


    But the mercenaries followed the captain''s example. Even as the Rangers shouted abuse at them, they completed their tasks with stoic expressions on their faces. There were some who struggled to contain their outrage, but a few quick words from their comrades and sergeants were enough to make them hold their tongues.


    While the Rangers escort them into the mines, still eager to find any cause for punishment or conflict, they did not follow the mercenaries into the mines'' lower levels.


    This, Arran understood all too well. In the dark, cramped tunnels of the mines'' lower levels, even a Ranger would have a hard time avoiding a quick blade to the back. And with hundreds of furious mercenaries, there was no shortage of willing blades for such a task.


    Finally, after they had settled down, turning the tunnels into improvised sleeping quarters, the captain had his commander in one of the slightly larger spaces the mines held.


    Both Gar and Lasha turned red with rage when they heard what had happened, cursing as they were told about the Rangers'' threats and insults.


    "If I''d been there¡ª" Gar began, knuckles white as he gripped the hilt of his sword in anger.


    "Then you would have attacked," the captain interrupted him. "Which would have caused us no small amount of problems. Their intention was to provoke us into action, so they would have an excuse to kill the five of us ¡ª and have our troops spend decades rather than months in the mines."


    "We could have taken them," Sassun offered, a hint of rage even in his normally calm voice.


    "Perhaps," the captain said. "But then what? We''d have been outlaws in a hostile land, pursued by Knights and Lords rather than Rangers. And once they caught us, those who survived would be punished with a lifetime of slavery."


    A frown crossed Arran''s face as he considered the captain''s words. Finally, he said, "But Kadun does not intend to honor the deal, does he? If he''s gone this far, what''s to stop him from finding another excuse?"


    "Kadun has little to do with this," the captain replied. "These are matters he leaves to his stewards. But you''re right ¡ª they have no intention of honoring the deal. Once the agreed five months are up, they will decide that we haven''t kept our end of the bargain."


    "Then how will we get out of here?" Arran asked.


    Although he could easily escape by himself, that would mean leaving the mercenaries behind. And even then, he''d still lack the citizenship to move freely in the Imperium.


    At this, a hint of a smile appeared on the captain''s face, and he held up a small chunk of ore ¡ª starmetal, Arran knew.


    "With this," the captain said. "These mines hold starmetal, and if I''m right, a large amount of it. In the Imperium, a mine like this is worth a thousand gold mines."


    "But how will that help us?" Lasha asked, casting a curious look at the small chunk of ore.


    "You will find out soon enough," the captain replied. "But first, we''ll have to fulfill our part of the agreement. Which means that we''ll spend the next few months locked in these tunnels. And while we''re here, I expect all of you to continue your training as best you can."


    The captain''s words did little to satisfy the commanders'' curiosity, but he refused to reveal any more of whatever plan he had in mind ¡ª if he did, in fact, have one.


    Arran, for his part, spent some time wondering whether he''d follow the captain''s orders or escape the mines by himself. Returning to the refugee camp should be simple enough, and once he returned, he would have the chance to choose another path to citizenship.


    Yet after giving it some thought, he decided to stick with the mercenaries. The captain''s writings were still clear in his mind, and having studied them for weeks, he could not imagine their author being trapped so easily.


    The captain would definitely have a plan, he decided. And unless he''d seriously overestimated the man''s insights into strategy, the plan would likely be a better one than anything he could come up with himself.


    Moreover, as much as he disliked being stuck in the mines, the truth was that it made little difference.


    His training and studies required no daylight or sunshine, and while he''d lost the comfortable quarters he''d had in the camp, the mines held numerous hidden places for him to train the Forms.


    Still, he could not suppress a small sigh at the change in their fortunes. Although he was reasonably confident that all would work out in the end, it certainly would be nice if things were easy for once.

 Chapter 346 Down Below

    Arran had little difficulty adjusting to life in the mines.


    While he missed the freedom to go out and wander around the camp, he was long used to the darkness. And while the cramped tunnels were uncomfortable, a few days of carving through the dense rock provided him with quarters nearly as large as the ones he''d left behind.


    Yet although the change of surroundings only briefly interrupted Arran''s training and studies, the troops did not adjust nearly as well.


    The oppressive darkness and cramped quarters soon caused a feeling of gloom to descend among the mercenaries. They still performed their tasks without complaint, but when they spoke among themselves, their words carried worry ¡ª even fear.


    Of course, they''d been told that their predicament would only last a few months. But only few of them failed to realize that the Rangers had no intention of honoring the deal the captain had made.


    The only way they could escape the mines was if Captain Kaleesh found a way to set them free. And while they trusted the captain with their lives, the situation was dire enough that some began to doubt whether he could find a way out.


    This was especially true for Arran''s group of mercenaries, who''d joined the Wolfsblood Company only months earlier. The captain had earned their trust by successfully defeating the Darian soldiers with minimal losses, but now, Arran could see that trust was slowly being eroded.


    Had the captain led them in an attempt to kill the Rangers and win back their freedom, none of them would have questioned the order ¡ª even if it would likely have meant their deaths.


    But instead, the enemy they were asked to face was despair. And that was a far more terrifying foe than any Ranger could be.


    Arran did not fail to notice his troops'' waning spirits, and in an attempt to ease their worries, he joined them in their daily labor, standing at their side as they slowly carved their way through the dense rock.


    If nothing else, at least it would show that they were in the situation together ¡ª that their commander did not shirk the labor that they all had to perform.


    Yet after a few days of this, Ervin approached him just before the day''s shift started, a serious expression on his wrinkled face.


    "Stop trying to help," the old man said. "While your intentions are good, it''s not what the men need. Not right now."


    Arran frowned. "Shouldn''t the men at least know I''m at their side?"


    "No," the man replied curtly. "They have plenty of comrades. What they need is a leader. They need to see that you''re confident in leaving these damned mines. But what you''re doing now ¡ª it makes them fear that you''ve given up hope."


    Arran remained silent for a moment, then nodded slightly. "I understand."


    The truth was that his own faith in the captain was wavering, as well. But for the men to bear the situation, they needed him to be confident. And that required him to show not even the slightest bit of doubt.


    He spent some hours contemplating his next move, and when the answer came to him, he was surprised at how obvious it was.


    For nearly a week, he worked every waking hour, slowly hewing out a large space at the end of one of the mines'' abandoned tunnels. The work was tedious, not so much because the dense rock was hard to cut ¡ª which, to his Living Shadow weapon, it wasn''t ¡ª but because he had to ensure the space was stable.


    Finally, he completed the work, and he smiled in approval when he saw the fruits of his labor.


    Before him lay a wide cavern, nine feet high and nearly a hundred paces across, with numerous rough rock pillars to support the ceiling. It wasn''t a thing of beauty, but for his purposes, it would do.


    When his troops'' shift ended that day, he had Ervin gather them up and lead them to the large open space.


    As the borderlanders gathered in the torch-lit cavern, they looked around with puzzled faces, curious to see what their commander was planning.


    "Everyone! Listen up!" Arran called out. "Once we leave the mines, we''ll see battle again in short order. But you ¡ª all of you ¡ª have been neglecting your training. No more of that! Starting today, whenever you''re not sleeping or mining, I expect you to here, training and growing stronger!"


    The unexpected announcement drew more than a few baffled stares. The borderlanders already spent many hours each day slaving in the mines, and now, their commander was taking away even the rare few hours they had to rest.


    Yet before any of them could object, Ervin called out, "You heard the commander! Get to work!"


    In the hours that followed, there were many muffled complaints. But although the borderlanders complained to no end, the effect was almost immediate ¡ª the feeling of gloom that had taken hold began to melt away in an instant.


    If they had to train, then their leader did not expect them to remain in the mines. And occupied with sparring and practice, they had little time to sink into despair.


    Arran did not go easy on them, either. Each day, whenever his troops weren''t working in the mines, he had them gather in the cavern, then drove them to exhaustion in training.


    Several months passed like this, with Arran dividing every waking moment between his own studies and his troops'' training. And it wasn''t long before the other mercenaries began to make use of the cavern, too.


    In the dark depths of the mines, training offered the one thing they all needed ¡ª hope. Even if the captain failed to get them out of the mines, their efforts in training would help them take revenge on the Rangers.


    Doubtless, the Rangers would have objected to the mercenaries'' training had they known about it.


    But neither they nor their soldiers ever ventured into the mines'' lower levels. Instead, they waited for any ore and gems the mercenaries found to be hauled up, then offered insults to those who carried the valuables.


    The mercenaries bore the abuse silently, though their eyes showed a murderous fury whenever they returned to the lower levels.


    Arran knew that this was something that could not last forever. Even with the distraction of training, the mercenaries'' anger would erupt sooner or later. And when it did, he had no doubt that their revenge would be a bloody one.


    But for the time being, the mercenaries still managed to contain their anger, instead channeling their rage into their training.


    Then, after four months, Captain Kaleesh summoned his commanders.


    There had been little sign of the man since they had entered the mines. While he would occasionally stop by Arran''s training cavern to offer advice and instruction, he''d spent most of his time studying his notes and making new ones. And even when they saw him, he bore a tired expression.


    When Arran arrived, he saw that there was a bruise on the captain''s face. Yet despite the bruise, he smiled as he welcomed his commanders, and his eyes held a glint of purpose.


    "Today," he began, "marks the end of our five months in Kadun''s service. Earlier this day, I went into the camp and requested that we be released. As I expected, the request was refused."


    "Those bastards mean to keep us here?" Gar asked, his expression one of intense anger. "Then I say we kill them all. Even if the Darians come after us, we can fight our way back to the borderlands."


    "Not so fast, my impetuous friend," the captain replied. "With the deal broken and the request refused, another option remains."


    "What''s that?" Lasha asked, shooting the captain a doubtful look.


    "We have the right to petition Lord Kadun to honor the agreement," the captain replied. "And I intend to make use of that right. Arran, you will accompany me."


    Lasha scowled. "You don''t seriously expect that to work, do you?"


    "Of course I don''t," the captain said. "But while Arran and I travel to Lord Kadun, you and Gar will be in charge of the Wolfsblood Company."


    "Me and Gar?" Lasha frowned. "What about Sassun?"


    "He has another task," Captain Kaleesh said. "But there''s no need for you to concern yourself with that. Your task is to ensure that, in my absence, our men avoid any conflict with the Rangers."


    He cast a sideways glance at Gar, then added, "And your task is to keep your temper in check."


    A frown crossed Arran''s face ¡ª not just because of the captain''s words, but also because he Sensed that Sassun was carrying a chunk of starmetal ore on him. And he very much doubted that the grave-faced man had suddenly turned to petty thievery.


    "So what''s the plan?" Arran asked.


    "First," the captain replied, "you will need to leave your weapons behind. The Rangers won''t allow us to travel with them. So put them away somewhere safe. Once you''ve done so, we''ll head outside."


    Arran quickly did as the captain said. He returned to his quarters, and produced the starmetal sword he''d won in battle from his void ring, then hid it away. If someone came looking, that would be enough to convince them that he didn''t have the sword with him.


    After that, he had his Living Shadow weapon transform into a metal bracelet. By now, it took the weapon barely a second to assume the familiar shape, although he could still feel that it wasn''t particularly enthusiastic about that particular disguise.


    When he returned to the captain and the other commanders, he found them already waiting near the shaft that led up to the mines'' upper levels.


    But they weren''t the only ones who stood waiting. Surrounding were at least fifty mercenaries ¡ª the captain''s own group, Arran knew. And although none of the mercenaries bore weapons, Arran could see eagerness in their eyes.


    "Now then," the captain said. "It''s time for us to cause a small disturbance."

 Chapter 347 A Small Disturbance

    The climb to the mines'' upper levels was easier than before. After the lower levels were cleared, the rusty old ladders had been replaced with new ones, to allow the mercenaries to haul up the ore they mined.


    Still, only a few mercenaries could make their way up at a time. And so, when Captain Kaleesh and his commanders emerged from the mineshaft, the soldiers who guarded the tunnels did not immediately realize what was happening.


    "Where''s your ore?" one of them barked. Yet a moment later, his eyes went wide when he recognized the captain. "What are you doing here?!"


    The captain did not reply. Instead, he walked toward the group of soldiers, a slight spring in his step as he approached them.


    There were half a dozen soldiers, each of them carrying a sword and wearing armor. But even so, they hesitantly stepped backward at the captain''s casual approach.


    "Stop!" the lead soldier said, drawing his sword in a clumsy motion. "If you don''t stop, I''ll cut you down!"


    "Is that so?" the captain asked. Then, in a sudden motion, he lunged forward, slapping the soldier''s weapon aside and striking the man in the face with his fist.


    The blow was powerful enough that the soldier collapsed instantly. The other soldiers immediately reached for their weapons, but it was already too late ¡ª before they could even draw their swords, the captain and his commanders were upon them.


    Taken by surprise, all six soldiers lay unconscious on the ground only moments later. And already, more mercenaries were emerging from the mineshaft.


    Several minutes passed as the mercenaries made their way up, and when the last ones had emerged into the cramped tunnels, the captain nodded in approval.


    "Let''s go," he said. "And remember, do not kill any of them."


    They encountered several small groups of soldiers as they made their way to the surface, but none of those caused more than a moment''s delay. Even without weapons, the mercenaries overpowered them easily.


    A few soldiers thought better of it, however, and fled the tunnels as the mercenaries approached. While catching them would have been a simple matter, the captain stopped his troops from doing so.


    "We''re not looking to escape," he said. "We''re merely causing a small disturbance."


    When they emerged from the mines, they found two dozen soldiers already waiting for them, weapons drawn and cautious looks on their faces.


    "Stop right there!" one of them called out, his face twisted in an angry scowl. "Another step, and we''ll cut you down like the dogs you are!"


    Yet the captain ignored the man, continuing onward with nearly fifty mercenaries following behind him. There was only one among them who lingered in the back ¡ª Sassun, who still carried a chunk of starmetal ore.


    Arran had no time to consider the matter, however, because at that moment the soldier followed through on his threat. Face twisted in anger, he raised his sword and dashed forward.


    At that, the other soldiers set into motion as well, though perhaps not quite as eagerly. But reluctant though they might be, with one of them attacking the others could not stay behind.


    The lead soldier was the first to reach the mercenaries, and at once, he struck at the captain ¡ª only to find his blade stopped mid-air when Gar grabbed it. And before he could pull the weapon free, the giant man kicked him in the chest with such force it sent him flying a dozen paces.


    The other soldiers fared no better. Armed or not, none of them could match the captain and his commanders. In a few short breaths, they were all dragged to the ground and beaten senseless. A few mercenaries received shallow cuts in the process, but none were seriously injured.


    Yet even as the group of soldiers went down, more soldiers arrived ¡ª and not just soldiers. Roused by the commotion, the Rangers had arrived as well, and Arran knew that they would not be defeated as easily.


    When he saw the new arrivals, the captain called out, "Form up!"


    At once, the mercenaries did as he said, forming a dense square with the captain and his commanders at the front. But as they faced the Rangers, Arran realized that Sassun had disappeared.


    Brief though the fight had been, it had given the middle-aged commander the chance to slip away. And now, with the other mercenaries distracting the Rangers, he had already reached the edge of the camp, showing no sign of slowing down.


    "You dare attack my men?" The one who spoke was the Rangers'' leader ¡ª the same man who had struck and threatened the captain when he arrived in the camp. "You will die for this."


    Captain Kaleesh faced him calmly. "I think you''ll find that your men were the ones who attacked us," he said. "And you will not kill any of us ¡ª not if you value your life."


    The Ranger briefly looked at him in astonishment, then let out a loud laugh. "You think you can threaten me?"


    "Take a good look," the captain replied. "None of us carry weapons, but we will not stand down. If you kill one of us, you''ll have to kill us all."


    "Then we''ll kill you all," the Ranger replied, anger in his face. "What difference does it make?"


    However, while the lead Ranger''s face showed only fury, several of the others'' expressions changed in an instant, some concern now showing in their eyes.


    The captain sighed. "Look around you," he said, a hint of annoyance in his voice as he gestured at the miners and guards who had already gathered around them. "All here can see that we are unarmed, and that we have no interest in escaping or attacking."


    The Ranger narrowed his eyes as he looked around, and although the fury hadn''t faded from his expression, there was some hesitation now, as well.


    "If you kill us," the captain continued, "what reward do you suppose Lord Kadun would bestow upon you for such an act? Killing fifty unarmed workers, Body Refiners each of them? Do you think such a waste would go unpunished?"


    The Ranger scowled in anger, but even so, the doubt in his eyes grew stronger. Finally, he asked, "What do you want?"


    "We wish to petition Lord Kadun for our citizenship," Captain Kaleesh said. "As is our right. Naturally, we will abide by his decision."


    At this, the Ranger laughed sharply. "You think you will be set free? Despite your indolence and insubordination?"


    "We trust in Lord Kadun''s fairness," Captain Kaleesh said. "And whatever lies you might tell, we have one to speak for us, as well." He glanced around the crowd that had formed around them, then waved. "Overseer! Please join us!"


    After several moments, the overseer stepped out from the crowd, a mortified look on his face. "I want no part of this," he said in a panicked voice.


    "Even so," the captain replied, "I have the right to choose someone to speak for us. And I choose you."


    "You know our laws well," the Ranger said, and as he spoke, a slight smirk appeared on his face. "Very well, I will allow it. If you wish to see how Darian justice deals with insubordinate outsider dogs, I will not stop you."


    "You have my thanks," the captain said, giving the Ranger a small bow. "Arran here will accompany me as my second. I trust you have no objections to that?"


    "It matters not," the Ranger said with a dismissive gesture. "Send your men back into the mines. We will leave at once. The sooner you face Lord Kadun''s mercy, the better."


    The captain turned around to face the mercenaries, then said, "Everyone, head back into the mines. In my absence, I expect you not to cause any trouble. When we return, you will have your freedom."


    The mercenaries did not complain or object as they followed the order, though Arran could see frustration on several of their faces. Had the choice been theirs to make, he had little doubt they would have preferred to fight their way out of the camp.


    As the mercenaries moved back into the mines, the overseer hurried over to Captain Kaleesh. "Captain," he began in a worried voice. "Even if I speak for you, against a Ranger''s word¡­" He shook his head. "Please, reconsider this while there''s still time. It''s your only chance."


    The captain gave him a calm smile. "I trust in Lord Kadun''s wisdom," he replied. "I have no doubt that he will do as I expect."


    The overseer gave him a troubled look, then shook his head. "The choice is yours to make," he said, though it sounded like he had little faith in the outcome.


    A moment later, the Rangers'' leader approached them, with another Ranger at his side and a dozen soldiers behind them.


    "Let''s get going," he said, cruel amusement in his eyes. "You''ll experience Lord Kadun''s mercy soon enough."

 Chapter 348 A Lords Mercy

    To Arran''s surprise, neither he nor the captain suffered any serious abuse from the two Rangers as they traveled. While the Rangers occasionally insulted them, that was the extent of it.


    Arran was glad not to suffer any beatings ¡ª in no small part because he feared he might kill the Rangers in anger ¡ª but he had little doubt about the reason for their restraint.


    The Rangers looked at them with dismissive contempt, as if they''d already been defeated and the only thing that remained was for them to realize it. Whatever they expected to happen once they reached their destination, they clearly believed that Arran and the captain were already as good as dead.


    The overseer didn''t seem to think much of their chances, either. While the tall man showed no hostility, the pity in his eyes was every bit as worrying as the Rangers'' contempt. From his somber expression, Arran could almost think the man already believed them dead.


    And yet, Captain Kaleesh showed not even the smallest sign of concern. If anything, he looked to be in better spirits than before.


    Once, Arran even heard him whistle softly as they walked, and when he glanced over in wonder, the man''s lips held the hint of a smile.


    Their journey was as quick as it was peaceful. The two Rangers maintained a pace that left the overseer and the soldiers struggling to keep up, and whenever they stopped to eat, they were moving again only minutes later.


    After less than a week, Arran saw a large city appear in the distance.


    It was the same city they had passed on their way to the mines, but this time, they were headed straight for it. Apparently, this was where they would face Lord Kadun''s mercy.


    Despite his concerns, Arran could not help but be eager at the prospect of seeing a proper Darian city. His main task in entering the Imperium had been to study it, but despite having arrived months earlier, he''d still only caught glimpses of the true Imperium.


    But now, that would finally change.


    As they neared the city, Arran''s eyes slowly widened in shock. He''d only seen the city walls from a distance, but now, he realized that they were far higher than he had realized.


    The walls towered at least eighty feet in the air, and they were made from a dense gray stone that looked to be utterly impenetrable. Although Arran could Sense no magic in the walls'' construction, he knew instinctively that these were barriers to stop men and magic both.


    "Darian cities are unrivaled fortresses," the captain''s voice sounded. "With the gates closed and Lord Kadun''s troops inside, no army can pass these walls. Even another Lord''s army would break if they tried. And the city has supplies to weather a siege for years, if not decades."


    "You know a lot about our lands," the overseer said, his breath heavy from the fast pace. "And still you decided to¡­" He sighed. "Never mind. You made your choice."


    The overseer spoke no more, and as they approached the gates, Arran soon found his attention drawn away from the petition ahead.


    The gates were wide and massive, several feet thick and shod with layer after layer of steel. While the walls were thicker still ¡ª twenty feet, if not more ¡ª he could not imagine anyone breaking through either.


    There were numerous guards, too, inspecting the people who passed the gate and taking some aside to question them. The Rangers, however, were spared that small indignity. When the guards saw them, they merely offered respectful nods before quickly getting out of the way.


    Arran barely noticed this, however, as his attention was still drawn to the city''s massive defenses. There was no doubt in his mind that the captain was right ¡ª no army could breach these walls.


    And yet, even as he looked in awe at the bulwark, a question arose in his mind.


    This deep into the Imperium, what need was there for such exaggerated barriers? These were clearly defenses built for full-scale warfare, meant to withstand entire armies. And while he already understood that the Imperium was not without conflict, the effort seemed disproportionate.


    They soon left the walls behind them, however, and as they ventured onto the city''s crowded streets, Arran''s attention shifted to the people he saw.


    Many of them carried weapons, moving about the streets with the air of soldiers even if they lacked the armor and uniform. This was true even for the youths ¡ª there were some who carried the weapons and demeanor of trained warriors, despite not being old enough to grow a full beard.


    But there were many more people who were unarmed. And although there were some exceptions, most of these hurried through the streets with downcast looks, appearing almost as if they were afraid of offending anyone with their mere presence.


    "The armed ones are the true Darians," the captain explained. "The others are outsiders, like us. Or their descendants."


    Arran nodded in understanding, though he could not help but be taken aback by the fearful looks on the outsiders'' faces. He suspected that most of them had long earned their citizenship, and yet, they walked the streets of their own city with the timid looks of mistreated servants.


    He considered asking the captain why the outsiders did not rise up against the Darians, but quickly thought better of it. Not only would speaking those words be dangerous, he also knew the answer already ¡ª against the armed and trained Darians, the outsiders would have no chance of victory.


    They continued on for a good half hour, the Rangers not slowing their pace even the slightest bit as they navigated the city''s busy streets.


    And there was no need for them to slow ¡ª before the Rangers, the crowds parted easily, with even the armed Darians stepping aside without hesitation.


    Finally, they reached a large keep at the center of the city ¡ª a massive dark building that stood in the midst of the city like an immovable monolith. Easily over a hundred feet tall, its features were brusque and brutish, and it resembled nothing so much as it did a giant rock.


    Yet despite its size and thick walls, Arran could see that its defense was lacking. While the area around it was clear of buildings, it held too many doorways and windows to stop all but the smallest attacks.


    But then, there was no need for the keep to withstand attackers. Not with the city''s defenses strong enough to break even the mightiest army.


    Inside the large building, they found a multitude of large hallways, each dense with guards and soldiers.


    The two Rangers were clearly familiar with the building, as they guided their small group through the hallways with practiced ease, occasionally nodding at Rangers and soldiers they passed.


    After several minutes, they came to a halt in a particularly wide hallway, at the end of which stood a set of large wooden doors. And next to the doors was a stone desk, behind which sat a cold-faced woman.


    The lead Ranger approached the woman and gave her a respectful nod. "We have two outsiders who seek the Lord''s justice."


    The woman glanced at Arran and the captain before turning back to the Ranger. "They have someone to speak for them?" When she saw the Ranger nod, she continued, "You can go inside."


    The Ranger turned around and shot the captain a cruel smile. Then, with a glance at the overseer, he said, "Come along."


    Arran had expected that they''d be guided through the doors, but instead, only the lead Ranger and the overseer went ahead, opening the wooden doors just far enough for them to pass, then closing them behind.


    The captain and Arran remained behind, with the other Ranger and the dozen soldiers keeping a close eye on them.


    "This won''t take long," the captain said, his tone almost sounding bored.


    Indeed, barely three minutes the doors opened once more, revealing the lead Ranger. "Take them inside," he said, a dark smile on his face.


    When they were led through the doors, Arran saw that they had entered a large, empty chamber, with high stone walls. The chamber was mostly bare, but at its center stood a single wooden chair, clad in red velvet ¡ª large enough that it could almost be called a throne.


    Arran had expected to see Lord Kadun, but he was surprised to see someone else upon the throne ¡ª an old man, with long gray hair and a wrinkled face, dressed in a black silk robe.


    "Master Steward," the second Ranger said as they approached, giving the old man a respectful bow.


    The steward acknowledged the Ranger with a small nod, then turned his attention to the captain.


    "I have heard of your petition," he said, his deep voice carrying a slight crackle. "And I have heard of your transgressions."


    He paused briefly, his small, dark eyes flitting between the captain and Arran. Then, he continued, "For their indolence and insolence, the outsiders in your group are sentenced to a lifetime of labor in the mines, and two decades of labor for any offspring they might have. The both of you, as their leaders, are sentenced to death."


    At once, Arran''s eyes went wide with shock. He''d expected that they would at least get to plead their case ¡ª that the captain would get the chance to make some compelling argument. But instead, without them having spoken even a single word, they''d been sentenced to death.


    "We don''t get to defend ourselves?!" he blurted out, already knowing that the words would do little good even as he said them.


    The black-clad steward gave him a flat stare. "What value has the word of outsiders?" Slowly, he turned his head, facing the overseer, who stood at the side of the chamber. "Another has spoken for you. He will be suitably punished for his lies."


    Arran briefly struggled for words, but gave up a moment later. He now saw what Lord Kadun''s mercy entailed, and finally, he understood that there was no justice involved.


    The steward gave them a final contemptuous glance, then turned to the lead Ranger. "Take them away!"


    The Ranger nodded in response, a small but pleased smile on his face. Clearly, this was exactly the outcome he''d expected.


    Yet as the Rangers guided them out of the chamber, Arran glanced at the captain, and was surprised to see that there was not even a hint of worry or surprise in the man''s expression.


    Arran creased his brow in a deep frown when he realized that this was exactly what the captain had expected to happen. And if the captain had expected this, then he would have a plan ¡ª even if Arran still had no idea what it might be.


    After a moment''s thought, Arran let out a small sigh. Before he tried to massacre his way out of the city, he''d first see what the captain was planning.

 Chapter 349 Prison

    Arran did not struggle or resist as the Rangers led them into the dungeons below the keep.


    His Sense told him that there were two shards of Living Shadow higher up in the keep ¡ª Knights, he knew. If he tried to make an escape, the further away he was from them, the better his chances would be.


    But more importantly, he would need a plan.


    He could not simply rush out and hope for the best ¡ª not if he valued his life. He was no longer the foolish boy he''d been when he escaped the Academy prison, and he would not rush into danger blindly ¡ª not unless there was no other choice.


    And for now, there might be better choices yet. The captain had not looked the least bit surprised by the steward''s judgment, which could only mean that he''d planned for this all along.


    Still, Arran made sure to study his surroundings as they were led into the dungeons. If the captain''s plans failed and he had to break free himself, knowing the layout of their prison would certainly be useful.


    He was relieved to see that the dungeons would be easy to escape. The steel-barred cells were made to hold Body Refiners, but not ones with Arran''s strength.


    A bigger problem were the guards. There were hundreds of them in the dungeons, constantly patrolling the narrow hallways, with more than a few Rangers among them. And while none of them could match Arran, they could slow him enough for others to arrive.


    Although he had no immediate answer to this problem, he did not worry too much about it. First, he would see what the captain had to say.


    After some minutes within the dungeons'' corridors, the Rangers came to a halt before one of the few empty cells in the dungeons, and one of them opened the door and motioned for Arran and the captain to move inside.


    While Arran had expected a few final insults, or at least some gloating, it seemed the two Rangers didn''t think them worthy of even that small effort. Instead, the Rangers closed and barred the door behind them at once, then departed without any further words.


    For a moment, Arran remained silent, inspecting the cell''s interior as he considered the situation. There wasn''t much to see ¡ª there was no furniture or bedding, just bare stone walls and a single bucket.


    Finally, he turned to the captain.


    "You expected this."


    It was a statement rather than a question. He''d seen the captain''s expression when the steward announced his verdict, and there had been no trace of surprise in the man''s dark eyes.


    "So I did," the captain replied calmly.


    "Then you have a plan," Arran said, this time with some uncertainty in his voice. While he already knew the answer, he still needed the captain to confirm it ¡ª to confirm that their present situation wasn''t the result of some disastrous miscalculation.


    "So I do," the captain said. "Several, in fact."


    At this, Arran let out a small sigh. Then, he sat down on the stone floor, and for several minutes, he remained silent.


    "You''re Darian, aren''t you?" he finally asked. He''d long suspected it ¡ª it was the only explanation for the captain''s knowledge of the Imperium. And when they entered the city, Arran''s last doubts had disappeared.


    "Not exactly," Captain Kaleesh said. "While I was born in the Imperium, I''ve never been a Darian citizen."


    Arran frowned. "How is that possible?"


    "Darian justice is a peculiar thing," the captain replied, a wry smile on his face. "A crime as small as stealing a loaf of bread might see an outsider hanged. And if the steward dispensing justice is in a particularly foul mood, he might see it fit to impose a lifetime of servitude on the thief''s children and grandchildren ¡ª even those who haven''t been born yet."


    Arran understood that the captain was talking about himself, and he looked at the man with wide eyes. The punishment he described was beyond excessive ¡ª insane, even.


    "Escaping the Imperium is no simple matter," the captain continued, "but with no hope of freedom, a young man might take the risk and chance his life to escape. Even the near-certainty of death is better than the certainty of a lifetime in slavery."


    For some moments, Arran looked at the captain in wonder. The man''s lips still held a practiced smile, but his dark eyes carried no small amount of grief ¡ª grief, and hatred.


    "But why did you return?" Arran finally asked. "If you risked your life to win your freedom, why return to the Imperium?"


    The captain let out a mirthless laugh. "There are debts that must be repaid," he said. "And to repay them requires strength ¡ª the kind of strength only the Darians'' own secrets can provide." A vicious glint in his eyes, he continued, "Besides, what better way to slay an enemy than to drive his own dagger into his heart?"


    Brow furrowed in thought, Arran gazed at the man before him. Finally, he got a glance at what lay beneath the captain''s cheerful exterior, and the sight of it was enough to cause him some shock.


    "So you''re here for revenge," he said, at last understanding what Captain Kaleesh was after.


    "I''m here to settle debts," the captain said. "And the time to collect my first payment is fast approaching."


    Arran nodded in understanding. "So what''s the plan?"


    "Before I answer that question," the captain said, "let me ask you one, first. Consider it an exercise in strategy."


    "What''s your question?" Arran asked.


    "Imagine having to kill an enemy," Captain Kaleesh said. "One whose might exceeds yours in every way. One whose skin your blade cannot even scratch, with a vast army at his command, and an impenetrable fortress to defend him." He paused for a moment, then asked, "What weapon would you choose to defeat such an enemy?"


    At this, Arran''s eyes went wide with astonishment. "You intend to kill Lord Kadun?" he asked in a low voice, hesitant to even say the words out loud.


    "Perhaps," the captain replied. "But consider my question. What weapon would you use against an enemy like that?"


    Several answers came to Arran''s mind, but before he could speak, the captain cut him off with a gesture.


    "No need to answer right away," he said. "Our execution is scheduled for the new moon, when the Imperium believes the gods'' eyes are closed. That''s three weeks from now, and by then, we''ll be long gone."


    Although Arran already had a good idea of what the captain had in mind, he reluctantly held his tongue. Even in their current situation, he could not deny that pondering the matter would be a good exercise.


    That, and it would give him something to pass the time. Because if he was right, they would spend at least several days in the cell, and likely longer than that.


    This guess, at least, turned out to be correct.


    They spent over a week in the cell, the captain lecturing Arran on strategy and tactics even if he refused to reveal his plan just yet. And as they waited, Arran became increasingly certain that the captain plans were far bigger than he could have foreseen.


    Then, finally, Arran Sensed it ¡ª dozens of starmetal weapons within the keep setting into motion in a matter of minutes. And just moments later, he could hear a commotion in the dungeons, with guards hurriedly moving through the narrow corridors.


    As the sounds reached their small cell, a smile appeared on the captain''s face.


    "The wheels have been set in motion," he said. "Tell me, have you figured out my plan?"


    "I think so," Arran replied. "The weapon you mentioned ¡ª the weapon to defeat a Lord." He frowned, then continued, "It''s another Lord, isn''t it? Rannoc, I think? You sent Sassun to him with the starmetal, to tempt him into conquering the mines."


    The captain nodded in approval. "Very good," he said. "And how do you think I intend to strike down my target?"


    Arran hesitated, but only briefly. "You expect him to meet Rannoc''s army, and be defeated."


    At this, the captain shook his head. "Kadun is a fool," he said, "but not so great a fool that he does not recognize Rannoc''s strength. He''ll send out an army, but for all his talk of honor, he''ll remain in the city, with its impenetrable walls to protect him."


    "Then what''s your plan?" Arran asked.


    "Over the next few hours," the captain replied, "most soldiers will leave the city, leaving its defenses weakened. Once they''re gone, we will break out of here." A dark look appeared on his face. "And then, we will open a gate ¡ª and expose Kadun''s heart for Rannoc''s blade to pierce."

 Chapter 350 Prison Break

    While the captain''s plan sounded good on the surface, it wasn''t long before some doubts arose in Arran''s mind.


    Intricate as the plan was, its success relied on a great many assumptions, several of which seemed improbable at best. And if even a single one of them turned out to be incorrect, the entire plan would fall apart.


    "You don''t like it?" Captain Kaleesh asked. He looked at Arran curiously, apparently not the least bit offended that his commander did not blindly accept his plans.


    Still, Arran hesitated before speaking. Not because he thought the captain would take his doubts as an insult, but because he realized that there was still much he didn''t know about the Imperium and its Lords.


    "Out with it," the captain said. "If you see any mistakes that I''ve overlooked, I''d rather you tell me now."


    "You''re assuming that Kadun will send out his army," Arran said. "But if he expects them to meet Rannoc, why would he do so? Facing a Lord, they''ll be slaughtered like rats."


    "A good question." The captain nodded in approval. "You are quite right, of course ¡ª Kadun''s troops would stand no chance against Rannoc himself. But Lords do not meddle in common soldiers'' battles."


    Arran gave the captain a puzzled look. "Why not? If Rannoc is stronger than Kadun, why give up such an advantage?"


    "As you said, the soldiers would be slaughtered like rats," the captain explained. "Just a few such conflicts could wipe out half the Imperium''s population. On the battlefield, only Lords face Lords, only Knights face Knights, and only Rangers face Rangers. That''s why, when Rannoc''s troops attacked us on the road, their Rangers did not join in the assault."


    He paused for a moment, then added, "I should note that they do not extend the same courtesy to outsiders."


    Arran nodded thoughtfully. Now that he thought about it, it made sense that the Darians would not slaughter their own so needlessly. If they did, their numbers would soon run out.


    Still, some of his doubts remained, and he asked, "So you''re certain that Kadun will send his army to meet Rannoc''s troops?"


    "He has to," the captain replied. "Even if his men have no chance of victory, he cannot let Rannoc take his lands too easily, or other Lords will get the same idea. Even if Rannoc is victorious, Kadun needs to make the victory a costly one ¡ª too costly to be worth it."


    This, Arran understood at once. Sometimes, one had to show strength even in the face of certain defeat, simply to deter other attackers.


    "What about Rannoc?" he asked. "How can you be certain he''ll attack the city?"


    "Because I invited him to," Captain Kaleesh said. "Rannoc has long eyed Kadun''s lands, and since we''ve already given him an excuse, he won''t hesitate to seize the opportunity I''ve offered him."


    "An excuse?" The question had only barely escaped Arran''s lips when he found the answer. "Rannoc''s niece?"


    "Exactly," the captain said. "The Imperium frowns upon Lords killing one another. But since Kadun has already spilled the blood of Rannoc''s family, Rannoc is well within his rights to take revenge."


    Seeing Arran''s concerned look, he chuckled, then shook his head. "There''s no need to worry. Rannoc will not look too hard for the actual killers ¡ª not when blaming Kadun benefits him so much."


    As Arran looked at the captain in wonder, he could not help but be awed by the man''s insight. He understood now that the dark-eyed man had not only planned out every last detail, but had also changed his plans continuously to adapt to the changing circumstances.


    There had been plenty of unexpected events that the captain could not possibly have foreseen ¡ª the presence of Rannoc''s niece and their posting to the mines, to name just two ¡ª and yet, Kaleesh had adapted to them easily, taking them as tools rather than obstacles.


    It was enough to cause Arran some unease. Although they were allies, he finally recognized fully just how dangerous the captain was.


    "Another hour," the captain said, "and we''ll leave this cell. The army should be departing the city by then." With a look at Arran, he continued, "I have been hiding my strength so far, and I know the same is true for you."


    Arran responded with a small nod ¡ª there was no point in denying it.


    "That ends today," the captain continued. "Going forward, we''ll need every shred of strength our bodies hold." A flicker of hesitation appeared in his eyes, and in a low voice, he added, "Though if you have any magical talent, I suggest you keep that well-hidden."


    It took all Arran had not to gasp in shock. It was no surprise that the captain knew he was hiding his strength, but apparently, the man also suspected him of being a mage.


    Quickly, to hide his shock, he said, "I''m stronger than you might realize. If I show my full strength, it will draw attention."


    The captain smiled. "That is no longer a problem. Starting today, we will no longer pretend to be common outsiders."


    Another plan, then. Arran sighed and gave the captain a small nod. If nothing else, at least he would no longer have to hold back his strength.


    They spoke more in the hour that followed, though Arran''s mind was already focused on the battle ahead. And that there would be a battle, he knew for certain ¡ª because although he could Sense that the keep was far emptier than before, it still held plenty of people.


    And one of those people was a Knight.


    After an hour, Captain Kaleesh narrowed his eyes, a look of concentration appearing on his face. Some moments passed in silence, until finally, he spoke, "The noise has died down. It''s time for us to move."


    He stood up from the ground and walked over to the steel door. Then, he slammed the palm of his left hand into the door with a single sharp movement.


    Unremarkable though the palm strike looked, when it hit the door there was a sound of tearing metal. It was loud enough to make Arran cringe, but it lasted only a fraction of a second. And as the sound died down, the door swung open.


    Kaleesh glanced back at Arran. "First, we''ll need some uniforms."


    Acquiring proved easier than expected. When they stepped into the narrow hallway, Arran saw three guards barely a dozen paces away, looks of alarm on their faces.


    One of the guards opened his mouth to shout, but before he could make a sound, Arran had already reached the man, his fist smashing into the guard''s face.


    The guard collapsed instantly, neck snapped from the impact. And barely a moment later, the other two guards lay dead as well, skulls smashed by Arran''s fists.


    Now that he no longer needed to hold back, killing the guards was no more difficult than breaking twigs.


    They hid the bodies in their cell, quickly stripping them of their weapons and uniforms. Though the uniforms didn''t fit them particularly well, the disguise was passable ¡ª if one didn''t look too closely.


    "We''ll need better weapons," the captain said with a displeased look at the sword he''d taken. "Let''s go kill some Rangers."


    They quickly headed out into the dungeons'' narrow hallways, then began to make their way around, searching for Rangers.


    Although the dungeons were far emptier than before ¡ª apparently, many of the guards had left with Kadun''s army ¡ª they still encountered several groups of guards.


    Most of the guards they found merely nodded as they passed them, barely paying attention as their thoughts were more focused on the distant battle their comrades would be fighting. Three groups, however, noticed something was amiss ¡ª and promptly had their vigilance rewarded with death.


    They hid the bodies in empty cells before continuing on their way, but as they passed the numerous cells that were filled with prisoners, a thought occurred to Arran.


    "Shouldn''t we free the other prisoners?" he said. "There are hundreds of them, with most of them likely victims of the same Darian justice we faced. If we release them, they might provide us with a distraction."


    The captain shook his head, albeit reluctantly. "There''s nothing we can do for them. Even if they make it out of here, they won''t survive the week." He sighed, then added, "And we can''t afford to draw attention ¡ª not while we''re still in here."


    Though Arran knew that Kaleesh was right, he could not help but regret the other prisoners'' fates. Perhaps Rannoc would be more merciful than Kadun''s stewards, but somehow, he doubted it.


    They searched the maze of hallways for a quarter-hour, but without any luck. While there were still plenty of guards in the dungeons, the Rangers had been rare to begin with, and most of them had left earlier.


    Of course, Arran''s Sense told him exactly where he could find the Rangers and their starmetal weapons. Yet that was something he could not reveal ¡ª even if Kaleesh suspected that he was a mage, he would not risk announcing it. Not yet, at least.


    But time was passing quickly as they searched, and they had little of it to waste.


    Finally, just as the captain was about to head to another dead end, Arran pointed toward another hallway ¡ª one that would lead them to two Rangers, both armed with starmetal weapons.


    "That way," he said. And as the captain gave him a puzzled look, he explained, "I heard something."


    While the captain looked unconvinced, he did not question Arran''s suggestion. And barely a minute later, two Rangers appeared in the hallway before them.


    They approached the Rangers calmly, trying their best to look like the guards they pretended to be. Yet when they''d come within half a dozen paces, one of the Rangers cast a suspicious look at them.


    "Who are¡ª" the man began, but he didn''t get the chance to finish the sentence. Before he could react, the captain''s sword flashed forward, its steel blade instantly emerging from the back of the Ranger''s head.


    The other Ranger barely had time to draw his sword before Arran''s blade was upon him, but although he tried to block the strike, it was no use.


    Arran struck with such force that even as the Ranger''s blade tore through his own sword, the man''s weapon was ripped from his hands. A look of shock on his face, the Ranger staggered backward, scrambling for his lost weapon in blind panic.


    Yet Arran did not give the man a chance to recover. He discarded his ruined sword, then grabbed his opponent''s head and slammed it into the wall until the Ranger stopped moving.


    Then, with a glance at the captain, he said, "You''re fast."


    A frown on his face, the captain replied. "You''re strong."


    For a moment, they faced each other, each surprised at the other''s ability.


    Finally, the captain chuckled. "Good. Now let''s go open that gate."

 Chapter 351 Breaching The Defenses

    Arran was surprised at how easy the Rangers'' clothes and weapons made it for him and the captain to roam the keep.


    They passed several groups of guards even before leaving the dungeons, but despite their ill-fitted clothes and unfamiliar faces, none of the guards so much as spoke a word.


    "They wouldn''t dare question Rangers," the captain explained. "But even if they would, the thought of outsiders escaping and robbing Rangers would never occur to them."


    This, Arran understood easily. In the Shadowflame Society, few novices would risk disturbing a Master, much less questioning one. And from what he had seen, the gap between common soldiers and Rangers in the Imperium was every bit as large, if not larger.


    It was a weakness for both sides, and a major one at that. But interesting though that thought was to Arran, it was a matter for later concern.


    Right now, there were more urgent things that needed his attention.


    Escaping the dungeons proved no more difficult than walking out. With none of the guards they met stopping to question them, it wasn''t long before they had left the dungeons'' cramped hallways behind and emerged into the keep proper.


    When they arrived, the keep''s hallways had been abuzz with people, soldiers and Rangers both. But now, the wide corridors were all but abandoned, with only a few lone soldiers and guards remaining.


    Arran frowned in wonder as they navigated the keep''s empty passages. "It''s like Kadun sent everyone who could carry a weapon to the mines."


    "He did, or close enough to make no difference," the captain replied. "He had no other choice. Just suffering an attack will weaken him in the eyes of his peers, and losing the mines would turn him into a laughingstock."


    "Worse than risking his entire army?" Arran asked.


    "Much worse," the captain said. "An army can be rebuilt with enough time, but the stain of dishonor isn''t erased so easily. But he won''t lose his army ¡ª the two sides will exchange blows only until a winner is decided, and the losing side will be allowed to flee."


    "Still," Arran said, "it seems foolish to attack enemies who know you''re coming. If I were in Kadun''s place, I''d have my troops retreat into the city, and only strike when Rannoc''s forces were unprepared."


    The captain smiled, then gave a shake of his head. "Effective as that would be, it would make Kadun look weak. The Lords'' conflicts aren''t real wars ¡ª they''re fought for honor as much as they are for victory."


    "That sounds like madness," Arran replied, a sour look on his face. "To fight battles as if they were games."


    "Perhaps," the captain said. "But these games, as you call them, have held the Imperium together for countless centuries. They allow the Lords to challenge each other without wasting too many Darian lives, and provide their troops with experience they cannot gain through mere training."


    Much to his annoyance, Arran had no answer to this. Although there was something about the idea of battle without conviction that seemed deeply wrong, he had trouble deciding exactly what it was that bothered him.


    And either way, the system seemed to have worked for the Darians, at least so far.


    "Although I must admit," the captain continued, "that presently, the Darians'' customs pose a bit of a problem for our plans."


    The captain sounded unconcerned, but Arran''s expression instantly turned ugly as his eyes shot toward his companion. If Kaleesh saw a problem worth mentioning, he had little doubt that the news would be very bad indeed.


    "How bad is it?" he asked, frustration rising within him as he understood that things wouldn''t be as simple as he''d hoped.


    "I''ll explain in a moment," the captain said. "Let''s leave the keep, first."


    They were only a few dozen paces from the keep''s entrance, and although the rest of the keep was mostly empty, its entrance was still defended by two dozen guards.


    Yet although the guards looked at them curiously as they passed, none of them spoke up. Their leader seemed on the verge of saying something, but thought better of it when he saw Arran''s irritated expression.


    Then, just like that, they were back on the city''s streets.


    Arran saw that it was late in the evening, at least several hours after sundown. And although there were some people on the streets despite the late hour, Arran was relieved to see that they were few, with most of them looking to be outsiders rather than Darians.


    "As I was saying," the captain continued once they were out of earshot of the guards, "the Darians'' customs may prove to be a slight obstacle to my plan. Nothing we can''t deal with, mind you, but an obstacle nonetheless."


    Not at all reassured, Arran cast a dark look at his companion. "That bad, is it?"


    Kaleesh hesitated briefly before speaking. "It''s not good," he finally admitted. "Like Kadun, Rannoc holds to the Imperium''s customs. And that means he won''t enter the city like a thief in the night."


    At this, Arran''s expression darkened further. "So we''ll need to defend the gate after we open it? How long?"


    "Half an hour," Kaleesh replied. "A quarter-hour if we''re lucky and Rannoc hurries. Which I doubt he will."


    Arran cursed loudly, the sound of his voice sharp enough to cause several of the people on the street to hurry away ¡ª they had no desire to be anywhere near an angry Ranger.


    It took him a moment to regain his composure, a task at which he only partly succeeded. "This is idiocy," he said. "Why wouldn''t Rannoc be waiting nearby, ready to enter as soon as we open the gate?"


    "For the same reason he didn''t sneak into the city earlier," the captain said. "If he entered the city unnoticed and slew Kadun, it would be considered murder ¡ª and worse, dishonorable. But to enter the city with an army and take it by force? That''s rightful conquest."


    Arran looked at Kaleesh with wide-eyed astonishment, almost convinced that the man was leading him on. Yet there was not a trace of amusement in the captain''s eyes, and Arran realized that the captain was speaking earnestly.


    "That is the single stupidest thing I''ve heard in my life," he finally said.


    The captain laughed at his reaction, then shook his head. "You''re wrong ¡ª it''s brilliant. The Imperium cannot afford to lose its Lords too easily, but if it forbade them from killing each other, they would take matters into their own hands. So instead, they are given a means to settle their disputes ¡ª but one that is so cumbersome that it only rarely gets used."


    Arran was about to protest, but then thought better of it. Madness or genius, it didn''t matter. Either way, their task remained the same. And from the sound of it, it was a more difficult task than he had expected.


    He groaned in frustration. "Half an hour is long enough for half the city to be alerted," he said. "And what if a Knight comes? Or more than one?"


    "If a Knight shows up, we''ll have to hold him off as best we can, long enough for Rannoc to arrive," Kaleesh said. "Of course, if multiple Knights arrive, we''ll have no choice but to flee ¡ª but most of them should currently be with the army, far away from the city."


    "And what if Kadun himself appears?" Arran asked, his misgivings about the plan growing by the second.


    "Then you''d better be a good runner," the captain replied.


    Arran let out an exasperated sigh. "If we die, I''m blaming you."


    "Noted," the captain said. "Now, the gate''s only a few minutes away. When we get there, I will get the guards to open it. You should head up the wall and kill anyone you find there. With a bit of luck, that''ll earn us a minute or two before Rannoc''s approach is noticed."


    "Alright," Arran said. Then, after a moment''s thought, he asked, "Is this really the only option?"


    He''d spent months studying the captain''s manuscripts on tactics and strategy, and he''d been awed by the captain''s plans ¡ª at least, up until this point. Yet the final step was wholly different, seemingly devoid of strategy.


    The captain gave Arran an amused look. "Surprised?" He grinned, and continued, "No matter how well you plan your battles, sometimes, the only way forward is to roll the dice."


    They arrived at the gate several minutes later, and although the streets had been empty of Darians, Arran saw that there were plenty of them here. At least two dozen armed guards stood near the closed gate, and his Sense told him that there were others still in the nearby guardhouse.


    Kaleesh shot Arran a grin. "Good luck," he said in a low voice. Then, he approached the guards before them. "Soldiers! Open the gate this instant! Orders from Lord Kadun!"


    As the captain set to work on convincing the guards to open the gate, Arran quickly headed to the side of the guardhouse, where a set of stone stairs led up toward the top of the wall.


    While there were no Rangers at the bottom of the gate, he could already Sense that two of them stood atop the wall, starmetal weapons at their sides. And with them were another dozen guards.


    Halfway up the stairs, hidden in the shadow, Arran briefly came to a halt. Then, before continuing, he stored the starmetal sword in his void ring and had his Living Shadow weapon take the familiar shape of a normal sword.


    Against common soldiers and Rangers, there was no real need for so powerful a weapon. But if he risked facing Knight, he wanted every advantage he could get.


    Atop the wall, he found a broad stone walkway protected by a thick battlement. And behind the battlement stood the Darian troops he''d already Sensed, their eyes focused on the lands outside the city.


    One of the two Rangers in the group turned to Arran as he approached. "Brother, what reason is there for the commotion below?" he asked. But as Arran came nearer, the man narrowed his eyes. "Who are¡ª"


    In a single movement, Arran drew his sword as he lunged forward and struck with every shred of power his body held, his weapon effortlessly cleaving through the Ranger''s torso. And even as the second Ranger turned toward him, panicked hand shooting toward his sword, Arran struck again, cutting the man down before he could draw his weapon.


    The soldiers fared no better. With Arran no longer restraining his strength, they died before they could scream, the last of them falling only seconds after he''d drawn his weapon.


    As he stood atop the wall, Arran patiently waiting for Kaleesh to finish his work. Then, finally, he heard the loud grinding sound of the massive gate slowly being opened.


    Arran did not move down again immediately. With the captain having taken charge of the soldiers, it would take some time before the first of their enemies arrived.


    Instead, he focused his eyes on the darkness beyond the wall, looking out over Kadun''s lands much like the two dead Rangers had before him.


    A minute passed, then another. And then, Arran saw it ¡ª torches being lit, several miles in the distance. First a dozen, then a hundred, then more still. Rannoc''s troops. And from the look of it, they were in no hurry to charge the city.


    Barely a moment later, he heard a distant call, a quarter-mile down the wall. And then another, even further. Already, the city''s defenders had realized an attack was coming ¡ª and no wonder, with Rannoc''s troops making no attempt to conceal their approach.


    Arran cast another look at the torches in the distance, and cursed beneath his breath when he saw their slow movement. By the time Rannoc''s forces arrived, half the city would already be upon them.


    With a sigh, he bent over and gathered up the fallen Rangers'' weapons. Then, he headed back down the stone stairs to rejoin the captain.


    They had thrown the dice, and now, all that remained was to await the outcome. But whatever happened, one thing he knew for certain ¡ª before long, the ground would be red with Darian blood.

 Chapter 352 Defending The Gate

    As Arran made his way down from the wall, he could hear calls of alarm sounding throughout the city.


    Only moments had passed since the first guard had spotted the approach of Rannoc''s forces, but already, the city was in an uproar. And although most of Kadun''s troops didn''t yet know that the gate stood open, it wouldn''t take long for word to spread.


    When that happened, every soldier in the city would come for them.


    Knowing that there wasn''t much time, Arran hurried down the stairs and immediately approached the gate, where he found Captain Kaleesh facing over three dozen guards.


    Despite the uneven numbers, the guards looked at Kaleesh with uncertain eyes. They must have heard the calls of alarm, but it seemed they hadn''t yet seen through the captain''s disguise. And now, they found themselves torn between their own instincts and the supposed Ranger''s orders.


    "Master Ranger," the guards'' leader said in a pleading voice, "please, allow us close the gate. Whatever orders Lord Kadun gave you, surely you can see that the situation has changed. I beg of you, step aside."


    So focused were the guards on the captain that they didn''t notice Arran''s approach. Yet Kaleesh was more observant, and he gave Arran a subtle glance.


    The gesture was barely noticeable, but Arran understood it at once ¡ª the captain wanted him to move behind the group of guards, to cut off any who tried to escape what would come next.


    As Arran silently moved into position, the captain''s voiced sounded, "Our Lord''s orders are not to be questioned. Stand down at once."


    "I¡­ I can''t do that," the guards'' leader replied, a slight tremble in his voice as if he could scarcely believe what he was saying. But then, more firmly, he continued, "Men, close the gate."


    Arran could not help but admire the man''s courage. To openly resist a superior''s orders required no small amount of willpower. And had the captain truly been a Ranger, the guard''s act of courage might have saved the city.


    Yet as it was, the guard''s bravery only earned him a quick death. The moment the man ordered his men to close the gate, Kaleesh attacked, striking him down with a single blow before turning to the other guards.


    Arran followed the captain''s example at once, lunging at the back of the group and cutting down a handful of guards before they even realized he was there.


    What followed was a slaughter rather than a battle, as brief as it was brutal. Both Arran and Kaleesh could have easily defeated the entire group themselves, and without having to resort to such cheap tricks.


    But their goal wasn''t merely to defeat the guards. Rather, it was to defeat them without giving any the chance to escape.


    When the last of the guards fell, barely a minute later, Kaleesh gave a wistful sigh. "It was necessary," he said, almost as if he was trying to convince himself.


    Yet Arran knew it was the truth. Killing the guards had only bought them a small amount of time ¡ª minutes, at most ¡ª but even that might mean the difference between success and failure.


    "It won''t be long before others arrive," he said. "We should get into position."


    The captain nodded. "One of us will have to defend the approach," he said, "while the other defends the gate."


    After months of studying the captain''s manuscripts, Arran had no need to guess at the man''s intentions ¡ª not for a battle as simple as this one.


    Between the walls and the city proper lay an empty area, at least fifty paces wide. If they both remained at the gate, Kadun''s troops could use that empty space to form ranks and riddle them with arrows from a distance.


    The only way to stop that from happening was to break the Darians'' groups as soon as they arrived, causing enough chaos among their ranks to stop them from launching a coordinated attack on the gate.


    "I''ll take the approach," Arran said. "You take the gate."


    Kaleesh gave him a questioning look. "Are you sure?"


    "I am," Arran said. "Let''s move."


    The task he''d chosen was the more dangerous one, but with the Blood Ruin already strengthening him, he should have little risk of dying at the hands of the soldiers and Rangers he would face.


    His real concern were the Knights. And the more enemies he killed, the better his chances would be if one of those appeared.


    "Good luck," Kaleesh said.


    "The same to you," Arran replied.


    There was no need for further words. They both knew their tasks, and neither of them lacked experience in battle.


    Now, all that remained was to see whether their strength was enough.


    Arran hurried to his position, quickly hiding himself next to one of the buildings that stood opposite the gate. And not a moment too soon, because only seconds later, a large group of soldiers arrived, led by two Rangers.


    The soldiers came to an immediate halt when they saw the scene before them ¡ª dozens of dead bodies littering the ground in front of the opened gate. It was hard to say whether the gate or the bodies shocked them more, but for a moment, they stood in stunned silence.


    Then, one of the Rangers yelled, "Close the gate!"


    Yet as the words left his mouth, Arran had already covered the distance to the group, and he fell upon the soldiers with a furious rage, immediately setting to work cutting a bloody path through their ranks.


    The soldiers were mere obstacles that stood between him and his true target ¡ª the Rangers. Because when the two leaders died, he knew the group would fall apart in an instant.


    Arran did not hold back as he attacked, his Living Shadow sword tearing through his opponents like a scythe through wheat. It was a strength the soldiers could not hope to match, a strength against which their only choices were to either flee or die.


    Faced with such fury, the group broke well before Arran had expected ¡ª before he even reached the Rangers. Yet as the soldiers fled in all directions, the two Rangers stood their ground, facing Arran with drawn weapons and grim faces.


    The first few seconds of battle proved that both Rangers were impressively skilled, dodging and deflecting Arran''s blows as best they could. Yet the seconds that followed proved that their skill was no match for Arran''s raw strength.


    Try as they might, there was no defending against an enemy like this ¡ª an enemy whose strikes brought them to their knees even when they parried them.


    Just moments later, both Rangers lay dead on the ground, one missing his head while the other''s skull was split down to the neck.


    This was enough to break the spirits of the last few soldiers who still remained, and they fled instantly, some running back into the city while others ran toward the gate.


    Arran ignored them all. Kaleesh could take those who reached the gate, and while the others would doubtless return with reinforcements, there was no time to chase them down. Because already, Arran Sensed that two other groups were converging on the gate.


    The new groups fared no better than the first. One lacked Rangers altogether, and they broke before Arran could cut down even a handful of their number. The other group did have a Ranger, but it made little difference. The man barely lasted a moment, and as his body hit the ground, the soldiers accompanying him fled in a blind panic.


    Then, suddenly, the large clearing before the gate was quiet, with the only sounds to be heard the soft groans of dying soldiers.


    Arran knew the peace would not last long. Because in the distance, he Sensed a far larger group of soldiers approaching. And unlike the previous groups, he knew that this group would already know what awaited them.


    Barely two minutes later, the soldiers suddenly flooded into the clearing ¡ª hundreds of them, perhaps even thousands. Some of these headed straight for the gate, but the majority hurried toward Arran, instantly moving to encircle him.


    It was a sound tactic, but here, it was woefully inadequate. The soldiers were like a pack of mice trying to corner a bear, and Arran did not hesitate for even a second as he plunged himself into their ranks.


    What followed was a blur of rage and madness. Arran struck those around him with furious blows, his sword not coming to a halt for even a second. Yet even as the soldiers and Rangers nearest to him tried to flee, more groups arrived, pushing Arran''s terrified opponents toward him.


    Overcome with panic, they struck out blindly, not caring whether they hit friend or foe. Some of their attacks wounded Arran, but with the Blood Ruin pouring strength into his body, even his more serious injuries healed instantly.


    The soldiers, however, weren''t so lucky. Their comrades'' wild strikes killed even more of them than Arran did, which further added to their panic. And in the dense mass of panicked soldiers, any who stumbled were soon trampled to death.


    It was a carnage unlike any Arran had experienced before. There was no sense or reason to it ¡ª just thousands of soldiers, desperately fighting to survive and killing each other in the process.


    Then, a loud voice sounded, "Retreat!"


    Arran didn''t know whether the voice belonged to a Ranger or just another terrified soldier, but it didn''t matter. Others took up the call almost immediately, and within moments there wasn''t a Darian in sight who wasn''t fleeing in desperation.


    The chaotic rout took even more of their lives, but it was clear that the soldiers no longer cared. None among them so much as looked back as they left their fallen comrades behind.


    This time, however, there was no quiet. The ground was thick with dead and dying soldiers, and the screams and cries of the wounded and dying drowned out all other sounds.


    And yet, despite the nightmarish scene, Arran Sensed that wasn''t the end of it. Already, another large group was approaching.


    This time, the soldiers approached in tight ranks, spears before them as they advanced with steady steps. But it was no use ¡ª with the strength of the Blood Ruin coursing through Arran''s veins, breaking the Darians'' ranks was a simple matter, and it wasn''t long before the soldiers retreated once more, leaving even more bodies behind.


    More waves of soldiers followed, with some attacking in furious charges and others advancing with slow, steady paces. But each wave left Arran stronger than before, the soldiers'' deaths fueling his strength as he fought them.


    But then, he Sensed it. A shard of Living Shadow, shaped like a dagger.


    A Knight. And there was still no sign of Rannoc''s troops.

 Chapter 353 A Knights Power

    Arran cast a quick look around the area, searching for any enemies who still remained a threat. With a Knight only moments away, he could not afford any distraction, no matter how small.


    Yet it took him only a moment to realize that no enemies remained ¡ª none who were in any condition to fight, at least. All those whose legs would still carry them had already fled, and the only ones who remained were either dead or dying.


    The sight of the battlefield caused Arran some shock. Earlier, he''d been too engrossed in battle to fully notice the magnitude of the carnage, but now, he saw that it was even worse than he''d realized.


    Hundreds of broken bodies littered the ground, and small streams of blood ran through the cracks between the cobblestones. Had Arran not caused the devastation himself, he would have thought it the aftermath of a clash between two vicious armies.


    Still, he did not let his eyes linger on the sight.


    Even with the deaths of hundreds of enemies to feed his Blood Ruin and bolster his strength, the battle ahead would demand his full attention.


    Of course, his task wasn''t to defeat the Knight. Rather, it was to keep his opponent from reaching the gate before Rannoc arrived.


    After giving it a quick thought, Arran moved toward the center of the open space before the gate.


    With the soldiers either fled or defeated, he no longer needed to worry about enemy archers riddling him with arrows. What mattered now was to have plenty of room to dodge and retreat, to delay the Knight for as long as needed.


    He''d barely made it to the center of the clearing when the Knight came into view, tall and clad in a full set of starmetal armor, with a long starmetal sword and a short Living Shadow dagger at his side.


    The man paused briefly as he stepped into the clearing, his head turning as he gazed at the bodies strewn across the ground.


    Since the Knight was wearing a helmet, Arran could not see if there was any shock on his face. But when he turned toward Arran a moment later, he drew both his weapons, wielding the sword in his right hand and the dagger in his left.


    Then, he began to move toward Arran, walking with cautious steps that nevertheless exuded the confidence of a skilled fighter.


    The Knight''s deliberate movements put an end to the first of Arran''s hopes ¡ª that his opponent would be overconfident or timid.


    Either of those would have given Arran an advantage, but instead, his foe showed only the practiced calm of someone who''d seen numerous battles.


    A bad sign, Arran knew. Anyone who could look upon such a bloody battlefield and remain calm was someone to be taken seriously.


    He took a defensive posture as the Knight approached him, waiting for his opponent to make the first move. Neither of them was familiar with the other''s abilities, but time was on Arran''s side ¡ª every moment the Knight spent testing his skill brought Rannoc''s forces closer to the gate.


    But of course, the Knight knew this as well, and he wasted no time in attacking.


    The man''s first attack was a tentative one, intended to force a reaction rather than to break through Arran''s defense. But although his opponent clearly held back, Arran found himself struggling to defend against the Knight''s blows, and he was forced to retreat several paces.


    Brief though the exchange was, it was enough for Arran to realize that he was thoroughly outmatched.


    While he believed ¡ª or hoped ¡ª that he was stronger than the Knight, his opponent''s skill was beyond anything he could have imagined.


    It was the kind of skill that could only come from insights, and even in the few short moments they''d crossed blades, Arran had already recognized hints of numerous different insights ¡ª more insights than he''d believed a single person could possess.


    But although the exchange left him shocked, he maintained a calm expression. While he already knew he was outmatched, the Knight might yet believe that Arran was holding back as well.


    That could not win him the fight, but it might buy him a few precious seconds.


    Again the Knight attacked, more forcefully this time, and again Arran defended himself as best he could, throwing every shred of strength and skill he had into his parries and counters.


    It was only barely enough. Once more, Arran was forced to retreat, this time with a small wound on his shoulder from the Knight''s sword.


    While the wound healed in an instant, how Arran had received it left him shocked. Because in the attack that struck him, he recognized one of the Knight''s insights, and it was one he shared ¡ª severing.


    The Knight''s insight into severing was nowhere near as developed as his own, but it was enough to threaten him. And unlike Arran, his opponent clearly had numerous such insights.


    At once, Arran understood that he could not afford to wait out the Knight''s attacks. If he did, he would be defeated in moments. His only choice was to go on the offensive, where his strength and weapon might give him an advantage.


    He attacked without hesitation, striking a rapid series of vicious blows at his opponent, each of them strengthened with his true insight into severing.


    He hoped that the Knight would try to block one of the blows with his sword ¡ª if so, Arran''s Living Shadow weapon would cut through the starmetal, damaging the Knight''s weapon and giving Arran a much-needed advantage.


    But instead, he found that his opponent dodged and deflected his attacks, moving with a speed far beyond what Arran could match.


    Still, Arran did not let up. He continued to attack with all his might. It was the only choice he had ¡ª to force the Knight to defend and stop him from gaining the initiative.


    Arran knew it couldn''t last. With each strike he made, the Knight learned more about his abilities, and with every attack, he risked opening himself up to a counter.


    But then, it didn''t have to last. Arran could already Sense Rannoc''s troops in the distance, and if he survived just a few more minutes, help would arrive.


    Yet just as he felt some small hope, the Knight dodged another of Arran''s attacks, then countered with a thrust so fast Arran had no chance to defend himself. And although he jumped backward instantly, the Knight''s sword still left a deep wound on his chest.


    The wound began to heal immediately, but the Knight did not let the opportunity go to waste. At once, he followed up with a combination of attacks that sent Arran scrambling backward.


    Arran narrowly avoided the Knight''s most dangerous blows, but in doing so, he was forced to leave openings in his defense. And within moments, the man''s skillful strikes opened up half a dozen wounds on his body.


    Still, it wasn''t over. Sensing victory, the Knight pressed his advantage, with Arran retreating as fast as he could while desperately fending off the Knight''s rapid strikes.


    Only moments had passed since the Knight''s first attack, but already, Arran found himself on the verge of defeat. His strength was of little use against someone whose skill was so far beyond his own, and with every exchange, his position worsened further.


    And then, he stumbled, tripping over one of the many bodies that were strewn across the ground.


    It took him only a fraction of a second to regain his footing, but already, he saw the Knight''s attack coming ¡ª too fast for him to dodge or block.


    He had lost.


    Arran knew his death was only a second away, his sword too slow as he tried to block the weapon that was already rushing toward his chest.


    Yet just when he was certain he would die, someone appeared between him and the Knight ¡ª Kaleesh, moving at a speed that could only be called inhuman.


    The captain deflected the Knight''s attack just in time to save Arran''s life, then immediately launched a flurry of strikes at their opponent, his sword cutting through the air so fast Arran could only barely see it.


    Kaleesh was faster than the Knight ¡ª much faster. And as his blows rained down on their foe, Arran briefly believed the Knight was on the edge of being defeated.


    Somehow, however, the Knight weathered the barrage of blows, parrying and deflecting the captain''s attacks through sheer skill. Even if the captain moved faster, the Knight seemed to block his attacks even before he launched them.


    Arran had been shocked by the captain''s speed, but now, he was doubly shocked to see that despite his speed, Kaleesh was still losing to the Knight.


    Without hesitation, he joined Kaleesh in the attack, launching a series of furious blows at their opponent even as the captain continued to strike at the man with a barrage of impossibly fast attacks.


    And still, the tide of battle did not change.


    Even with both Arran and Kaleesh fighting with all their strength, it was obvious that their opponent still outmatched them, the insights that his skill contained too much for both Arran''s strength and Kaleesh''s speed.


    The only difference was that although the Knight had earlier refrained from using his Living Shadow dagger, he now began to wield it in earnest, using it to block and parry one enemy''s attacks as he used his sword to strike the other.


    Soon, both Arran and the captain had received several superficial wounds. And although Arran''s wounds healed instantly, the captain wasn''t so lucky ¡ª before long, his body was covered in blood, and his movements were beginning to slow.


    It almost seemed impossible, but somehow, this Knight who had neither Arran''s strength nor Kaleesh''s speed was defeating them both. And without too much difficulty, from the look of it.


    But then, as the Knight blocked yet another of Kaleesh''s strikes with his Living Shadow dagger, Arran saw an opening.


    It wasn''t a true opening ¡ª the Knight could easily block any attack Arran made. But this time, blocking was the Knight''s only option.


    At once, Arran attacked with every shred of power his body held, striking a blow so devastatingly powerful it could rend even a mountain asunder.


    The Knight effortlessly blocked the attack ¡ª only to discover that his sword did little to stop Arran''s weapon, which tore through it with ease.


    As the severed blade of the Knight''s sword fell to the ground, Arran struck again, once more bringing his weapon down with all his might.


    Yet the Knight recognized the danger, and as Arran''s sword came down, he blocked it with his dagger. And this time, Arran''s attack was stopped mid-strike.


    But even as their opponent blocked Arran''s strike, Kaleesh attacked ¡ª a single thrust of his sword, deep into one of the eye-slits in the Knight''s helmet.


    It was a perfect strike, as vicious as it was accurate. And as soon as it landed, the fight was over.


    The Knight collapsed like a puppet with its strings cut, dead before he even hit the ground. For all his terrifying skill, it seemed that even he could not withstand a sword to the brain.


    Neither Arran nor Kaleesh reacted immediately. Instead, they stood silently for several moments, eyes fixed the body of the man who''d nearly defeated them both.


    That they''d survived owed more to luck than to skill. Had the Knight recognized Arran''s weapon for what it was, he had little doubt that they''d be dead already.


    Finally, the captain raised his head. "One moment," he said, then hurried off and began to search the bodies that lay on the ground around them.


    Arran watched in wonder as Kaleesh scoured their defeated enemies'' remains, but after just some moments, the captain found what he was looking for ¡ª a starmetal sword, which he held up triumphantly.


    He returned at once, then quickly placed the sword in the dead Knight''s right hand and picked up the man''s broken blade.


    "We''ll discuss this later," he said. "But I expect our long-awaited guests to arrive any moment now."


    Indeed, Arran Sensed that Rannoc''s troops were only moments away from the gate, though they still moved at an excruciatingly slow pace.


    "Let''s go welcome Rannoc," Arran said, casting a wary look at the city, where he could Sense several other Knights moving toward them. "If more of these bastards show up, I''m not fighting them."


    "That seems wise," Kaleesh replied in a flat voice. He glanced at the city, then added, "It wouldn''t do to die only seconds before our saviors arrive."

 Chapter 354 Lord Rannoc

    As they moved to leave, Arran cast a final look at the body of the Knight who had come so close to killing them.


    "Shouldn''t you take his weapon?" he asked, a frown crossing his face when he realized that Kaleesh hadn''t touched the Living Shadow dagger.


    Kaleesh shook his head. "Rannoc wouldn''t let me keep it. Weapons like those are reserved for Knights and Lords." He raised an eyebrow, then glanced at Arran''s sword. "Or so I believed. But either way, Rannoc will want that weapon, so we cannot take it."


    "Shame," Arran said as they started toward the gate. "You might have had some use for it."


    Kaleesh grinned broadly in response. "They''ll give me one when I become a Knight." He cast a sideways glance at Arran, then added, "Though I suppose you''ll have two of them."


    "That''s not how they work," Arran replied.


    He''d already given up on the idea of hiding the nature of his weapon from the captain. Kaleesh had witnessed him cut clean through a starmetal sword, and no amount of lies would obscure that fact.


    Yet dangerous though it was to have that secret exposed, there was nothing Arran could do now but hope he could trust the captain. And fortunately, the man had yet to give him a reason not to do so.


    "You''ll have to explain that later," Kaleesh said. "This topic¡­ it is an important one."


    Arran nodded, though he did so silently. They had almost reached the gate, and he could Sense that Rannoc''s troops were only moments away. Already, he knew that the group was headed by Rannoc himself and no less than four Knights, each of them carrying a Living Shadow weapon.


    When they stepped through the gate, he saw what he had already Sensed ¡ª Rannoc''s troops, hundreds of soldiers and Rangers, led by the Lord himself.


    Though the sight wasn''t unexpected, it still caused Arran a moment of pause.


    Rannoc held the same aura of terrifying power that he''d felt from Kadun, but while Kadun''s appearance was otherwise unremarkable, the opposite was true for Rannoc.


    The Lord who approached them was nearly seven feet tall, barrel-chested with broad shoulders and a neck like an ox. He was handsome, as well ¡ª square-jawed with long dark hair, he looked like a hero straight out of legend.


    But even more eye-catching than his appearance was his weapon. Instead of a sword, he carried a massive eight-foot glaive that appeared to be forged from a single piece of starmetal.


    That alone would have been a priceless treasure, yet Arran knew that the weapon was even more formidable than it seemed. Because while it appeared to be made from starmetal, he Sensed that this oversized polearm was actually the Lord''s shard of Living Shadow.


    "Kneel!" Kaleesh hissed.


    Arran quickly did as the captain said ¡ª he''d been so distracted by Rannoc''s appearance that he''d forgotten the Darians'' customs.


    Yet even as he sank to his knees, Rannoc spoke in a loud voice, "There''s no need for that. The two of you have done me a great service today. Stand up."


    They hurriedly did as he said, rising to their feet once more to face the Lord.


    Rannoc came to a halt some ten paces away from them, flanked by his Knights. He remained still for several seconds, eyes filled with curiosity as he examined them. Then, he turned to Kaleesh. "You are Captain Kaleesh, I take it?"


    "I am, your Lordship," the captain replied in a cautious voice.


    "Your servant has told me much about you. In fact ¡ª where is that sour-faced little man?"


    Sassun stepped out from the troops behind the Knights almost immediately, then gave Rannoc a polite bow. "I am here, your Lordship."


    Rannoc nodded at Sassun before turning his gaze back to Kaleesh. "The message he carried ¡ª I would not have thought outsiders capable of devising so bold a plan, much less carrying it out successfully."


    His eyes briefly wandered to the gate and the battlefield beyond it, and he continued, "But it seems I underestimated you. The two of you killed a Knight, did you not?"


    "We did, your Lordship," the captain said. He held up the Knight''s broken weapon, then added in a puzzled voice, "Though he somehow managed to cut through a starmetal sword."


    Rannoc smirked. "The Imperium holds many secrets. You can expect to see more when I face Kadun, if you decide to witness our battle."


    A flash of eager anticipation crossed his face at those last words, as if he could hardly wait to face the other Lord in combat.


    But a moment later, the excited look turned to a frown ¡ª likely because he also felt the two Knights Arran had already Sensed nearing the gate.


    "Fools." He gave a dismissive shake of his head, then turned to his Knights. "Take care of them."


    The Knights followed the command instantly, rushing forward without even a second''s delay. And as they ran through the gate, all four of them drew their weapons.


    From the look of it, they did not intend to offer Kadun''s Knights an even fight.


    As the Knights rushed forward to meet their enemies, Rannoc set off toward the gate as well, albeit at a more leisurely pace. "No point in waiting," he said. "This shouldn''t take long."


    Arran and Kaleesh quickly followed after him, with the troops setting in motion behind them barely a moment later.


    They passed the gate before the two small groups of Knights met, and as the Knights approached each other, Arran watched with anxious eyes.


    He''d already gotten a taste of a Knight''s skills, but in the heat of battle, he''d had little chance to truly study his opponent''s skills ¡ª especially since neither he nor Kaleesh had come even close to forcing their opponent to put his full ability on display.


    But now, he would watch closely and learn what he could.


    He already knew that the Knights combined staggering skill with numerous major insights, but there was still much he could learn from seeing Knights battle each other.


    Yet as Kadun''s Knights approached their enemies, they drew their swords ¡ª then promptly threw them on the ground.


    "They surrendered?" he asked Kaleesh, speaking in a low voice.


    Rannoc heard the question, however, and he said, "Of course they did. Why throw away their lives for an unworthy master? There is no honor in foolhardiness."


    "I suppose that makes sense." Arran frowned, then quickly added, "Your Lordship."


    Rannoc laughed. "You sound disappointed. Were you hoping to see my men risk their lives in battle?"


    "Your Lordship," Arran began, his tone cautious, "It''s not that I wish to see your men in danger. But after facing a Knight¡­"


    His voice trailed off as he failed to find a sufficiently diplomatic way to say what he was thinking.


    "You hoped to learn their secrets, I assume?" Again, Rannoc laughed. "I fear that will require more than just witnessing some Knights do battle. But if it is a battle you wish to see, I will allow you to watch me face Kadun."


    "Of course, your Lordship," Arran replied instantly. While watching Knights fight would be useful, watching a battle between Lords would be infinitely more valuable.


    "Don''t be too hasty," Rannoc said. "Should I lose, Kadun will surely kill the two of you for your actions, along with every single one of my men within this city. And do not be mistaken ¡ª Kadun is a formidable warrior."


    He briefly paused, his expression severe as he looked at Arran and Kaleesh. Then, he continued, "You have both already earned your reward. If you choose, you may leave the city, and I will send orders that you be granted your citizenship no matter the outcome of the battle ahead."


    The words weren''t what Arran had expected, and he cast a questioning glance at Kaleesh. Yet uncharacteristically, hesitation could be seen in the captain''s eyes, as if he wasn''t certain which offer to accept.


    Arran, however, felt no such hesitation. The chance to see Lords do battle was easily worth any risk it involved. "I will stay," he said.


    "As will I," the captain''s voice sounded a moment later, though his tone wasn''t quite as firm as Arran''s.


    Rannoc let out a thunderous laugh. "Excellent! Then I shall endeavor to give you both a spectacle worth remembering!"


    "Thank you, your Lordship," Arran said, though he silently hoped that the Lord would not put too much effort into providing a spectacle. Eager though he was to see the battle, he very much wanted Rannoc to focus on winning it.


    "The rest of you," Rannoc said, turning his eyes to his troops, "remain here. Should I lose my battle, flee while you still can."


    Then, he walked over to his Knights, exchanging several words with both them and their newly captured prisoners. Arran could not hear what was said, but he saw that one of Rannoc''s Knights soon hurried to the Knight he and Kaleesh had slain, then picked up the Living Shadow dagger.


    And as Rannoc was busy talking to his men, the captain turned to Sassun. "I want you to remain outside the city," he said. "Should Rannoc be defeated, I want you to bring word to the Wolfsblood Company immediately. They might yet have time to escape."


    Sassun nodded, albeit reluctantly. "Should that come to pass, I will do as you say."


    Arran frowned, then asked in a voice so low it was barely a whisper, "How do you see his chances?"


    Kaleesh hesitated, a complicated expression appearing on his face. Finally, he answered, "It''s hard to say. But if I were to guess, I''d say that Rannoc''s chances are slightly better than even."


    At this, Arran stared at him in astonishment. "That bad? But you said Rannoc was stronger than Kadun."


    "He is," the captain replied. "He''s smarter, and a far better leader. In a war between the two, he would prevail easily. But Kadun is known as a vicious fighter, and in a simple battle, Rannoc won''t prevail easily."


    Arran suppressed a curse. "I suppose it''s too late to change our minds?"

 Chapter 355 Outrage

    The streets were eerily silent as Arran and Kaleesh followed Lord Rannoc through the city.


    Arran could Sense that some of Kadun''s troops were still afoot in the city, but all of those gave their small group a wide berth. An enemy Lord was something no soldiers wished to encounter ¡ª even if Lords supposedly didn''t fight common soldiers.


    They had left Rannoc''s group behind near the gate, with only Arran and Kaleesh accompanying the Lord as he set off to face Kadun.


    From the envious looks this had caused among Rannoc''s troops, Arran guessed that seeing Lords do battle was no common thing, and that the Darians begrudged them the opportunity they were given.


    Yet while Arran was pleased with the chance to see the strength of Lords, he could not help but feel nervous at the outcome of the battle ahead.


    If Rannoc was defeated, he had little doubt that he and Kaleesh would be the first target of Kadun''s ire. And if Lords were even stronger than Knights, Kadun was an enemy neither of them had any hope of defeating.


    Rannoc, however, showed no sign of worry. Rather, he walked with a spring in his step, as if he could barely wait to face his opponent.


    "A chances like this is a rare thing," he said in a cheerful voice. "The laws of the Imperium make it difficult to challenge one''s enemies. Before I received your message, I was convinced I''d have to spend another century putting up with that vapid little man."


    "Then I am glad we could be of help, your Lordship," Kaleesh replied.


    Rannoc gave him a sideways glance, then frowned. "You should get those wounds treated."


    "Thank you for your concern, your Lordship," the captain answered. "But my injuries aren''t serious. They can wait until after the battle."


    Rannoc nodded, then glanced at Arran. "You, on the other hand, seem to have fared much better. From what I can tell, there''s barely a scratch on you."


    In truth, there wasn''t even that. Arran''s wounds had been completely healed even before the Knight drew his last breath. But that was a secret he could not reveal ¡ª and least of all to a Lord.


    "I was merely lucky, your Lordship," he said instead, using the same title that Kaleesh used to address the man. While repeating with every sentence he spoke seemed excessive, he would not risk offending a Lord.


    "Lucky?" Rannoc laughed sharply. "In battle, luck is created through skill. And luck like yours requires no small amount of skill. That goes for both of you ¡ª for outsiders to face a Knight and survive is no common thing."


    Before Arran could reply, Kaleesh spoke up. "You give us too much credit, your Lordship," he said. "The truth is that our opponent underestimated us. While we have some small skill, it wouldn''t have been enough had he not foolishly chosen to reserve his strength."


    While there was some truth to that, Rannoc looked unconvinced.


    "Be that as it may," he said, "you have potential. Once you become citizens, you will find that the path to power in the Imperium is a difficult one. Having a patron would ease your path."


    "A patron, your Lordship?" Kaleesh asked.


    "My stewards urged me to deceive you," Rannoc said, his tone cold. "To grant you your citizenship, but have your men earn theirs in the mines."


    He paused briefly, giving his companions the chance to consider the barely veiled threat.


    Then, in a friendlier voice, he continued, "Naturally, I will do no such thing. But even with your citizenship, as an outsider you will find yourself a target for trickery and deceit. Should you enter my service, however, you will be protected from such malice."


    "Your Lordship, you wish us to enter your service?" Kaleesh asked, some unease in his voice.


    "You have talent," Rannoc said. "With my help, you might yet develop it into something more." He gave the captain a smile. "There''s no need for you to decide now. Consider my words, and we''ll discuss this matter later."


    "Of course, your Lordship," Kaleesh replied, sounding just slightly relieved.


    They continued through the city''s streets for several more minutes, though there was a noticeable change in the mood of their small group after Rannoc''s.


    Arran understood that a Lord''s offer wasn''t easily rejected, yet although he couldn''t be certain, he suspected that Kaleesh had no intention of accepting it.


    And that, he knew, meant there might be trouble ahead.


    Still, he couldn''t bring himself to worry about possible future threats ¡ª not with a far greater danger right before them.


    That danger soon became even more urgent, as it wasn''t long before they reached a large walled mansion, protected by a massive wooden gate. And behind the gate, inside the mansion, Arran could Sense Kadun''s Living Shadow weapon.


    The gate currently stood closed, though there were no guards to be seen ¡ª doubtless they''d abandoned their post as soon as they got word that a Lord was approaching.


    Rannoc smirked as he looked at the closed gate. "It seems Kadun neglected to arrange a proper welcome. Then we''ll just have to let ourselves in."


    He stepped forward, then kicked the massive gate with such power that it was torn apart instantly, splintering like a twig hit by an avalanche.


    Rannoc pushed what little remained of the ruined gate aside with his hands, then glanced back before stepping through. "Follow me," he said, "but you would do well to keep your distance."


    Arran and Kaleesh did as he said, following two dozen paces behind him.


    Beyond the gate, Arran found a large, well-kept garden, filled with stone paths, luscious flower beds, bronze statues of people he did not recognize, and several ponds. And on the far end of the garden, he saw the mansion.


    The mansion was grand and luxurious, yet he paid it no attention. Because as they stepped into the garden, he saw Kadun emerging from the mansion''s doors.


    "Kadun!" Rannoc called out. "How kind of your to welcome us in person!"


    "Rannoc." Kadun spoke in a calm voice that held just a hint of anger. "You dare enter my city uninvited?" At that moment, he noticed Kaleesh and Arran in the back, and his eyes went wide with outrage. "And you bring these outsiders with you?!"


    "So I do," Rannoc replied. "I thought it only fitting that the outsiders who caused your demise get to witness it."


    "My demise?" Kadun cast a furious look at Rannoc. "You think you have a right to challenge me in my own city?"


    Rannoc let out a mocking laugh. "You spilled the blood of my family, Kadun. I not only have the right to challenge you, but the duty to do so."


    "The blood of your family?" Kadun said. "Sure you know that these outsiders¡ª"


    "The outsiders gave me an excuse," Rannoc replied. "In truth, I''ve long wanted your lands for my own. And now, I shall have them ¡ª and be rid of your insipid face, besides."


    Kadun stared at Rannoc with a mixture of astonishment and outrage. "You admit it? You admit your treachery, and you still dare mock me?"


    "I do admit it," Rannoc said in a derisive voice. "I desire your lands, and so, I shall take them. And more likely than not, the Council of Lords shall thank me for ridding them of your foolishness."


    Kadun''s expression turned from outrage to fury, yet he said nothing ¡ª his anger appeared to have reached the point where he could no longer find the words to express it.


    Yet Rannoc continued, "Surely you must know that none of us respect you? Each time you open your mouth, the others groan in anguish for having to endure the rants of a moron. When I cut your throat, the entire Imperium will rejoice for being rid of you."


    "Enough!" Kadun shouted, his voice trembling with rage as he drew his sword. "I will kill you for your insolence!"


    As Kadun drew his sword, Rannoc raised his glaive. "You will try," he said. "And you will fail ¡ª like you have failed at running your lands, and earning the other Lords'' respect."


    Kadun shouted again, though wordlessly this time, his face red with unrestrained fury. Then, he raised his weapon and stormed at Rannoc, roaring as he rushed forward.


    A small smile crossed Rannoc''s face. Then, he stepped forward to meet his opponent.

 Chapter 356 The Strength Of Lords

    Kadun came at Rannoc in a furious rush, raising the Living Shadow sword as if he wanted to finish his opponent in a single blow.


    Yet where Kadun seemed overtaken with anger, Rannoc showed not even the slightest sign of excitement. Instead, his movements were steady and deliberate as he took a defensive position and braced himself for the attack.


    Then, Kadun was upon Rannoc. Or rather, upon his weapon ¡ª because while Kadun held a sword, Rannoc wielded an eight-foot glaive with a reach far greater than his opponent''s weapon.


    Eager though Kadun might be to strike down his foe, to do so he would first need to get past the glaive''s long blade ¡ª and that put him in range of Rannoc''s attacks.


    For well over a minute, the two Lords exchanged blows, with Kadun fighting ferociously to break through Rannoc''s guard. He attacked again and again, his sword clashing with the glaive as he struggled to create an opening.


    Rannoc''s superior reach was no small advantage, however. The tall Lord met his opponent''s furious offensive with calm and precision, the blade of his weapon constantly moving and denying Kadun even the slightest opening.


    Whenever Kadun attacked, it wasn''t long before he found himself in range of the massive glaive. And before Rannoc''s powerful strikes, he was inevitably forced to retreat.


    It was obvious that the two were expert warriors. Both had a level of skill that could only be earned through a lifetime of practice and experience, and although their styles were wholly different, neither seemed the least bit weaker than the other.


    Still, as Arran observed the two, he could not stop a frown from appearing on his face.


    While the Lords fought with a level of skill that was far beyond his own, what he saw was somehow less than he''d expected.


    They clearly were stronger than the Knight he''d faced with Kaleesh, but the difference only appeared to be a modest one. And while their movements held the power of insights, Arran saw no sign of anything resembling true insights.


    They were a bit stronger and faster than the Knight had been, but that hardly seemed to justify their differences in status.


    Yet as the fight continued, Arran gradually began to feel that something was off about it. There was something subtly unnatural about the Lords'' movements, a subtle shimmering in the air around them that was unlike anything Arran had ever seen before.


    Suddenly, his eyes went wide, as he finally understood what he was witnessing.


    "This isn''t possible," he said softly, shock written across his face.


    "But it''s real," Kaleesh replied in a tense voice. "Watch closely."


    Arran nodded silently, eyes fixed on the two fighting Lords before them as he tried to find an explanation for what he saw.


    When the Lords moved, shimmering images of their weapons flickered in the air for a fraction of a second, briefly appearing in numerous places before disappearing again an instant later.


    Each time they matched blades, it was as if, for a moment, a dozen different exchanges teetered on the edge of becoming real. And each time, only one of those became reality.


    Yet in the two Lords movements, Arran saw that they reacted not just to the other''s actual actions, but also to all the blurry movements that never fully materialized. With each attack, they assaulted a dozen defenses, and with each defense, they blocked a dozen attacks.


    The blurry flickers were so brief as to be all but invisible, but now that Arran knew they were there, he had no doubt that they were real.


    The sight left him completely dumbfounded.


    Even with magic, what he saw should be all but impossible. Yet somehow, the Lords accomplished it ¡ª and without magic, since there wasn''t the slightest trace of Essence to be Sensed.


    He suspected that it was somehow related to their insights, but how, he could not say.


    There was no time to give it more thought, either, because while he watched in astonishment, he saw that the tide of battle was shifting ¡ª and not in a good way.


    At first, the change was a subtle one. While the reach on Rannoc''s weapon had given him a slight advantage at the start of the fight, it wasn''t long before that advantage disappeared.


    While neither Kadun nor Rannoc scored any hits on the other, it seemed that each exchange eroded some of Rannoc''s previous advantage, leaving him in a worse position every time the two crossed blades.


    Kadun, meanwhile, clearly sensed his shifting fortunes. And as he saw victory looming on the horizon, he attacked with even greater fury than before, increasing the pressure on his opponent with vicious glee.


    Arran understood that Rannoc had intentionally provoked Kadun earlier, but now, he began to wonder if that had been a mistake.


    Although Kadun was still red-faced with rage, it was becoming increasingly clear that his anger had not made him the least bit careless.


    He attacked furiously and viciously, but even so, his attacks were careful and deliberate. If Rannoc''s provocation had achieved anything, it was to give Kadun a burning rage to draw upon for energy.


    And so far, that fuel showed no sign of running out.


    It wasn''t long before the first attack struck true ¡ª a shallow gash across Rannoc''s forearm, struck too quickly for the Lord to parry.


    The injury was small, barely worth mentioning under other circumstances. But now, it was undeniable proof that the battle was shifting in Kadun''s favor.


    "The ground has tasted your blood," Kadun said in a menacing voice. "And soon, it shall feast."


    "You think a drop of blood makes a difference?" Rannoc replied. He gave his opponent a mocking smile, then shook his head. "You''re still a fool, Kadun. And soon, you will be a dead fool."


    Yet despite Rannoc''s tough words, Arran could not help but notice that the large man was slowly retreating. While he still met Kadun''s attacks with his glaive, each new barrage of blows caused him to take a step or two backward.


    And that wasn''t the worst of it.


    The blurry images that flickered in the air before each exchange had changed, too. They had been nearly impossible to see to begin with, and now, the forms Rannoc created grew even weaker, fading so much that Arran could no longer make out anything but small ripples in the air.


    The shadowy images of Kadun''s weapon, on the other hand, grew sharper and clearer with each passing moment. No longer did it take Arran any effort to see them, and if they weren''t exactly tangible just yet, they weren''t far from it either.


    Arran knew it was a bad sign for Rannoc''s chances, but finally, he could see what was actually happening.


    Each time Kadun lunged forward to strike at Rannoc, hazy images of a dozen different attacks formed in the air. And each time, the blurry shadows collapsed at the very last moment, leaving only one real attack.


    At a glance, it was nothing special ¡ª any skilled mage could easily create similar illusions.


    But as Arran watched, he became increasingly certain that these weren''t mere illusions. Somehow, it was as if each of the attacks contained the potential to manifest and become real.


    "We should leave," Kaleesh''s voice sounded.


    Torn from his thoughts, Arran glanced over at the captain. "Leave?" he asked, his mind still focused on what he was witnessing.


    "Rannoc is losing," Kaleesh said in a low voice. "If we flee now, we might still escape with our lives."


    Arran looked uneasily at the two fighting Lords, realizing that Kaleesh was right. Already, Kadun had opened several more wounds on Rannoc''s body, and Rannoc''s retreat was growing ever more desperate.


    And as Rannoc retreated, Kadun''s attacks grew even more frantic than before, his strikes ferocious as he drove the battle toward its end.


    Yet just as Arran was about to join Kaleesh in fleeing the city, something caught his eye ¡ª something familiar.


    "Wait," he said in a low voice.


    In Rannoc''s movements, he recognized the hint of an insight he shared with the Lord ¡ª binding. It wasn''t as flawless as his own version, but it wasn''t far from it, either. And as soon as he saw it, he knew what Rannoc planned to do.


    Again Kadun attacked, a maniacal grin on his face as he prepared to strike the final blow.


    A dozen versions of the same brutal strike briefly shimmered in the air, only to be met with a dozen blurred images of blocking movements, each of which contained Rannoc''s insight into binding.


    Both the sets of shadowy images collapsed a moment later, leaving only a single vicious sword strike ¡ª and the shaft of Rannoc''s glaive, blocking it perfectly.


    When the sword hit the glaive, it came to a sudden stop, and panic flashed across Kadun''s face when he realized his weapon was completely immobilized.


    It lasted only a second, but even as Kadun pulled his weapon free from Rannoc''s, a dozen shadowy images of the glaive shimmered in the air, each of them showing a devastating attack filled with the essence of severing.


    Kadun reacted instantly, but it was too late ¡ª although he created a handful of defenses of his own, there weren''t enough to block all of Rannoc''s attacks.


    Still, several of Rannoc''s ghostly strikes were blocked. Yet one slipped past Kadun''s defense ¡ª and instantly became real, hitting Kadun as the other strikes blinked out of existence.


    There was no time for Kadun to even look surprised. Rannoc''s attack tore through his body, cleaving him from neck to waist in a fountain of blood.


    As the dead Lord''s remains collapsed to the ground, a small smile crossed Rannoc''s face.


    "You died the way you lived," he said. "An idiot to your last breath."

 Chapter 357 An Offer

    Kadun''s defeat was sudden and complete. Where he had seemed on the verge of victory only moments earlier, his shattered corpse now lay dead on the ground. And as his blood soaked the ground of the garden, Rannoc stood over him.


    There was a pensive look in the victorious Lord''s eyes as he gazed upon his defeated foe. And while his expression held a trace of relief, he showed little sign of joy.


    Perhaps, Arran thought, Kadun''s death reminded Rannoc of his own mortality.


    The two Lords had been closely matched in power, yet Kadun had died all the same. And while Rannoc had taken this battle, he must understand that the same fate could befall him as well.


    Certainly, that was the thought that came to Arran''s mind. He''d come to believe that he was at least passably strong, but he had no doubt that Kadun could have defeated him in an instant.


    Yet even that monstrous strength had not been enough to save the Lord.


    Once more, Arran realized that he needed to grow stronger. And the best way to do so was to learn the Imperium''s secrets.


    As Arran pondered his future, Rannoc finally kneeled down and took Kadun''s weapon, carefully wrapping it in a piece of cloth before picking it up. Then, leaving Kadun''s lifeless body behind, he turned his attention to his two companions.


    "I expected you to have fled long ago," Rannoc said as he approached them, the words accompanied by a laugh that was only slightly forced.


    "Naturally, our faith in your strength never faltered, your Lordship," Kaleesh replied, maintaining a neutral voice.


    Rannoc raised an eyebrow. "So which of you saw through my little trick?"


    "That would be Arran, your Lordship," Kaleesh said. "He has a sharp eye, and a quick mind to match it."


    The Lord gave Arran an approving nod. "Well done. But tell me, did you also see how we did battle?"


    Arran hesitated, but only briefly. "Your Lordship¡­ during the battle¡­" He searched for the right words to describe the strange scene he had witnessed, then finally said, "Each time you attacked or defended, it was as if a dozen possibilities were on the verge of becoming reality. And you¡­ you chose which one became real?"


    Rannoc nodded. "A sharp eye, indeed. For the two of you to have defeated a Knight, I assume you both already possess several insights ¡ª and strong ones, if I''m not mistaken."


    "You aren''t," the captain replied, eyes narrowed as he faced Rannoc. "But how does that relate to your combat techniques?"


    "Insights merely represent an understanding of reality," Rannoc said. A smile crossed his face, and he continued, "Yet to understand reality is to control it. This simple truth is one of the cornerstones of our Imperium''s power."


    A frown crossed Arran''s face. Excited though he was to learn more about the Lord''s techniques, he could not escape the feeling that it wasn''t quite as easy as the Lord made it sound.


    "Isn''t that magic?" he asked. "To control reality?"


    Rannoc replied with a shake of his head. "Magic summons forces that do not belong to this world, corrupting all it touches with its unnatural influence. But shaping reality is a different matter ¡ª it does not alter the fabric of existence, and it cannot achieve the impossible."


    The answer did little to satisfy Arran''s curiosity. To his ears, it sounded like sophistry ¡ª a glib answer to obfuscate the fact that the Darians'' techniques were every bit as magical as those used by the Shadowflame Society.


    Yet before he could ask any further questions, Rannoc continued, "And this is what I can offer you ¡ª guidance. Not just in strengthening your insights, but also in leveraging them to achieve power beyond your imagination."


    At once, Arran felt a surge of excitement run through his body.


    He''d hoped to learn the powers he''d witnessed in the Lords'' battle, yet he hadn''t expected to find them offered so freely.


    Rannoc noticed Arran''s overjoyed look, and he went on, "The price I ask is but a small one. Join my forces, and you will not only receive my guidance, but my protection as well. With the talent the two of you have already shown, becoming Knights should be a mere trifle."


    Arran was inclined to agree immediately. Binding himself to Rannoc was a small price to pay for the man''s guidance ¡ª especially since he planned to escape the Imperium as soon as he''d learned enough.


    Yet before he could say anything, Kaleesh spoke up. "Your Lordship," he said, "while your offer is a generous one, I''m afraid we cannot accept it."


    The Lord raised an eyebrow, appearing more puzzled than offended. "You would reject my offer? But why?"


    "Once we gain our citizenship," Kaleesh said, "I intend to travel into the Desolation, where we will battle the Blight."


    Arran had no idea what he was talking about, but Rannoc clearly did ¡ª at once, his expression turned to one of utter astonishment.


    "There is honor to be won in the Desolation," he said. "But surely you know that fewer than half who go there ever return. And with a group like yours¡­" He sighed, then shook his head. "You would be lucky to have even a quarter of them return with their lives."


    "Perhaps," Kaleesh replied, his voice calm but firm. "But as you said, there is honor to be won in the Desolation ¡ª and rewards to match it."


    "If that is the path you choose, then I will not stop you," Rannoc said. He laughed, then continued, "Nor could I stop you even if I wanted to. But I would ask that you remain my guest for the next two months, so that I can keep the promises that Kadun broke."


    "We would be honored to be your guests," Kaleesh said. "But is there anything else you want?"


    Rannoc cast a look at Arran, a calculating on his face. "When your troops learn what lies ahead, some of them will wish to leave your command. All I ask is that you allow them to join my service, if they so wish."


    "Of course, your Lordship," Kaleesh replied. "If any of my men wish to join you, I will not stop them from doing so."


    "Then we have an agreement," Rannoc said. "And unlike Kadun, I keep my word. You and your men will be granted the citizenship you have been promised, and for the next two months, Kadun''s blacksmiths will be at your service."


    Kaleesh gave him a polite nod. "Thank you, your Lordship."


    "I trust you can find your own way back," the Lord said. "If you are to enter the Desolation, navigating a city in chaos should be simple enough."


    He glanced at the mansion, and after a suspicious look at the captain, he added, "And just to be clear, our agreement does not involve you looting my city ¡ª and certainly not my new mansion."


    Again, Kaleesh nodded, though this time there was a hint of disappointment in his eyes. "As you say, your Lordship."


    Rannoc departed at once, entering the dark streets and fading from Arran''s sight only moments later. And although he could still Sense the Lord in the distance, it wasn''t long before the large man faded from his Sense, as well.


    As Rannoc left, Arran turned to Kaleesh. "You''ve been keeping secrets from me."


    Though he tried to keep a neutral tone, he could not stop a trace of accusation from sounding in his voice.


    Before tonight, he''d never even heard of either the Desolation or the Blight. Yet he had no doubt that Kaleesh''s plans had been made long ago ¡ª which could only mean that the man had purposefully kept him in the dark.


    That shouldn''t come as a big surprise, but still, Arran could not help but feel disappointed.


    Kaleesh made no attempt to justify his actions. "So I did," he said simply. Then, with a glance at Arran''s weapon, he added, "But you''ve been keeping secrets from me, as well."


    It was true, of course ¡ª just like Kaleesh had kept Arran in the dark about his plans, Arran had been careful not to reveal too much information about himself to the captain.


    Arran sighed. "We should talk."


    "That we should," the captain said. "But first, we should find a more suitable location to do so. At this time of night, and with the city in a state of chaos, finding an empty tavern should be simple enough."

 Chapter 358 Revelations

    As Kaleesh led them through the city in search of a tavern, Arran could immediately tell that the captain was intimately familiar with its many narrow streets and alleys.


    Although Kaleesh had to stop a few times along the way to recall the right path, creasing his brow in thought as he perused distant memories, it was obvious that he''d spent many years living in the city.


    At first, Arran felt some worry that they might run into more of Kadun''s troops. Although the Lord was dead, many of his men still remained in the city. And not all of those might yet know that their leader had fallen.


    Arran was confident that he could match any enemies they encountered ¡ª assuming no more Knights appeared ¡ª but he wasn''t nearly as certain that Rannoc would overlook another few dozen dead Darians.


    Now that the battle was decided, any soldiers who remained in the city either already were or would soon be under Rannoc''s command. If any of them were killed, it would give the Lord far too convenient an excuse to demand compensation ¡ª perhaps in the form of forced recruitment.


    Rannoc had done nothing to earn Arran''s distrust, but after their experience with Kadun, he had no desire to discover whether this new Lord''s honor was feigned or genuine.


    But either way, Kaleesh soon put Arran''s worries to rest.


    "We won''t run into any soldiers in this part of the city," the captain said. "And even if we did, the battle ended the moment Rannoc stepped into the city. None of the soldiers would dare start a fight before they''re certain what the new situation is."


    Arran frowned. "Soldiers don''t go here?"


    He''d noticed that they''d entered an area that looked decidedly shabby, with weather-worn buildings that possessed more character than they did space or luxury.


    Yet run-down though the area might be, it hardly seemed dangerous ¡ª and certainly not so much as to deter armed soldiers.


    "This is the outsiders'' quarter," Kaleesh explained. "The guards and soldiers don''t think this place worthy of their attention ¡ª not unless someone here commits a crime against a true Darian."


    "You''re familiar with the area, then?" Arran asked, already knowing the answer.


    "I am," the captain said. "And although it doesn''t look like much, it provides many opportunities to escape the Darians'' notice."


    Kaleesh spent another quarter-hour leading Arran through increasingly narrow alleys into a part of the city that appeared to be little more than a slum.


    Yet while Arran looked at the dilapidated and ramshackle buildings with an uneasy eye, the captain seemed to feel right at home.


    There was a spring in his step as they navigated the unevenly paved streets, and he looked at the buildings around them with an expression that almost seemed nostalgic.


    "You seem unusually cheerful," Arran said, his eyebrow raised as he cast a curious glance at the captain.


    "I am," Kaleesh replied, a grin on his face. "When I lived here, I promised myself that I would one day escape and become every bit as powerful as the Darian soldiers."


    "Then I''d say you''ve surpassed your goals," Arran said.


    "Exactly." A small smile crossed Kaleesh''s face, and he added, "Though I must admit my goals have grown more ambitious since then. But even so, seeing this place again¡­ it''s a good reminder of how far I''ve come."


    They followed the maze of narrow alleys for several more minutes, then finally came to a halt before a small tavern.


    Or rather, something that vaguely resembled a tavern. Because as they stepped inside, Arran saw that it was little more than a single small room, with bare stone walls, several pieces of rickety wooden furniture, and a small bar with a heavyset man behind it.


    There was only a single customer in the tavern ¡ª a ragged-looking man who was hunched over one of the few small tables in the room, his appearance that of someone who''d had more than a few drinks too many that night.


    As Arran and Kaleesh stepped inside, the tavernkeeper looked at them with a nonplussed expression.


    "My lords," he said in a hesitant voice, staring uncomfortably at the weapons that Arran and Kaleesh carried, "to what do I owe the unexpected pleasure of your company?"


    Clearly, he considered the surprise anything but a pleasure. Though his tone was respectful, the look in his eyes all but told them they were not welcome.


    "We require the back room," Kaleesh said, ignoring the man''s suspicious stare.


    "The back room? My lord, I fear you are mistaken. My establishment has no such¡ª"


    He was interrupted by the sound of Kaleesh slapping down two black coins on the bar ¡ª a sight that caused the man''s eyes to go wide with shock at once.


    "Save us the act," Kaleesh said. "We''re outsiders, just like you."


    The fat man narrowed his eyes as he looked at the two black coins, and with only a shred of hesitation, he scooped them up in his hand, taking several seconds to study them.


    "They''re real," Kaleesh said. "Now show us to the back room, or I''ll take them back."


    The man glanced around the room, then gave Kaleesh a suspicious frown. "What did you do?"


    Kaleesh let out a restrained sigh. "We do not bring trouble," he said. "We merely require a place to speak, away from prying eyes."


    The fat man seemed unconvinced, but nevertheless, he pocketed the two coins and gave the captain a short nod. "Give me a moment."


    With a glance at his drunken customer, he said, "Arvik, watch the door!"


    At once, the other man stood up and took a position at the door ¡ª apparently, his drunkenness had merely been an act.


    Without any further words, the tavernkeeper faced the large wooden cabinet that stood behind him. Then, he grabbed it, and with a heavy groan of exertion, he pulled it to the side ¡ª revealing the narrow hallway behind it.


    "Hurry up, then," he said, some anxiousness in his voice as his eyes were fixed on his comrade by the entrance.


    Kaleesh shot Arran a broad smile. "After you."


    Arran frowned, but he stepped into the cramped hallway a moment later ¡ª from the tavernkeeper''s nervous expression, it was obvious that he wished to get it over with as quickly as possible.


    Kaleesh followed barely two paces behind Arran, and as the captain stepped into the small hallway as well, the tavernkeeper immediately began to move the cabinet back into place.


    "When you leave, go through the back," the fat man said, his final words muffled as he closed off the path behind them.


    The hallway was short ¡ª barely five paces, if that. And at the end of it, Arran found a massive wooden door, which he opened with some curiosity.


    He wasn''t surprised to find another room behind the door, but what did surprise him were its furnishings.


    While the tavern had been simple and unadorned, with rickety wooden furniture and bare stone walls, this room was luxurious, almost to the point of opulence.


    It held three large velvet-clad chairs and a well-made hardwood table upon which stood several bottles of what looked to be fine wine, and the walls were covered with intricate tapestries.


    Arran looked at Kaleesh in puzzlement as he sat down in one of the chairs. "What is this place?"


    The captain grinned broadly as he took a seat as well. "Not all outsiders are content being the Darians'' subjects," he said. "Some work hard to climb the ranks as warriors, while others gather wealth through trade and commerce. And then, there are those who favor a quicker path ¡ª a path something requires that they occasionally vanish into thin air, out of sight of any meddlesome guards."


    "You were a thief?" Arran asked, realizing that he was not the least bit surprised at the idea.


    "Among other things," Kaleesh replied. "I was short on options, and I had no intention of spending my life as a servant. So I chose a more direct path to freedom."


    Arran nodded. Yet although he wouldn''t mind hearing more about Kaleesh''s past, he realized there were more important things to discuss.


    "Why did you reject Rannoc''s offer?" he asked. There was no sense in avoiding the question which would decide whether or not he remained at Kaleesh''s side.


    "Because I still do not desire to spend decades in servitude," the captain said. "And that is the only way we''ll get what we seek from Rannoc ¡ª by becoming his servants and spending years to gain his favor."


    "How do you know what I seek?" Arran asked.


    Kaleesh laughed. "You''re a talented fighter, and, like me, you have gained at least one major insight. Someone like you doesn''t join the Darians for protection. What you want is to learn their secrets, and take them for yourself."


    "Perhaps," Arran said, though he could not help but feel uncomfortable at how much the captain knew about him.


    "But let me ask you a question," Kaleesh said, narrowing his eyes as he looked at Arran. "That weapon of yours¡­ is it what I think it is?"


    Arran hesitated, but then, he nodded. He had no other way to explain how he had cut through the Knight''s starmetal weapon, and he knew that the captain would not be fooled by whatever lies he could invent.


    "From the fact that we''re still breathing," Kaleesh said, "I gather that you''ve found a way to hide its nature even from Lords."


    Once more, Arran nodded. This, too, was something he could not conceal ¡ª not without telling lies that would be seen through in an instant.


    "Good," the captain said, his expression thoughtful. "As long as you can keep it hidden, it should benefit us in the Desolation. And I hardly think it''s a bigger risk than your other secret."


    "My other secret?" Arran shot Kaleesh an uncomfortable look. He knew the man already suspected him of being a mage, but there was a certainly in the captain''s words that filled him with worry.


    "You are the heir to the Ninth Valley, are you not?"


    At once, Arran went pale with shock. "How do you¡­" he began, then quickly stopped himself from revealing any more.


    "Unlike our hosts, I am not a fool," Kaleesh said. "And I''ve long paid attention to both sides of the borderlands. I know that some years back, an unusually talented young man appeared in the Ninth Valley, establishing himself as the Valley''s heir in just a few short years."


    Kaleesh gave Arran a small smile, then continued, "From what I heard, he was quite the swordsman ¡ª until he suddenly disappeared, supposedly going into secluded training right as tensions between the Valley and the Imperium began to rise once more."


    He narrowed his eyes as he looked at Arran. "But then, suddenly, you appeared ¡ª perhaps a bit older than I expected you to be, but a perfect fit in every other way."


    Arran had no response. He knew that Kaleesh was quick-witted, but he could not have expected his entire disguise to have been seen through so easily. And if Kaleesh knew he was the Ninth Valley''s heir¡­


    A shiver ran down his spine as he recognized the danger he was in.


    Yet Kaleesh shook his head. "There''s no need to worry. The Darians won''t figure it out. And as for me¡­" He shrugged. "I''m a liar, a thief, and a murderer. But no one has ever accused me of disloyalty. As long as you don''t betray me, I will keep your secrets."


    His words did little to comfort Arran, but other than trying to kill the man, he had no other option than to hope the liar was true to his word. As for killing Kaleesh ¡ª even if he wanted to, he was not at all certain that he had the strength to do so.


    "So what''s your plan?" he asked instead.


    "Exactly the same as before," the captain replied. "To win honor in the Desolation, fighting the Blight. And then, to use my status to take the Darians'' methods for myself." He gave Arran a pensive look, then added, "It''s a dangerous path, and I could do with an ally at my side."


    Arran remained silent for some moments before finally giving the captain a nod. "Then we will be allies."


    Kaleesh responded with a broad grin. "Good. Because in the Desolation, we will face considerable danger."


    "What kind of danger?" Arran asked, curious to hear what other threats would be added to the many he already faced.


    "That," Kaleesh began, "is a long story. But then, I suppose we have some time to talk."

 Chapter 359 The Desolation

    Kaleesh reached out and grabbed one of the bottles of wine that stood on the table, pouring both himself and Arran a glass.


    "Since I already paid for the wine," he said, "it would be a shame to let it go to waste." He took a sip from his glass, and as he tasted the deep-red liquid, a look of surprise crossed his face. "Better than I expected. You should have some."


    Arran, however, had no interest in wine, and he gave the captain an impatient look. "You said you''d tell me about the enemies we''ll face in the Desolation."


    "And so I will," Kaleesh said. "But first, I must explain some things about the history of the Imperium."


    "History?" Arran asked flatly. While the Imperium''s history was doubtless fascinating, he was far more interested in the enemies they''d face. But it seemed Kaleesh had no intention of getting straight to the point.


    The captain laughed. "No need to look so impatient. The Imperium''s history is inexorably linked to the Desolation and the Blight."


    Arran did not reply, instead taking a sip of his wine as he prepared to hear Kaleesh''s explanation.


    "As the priests tell it," Kaleesh began, "the Darian Imperium was once the greatest power in the world. As wealthy as it was large, with lands so wide it would take a lifetime to cross from border to border, and featuring more magnificent cities than one could visit even in a thousand years."


    Arran raised an eyebrow. "That sounds implausible."


    "I don''t disagree." Kaleesh nodded, then continued, "But this is how the priests tell it, and although they are given to exaggeration, there is no one who knows more about Darian history than they do. So listen closely, but take what I tell you with a grain of salt."


    "I''ll keep that in mind," Arran said. "So I take it the Darians'' glory did not last? What happened?"


    "The Imperium was attacked," the captain said. "By a horde of vicious demonic creatures. Supposedly, they were human once, but their bodies and minds were twisted by the blasphemous use of magic ¡ª again, the priests'' words ¡ª until only monstrous abominations remained. This horde of creatures is what the Darians call the Blight."


    "The Imperium was the greatest power in the world, but they couldn''t fight off these attackers?" Arran asked, unable to keep a skeptical frown from appearing on his face.


    "Supposedly, the Imperium had been at peace for many generations when the attack came, and the Darians were unprepared for war." Kaleesh shrugged. "Either way, they suffered defeat after defeat for thousands of years, their lands dwindling further with each passing year."


    "The war lasted for thousands of years?" Arran asked. He could barely imagine a war that lasted centuries, and he wondered whether this was another of the priests'' exaggerations.


    "That is what the priests say," the captain said. "And as the Darians fought, their society was slowly transformed to one focused only on war ¡ª a society of warriors."


    At this, Arran finally began to understand the nature of the Darians'' strange society. "And that''s how they brought their enemies to a halt?"


    Kaleesh shook his head. "It wasn''t as easy as that. Even as grew stronger, they continued to suffer defeats, losing even more of their lands. When the Imperium was on the verge of breaking they beseeched their gods to help them ¡ª and their plea was answered."


    Arran instantly recalled the strange creature he''d met in the caverns, and its talk of the brothers who''d thought themselves gods. "What happened next?"


    "The gods went to war," the captain replied simply. "And they did what the Darians could not ¡ª they drove back the Blight in a devastating battle, the powers they unleashed so great that the land was ruined for thousands of miles around. This ruined land is what the Darians call the Desolation."


    "But if the gods defeated the Blight," Arran asked, his brow furrowed, "why are the Darians still fighting it?"


    Kaleesh laughed. "Clearly, the Blight wasn''t defeated. It was driven back, but ultimately, the Darians'' gods lost. Few of them returned from the battle, and those who did were gravely injured, on the verge of death. And as the gods lay dying, they shared their blood with the Darians, granting them the power to continue the fight."


    Arran made an ugly face. "That doesn''t make sense," he said. "How could gods be defeated?"


    "I don''t know how much of it is true," Kaleesh said with a shrug. "Nor does it matter. What matters is that the war continues to this day. And to the Darians, this is the only war that truly matters ¡ª the endless battle against the Blight."


    He paused briefly. Then, with a serious look at Arran, he added, "Their conflict with the Shadowflame Society is but a trifle compared to that ¡ª a means to secure a path for their eventual retreat."


    Arran could not help but feel a surge of worry at the captain''s words. If what the man said was true, it meant the Shadowflame Society had yet to experience the true might of the Darian Imperium. And yet, the Ninth Valley had already lost its first war against the Darians.


    But after a moment, he realized that there were still things missing from the captain''s tale ¡ª the nature of the enemies they''d face in the Desolation.


    "It''s an interesting tale," he said. "But you didn''t answer my question. What kind of enemies will we face?"


    Kaleesh laughed. "I already told you ¡ª the kind of enemies that can kill gods." Seeing Arran''s nonplussed look, he continued, "The Desolation is vast, and the deeper one enters it, the stronger the enemies become. Go far enough, and you will encounter foes that even Lords cannot match."


    "I take it we''re not planning to go that far," Arran said, though with some doubt in his voice. By now, he understood all too clearly that while the captain planned his battles well, he did not shy away from risk.


    "I''m not ready to die quite yet, so no," the captain replied. "But the farther we go, and the stronger the enemies we slay, the greater our rewards will be."


    Arran frowned. "So what are these rewards?"


    "The gods'' blood," Kaleesh answered. "And before you ask, I do not know what sort of power it holds. But what I do know is that receiving the gods'' blessing will allow us to enter the Imperium''s colleges and learn their secrets. And that is where the true treasure lies."


    For some moments, Arran pondered everything Kaleesh had told him. While the captain was clearly more interested in learning the Darians'' techniques than he was in the gods'' blood, the opposite was true for Arran.


    If the strange creature from the caverns was right, Arran''s Blood Ruin comprised the power of two of its brothers ¡ª two of the Darians'' gods, presumably.


    Just the thought of gaining more such powers was enough to make Arran''s heart race with anticipation.


    The Blood Ruin alone was enough to make him all but invincible to many enemies. If there was a way to further increase that power, or add new abilities to it, then that was a chance he could not pass up.


    And if winning that power would also give him the opportunity to learn the Darians'' techniques, that only made the deal a better one.


    "All right," he said, careful to conceal his excitement. "I''ll join you in traveling to the Desolation."


    Kaleesh gave him a broad smile in response. "Excellent!" he said, excitement clear in his face. "With you at our side, the Wolfsblood Company will be unstoppable!"


    Arran could not help but smile at Kaleesh''s unabashed enthusiasm. "So what''s the plan?"


    "First," the captain said, "I will keep Rannoc to his promise. After we receive our citizenship, I will ensure that the Wolfsblood Company is well-equipped ¡ª enough to give us a fighting chance in the Desolation. With Kadun''s blacksmiths at our disposal, a month or two should be enough to give us all the tools we''ll need."


    Arran nodded. "And then?"


    "And then," Kaleesh replied, "we will travel to the Desolation and show the Darians what outsiders can do." A big grin crossed his face, but a moment later, he frowned. "I suppose that to you, the journey itself will be useful as well. While we travel, you''ll be able to learn more of the Imperium. That is the reason you came here, is it not?"


    To this, Arran did not respond. Even if Kaleesh already knew who he was and why he had come to the Imperium, he still did not feel confident discussing it ¡ª not even here, where no curious ears could hear his words.


    Kaleesh did not press the matter, however. He downed his glass of wine with a single big gulp, then stood up, clearly impatient to leave and start work on his plans.


    "Let''s go. The sooner we get our citizenship, the better. With the battles that still lie ahead of us, there''s no shortage of work to do."


    Arran finished his wine ¡ª it really was surprisingly good ¡ª then stood up as well. "What if Rannoc breaks his promise?"


    The captain frowned. "I don''t imagine he will. But if he does¡­ I suppose he''ll share Kadun''s fate."

 Chapter 360 Rannocs Orders

    With Kaleesh expertly guiding Arran through the city''s cramped streets and alleys, it wasn''t long before they had returned to the gate where they''d faced Kadun''s troops earlier that night.


    Though only a few hours had passed, little evidence remained of the battle. The bodies had already been taken away, and several groups of guards were hard at work with brooms and buckets of water, removing the blood from the cobblestone as best they could.


    By sunrise, Arran thought, there would be barely a trace left of the battle that had claimed so many lives.


    The cityfolk would awaken to a new ruler, but few of them would ever realize how bloody the change of power had truly been. And even those who did would only know because they''d lost friends or family.


    This last thought caused him some worry. He''d slain hundreds of Darians in the battle, and if word spread ¡ª as it certainly would ¡ª he would gain no small number of enemies.


    Of course, he was long used to having enemies, but as an outsider in a strange land, the idea of having unknown enemies out to take revenge on him was a concerning one.


    Yet there was little he could do but to wait until they departed for the Desolation, where he should be out of reach of any Darians seeking vengeance for their losses.


    Until then, he would just have to keep his eyes open for danger.


    While most of the guards and soldiers near the gate appeared to be Kadun''s former subjects, Arran noticed that there was a smaller group overseeing their efforts, led by not just one but two Knights. And among that smaller group, he recognized Sassun.


    The middle-aged man hurried over as soon as he saw Kaleesh and Arran, one of the two Knights following several paces behind him.


    "Captain!" he said as he approached, a rare look of relief on his normally stoic face. "Glad to see you''re alright." He glanced at Arran, and added, "You, too."


    "Rannoc didn''t return after his victory?" the captain asked.


    "He did," Sassun replied. "He told me to wait for the two of you, but when you didn''t return, I feared you might have run into trouble."


    At that moment, they were joined by the Knight ¡ª a tall, dark-haired woman clad in starmetal armor. And as she joined their small group, she looked at Kaleesh and Arran with some curiosity.


    "So the two of you defeated a Knight?" There was a trace of doubt in her voice as she asked the question, as if the idea was almost too absurd to be true.


    Kaleesh shot her a broad smile. "With luck, anything is possible."


    "This is Muna," Sassun interjected. "Rannoc instructed her to accompany us back to the mines." He spoke with barely veiled annoyance, clearly not happy with the idea of having a Darian Knight along.


    "Indeed," the woman said. "But Lord Rannoc told me that the three of you are to be made citizens without delay. So before we depart, we shall pay a visit to the temple."


    A hint of annoyance crossed her face at those last words, as if just the thought of visiting the temple was enough to sour her mood. Not a pious woman, it seemed.


    Arran, however, could not help but feel some relief at the news.


    That Rannoc wanted them to be made citizens immediately was a good sign that the Lord intended to keep his word. Not enough for Arran to drop his guard entirely, but a good start nonetheless.


    The temple turned out to be near the center of the city, barely a stone''s throw away from the keep. Yet while the keep was a massive building that lacked any attempt at elegance or subtlety, the temple was its exact opposite.


    Tall and hewn entirely from white marble, its lines were curved and elegant, with several slender spires that reached up into the sky. If the keep was intended to intimidate, then the temple had clearly been built to inspire.


    The Knight, however, seemed unimpressed. She stepped through the temple''s wide doors without any sign of reverence, her demeanor that of a seasoned soldier on an unpleasant task she wanted finished sooner rather than later.


    The temple''s interior was even more marvelous than its exterior had been, with a wide hall whose walls were lined with intricate statues. And higher up, Arran could see masterfully painted murals which depicted various scenes of battle.


    The Knight ignored the sights. Instead, she cast a quick glance around at the handful of people who were present in the hall, then immediately approached the nearest one ¡ª a slender young man in white robes.


    "Acolyte," she said in a firm voice, "fetch us a priest."


    The young man looked at her with wide eyes. "Lady Knight," he began, a tremble in his voice, "it''s the middle of the night. All the priests are asleep."


    "Then wake one," Muna replied. "Now."


    The acolyte gave her a fearful look, apparently still hesitant to wake a priest from his sleep. Yet the Knight''s expression was as firm as her voice, and a moment later, the young man hurried off, a look of resignation in his eyes.


    Given the choice between angering a priest or a Knight, it seemed the acolyte had decided the latter was the more dangerous option. A wise choice, Arran thought, given the Knight''s mood.


    They waited in silence for several minutes, with neither the Knight nor her companions so much as saying a word.


    Then, finally, a heavy-set man entered the hall, his white hair ruffled and his robes unkempt. At a glance, Arran could see the man had been asleep only moments earlier, and as he approached the small group, his face held an irritated look.


    "What''s the meaning of this?" he demanded in a shrill voice. Yet as he approached the Knight, a frown appeared on his face. "Who are you?"


    "Lord Rannoc has ordered that these three be made citizens immediately," she replied, ignoring his question.


    "Lord Rannoc?" The white-haired man looked at her in confusion. "Why would Lord Rannoc¡­" He stopped mid-sentence, and his eyes widened in shock. "The city has fallen?!"


    "It has," Muna said. "Fallen, conquered, and taken. And its new ruler wishes for these three outsiders to be given their citizenship. Now."


    "Its new ruler¡­" The priest repeated the words in a stunned voice, as if he could scarcely believe that such a thing had actually happened. "Where is Lord Kadun?"


    "Kadun is dead," the Knight replied. "Now, do you insist on wasting even more of our time, or will you do as the city''s new Lord has ordered?"


    "Dead¡­" the white-haired man mumbled, clearly still shocked by the news.


    But then, he shook his head, as if to clear his mind. "The church has always maintained good relations with the city''s ruler," he said, his voice firmer than before. "Naturally, we will honor Lord Rannoc''s request. Please follow me."


    He guided them into one of the chambers adjoining the main hall without delay, his earlier complaints suddenly replaced by a friendliness that seemed almost excessive. From the look of it, he was already looking to protect the church''s relationship with the city''s new ruler.


    The chamber they entered was small but well-furnished, and as they stepped inside, he motioned at the velvet-clad chairs it held.


    "Please, sit down," he said.


    As Arran and the others sat down, the priest hurriedly left the room, returning only moments later with two bottles in his hands. The larger of these looked to be filled with wine, while the smaller held a clear liquid that Arran suspected was water.


    "Since Lord Rannoc wishes these three outsiders to be made citizens at once," he said, "I will dispense with ceremony."


    "Please do," the Knight said.


    The priest nodded, putting down the two bottles on a small table. Then, he retrieved three small glasses, which he delicately placed next to the bottles.


    "Today," he said, facing the three outsiders, "you three will become Darians, sharing in the gifts our gods have bestowed on us. The gift you will be given today is a token of your citizenship, and your devotion to the Imperium and its gods. Should you prove yourselves worthy, you may receive additional gifts in the future, ones that¡ª"


    "Get on with it," Muna interrupted him.


    He gave her an angry glare, but restrained himself a moment later. "Very well," he said, his expression calm once more.


    Without any further words, he filled the three glasses with red liquid from the larger bottle. Then, he opened the smaller bottle, and carefully added a single drop of the clear liquid it held to each of the three glasses.


    "Be more generous," the Knight said.


    The priest gave her a distraught look. "But this is¡ª"


    "Lord''s orders," she interrupted him. "Unless you want to reject his request?"


    The priest sighed, then added another two drops to each glass.


    "More than that," Muna said.


    Outrage flashed across the priest''s face, but this time, he did not complain. Instead, he added three more drops of clear liquid to each glass, then gave the Knight a questioning look.


    "That''ll do," she said, giving him a slight nod.


    The man breathed a sigh of either relief or frustration, but he took the three glasses, then handed them to Arran and the other two.


    "Once you drink this," he said, "you will be Darians in the eyes of the gods. You will be sworn to defend the Imperium and its people, and to fight its enemies until your dying breath." He paused briefly, then said, "Drink, and receive the gods'' blessing."


    Arran hesitated, but only for a moment. Then, he brought the glass to his lips.

 Chapter 361 Citizenship

    Arran took a small sip of the glass of red liquid, and found that it was indeed wine. And cheap wine, at that, with a sour taste that made the corners of his mouth turn down in disgust.


    The captain had a similar reaction. He made an ugly face as he tasted the liquid, then said, "I know the church considers frugality a virtue, but this seems excessive."


    The priest gave him a flat look, clearly unamused. "You have been granted an invaluable gift. Do not disparage it."


    Arran frowned as he looked at the glass in his hand. He could Sense nothing in the liquid it held, but the priest certainly seemed convinced of its potency.


    He suppressed a sigh, then brought the glass to his lips once more and drained its contents in a single large gulp, restraining himself from gagging at the foul taste.


    Although he hadn''t Sensed anything in the liquid, he felt a vague hint of power ripple through his body after he drank it ¡ª and then frowned as it promptly disappeared barely a moment later.


    "Was that it?" he asked, his expression puzzled as he faced the priest.


    The white-haired man, however, seemed just as confused as Arran was. He eyed the three outsiders suspiciously, his eyes narrowed as he stared at them. But then, a look of realization appeared in his eyes.


    "These three," he asked, turning to the Knight, "they''re Body Refiners?"


    "Of course," she replied. "You didn''t think Lord Rannoc would bestow his favor upon random commoners, did you?"


    The priest cursed beneath his breath. "I''ll return momentarily," he said, not bothering to wait for a reply as he hurried off once more. This time, he made no effort to conceal his annoyance.


    He returned some moments later, carrying a small glass bottle. Like the previous one, it was filled with a clear liquid, but although Arran saw no difference between the two, the priest handled the new bottle with considerably more care.


    Again, he filled three glasses with cheap wine, then added several drops of clear liquid to each before handing them back to Arran and the others.


    "Drink," he said, "so that you may receive the gods'' blessing."


    Arran did as he said, once more suppressing the urge to gag as he downed the sour wine.


    This time, a clear tremble of power ran through his body as he imbibed the liquid. Yet again, it disappeared only a moment later, fading into nothingness as it met the sea of power his body already carried.


    When he looked at the captain and Sassun, however, they had curious expressions, as if they were experiencing an unfamiliar sensation.


    Yet the priest paid neither Kaleesh nor Sassun the slightest attention. Instead, he stared at Arran with astonished eyes, frustration written plain across his face.


    "It didn''t take," he said, sounding as if he could scarcely believe it. "I don''t understand¡­"


    Muna cast a curious look at Arran, then turned to the priest. "Seems like you''re still too stingy."


    "I''m not¡ª" the priest began, then stopped and shook his head. "It should work. Even for a Body Refiner."


    At this, Kaleesh let out a laugh. "Arran here is no common Body Refiner," he said. "He''s freakishly strong, even compared to me. If you want your potion to have an effect, you''d better give him a strong dose of it."


    "It''s not a potion!" the priest snapped. "This¡­ this is the blood of a god."


    Arran glanced at the small bottle before the priest. "Gods have clear blood?"


    The priest shot him a frustrated glare. "It''s diluted," he said. "But even so, a single drop should be enough for anyone."


    The Knight gave the white-haired man a flat stare. "Clearly, it isn''t," she said. "And Lord Rannoc was clear in his orders. Give him more."


    The priest gave the small bottle a despondent look, but after a moment''s hesitation, he once more took Arran''s glass and filled it with cheap wine. Then, he opened the small bottle, and added five drops of clear liquid to the wine.


    "There," he said as he handed the glass to Arran. "That should be enough, even for you."


    Arran accepted the glass with a sigh, already dreading the taste of the sour wine inside. Yet he did not hesitate in emptying it ¡ª not if it supposedly contained a shred of divine power.


    Yet again, the surge of power he felt lasted only a second. Though it was stronger than before, the strength within Arran''s body overwhelmed it with ease, snuffing out the liquid''s power as it devoured it.


    The priest watched Arran with anxious eyes, and as the power was extinguished, he went pale ¡ª apparently, he could somehow see what happened.


    "Impossible!" he exclaimed in a shocked voice. "This is impossible!"


    Kaleesh gave him an amused look. "From your reaction, I take it it didn''t work?"


    The white-haired man ignored the captain completely, shock in his eyes as he stared at Arran. "How could that not be enough?!" he said in a low voice, astonishment written across his face.


    The Knight''s eyes were focused on Arran as well, and although she didn''t share the priest''s shocked expression, a growing curiosity could be seen in her eyes.


    "It didn''t take?" she asked, her attention on Arran even as she spoke to the priest.


    "Obviously not!" the priest snapped. "I don''t know what kind of monster you''ve brought me, but it''s clear the gods do not wish him to have their blessing!"


    "Then you''ll have to convince them," she replied. "Give him more. Or no ¡ª give him something stronger."


    By now, Arran was beginning to feel some worry. He understood that he''d need to absorb the power to become a Darian citizen, yet so far, the clear liquid''s effects had shown no sign of lasting more than a few seconds.


    Worse, it was obvious that the Darians were growing suspicious. And if those suspicions grew into actions, there might be trouble ahead.


    "Something stronger?" The priest looked at the Knight incredulously. "You don''t mean¡­"


    "I do," she replied. "Lord Rannoc wishes are clear, and if that''s what it takes, then so be it."


    The priest firmly shook his head in response. "I can''t. Not for an outsider, and not without permission from an Archon."


    Muna raised an eyebrow as she looked him in the eyes. "You wish to defy Lord Rannoc?"


    This time, the white-haired man met her gaze without flinching. "Rannoc may rule this city," he replied, "but he does not command the church."


    The Knight gave him a pleasant smile. "You''re right, of course," she said. "Lord Rannoc does not command the church. Even he would nor dare anger the church." She gave a casual shrug, then continued, "But do you think the church would seek conflict with a Lord over the fate of a single troublesome priest?"


    Outrage crossed the priest''s pale face, but he did not reply immediately. Instead, his eyes flashed between Arran and the Knight, and finally, he asked, "Why does a single outsider matter so much?"


    "It''s not about the outsider," Muna replied. "It''s about your willingness to work with your city''s new ruler." She glanced at Arran, then added, "And if an outsider has the strength to require a proper blessing, then I imagine my Lord has use for him yet."


    The white-haired man remained silent for a moment, then gave her a short nod. "Very well," he said. "The church values its relationship with the Lords."


    Without any further words, he stood up and left the chamber once again.


    "You''re an interesting one," the Knight said as the priest stepped outside. "An outsider, but already so strong. If your potential is any indication, you might do great things for the Imperium yet."


    Arran nodded silently, careful not to reveal his worry. Whatever the priest would give him next, he desperately hoped it would work. If it didn''t, the Knight''s curiosity might well turn to suspicion.


    The priest returned some minutes later, yet another small bottle in his hands. And this bottle, he held with such care that Arran could have thought he was carrying his newborn son.


    This time, the priest produced a new glass, one that featured intricate carvings and looked to be made from crystal rather than simple glass. And instead of filling it with the cheap wine that Arran had already come to dread, he took out another bottle that appeared to be far more valuable.


    The man carefully filled the glass with wine, then added a single drop of liquid to it. And this liquid, Arran saw, wasn''t completely clear. Rather, it held a trace of pink, although one so faint as to be barely visible.


    He took the glass in both hands, then handed it to Arran with anxious care, as if he was terrified of dropping it ¡ª which he likely was.


    Arran accepted the glass with a small nod, then looked at it for several seconds. Still, he could not Sense even the slightest trace of power.


    After a moment''s hesitation, he brought the glass to his lips, then slowly emptied it into his mouth.


    If nothing else, the wine was far better than the one he''d had previously. Smooth and full, it filled his throat with a sense of warmth as he swallowed it.


    And then, he felt it ¡ª a gentle power, spreading through his body. It was much like what he''d felt before, but many times stronger. And though it still couldn''t match the power his body already held, it wasn''t extinguished.


    Instead, it seemed to merge with the other powers in his blood. And although the power faded away after some moments, this time it left behind a comfortable feeling of energy and vigor.


    The priest had watched Arran with anxious eyes as he drank the liquid, but as the power faded and merged with Arran''s body, he breathed a relieved sigh.


    "It is done," he said. "You are now a Darian ¡ª all of you are."


    "Thank you," Arran said, giving the man a forced smile.


    The priest gave him a small nod. "Now then," he said, turning to the Knight. "Since we''re done, can I return to my bed?"


    The Knight smirked. "You''re not done quite yet," she said. "These outsiders ¡ª they have some companions who are to be made citizens as well."


    The priest gave her a panicked look. "Companions? How many?"


    The Knight smiled. "About two hundred. All Body Refiners."

 Chapter 362 Sleepless Nights

    When he heard that were another two hundred Body Refiners waiting to be made citizens, the white-haired priest was sent into a near-panic.


    Despite the Knight''s barely veiled threats, he insisted that he could not do as Rannoc had requested ¡ª not without permission from an Archon. And sending word to an Archon, he claimed, would take at least two weeks.


    Yet where the Knight''s threats failed, Kaleesh''s reassurances proved more effective. Using a careful mix of flattery and persuasion, he spent several minutes convincing the priest that his other troops weren''t nearly as unusual as Arran.


    Finally, the priest agreed to accompany them to the mines. While he was obviously displeased with the prospect, with his biggest fear addressed ¡ª having to waste more of his most precious liquid on outsiders ¡ª he reluctantly gave in.


    The priest didn''t come alone, however. He brought along half a dozen acolytes and twice as many outsider servants, as well as forty guards in white uniforms.


    "Church guards," Kaleesh explained. "They answer to the Archons, rather than the Lords." He gave the group of guards an unfriendly glance, and in a lower voice, he added, "They''re humorless zealots, but take care not to antagonize them. In the Imperium, you don''t want to make an enemy of the church."


    Gathering the group took the better part of an hour, but still, that wasn''t the end of it. While Arran was anxious to leave the city behind, Muna spent another half hour gathering an entourage of her own ¡ª Rangers and soldiers, to match the church guards'' numbers.


    Arran watched the Knight''s actions with some interest. Although he couldn''t be certain, he suspected she''d only decided to bring a party of her own because the priest had done the same.


    Either way, it was plain to see that there was little love lost between the church guards and the soldiers. The two groups eyed each other with open suspicion, all but ignoring the outsiders among them.


    "They don''t seem to get along very well," Arran said, careful to keep his voice low.


    "The church and the Lords can never quite agree who leads whom," Kaleesh replied. "Though with a Knight here, I''d say the Lords take it this time. Unless that priest scrounges up a Paladin somewhere."


    Arran frowned. "A Paladin?"


    "That''s what the church calls its Knights," Kaleesh explained. "If you want my advice, avoid them at all costs. Those fanatics could look at a tree and see a blasphemer to be purged. As for outsiders¡­" He shook his head. "If you ever find yourself in the company of one, try not to say anything."


    At this, Arran could not help but sigh. The more he learned of the Imperium, the less he liked it.


    It was well after dawn when they finally departed the city, their small group somehow having swelled to the size of a small army, complete several ox-drawn supply carts.


    Much to Arran''s annoyance, the group''s size meant that it traveled with the sluggish speed of a small army, as well. Eager though Arran and the captain might be to return to the Wolfsblood Company, the oxen drawing the carts clearly didn''t share their concerns.


    Still, although Arran had not slept a wink the previous night, he found himself not the least bit tired ¡ª something he suspected was related to the strange liquid he''d been given by the priest.


    Although its power had faded from his body just moments after he''d taken it, he could tell that some part of it remained ¡ª a feeling of vigor and vitality that seemed to pervade his body.


    Kaleesh and Sassun didn''t share his experience, however. While they felt some small effect, both said it was so small as to be negligible.


    That wasn''t much of a surprise, of course. Arran had received a far larger dose of the liquid ¡ª the diluted god''s blood, as the priest claimed ¡ª than either of them, so it stood to reason that he would be affected far more strongly.


    Yet his curiosity remained. If he had a new power, he needed to know what it was ¡ª and, just as importantly, how it might help him.


    Which meant he needed to get information from the Darians.


    Between the priest and the Knight, deciding which of them to ask for information was an easy choice. The white-haired priest''s eyes held resentment and suspicion whenever he glanced at Arran, and Arran very much doubted that he''d freely share his thoughts.


    Muna, on the other hand, merely looked at him with curiosity. That still made Arran uneasy ¡ª he had plenty of secrets, after all ¡ª but it was better than the priest''s barely veiled hostility.


    He approached the Knight after their midday meal, as the long caravan was pulling into motion again amid the Imperium''s green, sunswept hills.


    "I have a question," he said, deciding not to waste time on pleasantries. "About what the priest gave me ¡ª the liquid."


    "Your blessing," she replied, stifling a smile as he fumbled for words. "What about it?"


    Arran hesitated for a moment, then asked, "What does it do, exactly?"


    "It marks you as a Darian," she said. "In the eyes of the priests, at least."


    "I''m not talking about that," Arran said with a shake of his head. While he was curious to learn how exactly that learned, he doubted she would answer that question ¡ª and either way, he had a far more pressing one. "What else does it do?"


    She gave him a small smirk in response. "You''ll discover that soon enough."


    And that was all she would tell. Arran spent another half hour trying to wrangle an answer from her ¡ª though being careful not to offend her ¡ª she merely offered evasion and amused smiles in response.


    Finally, Arran returned to the captain and Sassun.


    "No luck?" Kaleesh asked, some curiosity in his eyes.


    Arran shook his head. "She said I''d discover it soon enough."


    Kaleesh shrugged, though his expression was disappointed. "Tell us when you find out."


    The second half of the day passed much like the first half had, with slow travel along the Imperium''s seemingly endless roads. And although they passed some small groups of soldiers along the way ¡ª Kadun''s former troops, Arran understood ¡ª nothing of note happened.


    Yet that night, after they''d eaten their meals and retired to their bedrolls, Arran discovered that he still wasn''t the least bit tired.


    He spent a good half-hour trying to fall asleep, but found it completely impossible. Eventually, accepting that he wouldn''t sleep that night, he got up again. If nothing else, he could spend some time practicing his swordplay.


    However, when he got up, he found Muna already waiting for him, an amused smile on her face.


    "Starting to understand yet?" she asked.


    Finally, realization dawned in Arran''s mind. "The liquid ¡ª the blessing¡­ this is what it does? It keeps me awake?"


    "It gives you energy," she corrected him. "For the others, the difference will be small enough as to be barely noticeable. But in you, it will be stronger ¡ª strong enough that you can go weeks without sleep. And as you grow more powerful, it will strengthen further."


    Arran looked at her with wide eyes, at a loss for words. Of all the things he''d expected, this certainly wasn''t it.


    "Disappointed?" she asked, her eyebrow raised as she faced Arran.


    "Not at all," Arran said, shaking his head. If anything, this was far better than anything he could have expected.


    At once, he understood how potent a power this was. Without the need for sleep, he''d have hours each day to spend on study and practice ¡ª hours to improve his skill, and grow stronger.


    Seeing his reaction, she gave an approving smile. "So you see its value, then."


    "I do," Arran replied, eyes still wide with shock. "But this power¡­ do all Darians have it?" He glanced at the Darian soldiers, and saw that they were already sound asleep.


    "They have the potential," the Knight replied. "Though few grow strong enough to fully enjoy its benefits. But you were lucky enough to require a proper Knight''s blessing. And although this is one of the lesser gods'' bloodlines, I''ve always thought it was among the most powerful."


    Arran looked at her with curiosity. "So you have this power as well?"


    "All Knights do," she replied. "As I said, this is a bloodline shared by all Darians ¡ª though that is because the priests can somehow recognize it. Any Darian who grows strong enough will develop this power, as well."


    Arran nodded, already marveling at the many possibilities he saw. In the past, it had seemed nigh impossible to study all the things he wanted. But now¡­ now, he realized it might be possible to learn more than he had thought.


    "But enough of that," Muna said. "We have an entire night ahead of us, and little to do with it. How about we spar for a few rounds? I''m curious to see how strong you really are."


    For a moment, Arran hesitated. Despite what the captain had said, he still felt uneasy revealing his strength to the Darians. Yet denying her request would only draw her suspicion.


    And more importantly, he really wanted to see what he could learn from a Knight.


    "All right," he said. "Let''s spar."

 Chapter 363 A Foundation

    Arran spent several hours sparring against the Knight, but it only took him minutes to realize that her skill was far beyond his own.


    Against the Knight he''d faced in the city, he''d relied on the temporary boost in strength the battle had given him. And even that had not been enough for him to secure victory.


    Now that he faced a Knight with only his own strength, he could not help but marvel at the vast chasm in ability that lay between them.


    It was like sparring against Brightblade. No matter what he did, defeat was never more than a second away, and whenever he thought he was on the verge of winning an exchange, his hopes were inevitably dashed an instant later.


    This time, however, he had the chance to study what made Knights so strong, and what he discovered was much as he''d already expected.


    His insights gave him no small amount of power, but their use was limited. Although he could strike devastating blows using his insight into severing, that was little use if his opponent could easily dodge or deflect his attacks.


    The Knight, by contrast, had a far broader set of insights. And if their quality didn''t quite match that of the few that Arran possessed, their sheer number meant she could use them in every situation.


    It was much like in Kaleesh''s writings on tactics, where a capable commander would attack an opponent''s weaknesses rather than his strengths.


    Arran had a few great strengths, but he still had many weaknesses. And skilled as the Knight was, she had little difficulty finding and exploiting those weaknesses.


    Although the match did little to help Arran''s confidence, he was thankful for the opportunity to learn. If nothing else, knowing his weaknesses would help him avoid fights he had no chance of winning.


    Finally, after hours of sparring, the Knight stepped back.


    "That''s enough for tonight," she said. She gave Arran an appraising look, then continued, "You have potential. With proper training, you should become a Knight one day ¡ª and perhaps even more than that."


    Arran looked at her with some surprise. He was well aware of how easily the Knight had defeated him, and he had not expected her to be impressed with his efforts. "You think so?"


    Muna smiled as she saw his confused look. "Don''t misunderstand me," she said. "You''re still weak. But then, it''s obvious that you''ve never had proper training. Once you''re exposed to the right teachings, I expect your progress to be most impressive."


    There was a hint of curiosity in her eyes, or perhaps anticipation. But whatever it was, Arran sensed an opportunity.


    "Perhaps you could teach me," he said. "Now that I''m a citizen of the Imperium, there should be no harm in teaching me a few techniques, should there?"


    He half expected her to reject the request outright, but instead, she looked at him with an amused expression for some seconds.


    "I suppose I could do that," she finally said. "I cannot teach you any true techniques, of course ¡ª you will have to earn those. But I can show you the foundation that Darian children are given, what they build on before they earn the right to enter one of the war colleges."


    Arran accepted the offer without hesitation. Even if it was only the foundation Darians taught their children, he instantly recognized that it would be valuable in learning the Darians'' true methods.


    After all, the Imperium would not set their offspring on a path that led only to a dead end.


    In the hours that followed, Muna patiently taught him a series of movements. Simple and plain, it was obvious that they were intended for training rather than combat, and Arran had little difficulty in learning them.


    Yet even as he studied the simple movements, he recognized that they contained hints of insights, albeit distant ones. In that sense, the exercises reminded Arran of the Forms ¡ª their value lay not in the movements themselves, but rather in what they taught.


    "You''re a quick learner," Muna said eventually. "In just a few hours, you''ve reached a level that takes others years to achieve."


    Arran smiled slightly, knowing that it wasn''t much of a compliment. "I''ve had years of practice," he said. "If I didn''t reach a child''s level in a few hours, I''d doubt my talent."


    "True enough," she replied. "And with the insights you already have, I assume you''ve already recognized the purpose of these exercises?"


    Arran nodded. "They''re meant to build insights." He frowned, then corrected himself, "Or rather, to lay a foundation for gaining insights."


    This time, the Knight''s eyes held a trace of approval as she looked at him. "Exactly right," she said. "What you learn from these exercises won''t help you in battle directly, but it will help you prepare for the next step."


    "And what is that next step?" Arran asked, his curiosity sparked.


    "That," she replied with a small smile, "is something you will discover once you earn the right to do so."


    Arran gave her a small nod. "I suppose I''ll find out after I come back from the Desolation?"


    Muna shook her head. "Not necessarily. You should consider accepting Lord Rannoc''s offer. With his approval, you would be allowed to learn more, so that you wouldn''t have to face the Blight until you are truly ready."


    She gave him a thoughtful gaze, and after a moment of hesitation, she continued, "Someone with your strength and talent could have a bright future in the Imperium. Given time and proper teachers, and with a suitable wife, you might forge a respectable bloodline of your own."


    Arran found himself at a loss for words, as he could not escape the idea that she wasn''t merely offering friendly advice. "I''ll consider it," he replied somewhat awkwardly.


    "Just something to think about," she said, giving him a meaningful smile.


    Arran gave her a small nod, then hurriedly turned his attention back to his practice to escape any further talk of wives and bloodlines.


    He wasn''t certain the Knight had truly suggested what he thought she had, but once more he was reminded that there were many aspects of Darian culture he didn''t understand just yet.


    He continued his practice until sunrise, taking care to study the movements Muna had taught him as well as he could. Even if they provided nothing but a foundation, it was a foundation he planned to build upon in the future.


    When dawn finally came and the others awoke, the large group slowly set into motion once more. And as they did, Arran wasted no time in informing Kaleesh of the things he''d learned.


    The captain listened with great interest, and he seemed particularly taken with the idea of no longer needing sleep. "So that blessing ¡ª the god''s bloodline. It will grow stronger as we grow more powerful?"


    "It should," Arran replied with a nod. "Muna told me that Knights barely require any sleep at all, that they can go weeks or months without rest."


    "Muna?" Kaleesh raised an eyebrow as he looked at Arran, amusement written plain across his face. "The two of you get along, then?"


    "It''s not¡­" Arran began, then shook his head. "I don''t know what it is."


    Kaleesh laughed. "It''s exactly what you think it is," he said. "Darians value strength more than anything, and no woman would be satisfied with a weak husband. And you¡­ well, as an outsider who''s grown that strong even without proper training, you''ll be sure to catch many eyes."


    Arran looked at Kaleesh uneasily. "So what should I do?" he asked. He had little experience with this sort of thing, and he could not escape the feeling that there was danger in acting improperly.


    The captain shrugged. "From what you''ve said, her attention has already benefited you no small amount. And Knight or not, she certainly is rather beautiful."


    Again, Arran frowned. Though he hadn''t really considered the matter until now, he had to admit that Muna was far from unattractive. With long black hair and big dark eyes, he certainly didn''t mind seeing her.


    "Just be careful not to offend her," the captain continued. "And take care that you don''t find yourself married ¡ª I doubt a fresh bride would want to see her husband travel into the Desolation."


    Arran let out a deep sigh, though he could not help but cast another glance at the Knight at the front of their group. Now that he thought about it, she really was quite pretty.

 Chapter 364 The Road Back

    As the long column of Darians spent the days sluggishly making its way toward the mines, Arran spent his nights studying the set of movements Muna had taught him.


    He soon discovered that although the techniques were simple, learning them properly was more difficult than he''d initially thought. The insights that were hidden within them were hard to uncover, buried deep beneath layers of movements.


    He understood the purpose of this, of course. For children and youths, the extraneous movements would be helpful, gently guiding them toward the complex insights step by step.


    Yet for Arran, this gentle guidance was an obstacle more than anything. He didn''t have decades to study the techniques, and what he needed was a more rapid path to the treasures they contained.


    Here, the Knight''s help proved invaluable.


    She took Arran through the movements again and again, guiding him in his studies with care and patience. And with her help, it only took a few nights before he began to recognize the underlying insights in earnest.


    There were many of them, though not so many as Arran had expected. As Muna explained it, the foundation focused mainly on those insights that students could build upon in the future ¡ª ones like speed, power, movement, and about two dozen other ones.


    Only when students entered one of the Imperium''s war colleges would they be shown the path to gaining the more subtle and abstract insights.


    Arran tried repeatedly to convince Muna to show him a glimpse of the techniques to learn these insights, but his pleas had little effect.


    Eager though the Knight might be to help Arran, her kindness didn''t go so far that she would break the Imperium''s laws for his sake.


    But Arran knew that even the help she gave him was already enough to cause raised eyebrows among the other Darians. He regularly caught the soldiers giving him envious stares, while the church guards looked at him with outright hostility.


    It was easy to tell that although he had become a citizen, the Darians still very much considered him an outsider.


    The one exception to this, of course, was Muna. And with each passing day, Arran became more convinced that the captain had been right ¡ª that her interest in him was more than just friendliness.


    It was an interest that Arran did not share. While she was undeniably beautiful, with a personality to match her good looks, he had not forgotten his purpose in coming to the Imperium.


    In the end, the Darians were his enemies. And nothing he''d seen in the Imperium had given him cause to doubt that.


    If anything, being in the Imperium had made him even more certain that war was inevitable ¡ª and that it must be won at any cost.


    The Darians'' power had shocked him, but he''d been equally taken aback by the way they treated outsiders. With many, it seemed like they only barely considered outsiders human.


    If a people like that conquered the Ninth Valley, he had no doubt that it would be a massacre. They''d show the mages no mercy whatsoever, and everyone Arran had come to know in the Valley would die.


    That was an outcome he could not accept. And if leading on a Darian Knight could help him prevent it, he had no qualms about doing that ¡ª not with his friends'' lives in the balance.


    Rather than making it clear that he wasn''t interested, he returned Muna''s friendliness in kind, spending hours talking with her even when she wasn''t helping him train.


    Often, he would join her at the front of the column of soldiers, keeping her company as they slowly made their way through the Imperium''s endless green hills.


    The landscape was undoubtedly beautiful, and as they walked, Muna would tell him tales of the Imperium''s long history. Some of these he had already heard from the captain, and while he suspected that many of them were exaggerations, the Darians certainly appeared to believe they were true.


    "Before the Blight," Muna said, reverence in her voice, "the Imperium covered half the world. Can you imagine that? A single peaceful land, stretching for thousands of miles, without either war or banditry."


    Arran gave her a suitably impressed look, then asked, "Speaking of war¡­ What about the conflict with the mages? In the borderlands, most people were convinced that war could break out at any moment."


    Muna smiled and shook her head. "The mages pose no real threat to us. We''ll face them again eventually, but I''d be surprised if it takes less than a decade. There''s no need for you to worry about it ¡ª by then, you''ll be strong enough to face any mage without fear."


    "That long?" Arran asked, surprise in his eyes. "I''d heard it was only a matter of years."


    Again, she shook her head. "We have no reason to attack just yet. With thousands of refugees arriving each day, the Imperium grows stronger by the month. As long as that remains true, there''s no point in taking our attention off the Blight."


    Arran narrowed his eyes. "What would happen if you defeated the Blight?"


    She gave a small laugh at the question, the corners of her full lips turning up in amusement. "Defeat the Blight?" From the look in her eyes, it seemed she believed the very thought of it absurd. "The Blight cannot be defeated. It can only be held back."


    "So it''s a losing fight?" Arran asked, frowning in wonder how she could look amused even while discussing such a prospect.


    Yet she responded with a warm smile, then answered, "Not at all. The Blight is like the sea ¡ª it cannot be defeated, but it can be held back. The Imperium has the strength to do so."


    Arran had never seen a sea, but he understood the point she was making. "So the war will continue forever, then?"


    Muna nodded firmly, a hint of pride in her dark eyes. "The Blight will continue to push, but the Imperium will remain an unshakable bulwark, stopping it from advancing even a single step. With the gods'' blessing, we can resist anything."


    "The gods'' blessing?" Arran looked at her in wonder. "I didn''t know you were so pious. From the way you dealt with that priest¡­" He didn''t finish the sentence, instead giving her a meaningful look.


    "Whatever they might tell you," Muna replied, "the priests don''t represent the gods. They''ve been tasked with guarding the gods'' blessings, but that is the extent of it. Their words aren''t the gods'' words, no matter what they might believe."


    Arran nodded, carefully memorizing what she told him. Even if he could see no direct use for it, he knew that anything he learned about the Imperium might one day end up helping him.


    Still, despite what Muna told him, he could not help but wonder whether she was correct about the Blight and the Imperium''s strength to resist it.


    He''d given the Blight plenty of thought since Kaleesh had told him about it, and although he''d feigned ignorance back then, he had several thoughts about the nature of the Blight.


    His first thought had been that the abominations the captain had told him about were some form of Remnants ¡ª the magic-infused creatures he''d met in the Ninth Valley''s mountains and in the Shadow Realm.


    This idea, however, he''d rejected almost immediately. While Remnants were terrifyingly powerful, they were also utterly mindless, blindly devouring Essence where they found it with no thought for anything else.


    Even the titanic monsters he''d seen in the Shadow Realm were like that ¡ª almost like gargantuan cows, dumbly grazing on the dense Shadow Essence that lay beyond the portal.


    Dangerous though they might be, they lacked the intelligence to wage a war ¡ª especially one that lasted for thousands of years. If anything, they were more likely to attack each other than Darian warriors who completely lacked Essence.


    Instead, he thought the Blight was more likely to be related to the other creatures he''d encountered near the Ninth Valley ¡ª what Brightblade had called Demons.


    Unlike the Remnants, these Demons had clearly been intelligent. And if they were weaker than the Remnants, he suspected they had the numbers to make up for that.


    Yet Brightblade had told him little about the creatures. While she''d clearly been surprised at their numbers, she''d said little about their origins, and even less about their nature.


    But even so, Arran was convinced that they posed a far bigger threat than Remnants. From what he had seen of the Remnants, he thought they were an effect rather than a cause ¡ª a consequence of too much Essence gathered in a single place for too long a time.


    The Demons, however, had intelligence. And if they had intelligence, they were sure to have goals and purpose, as well.


    Yet he understood that whatever suspicions he might have, he still knew too little for certain to know what he would face in the Desolation.


    And either way, he would be better off focusing his thoughts on training.

 Chapter 365 A Deb

    With the large group''s sluggish pace, Arran soon began to feel as if the journey to the mines would take forever.


    When they had been brought from the mines to the city, it had taken less than a week to arrive. But now, traveling with a priest, acolytes, soldiers, servants, and supply carts, their travel was slow enough that two weeks passed before they even approached the mines.


    Although the slow pace caused Arran some frustration, he didn''t particularly mind the journey.


    The landscape they crossed was nothing if not beautiful, with the road leading them through endless hilly green fields, speckled with farms that reminded Arran of his childhood.


    And while he had no intention of courting Muna, he could not deny that he enjoyed the attention she gave him. Even if that only added to the hostile looks he received from the other Darians.


    Still, he was relieved when he finally saw the mines appear in the distance.


    It was no secret that the Wolfsblood Company would face grave danger in the Desolation, and if they were to survive, they would need every bit of preparation they could get. And the sooner they could get started on that, the better.


    Their welcome came sooner than expected. Near the mines lay a small town, filled with inns, taverns, and traders, and the group had barely entered it when a voice called out, "They''re back! The captain has returned!"


    Arran recognized the man who had yelled as a member of the Wolfsblood Company. Apparently, Arran''s allies were no longer confined to the mining camp ¡ª and from the bottle of wine in the mercenary''s hand, he guessed that Rannoc''s troops had treated them well.


    Others took up the call almost immediately, their excited cries soon causing an uproar within the small town. More of the Wolfsblood Company''s troops came flooding into the streets from the taverns, and it wasn''t long before a large crowd had formed around the captain, Arran, and Sassun.


    The hardened mercenaries were giddy with excitement as they saw their captain had returned, and a dozen different questions sounded from a dozen different mouths, all at once.


    Kaleesh received the attention with a broad grin, clearly just as happy to see his troops again as they were to see him.


    But then, a loud voice sounded. "Captain! You''re back!"


    Arran didn''t even need to look to know the voice belonged to Gar. But while Gar''s appearance did not surprise him, he raised an eyebrow when he saw the man at Gar''s side.


    Every bit as large and burly as the giant commander, he was bald and clad in an untidy set of Darian armor, with a bottle of drink in his hand and a wide grin on his face. If Arran didn''t know any better, he could have thought the man was Gar''s long-lost brother.


    Yet Arran Sensed immediately that the man wore a Living Shadow dagger at his side, which could only mean that despite his appearance, the giant was a Knight.


    "Captain!" Gar repeated as he approached, his expression joyful. "Good to see you''ve made it back alive!"


    Kaleesh nodded, amusement in his eyes. "Good to see you haven''t gotten yourself killed." He glanced at the Knight. "And who might this be?"


    "Rahm," the Knight said. "Lord Rannoc put me in charge of the mines." Noticing the other Knight, he gave her a small bow. "Muna."


    "Rahm," she replied with a nod. She looked around at the mercenaries, then frowned. "Hard at work keeping order?"


    Rahm shrugged. "I figured they could do with some merriment. Would you believe that Kadun''s thugs kept them locked in the mines for months?" He shook his head in disgust. "Glad that bastard is dead."


    "Captain," Gar interjected, a look of excitement appearing on his face. "Rahm has a present for you. One I think you''ll like."


    "A present?" Kaleesh shot him a curious glance. "What is it?"


    Gar gave a firm shake of his head. "You''ll see when we get to the camp," he replied, though with an eager grin.


    Muna cast a curious look at Rahm. "Let''s head to the camp," she said. "And bring the others. I think the town has seen enough excitement for today."


    They set off again some minutes later, more mercenaries joining the large group as they headed toward the mining camp.


    As they covered the final few miles, Gar explained what had happened in their absence, which turned out to be very little. The Wolfsblood Company had remained in the mines as ordered, only emerging after Rannoc''s army had taken the mining camp.


    After that, they had spent some days preparing for an attack from Kadun''s army, but it was an attack that never materialized. Word of the Lord''s demise had spread before his troops could reach the mines, and with their ruler dead, the army had soon dispersed.


    Which had left Gar and Rahm with little to do but drink ¡ª a task which they''d both addressed with great enthusiasm, soon becoming staunch allies in their quest to drain the nearby town of its wine reserves.


    Naturally, Gar asked the captain about the events in the city, too, and he listened with astonishment to Kaleesh''s retelling of the battle at the gate.


    "You killed an entire army?" he asked Arran, his eyes wide with astonishment. "By yourself?"


    "Not an entire army," Arran replied truthfully ¡ª the captain had embellished the story more than a bit. "And most of them were just common soldiers."


    Rahm, however, gave him a nonplussed look. "You don''t look all that strong," he said, his expression ponderous.


    At this, Muna scowled. "Rahm, you big oaf," she said, a trace of annoyance in her voice. "He has more potential than you ever did. A year or two of proper training, and he''ll be able to defeat you with ease."


    "If you say so," the giant Knight said, though he still sounded skeptical. Yet from the wary manner in which he looked at Muna, Arran got the impression that she was easily the stronger of the two.


    Then, finally, they reached the mining camp.


    Its squat stone buildings looked no different from before, but the camp was once more filled with mercenaries, who flocked to the captain the moment word of their arrival spread.


    There were plenty of Darian soldiers, too, though they looked rougher than the ones Arran had seen so far, and they glanced at the newcomers with friendly curiosity rather than the hostility he''d come to expect from Darians. Rahm''s troops, he guessed.


    It took another half-hour to explain everything that had happened to Lasha and the other mercenaries, and there were few among the troops who did not go wide-eyed with awe when they heard of the battle at the gate ¡ª a battle that grew more epic with each time the captain told the tale.


    There were many questions, all of which Kaleesh answered dutifully. But while the captain was patient, the same could not be said for Gar.


    "Captain," he finally said, interrupting yet another question about the battle at the gate. "Your present." He gave Rahm an expectant look, which the giant Knight answered with a cheerful laugh.


    "I''ll go get them," the Knight said, motioning for some soldiers to accompany him as he set off for one of the camp''s stone buildings.


    Barely two minutes later, Rahm returned, this time with five bound prisoners in tow.


    Arran immediately recognized them. They were Kadun''s Rangers, the ones who''d taken over the camp and banished the mercenaries to the mines.


    The arrogance they''d shown before was now gone entirely. Instead, their eyes were somber, their faces bruised, and their clothes torn. Yet pitiful though they looked, Arran felt not even the slightest shred sympathy for them.


    "We captured these five when we took the camp," Rahm said with a friendly look at the captain. "Gar said you''d want to be there for their executions."


    "Is that so," Kaleesh replied, his expression dark as he looked at the five prisoners.


    Yet before he could say anything else, the priest yelled, "There will be no executions!"


    The white-haired man had said little during their journey, and he''d remained silent when they arrived in the camp. But now, he looked at the giant Knight with a red face and angry eyes.


    "You will not execute these men!" he repeated. "Not without cause!"


    Rahm turned to face the priest. "These Rangers," he said, annoyance in his voice, "have mistreated our allies. For that, we will punish them."


    "You will do no such thing!" the priest answered angrily. "They were acting in the service of a Lord! As for your allies¡­" He paused to glance at the gathered mercenaries, then continued, "They are outsiders. Whatever the Rangers did to them, it matters not."


    Anger showed in the Knight''s face as well, and he looked as if he was about to yell at the priest in fury. Yet before he could say anything, the captain spoke up.


    "Teacher," he said, his expression respectful as he faced the priest. "Am I not a citizen? And by your hand, at that?"


    The priest turned to him, the anger fleeing his face at the captain''s unexpectedly reverent tone. "You are," he said. "But that doesn''t change anything. Whatever these Rangers did to you, they did before you became a citizen."


    "Of course," Kaleesh said, the sides of his mouth turned up in a smirk so slight it could only barely be seen. "But as a citizen, do I not have the right to challenge them in combat?"


    At this, the priest frowned. "You have the right to challenge them," he said. "But whether they face you is their choice."


    Kaleesh nodded, then turned to the five Rangers. "I challenge you ¡ª all five of you ¡ª to a duel. Should you defeat me, I ask that you will be given your freedom. Do you accept?"


    "Captain!" Gar said, his voice panicked. "They''re Rangers. You can''t¡ª"


    Yet before he could finish the words, the Rangers'' leader called out, "We accept!"


    Bruised though the man''s face was, his somber expression had turned to one of hope ¡ª hope, and viciousness.


    "Very well," Kaleesh said. "Unbind them, and fetch them their weapons." He smiled, then added, "Let''s see how they fare against an outsider."

 Chapter 366 Settling Debts

    As the five Rangers were unbound and given their swords, their forlorn expressions faded almost instantly. Weapons in hand, they had once more become warriors rather than prisoners, and the change in their demeanor was as sudden as it was complete.


    A single obstacle still remained between them and their freedom, but they were obviously confident in defeating the captain. If anything, they looked eager for the fight ¡ª eager for a chance to regain their honor.


    Arran, however, knew that their confidence was misplaced.


    While both the captain''s mercenaries and Rannoc''s troops looked worried, Arran had seen Kaleesh''s true power. And if that power wasn''t quite enough to defeat a Knight, it was far more than a handful of Rangers could hope to match.


    Yet the Rangers were still blissfully unaware of the fate that would soon befall them. Weapons drawn, they moved to face the captain, their leader at the front of the small group.


    To his credit, the man did not waste his breath on threats or insults. While his expression was one of grim anticipation, his eyes remained alert, focused on the outsider who had so casually challenged not one but five Rangers.


    The captain drew his weapon as he faced the Rangers. And unlike his opponents, he still looked every bit as relaxed as he had before.


    "Shall we begin, then?" he asked. From his casual voice and relaxed posture, it almost seemed like he treated the duel as a sparring match.


    Yet although he looked unconcerned, Arran saw a subtle shift in his movements. Though few of the people present would recognize it, the captain''s body now held a hidden tension, like a loaded spring, ready to snap into action.


    The Rangers'' leader did not reply. Instead, he gripped his sword with both hands, his body tensing up as he prepared to attack. And then, with a sudden dash, he rushed forward, striking a vicious overhand blow at the captain.


    At least, that was his intent. But as the Ranger''s sword came down, it found only air.


    Before the Ranger could respond, Kaleesh had stepped to the side, moving so fast even Arran could only barely see the movement. And as the captain moved, his sword flashed toward the Ranger in a single viper-like strike.


    The Ranger''s weapon hit the ground an instant later, and although its owner''s hands still gripping it tightly, those hands were no longer attached to the Ranger''s arms.


    For a brief moment, there was only silence.


    The Ranger stared in horror as blood gushed from his wrists, and while his companions had already begun attacks of their own, they came to a sudden halt when they saw the scene before them.


    "Take him away," Kaleesh said with a brief glance at the Darian soldiers who had gathered around them. Despite their shocked expressions, the soldiers did as told, dragging the maimed Ranger away even as more blood poured forth from his wrists.


    Then, the captain turned back to the remaining Rangers. "Abandon your weapons," he said, "and I will spare your lives."


    The four Rangers, so confident only moments earlier, hesitated for barely a second. But then, understanding that they were hopelessly outmatched, they threw their weapons on the ground.


    "Sassun," the captain said, "please gather my spoils."


    As the middle-aged commander began to pick up the Rangers'' weapons, the captain turned around to face the priest, not giving his defeated enemies so much as a second glance.


    "No dead Darians," he said with a mirthless smile, "and four Rangers to add to Lord Rannoc''s ranks. I assume you are satisfied?"


    The priest gave the captain a dark look in response. "What you did to him¡­ that''s a fate worse than death."


    "He chose his path," Kaleesh said. He shrugged dismissively, and continued, "Now then, with that taken care of, perhaps it''s time that my troops are granted their citizenship?"


    The priest nodded, though his expression was no less grim than before. "It will be taken care of."


    "Excellent," the captain replied, this time with a genuine smile. He turned to Rahm, and said, "And I thank you for the gift."


    "My pleasure." The Knight grinned, and added, "Had I known I''d get a show out of it, I might have gathered a few more prisoners. See what you can really do."


    Kaleesh laughed. "You might see that yet," he said. "Who knows what the future holds."


    Yet his laugh lasted only a moment, and his expression soon turned serious once more ¡ª more so than before.


    "But if you''ll excuse me," he said to the two Knights, "there''s another debt I need to settle. Sassun, Arran, come with me. Lasha, please take us to the overseer."


    While Arran had almost forgotten about the man who had supposedly spoken for them to Kadun''s steward, he now remembered what the steward had said ¡ª that the overseer would be punished for his words.


    He had barely spoken with the overseer during their time in the camp, busy as he was with his studies, but he now felt a sudden pang of guilt. From what he little he had seen of Darian justice, he could not imagine that it had gone well for the man.


    "How is he?" Kaleesh asked Lasha as she guided them to the overseer''s quarters.


    "Not good," she replied with a small shake of her head. "I wasn''t there to see it, but¡­" She sighed. "When the Rangers returned, they had him lashed. A dozen lashes, with their leader taking it upon himself to carry out the punishment."


    Arran clenched his jaw when he heard her words. While a dozen lashes didn''t sound like much, even a single lash from a strong Body Refiner could kill a man.


    Kaleesh nodded grimly. "Will he survive?"


    "He will," Lasha replied. "When Rannoc''s troops took the camp, they made sure he received proper care. But even so¡­"


    She did not finish the sentence, but from her expression, Arran understood that the overseer''s wounds were serious ones.


    This suspicion was confirmed only moments later when they entered the overseer''s quarters. They found the man in bed, his face deathly pale and weary with anguish.


    Yet despite his pitiful state, he looked up in wonder when he saw them.


    "You returned," he said in a weak voice. "I was certain they had¡­" He paused to sigh. "No matter. I''m glad to see you''re still alive. I tried the best I could, but the steward¡­ he refused to listen. I''m sorry I couldn''t be of more help."


    "Don''t apologize," Kaleesh replied, his expression pained as he looked at the gaunt man. "I owe you an apology for putting you in danger."


    At this, the overseer shook his head. "All I did was speak the truth."


    The captain nodded softly. "Your wounds, how bad are they?"


    "Not too bad," the overseer replied, forcing a smile. "The healers say I should recover with a few months'' rest."


    "I''ll make sure you receive proper care," Kaleesh said. "But I also have a gift for you."


    "A gift?" The overseer looked at him in wonder. "What for?"


    "For speaking the truth," the captain replied. "And doing so despite the consequences. Sassun, hand me the weapons."


    The commander did as told, handing Kaleesh the swords he''d taken from the defeated Rangers.


    "These," the captain said, putting the weapons down beside the overseer''s bed, "I took from the Rangers who did this to you. Consider it their repayment for what you''ve suffered."


    At once, the overseer''s eyes went wide with shock. "Starmetal?! I cannot accept such gifts!"


    Kaleesh smiled warmly. "You don''t have a choice ¡ª not unless you manage to get out of bed and give them back."


    "But¡­" the overseer began, the shock on his pale face only growing stronger. "Starmetal weapons¡­ those are worth a fortune."


    "Indeed," Kaleesh replied. "A fortune large enough that you can spend the rest of your days in wealth ¡ª once you''re out of this bed, at least."


    The overseer remained silent for several seconds, then finally stammered, "Thank you." From the look on his face, it seemed he still couldn''t believe his good fortune.


    They spoke for several more minutes, though it soon became apparent that between his injuries and the shock of the captain''s gift, the overseer could handle no more than that.


    As they made their way out of the squat stone building again, Lasha looked at the captain in wonder. "It''s rare to see you so generous," she said, giving him a questioning look.


    "Debts must be repaid," the captain replied. "And the debt I owed him was a great one, since I gave him little choice in this matter."


    "True enough," Lasha admitted. "Though I think he''d have been happy enough with just one sword."


    The captain gave her a wry smile. "Perhaps. But my conscience required more than that. And it doesn''t matter ¡ª a few swords will be the smallest of my losses, today."


    Lasha gazed at the captain with narrowed eyes, concern suddenly written across her face. "Losses? What are you talking about?"


    "Rannoc made a request," Kaleesh replied. "That I offer my troops the choice to join his forces. Once the priest finishes his task, I intend to honor that request."


    "Join Rannoc''s forces?" Lasha asked, her worry now turning to puzzlement. "Even if you make the offer, you don''t seriously believe anyone will accept it, do you?" She shot a glance at Arran, then added, "Maybe a few of the newcomers will leave, but the rest are loyal."


    "I have no doubts about their loyalty," Kaleesh said. "But the path ahead is a dangerous one ¡ª more so than you realize. What Rannoc offers is a life of comfort and wealth. What I offer is only a slim chance of survival."


    Lasha paled as she stared at the captain, her expression horrified as understanding finally dawned in her eyes. "You''re going to tell them to accept the offer, aren''t you?"


    Kaleesh gave her a slight nod. "I am."


    The commander stared at her captain in bewilderment. "Why would you do such a thing?!"


    Kaleesh sighed, turning his eyes to the large group of mercenaries in the distance. The priest had already begun his work, and one by one, the mercenaries were given glasses of wine to drink, a single drop of clear liquid in each.


    He remained silent for some moments, eyes fixed on his troops. And when he finally spoke again, all humor had fled his expression.


    "Many of those who join me," he said, "will not survive the journey. The enemies we will face are no common ones. With sufficient luck, half of those who go will return. Without it, none will."


    "Then why go?" Lasha pleaded. "If it''s so dangerous, why go at all?"


    "Because there''s no other way to get the power I need," the captain answered plainly. "But the troops ¡ª I would not ask of them to face the same danger. Not without knowing the risk."


    That wasn''t nearly enough to convince Lasha, but her continued pleas had little effect. It was clear that Kaleesh had made up his mind a long ago, and no amount of words would dissuade him from the path he''d chosen.


    Arran, however, wasn''t the least bit surprised by Kaleesh''s words.


    Although he still didn''t know the full extent of the captain''s plans, he already understood that they involved far more than just toppling a single Lord.


    Whatever Kaleesh had planned, it would require no small amount of power. And to get that power, it seemed the captain was prepared to face any danger, no matter how great.


    Yet he had honor, as well. And while he could be ruthless to his enemies, so far Arran had seen nothing to make him doubt the captain''s loyalty to his allies.


    It was the reason Arran trusted the man, but it caused him worry as well. Up to this point, their goals had aligned, with no need for either of them to choose between conflicting loyalties.


    But if that changed, Arran could easily see it turning to a disaster.


    Still, he did not intend to part ways with Kaleesh. Not yet, at least. By now, he understood all too well how little he knew of the Imperium, and how dangerous a place it was for ignorant outsiders.


    To accompany the captain into the Desolation would be even more dangerous, of course, but it would offer him a chance to gain the Darians'' secrets. And after seeing the battle between the Lords, he knew that would be his path ¡ª to seize their secrets, and make them his own.


    "Arran!"


    Arran looked up in wonder, torn from his thoughts by the sudden voice ¡ª Lasha''s, he realized.


    "What is it?"


    "This mad plan of his¡­ are you going along with it, too?" She gave him an expectant look, apparently hoping that he might convince the captain where she had failed.


    "I am," he replied instead. Seeing her disappointed look, he explained, "In the city, we watched two Lords do battle. If you''d seen it, you''d understand ¡ª their power is terrifying. If facing danger means a chance at learning that, then it''s well worth it."


    "Even if it means breaking up the Wolfsblood Company?" she asked. Though she spoke to Arran, it was clear that her words were intended for the captain.


    Yet suddenly, Arran understood her true objection. And it wasn''t, as he''d thought earlier, that they would face danger. Rather, it was that she feared losing her companions.


    To him, the mercenaries in the Wolfsblood Company were friends and allies ¡ª important both, but not so much that he would hesitate in leaving them behind. But to Lasha, it seemed they were more like family.


    Suddenly, he could not help but feel out of place. Even after the half-year he''d spent with the group, it seemed that in some ways, he was still a stranger.


    The captain appeared to sense this as well, as he turned to Lasha and said in a soft voice, "Let''s take a walk together."


    Arran''s brow was furrowed in thought as the captain and his commander walked off, softly talking as they disappeared between the stone buildings around them.


    He turned to Sassun. "Are those two¡­?" he began, leaving the final words unspoken.


    "No," the dour-faced commander replied curtly. Yet a moment later, he added in a friendlier tone, "Lasha was young when she joined the Company, barely out of childhood. Captain took her in and taught her to fight."


    That only raised more questions for Arran, but it was clear that Sassun had no interest in answering them. He gave Arran a short nod, then began to head in the direction of the mercenaries who were still gathered around the priest.


    And just like that, Arran suddenly found himself alone, standing by himself in the middle of the mining camp.


    For a brief moment, he found himself wishing he was back in the Ninth Valley, with Brightblade, Snowcloud, and the others ¡ª not to mention his cooks.


    Yet the Ninth Valley was thousands of miles away, and after a moment''s thought, he set off to find Muna. Although she might be his enemy, at least she was a friendly one.

 Chapter 367 Broken Company

    Arran glanced at Muna. "You''ve been in the Desolation," he said. "What''s it like?"


    "Worried about your captain?" she asked. She shook her head, and continued, "As I told you before, I can''t tell you about the Blight."


    They were sitting atop one of the tall hills that overlooked the mining camp, eating a small meal of fresh bread and cold meat while watching the priest grant the mercenaries their citizenship.


    Even from a distance, Arran could see that the white-haired man looked weary. And no wonder ¡ª already, the man had turned over a hundred mercenaries into proper Darians, and although he barely spent a minute on each of them, it still added up to hours of work.


    "I know you can''t tell me about the Blight," Arran said. "But what about the Desolation itself?"


    He''d asked Muna about the Blight many times, and each time, her answer was the same: that only those who traveled into the Desolation were allowed to learn of it.


    Arran thought the law ridiculous, but he had some suspicions about its purpose.


    While Muna claimed it was a matter of honor, he doubted that was the real reason. Rather, if the Imperium forbade talk of the Blight, then he figured the situation could only be dire ¡ª dire enough that Imperium''s leaders feared that the truth would cause a panic.


    Still, he thought he could get her to reveal at least something.


    Not because he was asking about the Desolation instead of the Blight ¡ª that was merely an excuse he offered, and a weak one at that. But rather, because he knew that she still hoped to convince him not to go.


    And indeed, she gave him a hesitant look, appearing to be on the verge of breaking.


    "I''m not asking to hear any secrets," he said. "I just want to know enough to make up my mind."


    Finally, she sighed. "I suppose there are some things I can say. Not about the Blight, but about the other dangers the Desolation holds."


    "Other dangers?" Arran asked, his curiosity instantly awakened.


    Muna nodded. "The Desolation is the front line in our battle against the Blight, but it also serves as a proving grounds. Every year, many thousands travel to the Desolation ¡ª untrained youths to stand watch at its borders, and ambitious warriors to travel deeper into the ruined wastes."


    Though her meaning was subtle, Arran understood it at once. "With so many people looking to prove themselves," he said, "I imagine that they fight among themselves, as well?"


    "They do," she replied. "The Desolation is a place to prove one''s worth, but also a place where alliances are both forged and broken. And if one''s enemies happen to disappear¡­ well, many who enter the Desolation never return."


    Arran took a deep breath, forcing himself to remain calm and suppressing the urge to loudly curse the Imperium.


    "And a group of outsiders would have no shortage of enemies," he finally said.


    Muna gave him a small nod in response, and Arran could see there was a hint of shame in her eyes.


    "Not all Darians hate outsiders," she said uneasily. "But there are many who do. And if a group of outsiders takes the glory they believe is rightfully theirs¡­"


    There was no need for her to finish the sentence. Arran already understood the situation.


    In the Desolation, he could expect to face not just the Blight, but Darian warriors as well. And between those two threats, the latter might well be every bit as dangerous as the former.


    "That''s why you should wait," Muna continued, her tone growing firmer as she spoke. "Lord Rannoc is a generous ruler. A few years in his service, and you''ll travel into the Desolation with a Lord''s backing and his troops at your side." She gave him a sideways glance, then added, "Perhaps you''d even have a Knight by your side."


    Had Arran been a Darian, the offer would have been a tempting one. But as it was, he did not have years to spare.


    Not to mention that he had no wish to get too deeply involved with the Darians ¡ª not with war on the horizon.


    For several moments they sat in silence, Arran trying to find the right words to tell Muna that he had no plans of remaining.


    But as he glanced at the camp, he noticed that the priest had finished his work with the mercenaries. And now, the mercenaries were gathering around someone ¡ª the captain, most likely.


    "It seems the priest completed his task," he said, glad for the distraction. "We should go take a look. I think the captain is about to make an announcement."


    Though Muna looked disappointed, she followed Arran down the hill and back into the camp, where the mercenaries were still gathering around the captain.


    From the look of it, nearly all the members of the Wolfsblood Company were present, and those few who hadn''t yet arrived were already hurrying over.


    Several more minutes passed as the last of the mercenaries arrived. Then, when it appeared all were there, the captain called out, "Wolfsblood Company!"


    The mercenaries responded with a roar of enthusiastic cheers, and when the noise finally died down, Kaleesh continued, "Today, you have become citizens of the Imperium, free to choose your own path."


    Again, a round of cheers sounded, though less enthusiastic than before. Between the Imperium and the Wolfsblood Company, it seemed the mercenaries favored the latter.


    "Lord Rannoc has asked me to relay you an offer," the captain went on. "Any among you who so wish can enter his service, to become soldiers under his command. Those who take the offer will be well-rewarded, both with training and with riches."


    This time, jeers and laughter sounded among the mercenaries. Yet Kaleesh silenced them off with a sharp gesture, then said in a loud voice, "I encourage you to accept his offer."


    The crowd went silent instantly, shocked looks on the mercenaries'' faces as they stared at the captain.


    Just moments earlier, they had booed and jeered at the suggestion of joining Rannoc''s forces. Yet now, their leader was urging them to do just that.


    Several seconds passed in silence, with the mercenaries dumbfounded at the unwelcome surprise. Then, a voice sounded, "You''re abandoning us?!"


    "I am not," the captain replied. "Any of you who wish can accompany me. But the path I must take is a dangerous one. Even with luck, most of those who join me will not return."


    "So you''re leaving us behind?" one of the mercenaries shouted, a shocked tremble in his voice. "Just like that?"


    Kaleesh shook his head. "Those of you who enter Rannoc''s service will be joined by Gar and Lasha," he said. "And when I return ¡ª if I return ¡ª the Wolfsblood Company will be formed anew."


    At this, Arran cast a curious glance at the captain. The only reason he could imagine for Gar and Lasha leaving was if Kaleesh had ordered them to do so. Otherwise, he was certain no amount of danger would scare them off.


    More questions and objections came from the crowd, all of which the captain answered patiently. Yet although the mercenaries were clearly shocked by the announcement, eventually the truth sank in.


    That wasn''t the end of it, however. When the mercenaries'' questions ran out, Kaleesh had them split into two groups ¡ª those who would join him and those who would take Rannoc''s offer.


    Some small part of Arran had expected ¡ª or hoped ¡ª that the mercenaries would take the first choice, to join the captain and himself in traveling to the Desolation.


    Yet Kaleesh had told them again and again how dangerous it would be, repeatedly stating that joining him meant near-certain death. And though the mercenaries might be brave, the captain''s dire warnings proved effective ¡ª all the more so because he''d made no mention of rewards.


    In the end, barely fifty mercenaries chose to join the group that would travel to the Desolation. And even their eyes held some doubt.


    The others looked no less doubtful, but they gathered around Gar and Lasha nonetheless. Arran could see shame in some of their faces, but shame and doubt notwithstanding, few of them hesitated in joining the larger group.


    As Arran watched the mercenaries say their goodbyes, he suddenly realized that Muna was looking at him.


    "You''re joining him, aren''t you?" she asked. "Traveling to the Desolation, despite the risk."


    Arran nodded silently.


    "No need to look so uncomfortable," she said, giving him a small smile. "In truth, I knew it from the start. I could see it in your eyes. You don''t have the look of a man who''s ready to give up his adventures."


    Before he could respond, she suddenly stepped forward, then briefly kissed him before stepping back again.


    "But maybe that will change after you''ve seen the Desolation," she continued, speaking as if nothing had happened. "If so, visit me when you return."

 Chapter 368 An Exchange

    "You planned this all along, didn''t you?" Arran asked.


    He sat with Kaleesh and Sassun, the three of them sharing a bottle of wine as Arran''s eyes wandered around the mostly empty camp around them.


    The mercenaries who''d accepted Rannoc''s offer had left just a quarter-hour earlier, accompanied by both Muna and the priest, with three carts full of precious gemstones behind them ¡ª the mercenaries'' share of what they''d dug up in the mines, the captain had said.


    And now, the camp that had been abuzz with activity only hours earlier was eerily silent, with those who still remained speaking in muted voices.


    "Of course I did," Kaleesh replied to Arran''s question. "I never had any intention of forcing my troops into the Desolation without them knowing what they would face."


    "I''m not talking about that," Arran said. "You encouraging them to take the offer ¡ª it was because you needed a smaller group, wasn''t it?"


    Some fifty mercenaries had chosen to remain with the captain, and it hadn''t taken long for Arran to realize that while the group had lost most of its members, it still retained much of its strength.


    To a man, those who remained were among the most skilled fighters the Wolfsblood Company counted. And many of them were older than the others had been, with the experience to match it.


    "That was a part of it, too," Kaleesh admitted. "In the Desolation, a smaller group will move faster and draw less attention. Not to mention that properly equipping two hundred fighters would be difficult."


    Arran narrowed his eyes. "Properly equipping them?"


    He knew that the mines held starmetal, and that Kaleesh had requested the assistance of Kadun''s blacksmiths. That he intended to arm his troops as best he could was obvious, but still, Arran wondered what the captain was planning.


    Somehow, he doubted it would be as simple as having some swords forged.


    A small smile crossed the captain''s face. "Come with me," he said. "While you were occupied with your studies, the rest of us were digging. And our labor was most fruitful."


    Arran followed as the captain led them down into the lower levels of the mines, expertly navigating the maze-like tunnels despite the dim torchlight.


    It wasn''t long before they reached a network of tunnels that was unfamiliar to Arran. Newly dug, the tunnels spread far beneath the mountains ¡ª far enough that Arran briefly worried that Kaleesh might have struck the diggers'' caverns.


    Yet his Sense told him that wasn''t the case. While the tunnels ran deep, they had not gone deep enough to create danger.


    Still, surprise flashed across Arran''s face when he Sensed what lay at the end of the tunnels ¡ª surprise he quickly hid, to avoid revealing his Sense to the captain.


    A quarter-hour later they reached their destination ¡ª a large chamber, filled with starmetal ore. And after they stepped inside, the captain turned around, a smile on his face that held just a trace of smugness.


    "So what do you think?"


    "No wonder you were so generous to the overseer," Arran replied, staring at the massive pile of starmetal ore. "A fortune like this¡­ you could buy your own city, if you wanted to."


    Kaleesh sighed wistfully. "We only get to keep a third of it," he said. "The rest goes to Rannoc. Still, it should be enough to equip fifty fighters."


    "Fifty?" Arran raised his eyebrow as he faced the captain. "This would have been enough to have a starmetal sword made for everyone in the Wolfsblood Company."


    "True," Kaleesh said. "But in the Desolation, swords won''t be enough."


    "Then what else do we need?" Arran asked.


    "To start, we''ll need spears," Kaleesh replied. "Long and sharp, so the troops can pin down our enemies without exposing themselves. And it goes without saying that we''ll need armor, as well."


    Arran furrowed his brow. "I thought you wanted to avoid drawing attention?"


    The captain nodded. "Of course. But if we dirty the weapons and armor up a little, few people will suspect anything. Nobody would expect fifty outsiders to all have equipment better than Rangers."


    At this, Arran shook his head. "That won''t work. Knights will know the difference."


    Kaleesh gave him a curious look. "They will? How?"


    "Their weapons," Arran explained. Even if he would prefer not to discuss the matter, he knew it something he could not hide ¡ª not with their lives at stake. "Unless I''m mistaken, they should be able to find starmetal from a distance of at least a hundred paces."


    The last part was a guess, but he thought it was accurate. Even if the Knights shared a bond with their weapons ¡ª something of which he still wasn''t certain, given their lack of magic ¡ª none of them owned weapons as powerful as Arran''s.


    Kaleesh remained silent for several seconds, though Arran could see a hint of frustration in his eyes. "That is unfortunate," he finally said. "But we''ll have to take the risk. In the Desolation, we''ll need all the strength we can get. And before that¡­"


    The captain hesitated, then let out a small sigh. "We''ll have a letter of safe passage from Rannoc. That should offer at least some protection."


    Arran nodded in response. Though the idea of traveling across the Imperium while carrying a fortune large enough to turn even Lords'' heads was less than pleasant, he understood why it was necessary.


    If the Desolation was as dangerous as people said, then sacrificing strength for fear of drawing attention wasn''t an option.


    Of course, Arran had a way to get the starmetal through the Imperium unseen ¡ª his void ring.


    Yet although he trusted Kaleesh enough to reveal the ring ¡ª if he had to ¡ª there were another fifty pairs of eyes that would certainly notice that something was amiss if a shipment of weapons and armor appeared out of nowhere once they reached the Desolation.


    Instead, he said, "So, we''ll be using spears?"


    Seeing his frown, the captain laughed. "Not you. I''ve watched you practice with one, and we can''t spare the decade it would take to turn you into a half-decent spearman. I''d suggest you focus your efforts on that oversized sword of yours, instead."


    "You want me to focus on the giant sword?" Arran asked, somewhat surprised. As much as he liked the ridiculous weapon, it hardly seemed suitable for the tight ranks a spear formation would require.


    "I think it will have its uses," Kaleesh replied. "If we face a creature that''s particularly reluctant to die, I imagine that monstrous blade might help convince it. And if that isn''t enough¡­"


    He cast a meaningful look at Arran''s side, where the Living Shadow sword hung.


    Arran frowned in response. "That weapon is only as good as I am," he said. "You saw what happened with the Knight ¡ª it only works if I can get a good hit in."


    "Indeed," Kaleesh replied, his expression serious. "And we both still have too many shortcomings. Perhaps it''s time to address those. I have a single advanced insight. If you wish, I can make an effort in teaching it to you ¡ª a few months will not be enough for anything but a beginning, but it should be helpful nonetheless."


    At once, Arran''s eyes went wide with excitement.


    Ever since Kaleesh had revealed his true power, he''d been in awe of the man''s ability. His speed was something Arran could not even hope to match, and in battle, speed was perhaps even more important than strength.


    Arran could easily defeat Kaleesh in a single blow ¡ª but only if he managed to strike that blow. And against an opponent who could move with such astonishing speed, that would be nearly impossible.


    "If you''ll teach me," Arran replied. "Then I''ll gladly learn. And if you want, I can teach you about my insight in return."


    Kaleesh shot him a broad grin. "That would be most welcome. When we fought that Knight, it felt as if his blocks were completely impenetrable. Most frustrating."


    Arran smiled wryly. "To me, it felt as if I was fighting the wind. He was too fast for me to touch ¡ª whenever I struck, he was already gone."


    "Then learning about speed should help you greatly," Kaleesh said, some excitement already showing in his eyes.


    "Your insight is in speed, then?" Arran asked, though he already knew the answer. Having seen Kaleesh fight, there really was nothing else it could have been.


    The captain nodded. "It is. I spent half a century as a monk to learn it ¡ª a small price, though I didn''t think so at the time. But since you already have another insight, your path should be a faster one."


    "Mine is in severing," Arran said. "Binding and severing, actually, though I think it''s best we start with the easier half."


    "Severing?" Kaleesh gave him a ponderous look. "I''d never even thought that could be an insight. Though I suppose it makes sense, now that I think of it. So it wasn''t just the sword?"


    "The sword helps," Arran replied. "But a truly devastating strike requires all of it ¡ª the insight, the weapon, and the strength to combine the two in a single blow."


    He''d never thought about it quite like that, but as he spoke the words, he realized that they were true. When the elements all came together, they formed a whole that was vastly more powerful than the parts alone.


    Kaleesh nodded thoughtfully. "We should have a week before Kadun''s blacksmiths arrive. I suggest we put that time to good use."


    Arran agreed wholeheartedly. Any insight would be worth his time, but this one in particular seemed invaluable.


    And perhaps, he thought, learning another insight might help him in studying the Forms. Because so far, all the effort he''d spent on that had still come to naught.

 Chapter 369 Preparations

    With little else to do in the week they waited for the defeated Lord''s blacksmiths to arrive, Arran and Kaleesh spent much of their time training together, each instructing the other on their own insights.


    Arran soon found that studying the captain''s insight was exactly as difficult as he expected it to be.


    The captain was a skilled teacher ¡ª even more so than Arran had expected ¡ª but studying an insight was no easy matter. It required gaining an understanding of a sliver of reality, and that was something that couldn''t be achieved through mere practice.


    Kaleesh had taught Arran several series of movements that clearly contained a hint of insight, but although learning the movements was simple enough, the true challenge was to truly understand the knowledge that was hidden within them.


    And that, Arran knew, was a task that would take more than a single week.


    Yet while Arran''s task was a difficult one, Kaleesh faced an even greater challenge.


    Arran had some experience in teaching, but nowhere near as much as the captain. And in teaching insights, his experience was all but non-existent.


    After racking his brain on how to best instruct Kaleesh, he eventually decided to teach the man a simplified version of the sword style he''d created for himself. Since the style was built around his true insight into severing, studying it should provide the captain with a way to explore the insight.


    That wouldn''t be an easy path, but it was a path nonetheless, and Kaleesh accepted it eagerly.


    Absorbed in training as they were, a week passed quickly. Then, finally, Kadun''s blacksmiths arrived ¡ª over a dozen of them, men and women both, with a small army of servants, assistants, and apprentices following behind them.


    It was immediately obvious that the master craftsmen were not at all pleased with the prospect of working for an outsider. They made little effort to hide their disdain for the captain, and the other mercenaries, they ignored entirely.


    Yet their reluctance lasted barely an hour. When the captain took them into the mines and showed them his stockpile of starmetal, the sight of it left them in a state of utter shock.


    One of them ¡ª a middle-aged man, broad with muscle ¡ª actually fainted when he saw the chamber filled with the precious metal.


    Their shock only grew further when the captain presented them with his list of requirements, however, and when he stated that the work had to be finished in two months, they quickly dismissed the task as impossible.


    "You have to understand," the burly man explained, his tone only slightly condescending, "that shaping starmetal is exceedingly difficult. Even with all of us working day and night, what you require would take at least half a year, and likely even longer than that."


    The captain nodded in understanding. "I see," he said. "Then I will have to find other craftsmen to do part of the work." He sighed wistfully, and continued, "Of course, that means your reward will be split with them, as well."


    The burly man narrowed his eyes. "What sort of reward would that be?"


    The captain gestured at the chamber full of starmetal ore. "A third of this is mine. Most of that will be needed to equip my men, but the remainder will still be more than we can carry into the desolation. Since I have little other use for it, I thought it would make a suitable gift for the craftsmen who forged our weapons and armor."


    At this, a ripple of excitement ran through the group of blacksmiths, their expressions suddenly filled with undisguised greed.


    "We can do it," the burly man said hurriedly. "What you need¡­ we can do it. There''s no need to involve others."


    "Are you certain you can give me what I require?" Kaleesh asked, a hint of a smile on his lips. "Because if I receive anything less than perfection, there will be no reward at all."


    "I''m certain," the blacksmith replied, his eyes fixed on the treasure before him. "Each piece you receive will be fit for a Lord."


    "I expect no less than that," the captain replied. "And I expect you to finish the work no more than two months from now."


    The blacksmith hesitated for a moment, then said, "Three months."


    Kaleesh raised an eyebrow as he glanced at the man. "I thought you said you could do what I asked?"


    "With two months, we can forge you weapons fit for a Lord," the blacksmith replied. "But with three, we can do better than that." He shot the captain a grin, and added, "No Lord has ever paid us this well."


    Kaleesh answered the man''s grin with one of his own. "Three months it is, then."


    Eager at the prospect of earning untold riches, the crafters wasted no time in setting their many servants to work on bringing the vast hoard of starmetal to the surface, where they carefully loaded it onto the wagons they''d brought with them.


    The real work would be done in the city, where the blacksmiths'' forges stood. To work starmetal, Arran knew that these would be no common forges, and he felt some curiosity about the tools the blacksmiths used to accomplish such a task.


    When he asked one of the blacksmiths about it, however, she gave him a disgusted glare, her expression no less offended than it would have been had he asked her to undress ¡ª and perhaps even more so.


    Whatever their secret was, it was clear that they kept it well. And although Arran''s curiosity remained, he decided against pursuing the matter. He had enough to worry about without trying to unearth the smiths'' secrets.


    Even with the help of the mercenaries, it took the blacksmiths and their servants a full day to bring all the starmetal to the surface. And when they finally readied themselves to leave, Arran saw that Rahm had joined them.


    The Knight hadn''t left with Muna and the others, and Arran had briefly wondered about the reason for this. But now, he understood that Rannoc had left the Knight not to guard the mines or the mercenaries, but to protect the captain''s treasure. And now that the treasure was moving, it appeared the Knight would move with it.


    "Do you trust them?" he asked Kaleesh as they watched the blacksmiths leave.


    "I trust Rannoc," Kaleesh replied. "As much as he values the starmetal, he values us even more. He wouldn''t risk a prize like that for a bit of ore, nor would he allow others to do so."


    "He values us?" Arran frowned. "But we''re planning to leave."


    "And if we return," Kaleesh said, "we''ll be even more valuable. Rannoc isn''t a fool like Kadun. He knows how much he stands to gain from supporting us."


    "What exactly is it that he stands to gain?" Arran asked, giving the captain a curious look.


    "Potential Knights," Kaleesh said. "If we succeed, he assumes we''ll need a patron. And unless we join the clergy or enter the Imperator''s service, Rannoc would be the obvious choice."


    Arran gave the captain a puzzled look. "The Imperator? What''s that?


    "Who''s that," Kaleesh corrected Arran. "The Imperator is what the Darians call their emperor."


    "They have an emperor?" Arran looked at the captain in surprise. "So the Imperium has a ruler?"


    "Not a ruler, exactly," Kaleesh replied. "The Imperator keeps the balance between the Lords and the Archons. He can''t match either side, but should a conflict emerge between them, he''s powerful enough to tip the scales."


    Arran creased his brow in thought. "And he has his own Knights?"


    "Many," Kaleesh said. "And he commands the most powerful troops in the Imperium. But he cannot match the sheer numbers of either the church or the Lords, and so, they are outside his control ¡ª for the most part, at least."


    "Are you planning on joining him?" Arran asked.


    It was an obvious possibility. If the Imperator''s Knights were stronger than others, then they likely possessed more potent secrets. And from what Arran had seen of the Imperium, he did not think the factions shared their knowledge easily.


    "That''s not as simple as you might think," Kaleesh responded with a slight chuckle. "To enter the Imperator''s service requires both talent and skill, but also connections. And although we have the former two, we are still sorely lacking in the latter."


    Arran glanced at the captain, then asked, "And if we manage to fix that?"


    "Entering the Imperator''s service would open many doors," Kaleesh said. "To knowledge, to power¡­" There was a glint of longing in his eyes as he spoke, yet a moment later, he shook his head. "But that''s a distant dream. We have three months before we depart. I suggest you use them well."


    Of course, that was exactly what Arran intended to do.


    He had no shortage of things to learn ¡ª Kaleesh''s insight into speed, the foundation Muna had shown him, and how to best handle the giant sword. And then, of course, there were the Forms, which had yet to yield anything useful.


    Still, he did not feel overwhelmed by the many tasks before him. After the priest''s blessing ¡ª the supposed god''s bloodline ¡ª he had little need for sleep. And with three months to spend on nothing but training, that should allow him to make at least some progress.


    He thought for a moment, then set off to retrieve his oversized sword.


    While the heavy weapon was hardly suitable for the series of rapid movements Kaleesh had taught him, he thought that might be a good thing.


    If nothing else, the additional challenge would force him to learn the movements perfectly. Perhaps the added effort would help him progress faster.


    Either way, he would need to study as best he could. Because when the three months ended, they would depart for the Desolation.


    And there, Arran wanted all the strength he could get.

 Chapter 370 Breakthrough

    Arran spent an entire month doing little but training, his days and nights passing in a blur as he attacked his studies with an eagerness that bordered on fanaticism.


    He slept twice that month, but other than that, he only paused when he needed to eat. The rest of his time all went into study and practice.


    At some point, he noticed that the Kaleesh and Sassun had begun drilling the other mercenaries in spear techniques, but he paid them little attention.


    While their focus was on preparing what remained of the Wolfsblood Company for the Desolation, Arran had a different task ¡ª to increase his own power.


    Although the captain hadn''t said it outright, Arran had spent enough time studying the man''s manuscripts to know what strategy he planned to use in the Desolation.


    The mercenaries were strong, but not so strong that they could defeat truly dangerous enemies. What they could do, however, was to provide distractions ¡ª to create openings for Arran and Kaleesh to exploit.


    For that task, any strength Arran gained now would be invaluable. Not just to himself, but to every single person in their group.


    And so, he''d found a quiet spot among the hills that surrounded the camp, surrounded by trees and far enough from the camp that he could train without disturbance.


    It was there that he trained and ate, separated from the others to avoid even the smallest distraction. And with the importance of his task imprinted in his thoughts, he wasted no time on anything but training.


    Yet for all his efforts, the results proved disappointing.


    The only real thing the first month of training yielded was an increase in his skill at using the giant sword. His study of Kaleesh''s techniques increased his speed, but so little that it would hardly make a difference in battle.


    Even worse were his results with the Forms and Muna''s techniques. With those, his endless hours of effort yielded no results whatsoever.


    He had long believed that progress with the Forms was a simple matter of time. But now, finally, he began to have second thoughts about that.


    With all the time and effort he''d put into the Forms, there should be at least some result by now ¡ª a hint of progress, if nothing else. Yet instead, he''d found nothing.


    As the days passed, he became more and more convinced that he was missing something. There had to be a technique or method he lacked, something that would turn the useless secrets into something worthwhile.


    Yet if there was such a technique, he had no idea what it might be. And despite his struggles to find an explanation, the answer remained as elusive as ever.


    Even so, Arran did not let the lack of results discourage him.


    Instead, he redoubled his efforts in training, repeating all the different techniques over and over in hopes of finding something ¡ª anything ¡ª that could help him.


    Another month of training passed quickly, and by the end of it, Arran felt as if his mind was on the verge of breaking.


    He hadn''t slept in weeks, and engrossed in training as he was, he''d skipped more than a few meals, his every waking moment spent endlessly repeating the same techniques.


    But his manic efforts had yielded no results. If anything, it was as if he''d regressed rather than progressed.


    With his mind weary and exhausted from countless hours of training, the techniques had started to blur together, the memory of each tainting all the others.


    Under normal circumstances, he''d taken it as a sign that he desperately needed rest ¡ª which he did.


    But now, he saw something else. Something that made his eyes widen with excitement.


    As the different techniques blurred together, he suddenly recognized the similarity between them. Though they were all different, in a way they were all the same, as well.


    Each contained a sliver of knowledge about the world. Yet where he had previously treated them as separate skills, he now understood the one thing he''d missed ¡ª that all these slivers were merely different aspects of a single, indivisible reality.


    That was something he''d long known to be true, of course, but only at an abstract level. Yet now, finally, he thought he saw a glimpse of the truth behind it ¡ª a glimpse of the world he''d seen when he gained his insight into severing.


    He spent several hours engraving the comprehension in his memory, fearful of losing what had taken him so long to gain.


    Then, when he was confident that he had memorized it as well as he could, he lay down on the grass and slept.


    When he awoke, he did not know how much time had passed. Hours at least, though more likely a day or two. Either way, it didn''t matter ¡ª now that he had recognized a path to improvement, there was little that could keep him from exploring it.


    He set to work at once, again studying the techniques he''d already spent so much time trying to learn.


    Yet this time, barely an hour had passed when a wide grin appeared on his face.


    Finally, he''d found what he had earlier failed to recognize.


    Each of the techniques in both the Forms and in Muna''s series of movements held the hint of a different insight, and each was created specifically to learn that insight. But now, he saw that each offered instruction on all the others as well.


    The knowledge was hidden deep within the techniques, but it was undeniably there. For both sets of techniques, their individual elements offered instruction on all the others ¡ª instruction that was to be studied as a whole rather than a set of parts.


    And now that Arran properly understood this, his progress came like an unstoppable torrent.


    It took less than a week before he saw his first results. He''d already spent countless hours studying the techniques, and now, the insights hidden within them came to him easily.


    The insights he gained were shallow, barely even worth the title, but the sheer number of insights contained within the Forms and Muna''s techniques was staggering.


    Best of all, even if these insights were still undeveloped, Arran knew he now had a path toward deepening them. It would take time and effort, but with the broad foundation he''d gained so suddenly, he would be able to develop these inchoate insights into proper ones.


    Just the thought of that was enough to make him tremble with anticipation. If he could turn these shallow insights into proper ones, he knew he''d have the strength to face Knights.


    Because he now truly understood the Knights'' power ¡ª they had a wide sea of insights like the ones Arran had gained, albeit far deeper.


    Yet with the foundation in place, it was only a matter of time before Arran''s insights grew as strong as theirs. When that happened, his true insight alone would be enough to grant him an insurmountable advantage.


    Driven with anticipation, Arran spent the weeks that followed studying the techniques ceaselessly. And although his initial rate of progress soon slowed down, he was amazed at the results.


    It was as if every aspect of his swordplay improved all at once. His speed, the power of his strikes, his agility ¡ª all of these saw small but noticeable improvements.


    And the same held true for his magic. Although he did not dare to use anything but Shadow Essence in the Imperium, he could tell that every single part of his magic had improved.


    It was almost like he''d become more talented overnight ¡ª at everything.


    In a way, he thought, that was exactly what had happened. What the shallow insights gave him was an instinctive understanding of the world, and that understanding applied to nearly everything he did.


    Excited as he was at the long-awaited breakthrough, he''d almost forgotten about the purpose of his training and the journey that lay ahead. And so, he found himself surprised when Kaleesh visited his small camp.


    "If I hadn''t known any better," the captain said as he approached, "I would''ve thought you''d died."


    "I was training," Arran replied. "Though I think I may have gotten a little carried away."


    "Indeed," Kaleesh said. "You could do with a shave." He made an ugly face, then added, "And a bath, for that matter."


    "Is that why you came?" Arran asked. "To remind me to bathe?"


    "It certainly seems necessary," the captain said. "But no. I came here because today, our weapons should arrive. Which means that tomorrow, we will depart."


    "It''s been three months already?" Arran said, frowning. "I thought we had more time."


    "Three months, to the day." Kaleesh glanced at the small clearing, where Arran''s endless practice had left the grass withered. "I hope you''ve made good use of your time?"


    "I have," Arran replied, unable to stifle a smile. "My progress has been better than I expected."


    The captain nodded in approval. "Good. The stronger you are, the better it will be for all of us."


    Arran glanced at him, then asked in a careful voice, "What about you? Any progress with your study of severing?"


    At this, Kaleesh let out a small laugh. "It''s only been three months. Gaining my insight into speed took me half a century, and I expect that severing will be no easier." He shrugged. "Power requires patience. But let''s head back to the camp. The blacksmiths should be here within the hour."


    Arran gave him a nod in response. "Think they''ll have everything you need?"


    "I assume they will, with so great a reward at stake." He looked at Arran, and added, "They should have something for you, as well. Something that will be most useful."


    "Oh?" Arran gave him a curious glance. "What is it?"


    "You''ll find out soon enough," the captain replied. "But do take a bath before they arrive. The Darians already think us outsiders barbarians as it is. Let''s not fuel their preconceptions any further."

 Chapter 371 Delivery

    The first thing Arran did when he returned to the camp was to take a thorough bath.


    In the three months he''d spent training, he''d barely even paused to have a proper meal, much less bathe properly. His skill had benefited greatly from the effort, but the same could not be said for his smell.


    Yet half an hour of vigorous scrubbing remedied this problem, and when Arran was confident that the stench of stale sweat was entirely gone, he headed into the camp.


    He''d barely set foot inside the camp during the previous months, and when he had, his mind had been too consumed with training for him to pay much attention to the goings-on.


    But now, his training was over, with nothing left to do but wait. And as he waited for the blacksmiths to arrive, he walked around the camp, striking up conversations with the mercenaries who were still present.


    From what they said, Arran surmised that Kaleesh had been no less busy than he.


    Much to the mercenaries'' dismay, the captain had spent hours each day drilling them in spear formations, as diligent as he was demanding in preparing them for the battles ahead.


    Arran listened attentively, knowing that if even these men and women complained, the captain''s training must have been particularly harsh.


    After all, these were the ones who had chosen to accompany him into the Desolation ¡ª his most loyal followers, each of them prepared to face death at their leader''s side.


    He spotted a familiar face, as well ¡ª Ervin, the older man whom Kaleesh had appointed as Arran''s sergeant. And at Ervin''s side, he saw a youth who''d been among the group of borderlanders he had commanded.


    He''d believed all his troops had left, but it seemed that there was one among them who had decided to stay.


    As he approached the two, Ervin gave him a friendly wave. "Good to see you, commander. I''d almost thought the earth had swallowed you."


    "I was busy training," Arran replied. "And there''s no need to call me commander anymore. Unless I''m mistaken, only the two of you are left from my group."


    Ervin smiled wryly. "So it would appear."


    "Can''t say I blame them," Arran said with a shrug. "They came to the Imperium to find peace and safety, after all." He glanced at the youth next to Ervin, then added, "But it seems you''re the exception. What''s your name?"


    "Saief, commander," the youth replied, giving Arran a bow that was slightly too polite.


    "Call me Arran," Arran said. "Saief, is it? An unusual name, for the borderlands."


    "It''s from the Empire, comm¡ª Arran," the young man said. "That''s where my parents were born, before they moved to the borderlands."


    "What brings you here?" Arran asked, his curiosity sparked after hearing of the young man''s background.


    A sorrowful look crossed Saief''s face, and he replied, "My parents were killed when our village was attacked by a group of bandits. I was working as a caravan guard at the time, but when I returned to my home, I found only death."


    Arran gave the youth a sympathetic look. The story was one much like his own, and he could not help but recall how he''d felt after losing his father. Even now, years later, the memory still felt like an open wound.


    "Why did you decide to travel to the Desolation with us?" he asked.


    Saief hesitated in answering, but after a moment, he said, "If it''s as dangerous as the captain claims, he wouldn''t go unless there was a reward to match the risk."


    "Perhaps there is," Arran said, a small smile on his lips. He knew that the reward the youth sought was power.


    Yet there was no chance for him to ask any further questions, because just then, he heard Kaleesh''s voice.


    "Arran! Get over here!"


    With a quick goodbye, Arran hurried off in the direction of the captain''s voice, where he found both Kaleesh and Sassun looking at a large column of guards that had just reached the camp''s entrance.


    "They''re here," the captain said in a cheerful tone. "And right on time, too."


    After giving the column of guards a quick examination, Arran saw that although it held several Rangers, there were no Knights. Instead, it seemed the blacksmiths had chosen strength in numbers, as there were well over two hundred guards present.


    Among the guards, Arran spotted the burly blacksmith he''d met three months earlier. And when the man noticed their small group, he hurried over immediately.


    "Master Kaleesh!" he exclaimed in greeting, his voice excited.


    The captain gave him a polite nod. "Your punctuality does you credit. And from your expression, I take it you succeeded?"


    The blacksmith grinned broadly. "Of course. We have everything you required, and I think you''ll be most pleased with the results."


    "Let''s see if you''re right," Kaleesh replied, in a calm voice that nevertheless could not fully hide his excitement.


    It was obvious that he''d been filled with anticipation at this day, and now that it had come, he looked every bit as impatient as a child awaiting his birthday gifts.


    "Of course," the blacksmith said. "Follow me."


    He led them to the group of guards without delay, clearly sensing that the captain had little interest in exchanging further pleasantries.


    As they approached, Arran saw that among the guards stood half a dozen heavy carts ¡ª the captain''s new treasures.


    When they reached the first of the carts, the burly blacksmith pulled aside the large sheet of oilcloth that covered it at once, revealing that it was full of starmetal swords.


    Although Arran had already Sensed that the cart was full of starmetal, the sight of fifty masterfully crafted starmetal swords still filled him with a sense of awe. He knew that each of these weapons was worth a fortune, and fifty of them represented a priceless treasure.


    Kaleesh took one of the swords from the cart, then gave it a few practice swings. At once, a broad grin appeared on his face.


    "It''s good," he said. "Better than I expected, even. Sassun, Arran, give them a try."


    Arran did as the captain said, picking a sword from the cart at random and swinging it around a few times.


    At once, he knew the weapon was a masterpiece. Its balance was perfect, and although he gave it a thorough inspection, he failed to find even a single flaw.


    It was a weapon fit for a king ¡ª and one of fifty just like it.


    The next two carts were filled with spears. Here, Arran lacked the knowledge to judge the weapons'' quality, but from Kaleesh''s pleased expression, he could tell that these weapons were every bit as good as the swords.


    "You used ebonwood for the shafts," Kaleesh said as he inspected one of the spears. "That must have cost a pretty penny."


    "A gift from Lord Rannoc," the blacksmith said.


    "Then I owe him a debt of gratitude," the captain said, though his expression was thoughtful ¡ª almost as if he didn''t know whether or not to be pleased with the gift.


    The next cart they inspected held armor, and although Arran gazed at it with wide-eyed enthusiasm, a deep frown crossed Kaleesh''s face as he held up a breastplate.


    He faced the blacksmith, then pointed at a sigil etched into the upper left corner of the breastplate. "What is this?"


    When Arran looked at the sigil, he saw that it featured a stylized wolf''s head, with two crossed swords beneath it.


    "Lord Rannoc requested it," the blacksmith replied, a hint of worry in his eyes as he looked at the captain. "He assured us you would appreciate it."


    Kaleesh, however, looked not the least bit appreciative. Rather, his expression was troubled, as if he''d encountered an unforeseen obstacle.


    "Do we have a problem?" Arran asked.


    "Not exactly," the captain replied. "This sigil¡­ I assume the wolf''s head is meant to represent the Wolfsblood Company. But do you see the crossed swords beneath it? That''s Rannoc''s mark."


    Arran frowned. "So what does it mean?"


    "It means," Kaleesh began, "that Rannoc has marked us as his allies. That will offer us protection, and fend off any questions about how we acquired such riches. But¡­"


    "But his enemies will think us their enemies, as well," Arran said, now understanding the problem.


    Kaleesh nodded. "Exactly. And it also means that we''ll have a harder time steering clear of Darian politics." He sighed. "But I suppose the protection should outweigh the risk. And either way, it''s too late to change it."


    The burly blacksmith had listened intently as they spoke, and when he heard the captain would accept the armor, he let out a small sigh of relief.


    The next few carts contained armor, as well, and although all of it bore Rannoc''s mark, Arran saw that it was every bit as masterfully crafted as the swords had been.


    While it couldn''t quite match Knights'' armor, the difference was small enough that he knew it represented yet another fortune. And once more, there was enough of it to equip fifty soldiers.


    But as he perused the armor-filled carts, Kaleesh turned to the blacksmith. "What about the final piece?" he asked. "Did you bring it?"


    At this, the blacksmith gave an uncomfortable nod. "I did, but¡­" He hesitated before continuing, an uneasy expression on his face. Finally, he went on, "We made it exactly as you requested, but I fear it will be useless. The weight is just too much for a single man to carry, much less wield as a weapon."


    Arran looked at Kaleesh, his eyes widening with surprise when he realized what the captain had ordered the blacksmiths to craft for him.


    Kaleesh responded to his surprised look with a wide grin. He glanced at the blacksmith, then said, "What are you waiting for? Show him his new weapon!"


    A look of confusion crossed the man''s face as he stared at Arran. "That weapon is yours?"


    "It seems that way," Arran replied. "Where is it?"


    The burly man hurriedly led Arran to the final cart, and when he pulled the burlap sheet that covered it, Arran looked at its contents in wonder.


    Within the cart lay a giant starmetal sword ¡ª large enough that it almost looked ridiculous. It lacked any trace of elegance or grace, instead carrying an aura of ruthless function.


    Arran picked up the sword immediately, and as he did, he could not help but marvel at the weight. Made of starmetal, it was many times heavier than his other giant sword, heavier than even most Body Refiners could carry.


    Yet as Arran swung the weapon around, he instantly found himself enthralled with its destructive heft. It was a weapon forged for devastation, created to crush and shatter all that came before it.


    "I take it you like it?" the captain asked, amusement in his eyes.


    "I do," Arran replied. "But¡­ the starmetal in this¡­"


    "Would be enough to buy a small town," Kaleesh said. "Or maybe one not so small. You should name it."


    "Name it?" Arran gave the captain a puzzled look.


    "A weapon like this deserves a good name," the captain replied. "Godsbane, perhaps? It certainly looks up to the task."

 Chapter 372 A New Journey

    "They''re almost beginning to look like a proper army," Kaleesh said, a look of satisfaction on his face as he watched his troops.


    The burly blacksmith and his guards had departed a quarter-hour earlier, and now, the mercenaries were testing their equipment, wielding their new weapons while clad in shiny starmetal armor.


    Arran could not help but agree with the captain. Where the mercenaries had previously looked little different from a group of bandits, with their new armor they almost resembled a company of royal guardsmen.


    This change wasn''t lost on the mercenaries themselves, either. Although they were still getting used to the armor, there was pride in their eyes as they wore it ¡ª and no wonder, since their new equipment was precious enough to make others green with envy.


    In the borderlands, it was a rare thing to see even a single starmetal weapon, and those who owned such weapons certainly weren''t common mercenaries.


    "The troops certainly seem pleased with their new tools," Arran said.


    "As well they should," Kaleesh replied. "We could have bought half a kingdom with this amount of starmetal. But what about you? Is Godsbane to your satisfaction?"


    "Don''t call it that," Arran said with a glare at the captain. "If a priest hears you¡­"


    Kaleesh shrugged. "There are no priests in the camp. Now tell me, do you like your new weapon?"


    "As you well know," Arran replied, "it''s perfect. Though I still don''t see why you thought it necessary." He glanced meaningfully at the Living Shadow weapon at his side. "I already have a good sword."


    "So you do," Kaleesh said. "But this new weapon is conspicuous enough to draw people''s eyes elsewhere."


    Arran frowned. "This new sword¡­ you mean for it to be a distraction?" He looked around to make sure there was nobody in earshot, then continued in a lower voice, "To stop others from noticing my other weapon?"


    If that was the case, Kaleesh''s efforts were wasted. Hiding the Living Shadow weapon was a simple matter, and if there were any who could still find it, no starmetal sword would distract them ¡ª not even a giant one.


    Yet Kaleesh shook his head. "Not exactly," he said. "I understand you''ve already found a way to disguise it. But it will be helpful to have others believe that Godsbane is your greatest weapon."


    Now, understanding dawned in Arran''s eyes. "I suppose it would, at that," he said. "Though it''s a high price to pay for a small deception."


    Kaleesh made a dismissive gesture. "We''ll have little use for wealth in the Desolation. And if this gives us a small advantage just once, it will be worth the cost a hundred times over."


    Arran nodded in understanding. The captain was right, of course. In battle, even the smallest advantage was worth more than a mountain of gold. "How far is the Desolation, anyway?" he asked.


    "Around three thousand miles, as the crow flies," Kaleesh replied. "But since we aren''t crows, it''ll be half again as much for us."


    "That far?" Arran asked. Although he''d known the Desolation was far, the answer still caused him some shock. "That will take us what, four months?"


    The mercenaries were all Body Refiners who could maintain a far higher pace than commoners, but even so, a journey that long would take more time than Arran had hoped.


    "Three, if we don''t meet any unexpected delays," Kaleesh said. "And I do not intend to waste even a single day."


    Still, Arran had to suppress a sigh of frustration.


    Well over two years had passed since he''d left the Valley, and although he now understood that the war wasn''t as close as he''d originally believed, he still had a long way to go in completing his task.


    Yet he knew that there was no other path ¡ª not if he wanted to learn the Darians'' methods. And after having seen Lords do battle, that was an opportunity he could not relinquish.


    The mercenaries spent another few hours acquainting themselves with their new weapons and armor, and it wasn''t long before their awkwardness faded, making way for confidence.


    The armor the blacksmiths had crafted was undeniably remarkable, crafted so well that even the mercenaries ¡ª few of whom were accustomed to wearing armor ¡ª were barely slowed down by their new equipment.


    But eager though the mercenaries were to explore their new treasures, when the sun began to set, there''s wasn''t a single one among them who didn''t seek out his quarters.


    With the journey ahead, they knew that it would be a long time before they enjoyed the comfort of a warm bed once more.


    The next morning, they departed before dawn, finally leaving the mining camp behind.


    They traveled light, without carts or even pack mules. Instead, the mercenaries wore their armor and carried their own supplies, leaving behind anything they didn''t need for the journey.


    This caused some grumbles among the troops, but Arran understood the captain''s decision to travel in this manner. With a group of Body Refiners moving in a forced march, no mule could keep up and survive for more than a day or two.


    It was clear that Kaleesh was serious about not wanting to waste even a single day. They marched through the day, pausing only for their midday meal, and only making camp when the sun had already set.


    Exhausted from the day''s travel, most of the mercenaries were fast asleep within moments of finishing their evening meal, and some struggled to stay awake even before that, yawning wearily as they wolfed down their food.


    Arran, however, wasn''t the least bit tired. He''d been far stronger than the others to begin with, and after receiving the priest''s blessing, he barely needed sleep anymore.


    After a quick thought, he informed Kaleesh that there was no need to set any guards ¡ª something for which the exhausted mercenaries would doubtless be thankful.


    Then, as his companions sought out their bedrolls, Arran resumed his training. Three months of travel was a long time, and he wouldn''t let that time go to waste.


    They continued their journey the next day, with the group of mercenaries maintaining a steady pace as they made their way through the green hills of the Imperium. And again, they only made camp when daylight was already fading.


    The first few weeks of travel were smooth if not exactly comfortable. They occasionally visited villages and small towns to buy supplies, but other than that, they encountered few settlements along the way.


    When Arran asked Kaleesh about this, the captain confirmed the thoughts he''d already had.


    "I''m avoiding cities and major towns," Kaleesh said. "While Rannoc''s support offers us some protection, I think it''s best we don''t tempt the local Lords too much. We''re carrying an awful lot of treasure, after all."


    Though Arran was disappointed that he wouldn''t get the chance to learn more of the Imperium ¡ª not just yet, at least ¡ª he couldn''t fault the captain''s reasoning.


    Their priceless armor drew covetous stares wherever they went, and while common bandits would not dare tangle with such opponents, greedy Knights or Lords could pose a bigger problem.


    Still, as weeks turned into months, Kaleesh''s efforts in avoiding civilization were only partly successful.


    They encountered Knights with some regularity, and twice, they ran into Lords who''d clearly been expecting the well-equipped group of outsiders.


    Yet here, Rannoc''s backing proved invaluable.


    Whenever the mercenaries encountered Knights or Lords, a mere glance at the sigil on their breastplates was enough to turn hungry looks into friendly smiles.


    Perhaps they might not have thought twice about robbing a group of outsiders, but risking Rannoc''s wrath was another matter. That was something that struck fear into the hearts of even the most powerful Darians.


    Word of Kadun''s defeat had long since spread throughout the Imperium, and even in the smallest villages, stories abounded of the battle between the two Lords.


    For Lords to do battle was a rare thing, and for a Lord as powerful as Kadun to be slain was even more unusual ¡ª unusual enough that the entire Imperium was abuzz with the tale.


    So, while the journey was long and harsh, it went every bit as smoothly as they could have hoped.


    Day after day, they moved along the Imperium''s narrow roads, traveling through hills, fields, and forests as they slowly made their way toward the Desolation.


    And each night, while the mercenaries slept, Arran would train, practicing relentlessly as he tried to extract every last shred of knowledge from the techniques he studied.


    Now that he truly understood what he was learning, his progress was rapid. With every passing day, he felt the power of insight strengthening his movements and increasing his control.


    The feeling was a strange one. He knew his body hadn''t changed in the slightest, yet he was certain that his strength had already increased greatly. And not just his strength ¡ª his balance, his agility, and his dexterity had all advanced.


    It was as if he''d somehow developed a stronger grasp on reality, with his will helping his body shape the world around him.


    His progress gradually slowed, however. And not just because advancing was growing more difficult.


    Rather, after the first month, he found that he''d all but depleted the knowledge contained within the techniques Muna had taught him. While the insights were still far from complete, the techniques truly contained only a foundation ¡ª and a scant one, at that.


    Yet he had other techniques to draw on ¡ª the Forms and Kaleesh''s techniques. And with those, he managed to push his knowledge further, even drawing upon them to expand the insights he''d gained from Muna''s techniques.


    But after two months of travel and training, he began to feel that he was approaching his limit.


    While there was still much he could learn from the Forms and Kaleesh''s techniques, there was something fluid about the knowledge he''d gained, as if the foundation he''d built had yet to fully set.


    And now, he could tell that the more he added to that unstable foundation, the shakier it became.


    He gave it some thought, then decided to pause his training for the time being.


    It was an easy decision. After five months of relentless practice, he desperately needed some rest. And even more importantly, pushing on before mastering what he''d learned could be harmful, tainting his nascent insights with flawed understanding.


    Before he moved on, he would need to make sure his foundation was a solid one. And for that, he needed time more than anything ¡ª time, and experience.


    For a week, he enjoyed his newfound freedom.


    Though he still practiced during the nights, he no longer obsessed over gaining new insights, instead simply training his swordplay and getting accustomed to the changes.


    And during the days, he studied their surroundings, observing the Imperium''s landscape with great interest. Before, his mind had been too focused on his training to notice much of the world around him.


    But now, he could finally turn his attention to the wide landscapes around them ¡ª the luscious fields and rolling hills of the Imperium, speckled with farms and villages.


    His peace didn''t last long, however, because he soon noticed a subtle change in Kaleesh''s behavior ¡ª a tenseness that hadn''t been there before.


    When they made camp that night, he approached the captain. "Something bothering you?"


    The captain gave a short nod. Then, in a low voice, he said, "The region we''ve entered is dangerous. The Lords here are influential enough that they can afford to offend even Rannoc ¡ª if the reward is right."


    Arran raised an eyebrow. "Couldn''t we have gone around this place, then?"


    "If we could, we wouldn''t be here," Kaleesh replied. With a shake of his head, then continued, "The lands south of here are owned by one of Rannoc''s rivals, and taking the northern route would add another two months to our journey. This is our best bet."


    "So what''s the plan?" Arran asked. The captain''s words were hardly reassuring, but he understood that there were no alternatives.


    Even if they took the long way around and added another two months to the journey, it wouldn''t necessarily be safer. A lot could happen in two months, after all.


    "The plan is to travel quickly and quietly," Kaleesh said. "Less than two weeks, and we''ll be in safer lands. And from there, it''s only another week to the edge of the Desolation."


    Arran frowned. "And if we run into any Lords along the way?"


    Kaleesh shrugged. "Then we''ll have to convince them that Rannoc would be deeply displeased if we vanished without a trace. Which I suspect wouldn''t be far from the truth."


    When they broke camp the next morning, Arran was all but convinced that they''d find people waiting for them that very same day.


    After all, despite Kaleesh''s words, there was no way for them to truly travel quietly. After months of travel in the Imperium, Arran understood well that a group of fifty outsiders was a rare sight ¡ª even without their armor.


    The real question wasn''t whether they''d go unnoticed. If word hadn''t spread to the local Lord already, it was only a matter of time before it did.


    Rather, the question was whether the ruler of these lands would respond to the outsiders crossing his lands. And if he did ¡ª the most likely outcome, Arran thought ¡ª what his response would be.


    Still, a week''s travel passed without anything happening, and Arran almost began to wonder whether he''d been wrong ¡ª whether passing unnoticed was possible, after all.


    Yet with less than a week to go, he Sensed a group of people approaching on the road ahead of them. And although they were still far in the distance, he could already Sense the weapons of a Lord and a Knight among them.


    "We''ve got company," he said to Kaleesh. "Better get ready."


    While they only had a few minutes before they would meet the Lord and his troops, Arran decided that warning Kaleesh was the best choice. With a Lord on the road ahead, the captain''s words were the only weapon they had that might yet be effective.


    The captain gave him a curious look, but he did not question the information. Instead, he merely said, "I suppose we''re about to find out what Rannoc''s support is really worth. Let''s see what their intentions are."


    As they continued down the road, the mercenaries followed behind, their starmetal armor shining in the bright afternoon sun.


    Yet for all its worth, Arran knew that against a Lord, the armor might as well be made of paper.

 Chapter 373 An Unwelcome Invitation

    Kaleesh did not speak as they moved toward the group of Darians, and from his furrowed brow, Arran knew that the captain was devising a strategy for the encounter.


    Or rather, choosing one of the strategies he''d already prepared.


    Arran did not think for a moment that Kaleesh had not already planned for the possibility of encountering a Lord in these lands. Most likely, he''d gone over every single thing that could happen a hundred times, preparing plans for every possible obstacle they might face.


    That had been the single greatest secret contained in the captain''s manuscripts ¡ª the value of relentless preparation. And mundane though it might be, that made it no less effective.


    It only took a few minutes before they saw the Darians appear on the road before them, and immediately, Arran realized that he''d been mistaken.


    There was no Lord in the group of Darians. Rather, there was a Lady, and she looked every bit as formidable as the two Lords he''d met.


    Though she was both short and slight of build, she moved with the easy confidence of a warrior who''d fought ¡ª and won ¡ª hundreds of battles. And at her side, there was a slender Living Shadow saber, which she wore so naturally that it almost seemed to be part of her body.


    Yet despite her obvious power, Arran could not help but notice that she was beautiful, as well. With a head full of light-brown curls, intelligent eyes, and full lips that carried a hint of a smile, there was a radiant vitality to her that immediately caught his interest.


    The same, however, could not be said for her companions.


    Next to the Lady, there was a tall Knight ¡ª a gray-haired man with cold eyes and a lean but muscular build. There was something about the man that exuded threat, a tenseness that reminded Arran of a drawn warbow, ready to snap into action at the slightest provocation.


    Had he not known that the Lady was far more powerful, the Knight''s appearance would immediately have set him on edge. And as it was, he still regarded the man with some unease.


    Behind the two leaders followed two dozen Rangers, and from the way they looked at the group of mercenaries, it was obvious that they were eager for a fight ¡ª and the spoils it would bring.


    Because while they all carried starmetal swords, there was only one among them who wore starmetal armor.


    Still, Arran only barely spared the Rangers a second glance. They posed no serious threat ¡ª not compared to their leaders.


    It wasn''t long before the group of mercenaries reached the Darians, and when they did, Kaleesh brought his group to a halt with a gesture.


    For a moment, the two groups stood in silence, the mercenaries looking at the Lady uneasily as she looked at them with curious eyes.


    Then, finally, she spoke.


    "So the rumors were true," she said. "A company of outsiders, clad in armor fit for Knights and bearing Rannoc''s mark." She cast a glance at the captain, and asked, "What business have you in my lands?"


    At once, the captain bowed deeply. "We are honored to be in your presence, Lady Raina." He turned to the Knight and offered a second bow, though smaller than the first. "And your consort''s, as well."


    A small smile crossed the Lady''s lips. "If you know who I am, then you must know that I dislike having my questions go unanswered. Why are you here?"


    "My Lady," Kaleesh replied, "with your permission, we are traveling to the Desolation, to do battle against the Blight."


    "Though I am a Lady, I am not yours," she said. "Call me Lady Raina. And you do not have my permission to continue your journey ¡ª not yet, at least."


    "My¡ª" Kaleesh began, then corrected himself, "Lady Raina, if you object to us traveling through your lands, we will depart immediately."


    She responded with an amused laugh. "There''s no need for you to be so hasty in leaving. First, introduce yourself."


    "My name is Kaleesh," the captain replied. "I am the captain of the Wolfsblood Company. And if we have given offense by entering your lands unannounced, then¡ª"


    "Offense?" she interrupted him. "How could I be offended by a group of brave warriors wishing to do battle against the Blight?" She shook her head, then gave Kaleesh a smile that held a faint trace of menace. "I merely came to welcome you. With you traveling to the Desolation, it would be a stain upon my honor if I did not invite you for a feast."


    "Lady Raina," the captain said cautiously, "you honor us too much. There is no need for such a welcome ¡ª we merely wish to reach the Desolation as soon as possible."


    "Nonsense," she said, in a tone that brooked no argument. "My home is just half a day''s travel from here. You will accompany us there, and you will accept my hospitality."


    Kaleesh briefly looked as if he was about to object, but then, he nodded in acquiescence. "Of course, Lady Raina. We are most grateful to accept your invitation."


    Arran thought the captain''s decision a wise one.


    Though Lady Raina looked friendly enough, he had already realized that she was far more dangerous than the Knight beside her ¡ª and not just because she was more powerful.


    They set off again some minutes later, the group of mercenaries following a small distance behind the Darians.


    A few of Arran''s companions seemed eager at the chance to enjoy some long-awaited comforts, but the wiser ones among them looked every bit as worried as Arran felt.


    The Rangers'' envious looks at their armor were hard to miss, and he had little doubt that their leader would gladly take the mercenaries'' equipment ¡ª if she could do so without retribution from Rannoc.


    Which meant that right now, only the Lady''s doubts about their relation to Rannoc protected them. And if those doubts disappeared, their protection would disappear, as well.


    Yet there was no chance to discuss the matter with Kaleesh ¡ª not with the Darians nearby. And so, the only thing Arran could do was trust that the captain had some sort of plan.


    They traveled through the afternoon, and when evening was beginning to fall, they reached a large town with a massive fortress at its center ¡ª Lady Raina''s home.


    As Arran looked at it, he could not help but furrow his brow in wonder at the sight.


    Even from a distance, he could see that the fortress was at least as large as the town around it, with thick, towering walls and a heavy metal gate that seemed like it could withstand entire armies.


    But while the fortress was vast and imposing, clearly built for the brutality of war, the town around it was lively with commerce, with groups of merchants and laborers slowly moving past the humble stores that lined the streets.


    Had the gargantuan fortress at its center not been there, Arran would have thought the town utterly unremarkable ¡ª no different from the many towns he''d visited in his travels.


    Yet here, a vast stronghold loomed over the otherwise peaceful town, serving as a constant reminder of the wars it had been built to weather.


    The contrast was a strange one, but Arran soon realized that it made sense.


    They were close enough to the Desolation that the stronghold must have been built to withstand the Blight ¡ª a bulwark meant to hold these lands no matter how strong the enemy might be.


    Yet so large a fortress would require a constant stream of supplies, as well as the services of numerous craftsmen and laborers.


    And that, he guessed, had caused a town to emerge around the giant fortress.


    While Arran looked at the town in wonder as they made their way to the fortress at its center, it appeared that the townsfolk were no less puzzled by the group of armored mercenaries.


    It wasn''t long before a sizable crowd had gathered on either side of the streets where they passed, the commoners pointing and whispering as they stared at the outsiders.


    Arran''s giant sword in particular drew no small amount of attention. Some of the onlookers looked at it with barely veiled awe, while others gave Arran envious glares. And a few merely laughed and jeered.


    "Tryin'' to make up for something, outsider?" a woman''s voice yelled as he walked past, causing a ripple of laughter to run through the crowd.


    Arran paid the insults little mind. Instead, his thoughts were focused on what they would face within the fortress ¡ª what would happen when Lady Raina decided whether or not to risk offending Rannoc.


    It wasn''t long before they left the busy streets behind and passed through the fortress''s massive gates, where they found a courtyard large enough to almost be called a town itself.


    The area held numerous barracks, shops, and other buildings, but there were several large open areas as well, where Arran could see hundreds of soldiers training.


    And at the center of the area, there stood a massive keep, even more heavily fortified than the fortress itself.


    Its walls were tall and thick, and the land around it was empty ¡ª doubtless left open for archers atop the keep''s walls. Moreover, it was encircled by a wide moat, with only a narrow stone bridge providing a path to its gate.


    As Arran looked at it, he could not help but wonder just how terrifying the Blight was, for the Darians to have erected such elaborate defenses.


    His thoughts were cut short, however, when Lady Raina''s group came to a halt. And a moment later, the Lady herself approached.


    "Leave your troops here," she said to Kaleesh. "My servants will see to it that they''re given food and sleeping quarters."


    There was a glint of cunning in her eyes as she spoke, and for a moment, Arran felt a surge of worry as he was certain that she was trying to separate the captain from his troops.


    But barely a moment later, he realized she had no need to do so.


    Even by herself, she was strong enough to defeat all the mercenaries effortlessly. Whether the captain and his troops were together made no difference whatsoever.


    Which could only mean that she was waiting to see how Kaleesh would respond ¡ª to see how confident he was in Rannoc''s protection.


    "Certainly," the captain replied in an unconcerned voice. Apparently, he had recognized the trap as well. He gestured at Arran, and continued, "But I would request that you allow my second-in-command to join us."


    "Of course," Lady Raina said. "Come along. I will have my stewards prepare baths and clothes for the two of you."


    Though she smiled as she spoke, Arran thought he saw a trace of disappointment in her eyes before she turned around and began to head for the keep, with the Knight and several Rangers following behind her.


    It seemed they had passed the first test, but he had no doubt that more would follow. And if they failed even one, the consequences would be dire.

 Chapter 374 Challenge

    Arran had hoped he would get a chance to talk to Kaleesh before the banquet, but it appeared that Lady Raina had other plans.


    Just moments after they''d stepped into the keep, she summoned several stewards. And barely a minute later, Arran and Kaleesh were separated, each of them sent off with a small group of attendants to prepare for the feast ¡ª or so the Lady said.


    To Arrans''s surprise, several of these attendants were Darians. And although they were clothed like servants, even the outsiders among them carried swords at their sides. Moreover, from the way they moved, he could tell that they were Body Refiners.


    As he thought about it, he realized the same had been true for the townsfolk they''d passed earlier. There hadn''t been a single one among them who wasn''t armed, and that held true for Darians and outsiders both.


    His musings were cut short when they reached his quarters, which proved spacious and well-furnished if perhaps not exactly luxurious. After giving the chambers a quick inspection, he turned to the handful of attendants who had accompanied him.


    "This will do," he said. "You may leave now."


    Yet they showed no sign of leaving. Instead, one of them ¡ª a young Darian woman who appeared to be the leader, despite only barely being past girlhood ¡ª shook her head and said, "Lady Raina wishes you to look presentable tonight. We are here to make sure that you do."


    "I can bathe myself," Arran protested. "There''s no need for your help."


    The attendant gave him a doubtful glance, and he had to admit she had some reason to be skeptical. After months of constant travel, he resembled a vagabond more than anything. An unusually well-armed vagabond, perhaps, but a vagabond nonetheless.


    Arran offered some further protests, but to little effect. Lady Raina had given orders, and it was obvious that her servants would not dare refuse their Lady''s commands.


    And so, over the next two hours, the attendants cleaned up his appearance as best they could, with Arran enduring their attention patiently.


    After he bathed, they cut his hair and shaved his beard, even going so far as to rub lavender-scented oil across his face. But although the effort seemed excessive to Arran, he paid it little mind.


    There were far more important things to worry about.


    Foremost among these were Lady Raina''s intentions. While he knew the invitation had not merely been a kind gesture, he still hadn''t quite figured out what her goal was.


    At first, he''d believed she merely wanted to relieve the mercenaries of their starmetal armor. But if that was the case, there were far easier ways to do so.


    Even if she feared drawing Rannoc''s ire, the Imperium was large, with many sparsely populated places. To ambush the mercenaries would be a simple matter for someone with her power, with little risk of anyone escaping to tell the tale.


    Moreover, the mercenaries were traveling to the Desolation, where it was not unusual for entire groups of fighters to disappear. If they never returned, few would be surprised at such an outcome.


    But after the Lady had invited them to her fortress, murdering them discreetly would no longer be as easy.


    If she moved against the mercenaries now, it would be an insult to Rannoc, only barely short of an open challenge. Rather than just taking the mercenaries'' treasures, she''d be making a statement to the Imperium ¡ª a statement that she did not care about Rannoc''s protection.


    A frown crossed Arran''s face, and he turned to look at the attendants, who were busy laying out several sets of clothes for him to choose from.


    "Why do you wear swords?" he asked, his expression thoughtful. "Even here, in the keep?"


    The young Darian woman gave him a cold glance, a look in her eyes that suggested she thought the question a particularly stupid one.


    "To defend ourselves," she said. "We aren''t feeble easterners, accustomed to safety. Here, every man, woman, and child knows how to fight. And when the Blight comes, we will resist it to our dying breath."


    Arran nodded thoughtfully.


    It made sense that attitudes here would be different here from those in the eastern part of the Imperium. With the Desolation barely a few weeks'' travel away, the Blight would be a constant worry ¡ª an enemy that even commoners expected to face eventually.


    Yet near the borderlands, the Blight was only a distant threat. Only ambitious warriors would ever face it, and then only by their own choice.


    That difference could be seen in the building style, as well.


    Although Kadun''s city had boasted tall walls and heavy gates, the efforts of two men had been enough to breach its defenses, leaving it open for Rannoc to conquer.


    But Lady Raina''s home was different. If the town fell to attackers, the fortress offered more formidable protection. And should the fortress fall, then the keep at its center could still hold back an army.


    The difference in defenses, Arran thought, also spoke of a difference in philosophy. Which meant that his earlier assumptions about Lady Raina''s intentions might be entirely wrong.


    He could only hope that Kaleesh had a better understanding of the situation. If not, whatever plans the captain had might well go awry.


    But fretting would do little good, and so, he turned his attention to the clothes the servants had laid out for him.


    There were several sets of clothes, but none of them held much appeal to Arran. They were entirely too fine, and most of them too colorful besides. It was the garb of courtiers rather than warriors.


    He hesitated for a moment, then picked the simplest outfit of the bunch ¡ª a set of black trousers and an unadorned white linen shirt. Though well-made, it lacked the frills the other clothes had, appearing more practical than ornate.


    The attendants looked on with interest, but they offered no comments on his choice. Yet when he belted on his Living Shadow sword, a frown appeared on the Darian girl''s face.


    "You''re bringing a weapon to a banquet?" she asked.


    "I am," Arran replied. "Will that be a problem?"


    The attendant shrugged. "The choice is yours."


    "Then my sword is coming with me," Arran said. There was no way that he would leave the Living Shadow weapon behind. Not even if it risked offending Lady Raina.


    His other equipment, however, was a different matter. Wearing armor to a banquet would be a step too far, and the same held true for carrying his giant starmetal sword.


    Not to mention that if he had to fight in the confines of the keep, the outsized weapon would be a hindrance more than anything.


    Clean, clothed, and armed, he turned to the Darian girl. "So when does this banquet start?"


    "About half an hour ago," she replied, some amusement in her light-brown eyes. "We should probably head there now."


    When they reached the dining hall some minutes later, Arran found that the banquet was already well underway.


    There were several rows of long tables, filled with all sorts of food and drink. And at the tables sat over a hundred people, the chatter of their voices filling the large hall with a constant rumble of sound.


    Some of the people in the hall were soldiers, with Arran quickly spotting a dozen Rangers and two Knights he hadn''t seen before. Yet there were others, as well ¡ª dignified priests, richly dressed merchants, and others whose status he could not discern.


    At the far end of the hall, there was a single table, raised slightly above the others. At its center sat Lady Raina, and to her left was the gray-haired Knight he''d seen earlier ¡ª her consort, Kaleesh had said.


    They were joined by a young man, who Arran recognized as one of the Rangers in her group ¡ª the one who''d been clad in starmetal armor. Her son, he now realized.


    It took him a moment to find Kaleesh, but after a glance around the room, he found the captain sitting near the front of the hall, dressed in a colorful silk outfit.


    He gave the captain a quick wave, then began to head over. Yet he''d taken a step when he felt the Darian girl''s hand on his shoulder, and he gave her a questioning look.


    "Your place is here," she said, gesturing at one of the empty seats near the entrance. "At the back."


    Arran looked around again, now seeing that while the more powerful and influential people were sat near Lady Raina''s table, he''d been given a place close to the back of the hall, among what looked to be local dignitaries and merchants.


    Apparently, he wasn''t quite as important as he''d thought.


    "Very well," he said with a shrug, sitting down where the girl had told him ¡ª in between a sloppily dressed merchant and a dour-faced priest.


    The slight did not bother him. He cared little about status in the first place, and at least this would give him the chance to observe the situation without distractions.


    To his surprise, however, the attendant did not leave the hall. Instead, as he sat down, she walked to the front of the hall, then greeted Lady Raina with a small nod ¡ª and received a smile in return.


    Then, she sat down next to the gray-haired Knight, whose cold expression broke into a fatherly smile as he gave her a warm look.


    Arran could only barely keep his mouth from falling open in astonishment. The girl who''d shaved and dressed him was no servant. It was Lady Raina''s daughter, doubtless sent to gather what information she could about the mercenaries.


    But if that was the case, she hadn''t learned much. Arran''s thoughts had been occupied with their predicament, and he''d exchanged no more than a few words with her.


    He''d only barely recovered from the surprise when Lady Raina stood up, the hall instantly falling silent as she looked upon her guests.


    "Now that my daughter has joined us," she began, "I''d like to welcome our guest." She gestured at Kaleesh, and continued, "Master Kaleesh here is a friend of Lord Rannoc, traveling to the Desolation with his men, to do battle against the Blight."


    Some subdued cheers sounded across the hall ¡ª clearly, so close to the Desolation, fighting the Blight was something that commanded approval.


    Lady Raina sat down again, then went on in a more casual voice, "Master Kaleesh, rumors abound of Rannoc''s conflict with Kadun, with many claiming that Kadun has been slain. Tell us what you know of this."


    "Lady Raina," Kaleesh replied. "I thank you for your gracious welcome. As for the rumors you''ve heard ¡ª they are true. Lord Rannoc has slain Lord Kadun. I witnessed the battle myself, as did my second-in-command."


    A murmur went through the hall, with several small gasps sounding as the guests finally heard the rumors of the past months confirmed.


    Lady Raina, however, showed no sign of surprise ¡ª no doubt she''d already known the rumors were true. Instead, she gave a curious frown.


    "You say you witnessed the battle?" she asked. "Then please, recount for us what happened ¡ª in detail, if you will. Lords doing battle is a rare thing, and I would be grateful to receive a first-hand account."


    "Of course, Lady Raina," Kaleesh replied.


    He spent the next quarter-hour retelling the battle between Rannoc and Kadun, describing even its smallest details. And although he made some exaggerations, Arran could tell that he was careful to stay close enough to the truth that the Lady would not doubt his words.


    Kaleesh was a talented storyteller, and narrating the Lords'' battle, he soon had the assembled guests enraptured by his words, excitement in their eyes as they envisioned the two Lords facing each other.


    When he finished telling the story, silence lingered in the hall for several moments before Lady Raina finally spoke again.


    "A rousing tale, and well-told," she said. "But I cannot help but wonder¡­" She gave the captain an appraising look. "You say you and your second-in-command were the only ones to witness the battle. How did the two of you ¡ª outsiders both ¡ª manage to be granted such an honor?"


    "We played some small part in Rannoc''s conquest," Kaleesh replied. "You see¡­"


    Once more he began to speak, this time narrating the events leading up to the Lords'' battle. There were more than a few lies and omissions ¡ª most of them playing up the captain''s relationship with Rannoc ¡ª but overall, he stayed close to the truth.


    Yet when the story reached the battle at the gate, Arran saw some incredulous looks among the people in the hall, with the Lady''s son in particular looking skeptical of the tale.


    The young man''s suspicious look only grew stronger when Kaleesh narrated their battle against Kadun''s forces, and his distrust turned to anger when Kaleesh recounted how they had defeated the Knight.


    Finally, as the captain finished the story, he stood up, his handsome face red with anger.


    "Ridiculous!" he exclaimed. "You want us to believe that you defeated a Knight? Two outsiders, neither of you even Rangers?"


    Some murmurs of approval sounded among the guests ¡ª clearly, Kaleesh''s tale had stretched the limits of what they were willing to believe, as well.


    Lady Raina, however, merely looked at the captain with interested eyes, curious at how he would respond to the accusation.


    "Young master," Kaleesh said in a respectful tone, "I can assure you that every word I told you tonight was true. We faced Kadun''s forces, and were well-rewarded for our efforts."


    Though he spoke in a soothing voice, his expression was uneasy. Had anyone else accused him of lying, he likely would have challenged the other party to a duel. But here, in the Lady''s home, he was uncertain of how to respond to the Ranger''s charges.


    His words did little to appease the young Ranger. Rather than being swayed by the captain''s appeal, a cold anger could be seen in his eyes.


    "You come here as a guest, and you dare tell such disgraceful lies?" he asked, making no effort to veil the threat in his voice. "And you expect to go unpunished for these ridiculous boasts?"


    There was a hint of restrained anger in Kaleesh''s face, yet he appeared to be at a loss for words. While he obviously wanted to respond to the Ranger''s accusations in kind, it was equally clear that he feared antagonizing the Lady.


    Arran, however, frowned in thought. While he understood the captain''s reluctance to show his anger, he could not help but think it was a mistake ¡ª and one that could cost them dearly.


    He sighed deeply, wondering whether he was about to make the biggest blunder of his life. But then, he stood up.


    "You call us liars, you little shit?" he roared, purposely playing up his anger. "Would you like to see for yourself just how strong I am?"


    There was a stunned silence in the hall, and he saw the captain stare at him in horror. The young Ranger, too, appeared dumbstruck. Clearly, this wasn''t the reaction he''d expected.


    Lady Raina, however, laughed in amusement. "An excellent idea," she said. "A small sparring match between my son and yourself would do much to ease our doubts."

 Chapter 375 A Duel

    "Please try not to get us killed tonight," Kaleesh said, casting a worried glance at Arran.


    They stood in the keep''s spacious courtyard, with Lady Raina''s guests spread in a wide circle around them. Barely a few minutes had passed since Arran had issued his challenge, but the Darians had wasted no time in preparing the duel.


    "This was our best chance," Arran said with a shrug. "Your strategy clearly wasn''t working."


    "Then let''s hope yours fares better," the captain replied, his voice resigned. Though he no longer looked as horrified as before, no small amount of worry remained in his voice.


    Opposite them, barely two dozen paces away, stood the young Ranger ¡ª Lady Raina''s son, as Arran now knew. The young man''s expression was tense as he stared at his opponent, and little of his previous arrogance now remained.


    Yet although the prideful disdain had fled his eyes, they still held an unshakable confidence. While it was clear that he did not take the fight lightly, it was equally clear that he expected to win it.


    "It looks like he''s ready," Arran said to Kaleesh. "Best you step back."


    "Don''t get carried away," the captain said.


    Then, he stepped back into the ring of onlookers, leaving only the two fighters behind, their figures almost seeming to glow in the bright torchlight around them.


    "You''re not using that giant sword of yours?" the Ranger asked as he gave Arran an appraising look. "Shame. I''d have liked to see how one would use such a weapon."


    "To defeat you, I don''t need it," Arran replied calmly.


    Of course, the truth was that his Living Shadow weapon easily outmatched the giant sword. The bond he shared with it gave him a level of control that was impossible to achieve with any other weapon.


    He didn''t think he needed it to defeat the young Ranger, but then, there was no reason to forego the advantage. Not when he needed to demonstrate his strength.


    A hint of anger flashed across the Ranger''s face, yet he did not reply. Instead, he cautiously began to move toward his opponent, sword ready to strike.


    Arran, for his part, merely readied his sword, then waited for the young Ranger to make the first move.


    The wait was a short one. Seeing Arran''s inaction, the Ranger mistook it for indecision, and at once he moved to take advantage of this perceived weakness.


    He dashed forward in a sudden movement, striking a swift series of skillful blows at Arran''s body in a masterful display of swordsmanship.


    Gasps of surprise and delight sounded from the crowd, and one voice called out, "Get him, Kalin!"


    Yet skilled though the Ranger might be, Arran parried the attacks with ease. The young man was probably the most powerful Ranger he''d faced so far, but Rangers had been no match for him even six months earlier.


    And since then, Arran''s own skill had advanced no small amount.


    When the young Ranger realized his offensive had failed, he broke off the exchange and retreated several steps. He narrowed his eyes in concentration, then said, "Strong defense."


    As soon as the words left his mouth, he attacked again, even more furiously than before. But while his strikes were as skillful as they were powerful, they proved completely useless against Arran''s defense.


    Even in the first few seconds, Arran knew that the Ranger posed no threat to him. The gap in skill between them was simply too great, like that between a master swordsman and a boy wielding a sword for the very first time.


    Still, Arran did not hurry to finish the fight. Although he could have defeated his opponent a dozen times already, he allowed the young man to continue his ill-fated assault.


    This wasn''t out of mercy or mockery. Rather, he recognized the foundation Muna had taught him in the young man''s swordplay, and he gladly seized the opportunity to see if there was anything he could learn.


    Yet after half a dozen exchanges, he realized there was nothing to be learned from the young man.


    Arran''s own foundation was far stronger than his opponent''s, and while the Ranger showed signs of other training, they were barely more than traces ¡ª far too small to be useful to Arran.


    And so, as Raina''s son readied yet another attack, Arran struck.


    It was a single blow, but so quick and forceful that the Ranger had no chance to react. Mid-attack, his sword was struck by Arran''s and ripped from his grasp, sent flying as the young man''s eyes widened in shock.


    "You''ve lost," Arran said.


    The young man''s shocked expression lasted only a moment before turning to frustration. "That was just luck!" he said, hurriedly moving to pick up his weapon from the ground.


    Arran did not stop him. If he wanted to demonstrate his strength to the Darians, it would take more than a single strike ¡ª even if it was one that would have defeated his opponent.


    He waited until the Ranger had retrieved his weapon and recovered from the shock. Then, he moved forward.


    The young man took a defensive stance as Arran neared, a wary look on his face as he braced for the attack he knew was coming.


    Yet when Arran attacked, he used neither his speed nor his strength. Instead, he moved slowly, barely putting power into his strikes as he confronted his opponent.


    Instead, he relied purely on Muna''s foundation, drawing upon the insights he''d gained to guide his sword.


    At first, the young Ranger seemed relieved. He''d expected a furious assault, but instead Arran moved almost like a commoner.


    Yet his relief was short-lived, and astonishment soon took its place.


    Because as the Ranger soon found, Arran''s casual blows somehow still defeated his defenses, forcing him to retreat with each attack.


    It was a blatant display of the difference in their insights, a statement clearer than any words could be.


    There wasn''t a single person among the onlookers who wouldn''t immediately recognize what he was demonstrating ¡ª mastery of the Darians'' own foundation, and to a level far beyond that of a mere Ranger.


    The slow exchange had lasted barely a minute when Arran''s blade came to a stop against the Ranger''s throat.


    "You''ve lost," Arran said. "Again."


    Without saying any further words, he turned around and began to walk away. Yet he''d barely reached the center of the circle when the young man''s voice sounded.


    "No! I will not be defeated like this!"


    Arran turned to face the Ranger, and saw that the man''s face was twisted with frustration, his knuckles white as he gripped the hilt of his sword.


    "You''ve received two free lessons," Arran said. "If you insist on a third, there will be a price."


    "Kalin¡­" Lady Raina''s voice sounded, thick with warning.


    Yet before she could say anything else, her son rushed forward, eyes wide with fury as he attacked Arran.


    The clash lasted only an instant.


    As the young Ranger struck, so did Arran, his sword easily slapping his opponent''s weapon aside. And then, his left fist smashed into the face of Lady Raina''s son with an audible crunch, such force behind the blow that it sent the young man flying a dozen paces.


    For a moment, there was only silence, the Lady''s guests barely even daring to breathe as they looked at the motionless Ranger.


    But naturally, Arran hadn''t used his full strength ¡ª killing Lady Raina''s son would obviously not end well for him. And so, after some seconds, the young man groaned in pain as he sat up, a small stream of blood trickling from his shattered nose.


    At this, a collective sigh of relief went through the crowd. While Lady Raina and her husband would have known it wasn''t a killing blow, the others lacked their insight, and many of them had clearly feared the worst.


    Arran gave his defeated opponent a brief glance, then turned to face Lady Raina.


    "Are your doubts sufficiently eased?" he asked flatly.


    Yet instead of the Lady, it was her husband who answered.


    "An impressive display," the gray-haired Knight said. "But then, our son is merely a Ranger, and there is still much he has to learn."


    "Then I hope I''ve contributed to his education," Arran replied.


    The Knight gave a small laugh. "I have no doubt he has learned much from this encounter," he said. "Yet with him as your opponent, I suspect there is still much of your skill that remains hidden from us."


    He paused for a moment, giving Arran an appraising glance. "But perhaps I would be a more suitable opponent for you ¡ª if you agree to face me, of course."


    Arran hesitated only a second. Then, he nodded in agreement.


    "If you wish, I will face you as well."

 Chapter 376 Facing A Knight, Again

    As the gray-haired Knight moved to the center of the circle of onlookers, Arran watched him closely.


    From the man''s movements alone, it was clear that he was powerful ¡ª alarmingly so. After studying Muna''s foundation, Arran could recognize the signs of insights, and he saw them even in the Knight''s steps.


    The gray-haired man''s entire body was like a weapon, expertly wielded. Not the slightest excess of movement could be seen in his actions, as if he fully controlled every single muscle in his body.


    Arran could not help but sigh at the casual display of power. For all the progress he''d made over the past months, such a level of perfection was still far out of his reach.


    That wasn''t a problem that could be solved by training, either. Rather, it would require learning the Darians'' secrets and studying their most treasured methods.


    But Arran had his own advantages, as well.


    Broad though the Knight''s insights might be, they lacked the depth of Arran''s true insight into binding and severing. And while the Knight had a Living Shadow dagger, his primary weapon was a starmetal sword.


    Still, Arran doubted that would be enough to defeat this opponent. But then, he didn''t need to win. What he needed was to demonstrate his strength.


    "All of you," the Knight said, his eyes on the onlookers, "please step back. We need space to fight."


    Though he spoke in a friendly tone, the Lady''s guests hurried in obliging him, fearful of causing the Knight any offense. And as the circle of people around them expanded, the Knight turned to Arran.


    "I trust you don''t need time to recover from your battle against my son." Though the man''s voice betrayed no emotion, there was a flicker of amusement in his eyes.


    If Arran didn''t know any better, he almost would have thought the Knight was glad for the beating his son had received at Arran''s hands.


    But then, perhaps he was. Few flaws were as dangerous for a fighter as overconfidence, and the memory of the humiliating loss might one day save the young Ranger''s life.


    "I''m ready," Arran replied, his attention turning to the fight ahead. Right now, his only concern was to avoid a humiliating loss of his own.


    The Knight nodded. "Then let''s begin."


    Without any further words, the man moved forward, sword raised in front of his body as he approached Arran. And although he moved with confidence, he showed caution as well ¡ª the vigilance of an experienced fighter who wouldn''t underestimate any opponent.


    Arran readied himself for the attack that would come, his muscles tensing in anticipation of the first clash.


    When only a few paces between them remained, the Knight suddenly dashed forward in a fluid rush of motion, his sword lashing out at Arran with the speed of a hungry viper.


    It was a masterful attack. The Knight''s strikes were fast enough that they blended together in a blur of movement, and for each real blow that he struck, there were half a dozen subtle feints.


    Arran struggled to withstand the assault. For several moments, it was all he could do to parry and block his opponent''s attacks, without even the slightest chance to retaliate.


    Yet although he struggled beneath the onslaught, with the Knight forcing him to retreat several paces, he did not break.


    Somehow, his defense held. And under the pressure, he felt his understanding increase.


    As he parried and deflected the Knight''s cuts and thrusts, he grew more familiar with the insights he''d spent the last half-year studying.


    For the first time, he could put all he''d learned into practice. Moreover, in the Knight''s swordplay he recognized more advanced versions of his own insights, and the confrontation saw him improve rapidly.


    Seconds turned into minutes as Arran fought the Knight, and as the two clashed, his mind was focused entirely on the battle.


    If the pressure of battle was like a forge, then the Knight''s strikes were like a blacksmith''s hammer, shaping the insights Arran had studied for months. And as the insights took shape, his defense grew more confident.


    Slowly, Arran''s retreat came to a halt, the Knight''s attacks no longer enough to push him back.


    For some time, he merely weathered the blows, learning from his opponent as the attacks continued undiminished. It was an invaluable lesson, and if his mind hadn''t been fully focused on the battle, he would have rejoiced at the progress he was making.


    But as it was, all he could do was fight. And as his confidence steadily grew, he began to return the Knight''s attacks.


    At first, his strikes were few and far between, with his opponent easily blocking those rare few attacks he made. Yet steadily, the battle grew more even.


    Although Arran''s opponent still held the upper hand, it was no longer the one-sided onslaught it had been at the start. Both sides now exerted themselves when they clashed, their weapons whistling through the air as they attacked each other.


    And as they fought, the onlookers watched in silence, their eyes wide with awe at the fight they were witnessing. Seeing a Knight do battle was a rare thing, and seeing one challenged in earnest rarer still.


    Meanwhile, Arran fought with the hunger of a beggar who saw treasure on the horizon, greedily taking in all the knowledge he could as his weapon clashed with his opponent''s sword.


    Months of study had provided him with a foundation, but so far, his knowledge had remained abstract. Yet now, with an opponent strong enough to drive him to his limit, that knowledge was finally solidifying into skill.


    He did not know how long the battle lasted. More than an hour, certainly, perhaps even several hours. But enraptured by his newfound skills, time passed Arran by unnoticed.


    Then, at last, Lady Raina''s voice sounded.


    "That will be enough. Finish it."


    Before Arran could react, the Knight''s movements suddenly hastened. A dozen rapid strikes, and suddenly there was an opening in Arran''s defense.


    And through that opening, a fist came hurtling toward his face.


    The Knight''s blow struck Arran squarely in the nose, hitting with such force that it sent him sprawling to the ground, his ears ringing from the impact.


    For several seconds, he remained lying on his back, staring at the stars above as he felt blood pour from his freshly broken nose.


    When he got up again, a wry smile crossed his face.


    He''d known the Knight had been holding back, but he hadn''t realized the difference between them was quite as large as this. Not after his foundation solidified, at least.


    As he stood up, Arran saw that the gray-haired Knight had already turned to Lady Raina. The blow to his head had caused him to miss the first few words of what they said, but he blinked in surprise when he heard what followed.


    "He''s strong," the Knight said. "Barely a step away from matching a Knight. If the other is equally strong, I''d struggle to match them."


    Lady Raina nodded thoughtfully. "If they''re a match for you, one of Kadun''s Knights wouldn''t stand a chance." She turned to Kaleesh, and continued, "It appears you were telling the truth, after all. So you''re not just a braggart, hiding behind Rannoc''s skirts."


    A relieved smile on his face, the captain replied, "Though we''ve had dealings with Rannoc, we are not his subjects. We are traveling to the Desolation by our own choice, not on his orders."


    The Lady frowned. "We''ll need to discuss your relationship with Rannoc," she said. "But that can wait until we finish the banquet." She glanced at her husband, then added, "This diversion lasted rather longer than I expected it to."


    She turned around without any further words and began to head back to the hall, where a feast still stood waiting for them ¡ª a cold feast that would be cold, by now.


    The other guests moved to follow her, and Arran did the same. Yet he''d barely set a single step when a piece of cloth was pressed against his face. And an instant later, he felt a sharp sting of pain as a stranger''s hand set his broken nose.


    When he looked to his side, he saw Lady Raina''s daughter standing next to him, a look of disapproval on her face.


    "Keep that there until the bleeding stops," she ordered. "You''re bleeding all over my brother''s shirt."


    Arran frowned in confusion, but he did as she said, pressing the piece of cloth against his bloodied nose. "Your brother''s shirt?" he asked, his voice muffled behind the cloth.


    "And one of the few that make him look halfway decent, too," she said with a nod. She glanced at the blood-covered shirt, then sighed. "But I suppose it''s already ruined. Come with me, and we''ll get you changed."


    Although her words only added to Arran''s confusion, he followed her meekly through the keep''s hallways. When the bleeding from his nose had stopped, he said, "I thought the servant thing was only an act."


    "It was," she replied. "But I could hardly let you sit with the others, looking all bloodied. My father really hit you good."


    "That he did," Arran replied. A thoughtful look crossed his face, and he said, "I should thank him."


    The girl gave him a puzzled look. "For breaking your nose?"


    Arran shook his head. "For the fight. It was¡­ instructive."


    By now, he understood all too well that the Knight had held back in their battle, purposely allowing Arran to learn as they fought. It was an invaluable gift, worth the broken nose he''d received many times over.


    "I''ve never seen anyone last that long against him," the girl said. "Except mother, of course. So what''s your name?"


    "Arran," Arran said. "And yours?"


    "Dalia," the girl replied. "Now come along. Let''s find you a clean shirt."


    A few minutes later, Arran had washed the blood from his face, and he was wearing a fresh new shirt ¡ª a black one, this time. And as they headed back to the dining hall, he turned to Dalia.


    "I hope I haven''t made an enemy of your brother."


    "Kalin?" She laughed, then shook her head. "Once he gets past the frustration of losing, he''ll be begging you to spar with him." She let out a small sigh, then said in a voice that carried a hint of exasperation, "What he lacks in sense, he makes up for in effort."


    Arran chuckled. "I''ve always found that effort is at least as valuable as sense ¡ª perhaps even more so."


    Dalia gave him a disapproving look. "I hope you''re not as much of a fool as he is."


    This question, Arran wisely left unanswered.


    They returned to the dining hall some minutes later, finding the other guests already sitting at their tables. And this time, Arran found that his place was at the very front of the hall ¡ª next to Kaleesh, who still looked slightly nervous.


    "That went better than I''d hoped," the captain said in a low voice.


    To this, Arran could only nod in agreement.

 Chapter 377 Words of Warning

    Much as Dalia had predicted, it soon became clear that her brother was not the type to hold a grudge. Before the banquet was even over, he joined Arran and Kaleesh at their table, excitement written across his bruised face.


    "You''re staying, right?" he asked. "At least another few days?"


    Arran cast a cautious glance at the captain, who gave him a small nod. "We might."


    "Then we must spar again tomorrow," the young Ranger said in an eager tone. "Other than Knights, I''ve never seen anyone fight like you."


    "We can train together, if you wish," Arran replied. "But I don''t know how much I can teach you in just a few days'' training." He looked at Lady Raina and her husband, then added, "And it seems like you''ve already got better teachers than me."


    To this, the young man responded with a firm shake of his head. "Father always says that every teacher has something different to share. Anything you''re willing to show, I''ll gladly learn."


    Arran could not help but nod in agreement. This, at least, was something he''d found to be true as well. He''d had many teachers over the years, and he''d benefited from all of them.


    "Very well," he said. "I''ll teach you what I can."


    After the lesson he''d received from the Knight, it only seemed fair to give the man''s son what little he could offer. Not to mention that teaching her son could go a long way in winning Lady Raina''s favor.


    The young Ranger lingered for some time, now listening eagerly to their stories of the battles in Kadun''s lands. And in return, he offered stories of his own ¡ª stories about the Desolation.


    Much to Arran''s surprise, Raina''s son had already spent a year in the Desolation, fighting the Blight to earn his status as a Ranger. And he spoke of this time with great enthusiasm, almost as if he longed to return.


    "You have to understand," the young Ranger said, a glint of fervor in his eyes, "in the Desolation, you''re never safe. You might find battle at any time, and though it''s mostly just Blightspawn, there''s also¡ª"


    "That will be enough, Kalin," Lady Raina interrupted him. "You know better than to discuss these things so openly. In fact¡­"


    She cast a glance around the hall, then continued in a louder tone, "As much as I''ve enjoyed your presence tonight, I fear it is time for this banquet to come to an end."


    Abrupt though the announcement was, none of the guests dared object. In a matter of minutes, they cleared from the hall, though none left before offering their thanks to Lady Raina.


    When the last of the guests had departed, the Lady turned to Arran and Kaleesh. "The two of you, come with me. There are matters we must discuss."


    It only took a short walk through the keep''s hallways before they reached Lady Raina''s chambers, and as they stepped inside, she gestured at a pair of velvet-clad chairs.


    "Sit down."


    Although they did as she said, the Lady herself remained standing. And as she stood before them, she sighed deeply, her expression suddenly one of extreme weariness.


    "Had the two of you not been outsiders," she said, "I would have had you hanged tonight."


    "Hanged?" Kaleesh looked at her with wide eyes, and shock crossed Arran''s face as well. "What for?"


    "For entering my lands while bearing my enemy''s mark," she replied. "And for boasting about the part you played in the murder of one of my allies."


    "Kadun was your ally?" Arran stared at her in shock. "We didn''t know¡­ If we''d known¡­"


    "Then you wouldn''t have come here," Lady Raina said. "But you did, and so, I am faced with a dilemma. Tell me the truth ¡ª what is your relationship with Rannoc?"


    Before Arran could answer, Kaleesh spoke up.


    "He was a tool to us," the captain said, his voice now deathly serious. "Your ally would have kept us as slaves, working the mines until we died. Rannoc offered us a chance at freedom ¡ª a chance at facing the Blight and earning our place in the Imperium."


    The Lady raised an eyebrow. "Honesty, at last." She smiled wryly, and continued, "I will admit that Kadun was neither just nor competent. But he was an ally nonetheless, and in recent years, our camp has grown too weak for comfort."


    "Your camp?" Arran asked, brow furrowed as he stared at the woman before them.


    She gave a weary smile in response. "As I suspected, you still remain ignorant of the conflict you unwittingly entered. But then, you are outsiders, and there are few who know of this matter even within the Imperium."


    "What matter would that be?" Kaleesh asked. From the frown on his face, Arran could tell that he was none too pleased at having missed something so important.


    Lady Raina hesitated in answering, but only for a moment. Then, a grave look on her face, she spoke.


    "For countless thousands of years," she began, "the Imperium has resisted the Blight, stopping it from advancing and swallowing up our lands. But in the last few centuries, our defense has begun to falter. Blightspawn attacks grow more common by the year, and lands that were once safe now lie abandoned."


    "Then the Imperium is losing?" Arran looked at her with narrowed eyes, eager to learn more of the situation.


    "Not just yet," Lady Raina replied. "But in time, unless the present course is reversed, it will."


    "What does this have to do with Rannoc?" Kaleesh asked, his interest no lesser than Arran''s.


    "There are some among us," the Lady said, "who believe that we should strengthen our defenses. That we should flood the Desolation with troops and push back the Blight no matter the cost. This is the view I hold, and the one Kadun held, as well."


    "Then what does Rannoc want?" Arran asked, already feeling a hint of unease at the answer he expected to hear.


    "Rannoc and his allies want us to pull back," Lady Raina said. She gestured around her, and continued, "To abandon these lands to the Blight and retreat to the east."


    A frown crossed Arran''s face. "But that only buys time. Even if you retreat, won''t the Blight advance until you face it again?"


    Lady Raina nodded. "Of course. Which is why many of us have long resisted such a course of action. But some centuries ago, we learned of a natural barrier ¡ª a great range of mountains to the east, with the lands behind it fertile and unprotected. It is there that Rannoc and his allies wish us to go."


    Arran went pale with shock at her words. "They want to invade the Empire?!"


    The Lady gave him a curious look. "You know of this place?"


    "I was born there," Arran replied, a sinking feeling in his heart as he realized that in helping Rannoc kill Kadun, he had endangered not just the Shadowflame Society, but also the Empire. "But conquering it won''t be as easy as you think."


    The interest in Lady Raina''s eyes grew even greater, and she said, "It is said that this Empire of yours is only defended by a small group of mages, weak enough to be defeated by a handful of Lords."


    Arran shook his head. "Those mountains continue to the south for ten thousand miles, and they''re crawling with mages." He hesitated, fearful of saying too much, but then he continued, "And even if you defeat the mages who guard the mountains, you will find far stronger ones in the Empire itself."


    "Stronger?" The Lady gave him a puzzled glance. "From what I''ve been told, the mages within your Empire are so weak that they barely even deserve the name."


    "There are more powerful ones," Arran said. "There''s something called the Academy¡­ they control the mages within the Empire. And it''s said that their leaders'' power is unmatched."


    "It is said?" Lady Raina asked. "So you haven''t witnessed their power with your own eyes?"


    Arran clenched his jaw in frustration, but he had no choice but to shake his head. "I haven''t."


    Lady Raina sighed, a look of disappointment in her eyes. "I suppose it doesn''t matter. Even if what you say is true, the others would never take an outsider''s word for it."


    "Lady Raina," Kaleesh said in a cautious tone, "this conflict of yours ¡ª we have no part in it. As I''ve explained, Rannoc is no ally of ours. Surely there''s no need to involve us any further? All we wish is to battle the Blight."


    "An admirable wish," the Lady said. "But it isn''t that simple. For you to travel into the Desolation, wearing Rannoc''s mark and carrying his gifts¡­" She paused before continuing, her expression dark. "He intended it as a message ¡ª a display of the riches that lie in the east, and the untapped potential of its people."


    Kaleesh cursed loudly. Then, facing Lady Raina, he said, "You can remove the mark. Our equipment was no gift. We earned it ourselves, and Rannoc had it marked without my approval. Had I known its meaning, I would not have accepted it."


    Lady Raina remained quiet for some moments as she considered his words. Then, finally, she gave a small nod. "Very well. It won''t be enough to undo his message, but if you intend to face the Blight, that makes us allies. And it would not do to have my allies hanged."


    Both Arran and Kaleesh breathed a sigh of relief at her words. From the look of it, they would live to fight another day.


    Seeing their expressions, Lady Raina laughed softly. "Don''t be too relieved. In the Desolation, you will yet face plenty of danger."


    "So we''ve heard," Kaleesh said. "Though other than your son, few have been willing to speak of it."


    "Kalin is too careless with his words," the Lady said. "But if you will face the Blight, I suppose an idea of what to expect would be useful. If you wish, I can share some knowledge with you."

 Chapter 378 What Lurks In The Bligh

    "As you will have noticed," Lady Raina began, "the Blight is rarely spoken of in the Imperium. Though rumors abound, real knowledge of the Blight is reserved for those who''ve faced it themselves."


    "So we''ve heard," Kaleesh said. "We were told that it is a privilege that has to be earned."


    "That''s what the church would have you believe." The Lady gave a cheerless laugh and shook her head. "It''s all nonsense. The truth is that if word spread too far, too few would volunteer to throw away their lives so easily. And so, the church obscures the truth with tales of honor and bravery."


    Arran gave her an inquisitive look. "It''s that bad?"


    "It''s worse," she replied in a bitter tone. "I myself have lost two sons to the Blight, and if the third had his way, he would meet the same fate all too soon."


    "You''ve lost two sons?" Arran looked at her uneasily. "I''m sorry to¡ª"


    "Don''t be," she interrupted him. "Unlike most who travel into the Desolation, they knew what they would face. As did I. And they fought not for worthless honor, but to defend their home."


    Kaleesh glanced at her, then asked, "So will you tell us what dangers the Desolation holds?"


    She gave a short nod. "I will."


    There was a brief silence as she sat down at the large wooden desk that stood within the chamber, after which she spent several moments rifling through one of the stacks of papers that lay upon it.


    Finally, however, she found what she wanted ¡ª a large sheet of paper that carried a drawing of a man. Or rather, Arran saw as he looked closer, a monster resembling a man.


    Though superficially human, the creature''s features were twisted and deformed, its limbs thick with muscle but uneven, and its skin covered in numerous burn-like scars.


    Lady Raina gave her two guests some moments to study the drawing. Then, when they finally looked up from the monstrous artwork, she spoke.


    "The most common enemies in the Desolation are the common Blightspawn. Though they were once human, they were granted inhuman strength through foul magics, both their minds and bodies corrupted in the process. Although the drawing doesn''t show it, they are on average eight feet tall, with enough strength to tear even a Body Refiner limb from limb."


    "Their minds were corrupted?" Arran asked. "How so?"


    "Whatever was done to them," the Lady replied, "it turned them into abominations that feel neither fear nor pain. They will fight to the death, continuing even receiving mortal wounds. A single Blightspawn can tear through a dozen soldiers, if they are unprepared."


    "Then it''s a good thing we''re prepared," Kaleesh said, though there was a trace of worry in his eyes. "But how strong are these creatures?"


    Lady Raina shrugged. "It varies. The weakest ones are little stronger than common soldiers, while the strongest ones can match Rangers. And most dangerous are the ones that use magic."


    "Magic?" Arran''s eyes widened in surprise. "These creatures can use magic?"


    Using magic was no simple thing. It required both training and understanding. And if Blightspawn could wield magic, it meant they weren''t simply mindless monsters.


    "Some of them," Lady Raina replied with a nod. "And though their magical powers are crude, that makes them no less dangerous."


    Arran remained silent for a second, wondering what sort of magic could have been used to turn men into monsters. But finally, he asked, "How do we kill them?"


    At this, the Lady gave an approving smile. "The same way you would kill any man ¡ª sever his head, bash in his skull, pierce his heart, or cleave his body in two. Though there is another way, as well."


    She reached into a drawer and produced a crude iron amulet, which she laid down on the desk.


    "Each of the Blightspawn carries an amulet like this," she said. "Though I do not know its exact function, it is somehow linked to the magic they draw on for strength. Take it away and they die ¡ª and quite horribly, at that."


    "May I?" Arran asked, reaching for the amulet before the Lady could even reply.


    As soon as he took hold of the amulet, he could Sense that it contained some sort of magical seal. And although its design was alien to him, he knew enough of seals to understand its purpose almost immediately.


    The seal within the amulet was designed to restrain magical energy within its wearer''s body ¡ª to prevent it from bursting free and consuming the wearer.


    It was enough for Arran to get a vague idea of how the Blightspawn were created. Their bodies were infused with Essence, which they could somehow draw upon for strength. And though Arran had little idea of how to accomplish such a thing, he understood that the amulets were necessary to control that power.


    "See anything interesting?" Lady Raina asked, her eyebrow raised as she looked at Arran.


    Arran shook his head, feigning disappointment, and returned the amulet. "It just looks like a piece of iron to me. But if we take it away, they will die?"


    "That they will," the Lady replied. "And in a most unpleasant manner. Though taking their heads will be far easier."


    Arran nodded in agreement, though in truth, he already saw possibilities. While he struggled with many aspects of magic, there were few mages who could rival his skill in breaking seals.


    "Unpleasant as these Blightspawn sound," Kaleesh interjected, "I assume there''s worse to be found in the Desolation?"


    Lady Raina laughed grimly. "You assume correctly." Once more she rifled through one of the stacks of paper on her desk, and after a moment, she produced another drawing.


    This time, what the drawing showed wasn''t nearly as monstrous as the Blightspawn. Instead, it held the figure of what looked to be a mostly normal man ¡ª albeit an unusually muscular.


    Yet as Arran looked closer, he noticed that the figure held several decidedly inhuman characteristic. Its eyes were completely black, and its features were unnaturally sharp and angular.


    "This is a Reaver," Lady Raina said once her two guests had spent a minute studying the drawing. "Much like the common Blightspawn, they were once human, transformed through dark magic. But where the Blightspawn were twisted into monsters, Reavers remained mostly human. Other than their pitch-black eyes, deathly pale skin, and monstrous size, at least."


    Arran cast another glance at the drawing. "I take it they''re stronger than Blightspawn?"


    "Far stronger," Lady Raina confirmed. "Even the weakest Reavers can match Rangers, and the strongest ones have the power to threaten Knights even without the magic they wield."


    Kaleesh sighed deeply. "Any weaknesses?"


    "Of course," the Lady said. "Take their heads or pierce their hearts, and they will die. Underneath their strength, after all, you will still find human weakness."


    She produced another amulet and laid it on the table. Though it resembled the previous amulet, this one was made from silver and created with far more care.


    This time, Arran took the amulet without even asking for permission. And after just a few moments of study, he knew that it was similar to the previous amulet, though the seal it held was both more intricate and more powerful.


    Careful not to cause the Lady too much suspicion, he quickly placed the amulet back on the table. "Will they die if we take it?"


    "They will," Lady Raina confirmed. "Though you may find that killing them first is easier. Still, if you encounter any, be sure to take their amulets. They serve as proof of your victories, and the church will pay you handsomely for them ¡ª and not just with coin."


    At this, a glint of interest appeared in Kaleesh''s eyes. "Gathering these will earn us rewards?"


    "It will," Lady Raina said. "If you survive long enough to return them. I take it you intend to travel to Sacrifice?"


    Though Kaleesh nodded, Arran stared at her blankly. "Sacrifice?"


    "Sacrifice is the southernmost of our fortresses on the edge of the Desolation," Lady Raina explained. "One of our bulwarks against the Blight. When you travel there, you will find many thousands like you, seeking glory or riches in the war against the Blight."


    She paused briefly, eyes wandering between Arran and Kaleesh. Then, some gloom in her expression, she continued, "Though the journey might be more difficult than you expect. The Blight has spread, in recent years, and you may encounter Blightspawn before you even reach Sacrifice."


    "Then we''ll keep a close watch as we travel," Kaleesh said.


    Arran, however, furrowed his brow in thought. Then, he asked, "Is there anything stronger out there? Stronger than Reavers?"


    "There are more powerful enemies in the Desolation," the Lady said. "But knowing of those will do you little good. If you encounter any of them, you will not even have the chance to flee."


    "Still," Arran insisted. "Could you tell us? So we know what to avoid?"


    Lady Raina firmly shook her head. "Some secrets are best left hidden," she said. Before Arran had a chance to object, she continued, "But I''ve told you enough for tonight."


    "And we thank you for your generosity," Kaleesh said, with a quick glance at Arran that said not to push any further.


    "A small bit of help, to aid you in the fight against our shared enemy," Lady Raina said. "But now, you may leave."


    Kaleesh stood up and began to head for the door, but as Arran moved to do the same, the Lady said, "Not you. There are questions I have to ask of you."


    "Questions?" Arran asked, feeling some sudden unease.


    "About this Empire of yours," Lady Raina said. "And what you call the Academy."

 Chapter 379 A Quiet Departure

    Kaleesh left Lady Raina''s chambers as ordered, though not before giving Arran an apologetic look for abandoning him. And as the captain stepped outside, Arran turned to face the Lady, his expression calm.


    "What is it you wish to know?"


    "There are many things I wish to know," she replied. "Though I doubt you can give me all the answers I seek. But let''s see what I can learn from you." She frowned in thought, then asked, "This Academy you mentioned, have you had dealings with them?"


    "I have," Arran replied flatly. "They''re the reason I fled the Empire."


    "Is that so?" Lady Raina gave him a thoughtful look. "What did you do to earn their enmity?"


    "I killed one of their mages," Arran answered without hesitation. He''d prepared the story well before he entered the Imperium, and there was enough truth to it that telling it required little thought.


    "You killed a mage?" She raised an eyebrow. "Any particular reason?"


    Arran gave her a wry smile. "We had a disagreement. Over a girl. I didn''t like my chances facing a mage on even terms, so I killed him before he could burn me to a cinder. After that, I fled the Empire."


    Lady Raina laughed softly. "Of course," she said. "I should have guessed. The world has no greater fools than young men who think themselves in love. I take it you were successful in escaping?"


    "I wouldn''t be here otherwise," Arran said. "And after I crossed the mountains, I began to study Body Refinement."


    "You must have had some skilled teachers," Lady Raina said, though it was clear that she had little interest in his training. "But tell me, this Academy¡­ what do you know of it?"


    "I know that they control all magic in the Empire," Arran said. "And that they hunt down any mages who do not submit to them."


    The Lady nodded in response, though she seemed unimpressed. "What makes you believe that they can match the Imperium''s might?"


    "The Empire is huge," Arran replied. "Although I grew up there, I can''t even begin to imagine its size." He shook his head, and continued, "Yet from all I''ve seen, the Academy''s strength is unchallenged in the Empire. For that to be the case, they must hold far more power than they show."


    This, at least, was true.


    Although he hadn''t fully realized it before his travels, he now understood that for the Academy to hold power in such a vast territory, it had to have strength well beyond anything he''d seen. If not, the Academy would have been supplanted long ago.


    Lady Raina, however, seemed unconvinced. "So you haven''t witnessed their power with your own eyes," she said. "Instead, what you have are rumors and conjectures. And perhaps these very rumors are what keeps this Academy in power ¡ª the fear of their strength, rather than their strength itself."


    "It''s possible," Arran said, though he was unable to fully keep the frustration from his voice.


    Recognizing his irritation, she shook her head. "You misunderstand. It isn''t that I doubt your words. But what I need are arguments against the invasion ¡ª arguments that might convince the others."


    Arran gave her a mirthless smile. While he knew things that might help her, none of them were things he could share. Not in the Imperium, where even the suspicion of being a mage would likely cost him his life.


    And so, although the Lady continued to question him for another half hour, the result proved as useless to her as it was frustrating to Arran.


    Finally, when she ran out of questions to ask, she dismissed him. And although she did so with a friendly smile, Arran did not fail to notice the look of disappointment in her eyes ¡ª a disappointment he fully shared.


    When he stepped into the hallway, he found Kaleesh waiting for him, the captain''s expression tense as he looked at Arran.


    "How did it go?" Kaleesh asked in a low voice. "Are we still safe?"


    "We are," Arran replied. "She just had some questions about the Empire. I answered them as best I could."


    The captain nodded, visibly relieved. "Let''s go for a walk." He cast a furtive glance at the door to Lady Raina''s chambers, and added, "The courtyard should be quiet, this time of night."


    They made their way to the courtyard in silence, careful of any hidden listeners behind the keep''s walls. When they finally stepped out onto the grass, beneath the star-lit sky, Kaleesh let out a deep sigh.


    "I nearly got us killed," he said in a voice that now held no small amount of weariness. "That bastard Rannoc¡­ if I''d known what he was planning¡­"


    "You made a mistake," Arran agreed. "Happens to the best of us. But you truly didn''t know about the schism in the Darians'' ranks?"


    "If I did, I wouldn''t have gotten us into this mess," Kaleesh replied. "I left the Imperium long ago, and even before that, I never made it this far west. I didn''t realize the Lords'' disagreements had grown quite as large." He sighed again, then added, "To think they''re considering abandoning their lands¡­"


    Arran smiled grimly. "I suppose we''ll soon find out how bad things are in the Desolation."


    The captain nodded. "At least we''ll have plenty of opportunity to make a name for ourselves."


    "Or to get killed," Arran replied. "If even Knights and Lords are struggling, the situation can''t be good."


    "Now that you mention getting killed¡­" Kaleesh narrowed his eyes as he looked at Arran. "Tell me you will stay far away from Lady Raina''s daughter."


    "Dalia?" Arran looked at the captain in puzzlement. "What about her?"


    Kaleesh gave him a flat stare. "You haven''t noticed the way she¡ª" He paused mid-sentence, then shook his head in exasperation. "Of course you haven''t. Just do as I say and avoid her. In fact, from now on, avoid any Darian women we meet. If you keep this up, you''ll find yourself either dead or married within the year."


    "Keep what up?!" Arran asked, no less exasperated than Kaleesh. "I didn''t do anything!"


    "Darians are a traditional people," Kaleesh explained. "Especially when it comes to matters of men and women. What borderlanders would consider mere politeness, Darians might think deeply inappropriate."


    Arran frowned, but though he remained unconvinced, he gave the captain a nod. "If you say so, I''ll stay away from her."


    They spent another half-hour walking through the courtyard''s gardens, discussing both the journey ahead and the things they''d learned from Lady Raina.


    Yet although some of it was useful ¡ª the descriptions of the Blightspawn in particular ¡ª the fact of the matter was that no amount of talk could truly prepare them for the Blight.


    Experienced warriors though they were, in the Desolation they would face enemies unlike any they''d encountered before. One could not truly prepare for that ¡ª not without doing battle against these new foes and learning how they fought.


    And so, when Arran and Kaleesh finally retired to their own quarters, they were no closer to knowing how they''d face the Blight.


    The next morning, Arran awoke before dawn. Or rather, he was awakened before dawn, roused from his sleep by a loud banging on his door.


    The source of this noise turned out to be Kalin, eager and impatient to begin his training. The young Ranger''s eyes shone with fervor, and Arran was reminded of Dalia''s words ¡ª that what her brother lacked in sense, he made up for in effort.


    These words proved no exaggeration, as Arran spent most of the day sparring against the young man, pointing out his weaknesses and giving advice on how to address them.


    Much to Arran''s surprise, he found the task an enjoyable one. It was far less taxing than his own training, and for the first time in many months, a feeling of rest came over him.


    Perhaps the keep wasn''t quite as comfortable as his mansion in the Ninth Valley, but the food was good and the company pleasant.


    Briefly, Arran even wondered whether they should perhaps remain for a few weeks ¡ª to give the troops rest as they readied themselves for the Desolation.


    The thought was short-lived, however, as Dalia joined him and Kalin in training later that afternoon. And although she was as eager a student as her brother ¡ª and more talented, besides ¡ª Arran had not forgotten Kaleesh''s words.


    Although there the girl''s behavior seemed normal enough, he now noticed a subtle tension in the way she acted ¡ª a hint of nervousness when she spoke to him, so small he wouldn''t have noticed it if he hadn''t been looking.


    Yet if Arran had only suspicions, Kalin appeared to have a better understanding of his sister.


    "It seems my sister''s taken a liking to you," he said after they''d finished training for the day, a grin on his face that suggested he found the matter most amusing.


    "She''s a nice enough girl," Arran said uneasily. "But I''ll be leaving in a few days."


    That Dalia had an interest in him was bad enough, but now, it appeared that her brother approved of it. And that, Arran thought, could only be a bad sign.


    "You plan to return, don''t you?" Kalin asked. "With your power, I can only imagine the glory you''ll win in the Blight. After that, you''ll be a good match for any woman."


    "I''m an outsider," Arran countered, his unease increasing by the second. While the girl had at least been subtle about it, her brother clearly lacked her tact.


    The Ranger shrugged dismissively. "Only easterners care about such things. Here, we judge men by their strength and bravery. And once you become a Knight, nobody will dare question your loyalty to the Imperium."


    Arran smiled weakly in response. His loyalty to the Imperium, of course, was as non-existent as his desire to have Kalin for a brother-in-law.


    The next two days passed much the same, with Arran training Kalin while avoiding Dalia as best he could ¡ª which wasn''t very well, as he spent most of his time in the training yard.


    He could not help but sigh in relief when Kaleesh informed him that Lady Raina''s blacksmiths had finished stripping their armor of Rannoc''s marks, and that they would depart the next day.


    "Not a moment too soon," he said under his breath when the captain brought the news.


    "You sure about that?" Kaleesh gave him a sideways glance. "These past few days, I almost thought you intended to stay." He whistled between his teeth, and added, "And I suppose you could do worse."


    Arran glared at him, then asked, "So we''re leaving tomorrow?"


    "First thing," Kaleesh confirmed with a nod. "We should reach Sacrifice in under three weeks. After that, we''ll spend the next year slaying monsters." With a small chuckle, he added, "At least that should keep you safe from Darian women."


    Arran ignored the dig, and instead, he frowned in wonder. "Sacrifice¡­ That''s a strange name for a city."


    "Its proper name is The Heavenly Sacrifice," Kaleesh explained. "Though everyone calls it Sacrifice. Supposedly, it''s where one of the Darian gods gave his life to stop the Blight."


    At this, Arran let out a small sigh. "Let''s hope we fare better."


    That night, there was another banquet, though this time Lady Raina had invited all the mercenaries.


    Arran could tell that they were glad for the diversion. A few days'' rest had already done them much good, and as they hungrily devoured the lavish feast, they showed a cheer he hadn''t seen in months ¡ª not since the Wolfsblood Company had split in two and they''d parted ways with the others.


    But their eyes held something besides merriment, as well. Not fear, exactly, but something not far from it either. Though they had heard only rumors of the Blight, they all understood that their path held many vicious dangers. And even if they were lucky, not all of them would return.


    Still, whatever dangers the future held, they feasted with abandon, eagerly indulging in the delicacies that were laid out for them. Even if they died, at least this was something no monster''s blade could take away.


    Yet eventually, the night came to an end. And as it did, the mercenaries reluctantly retreated to their quarters, to spend one last night in a comfortable bed before they headed into the desolation.


    Arran, however, needed no sleep. Instead of returning to his quarters, he headed into the dark courtyard, and then made his way to the training yard.


    A single night''s training would make little difference, but he had little else to do but lie in bed and worry. And besides, even the smallest advantage might prove essential.


    Yet he''d barely spent half an hour training underneath the moon-lit sky when a soft voice sounded.


    "You''re leaving tomorrow."


    Arran recognized the voice at once, and when he turned around, he saw Dalia''s slender figure, only barely visible in the dim moonlight.


    "I am."


    Dalia remained silent for some moments, and when she finally spoke again, it was in a somber tone. "Mother is wrong."


    "Wrong?" Arran asked. "About what?"


    Again, the girl was silent for a moment. Then, she replied, "The Blight. Defending this place. All of it."


    It was not the answer Arran had expected. "Why do you say so?"


    "Two of my brothers have died fighting the Blight." Anger rose in Dalia''s voice as she spoke. "And for what? So others can follow them, dying to those monsters as well? I have one brother left, and he can''t wait to go back there, to fight until he doesn''t return. And you¡ª"


    She stopped mid-sentence, then took a deep breath. And when she continued a few seconds later, her voice had grown calm again. "This isn''t even your home. Why would you risk your life for a war that can''t be won?"


    "You don''t believe the Blight can be defeated?" Arran asked. Although the answer seemed obvious, this was the first time he''d heard a Darian say it out loud.


    "The gods gave their lives fighting the Blight," Dalia said in a bitter tone. "If even their sacrifice wasn''t enough, what chance do we have? Thousands of years and countless lives, and all we''ve managed to do is slow the Blight''s advance."


    Arran knew she was right. If thousands of years of war hadn''t turned the tide, then it was unlikely that throwing more lives at their enemy would change things. Still, he asked, "Then what do you think the Imperium should do?"


    "Retreat," she replied at once. "Go east, away from the Blight. This place¡­" She gestured around her. "It''s just land. We can leave it behind and find new lands elsewhere."


    Arran did not reply. There was no need to ask anything more ¡ª it was clear that Dalia was firmly in Rannoc''s camp. And as much as he wanted to, he could not deny that her argument was a strong one.


    "But you''re going anyway, aren''t you?" The was a sullen look in Dalia''s eyes as she looked at Arran. "Tell me why, at least."


    "To grow stronger," Arran replied. Then, with some hesitation, he continued, "The Blight isn''t the only threat out there. If the Imperium marches east, it may find the enemies there no less formidable."


    He could say no more without revealing too much, but even so, his thoughts briefly wandered to the two supposed gods he''d met in the Empire. And as he remembered Panurge, he could not help but wonder whether there was a connection between Chaos and the Blight.


    Dalia, however, merely shook her head. "The Blight is different," she said. "You''ll understand once you return ¡ª if you return at all."


    "I suppose I''ll find out," Arran said. He gave a small shrug. "Maybe I''m wrong."


    "If you return¡­" Dalia glanced at him, and hesitation could be seen in her eyes. "Will you visit again?"


    Arran knew what he should say. And yet, seeing this girl he barely knew look at him like that, he could not bring himself to say the words. "I will try," he said instead.


    A brief smile crossed her face. "I''ll hold you to that."


    Before he could respond, she rushed off, disappearing back into the keep only moments later.


    For some moments, Arran remained standing in silence, feeling a vague sense of unease at the situation. Though he hadn''t said anything unusual, he could not help but feel like he''d made a mistake.


    Then, with a shake of his head, he resumed his training.


    He trained until morning, relentlessly practicing the foundation he''d spent months carefully building ¡ª the foundation that had now finally grown strong enough to be of true use.


    Dawn was already approaching when he returned to his quarters and packed up his belongings. He put on his armor, too ¡ª now free of Rannoc''s mark ¡ª and then made his way to the courtyard, where he found Kaleesh already waiting.


    "Ready to go?" the captain asked when he saw Arran approach.


    "As ready as I can be," Arran replied.


    "Good," Kaleesh said. "Then let''s hurry and get out of here. From the way Raina''s son looked last night, I''d say he has half a mind of joining us. We''d best be gone before he decides to act on it."


    The thought had not yet occurred to Arran, but he did not doubt Kaleesh''s words. And so, they hurried in leaving the keep, quickly joining up with the troops who were already waiting outside.


    Barely half an hour later, as the sun''s first rays were peeking above the horizon, they had left the fortress behind and were once more marching to the west.


    "We should reach Sacrifice in under three weeks," Kaleesh said. "The first two weeks should be safe enough. But if Raina''s right, there''s a chance of running into Blightspawn after that."


    "That might not be a bad thing," Arran replied. "It could give us a chance to see what we''re up against."


    Kaleesh gave a broad grin in response. "My thoughts exactly."

 Chapter 380 The Road To Sacrifice

    "I don''t like it."


    There was a deep crease in Sassun''s brow as he looked at the series of diagrams Kaleesh had drawn in the sand. The diagrams all represented different battle formations prepared by the captain, ones he argued should be effective against Blightspawn.


    Sassun, however, was clearly less than pleased with the captain''s efforts ¡ª something he made no effort to hide.


    "I don''t like it," he repeated. "Each of these has you and Arran do all the fighting, while the rest of us do naught but hang back and scratch our backsides."


    Kaleesh gave a slight chuckle, then shook his head. "Your role is to finish off any wounded Blightspawn and prevent us from being flanked. I do not expect that will leave you much time to scratch your behinds."


    Sassun gave the captain a sour look. "It''s a waste, is what it is. Fifty strong men, and all you''ll have them do is cover you."


    "Waste of not," Kaleesh replied, "these are the tactics I plan to use. Should they fall short, I will adjust them." He glanced at the sky, then continued, "There are still some hours of daylight left. Let''s not waste them. Arran, you join us as well."


    With a small sigh, Arran stood up from the ground, then waited patiently as Sassun gathered the troops for the drills ahead.


    Nearly a week had passed since they''d left Lady Raina''s fortress, and every evening since their departure, the captain had made his troops spend hours practicing formations.


    Kaleesh had tried all sorts of tactics, but the ones he had eventually decided on had Arran and himself did most of the fighting, with the other mercenaries following behind to provide cover.


    It was a sensible strategy, Arran thought. With the gap in strength between them and the others, it only made sense to keep the mercenaries out of harm''s way.


    Not all of the troops agreed with that, of course. Even if they understood the captain''s intent, they were proud to a fault, and hiding behind their leaders carried a whiff of cowardice that few of them bore gladly.


    Yet in the Wolfsblood Company, Kaleesh''s word was law. And so, the mercenaries'' complaints notwithstanding, they practiced the new formations until well after the sun had disappeared behind the horizon.


    The days that followed were no different.


    The group no longer traveled nearly as fast as they had during the previous months, and each night, they made camp several hours before sunset, giving the mercenaries plenty of time to drill and practice.


    But even on the road, the captain no longer pushed his troops as hard as before. Instead, he allowed them regular breaks for rest and meals, and even entertained them with tales of past battles as they ate.


    Had the circumstances been different, the mercenaries would have rejoiced at the leisurely journey. But as it was, they all knew the truth ¡ª that this was their final chance to rest before battle.


    The landscape was pleasant, with grassy green hills that held large herds of cows and sheep. Underneath the bright sun and blue skies, it made for a rustic sight, and the region seemed as peaceful as any they''d encountered in their months of travel.


    Yet with a closer look, it was obvious that these lands were well-prepared for war.


    Even the smallest villages they passed were hidden behind tall walls, with watchful guards protecting their gates. And while the hills held plenty of herdsmen and farmers, there were nearly as many scouts to be seen, their eyes ever vigilant as they patrolled the region.


    And then, there were the groups of soldiers on the roads.


    The first of these, they met barely three days after leaving Lady Raina''s fortress. It was a large group of well over a hundred soldiers, led by half a dozen Rangers.


    The two groups'' leaders exchanged words only briefly, but Arran was surprised to discover that these Darians had traveled over a thousand miles. And when he heard that they all came from the same town, he could not help but feel some worry.


    To his eyes, the soldiers seemed little more than youths. They''d clearly received training, but it was just as clear that only the Rangers had any real experience.


    If such a group encountered any real enemies, he could not imagine it ending well.


    But as they slowly approached the Desolation, they met other groups more regularly. And it wasn''t long before Arran realized that the first group had been stronger than most.


    The smallest groups they encountered had no more than a dozen ill-equipped soldiers, and they were led by common soldiers rather than Rangers.


    Whenever the Wolfsblood Company encountered these groups, both sides would briefly come to a halt, their leaders exchanging words about the road ahead before continuing onward.


    The conversations were always short, but even so, Arran did not fail to notice that all but a few of the soldiers'' leaders spoke with a grim resignation, as if they had already accepted that many of them would not return.


    "How are these supposed to fight Blightspawn?" Arran asked as they left yet another group of Darians behind ¡ª farmboys all of them, with weapons that only barely deserved the name.


    "They''ll join other groups," Kaleesh explained. "There''s a city called Knight''s Watch, about a week''s travel from Sacrifice. The smaller groups will join up with others there, so that they can reach Sacrifice safely."


    Arran nodded in understanding. It made sense that the smaller groups would join forces ¡ª alone, they would stand little chance of survival. "Do you plan for us to take on any new allies?"


    "Perhaps," the captain replied. "Though with us being outsiders, I doubt there will be many candidates."


    Arran cast a brief glance at the group of soldiers behind them, then shook his head. "I wouldn''t be too sure of that."


    Some of the soldiers they''d met in the previous days had spoken to them with open disdain, and many had cast envious looks at their armor. Yet on the whole, most had treated them like equals ¡ª allies, even.


    "I think it''s different here," he continued hesitantly. "With the Blight this close, they don''t seem to care as much about us being outsiders. It might matter in the east, but here, we have a common enemy."


    Kaleesh whistled between his teeth. "It''s possible, I suppose," he said, though his voice carried more than a hint of skepticism.


    In truth, Arran wasn''t fully convinced, either.


    While the Darians they''d met in the west were certainly friendlier than those in the east, he knew that friendliness and respect were very different things. And whether they''d receive the latter remained to be seen.


    They continued their journey at a slow but steady pace, each step they took bringing them closer to the edge of the Imperium. And as they advanced, the towns and villages they passed grew sparser, with the few that remained becoming increasingly well-defended.


    This close to the border, there wasn''t a settlement to be found that didn''t resemble a fortress. Even the smallest villages had walls that could resist an army ¡ª for a time, at least ¡ª and the few towns they passed seemed every bit as impenetrable as Lady Raina''s fortress had been.


    They were barely two days'' travel from Knight''s Watch when they caught sight of a village roughly a mile down the road.


    "Perhaps we should take the chance to resupply," Kaleesh said. "With all these soldiers, I expect that prices in Knight''s Watch will be nothing short of extortionate."


    Arran nodded. "That seems¡ª"


    He stopped talking mid-sentence, as he suddenly Sensed something he hadn''t encountered in a long time. Magic. And though it only lasted for the briefest of moments, he had no doubt that it had come from the village.


    "Trouble ahead," he said in a low voice. "In the village."


    Kaleesh gave him a curious look, and for a moment, it looked like the captain was about to ask for more details. But instead, he raised his hand and gestured for the mercenaries to halt.


    "Sassun," he said, as the troops came to a stop behind them. "When was the last time you saw a scout patrol?"


    The commander considered the question for a few seconds, and as he did, his expression slowly turned ugly. "I haven''t seen any today."


    The captain smiled wryly. "Neither have I, come to think of it." He glanced at the village in the distance, then gave a small sigh. "Unless the Darians have given up on protecting their lands, it would seem we''ve run into an obstacle."


    "What do we do?" Sassun asked, a grim look in his eyes as he examined their surroundings.


    "I would suggest going around," Kaleesh said. "But¡­" His voice trailed off as he fixed his eyes on a distant hill, half a mile to the right of the village.


    Arran followed the captain''s gaze, narrowing his eyes as he peered at the hill. It took him a moment to spot what the captain had seen, but when he noticed it, a curse escaped his lips.


    Atop the hill stood several large figures. Blightspawn, he knew. And although they were too far away for him to see their faces, he had no doubt that the creatures had already spotted them, as well.


    "Two groups, then," Kaleesh said. "One in the village, and one¡ª"


    "Three," Sassun interrupted. "Look to the left, among the trees."


    Arran did as he said, and a moment later, another curse fled his mouth. Just as Sassun had said, several large figures were hidden among the tree line.

 Chapter 381 - A Storm Of Blood

    "Three groups," Kaleesh said. "If we''d gone a quarter-mile further, they would have flanked us from both sides. It seems these Blightspawn aren''t the mindless creatures I''d expected to face."


    Arran cast a wary glance at the small group of Blightspawn on the hilltop. "If they aren''t mindless monsters, there must be a reason they let themselves be spotted so easily."


    "It seems your studies have paid off," Kaleesh said. "They made little effort to hide themselves. And worse, they haven''t attacked us yet."


    "Worse?" Sassun gave the captain a puzzled look. "How is that worse?"


    "It means there''s a fourth group," Arran said in a grim tone. "Behind us."


    "Just so," Kaleesh confirmed, giving Arran an approving nod. "If the three groups ahead were the only ones, they could not afford to let us retreat. Even if they ran us down, one or two of us might escape and spread word of their presence."


    "Then what are they planning?" Sassun asked, frustration written plain across his face. "And what do we do?"


    "They intend for us to run," the captain said. "To flee whence we came, only to find our path blocked by more enemies. And as we try to fight our way through, these three groups ahead will attack us from behind."


    Despite their predicament, Kaleesh sounded more impressed than concerned, almost as if he was pleasantly surprised by their enemies'' strategy.


    Arran, however, did not share the captain''s appreciation of the carefully laid trap. Instead, he was more concerned with how they could escape it.


    The answer came to him after barely a moment of thought. "We''ll have to rush the hill."


    He''d studied the captain''s manuscripts well enough to know it was their best option. To destroy one of the groups before the rest could respond, and to seize a position the mercenaries could defend.


    The hilltop offered their best chance at that. It was barely half a mile away ¡ª close enough for the mercenaries to reach before the other two groups arrived. And once they took it, they''d have the high ground, which would be no small advantage.


    "My thoughts exactly," Kaleesh agreed. "The two of us will lead the charge. Sassun, your task is to hold off the other groups until the first is finished. Do not take any chances."


    Sassun gave a small nod, eyes already fixed on the hill to their right as he studied the terrain. A few moments later, he joined the troops and began to give them their orders.


    "Make it quick," Kaleesh called out to the commander. "I doubt our enemies will wait forever."


    Yet although his voice sounded almost cheerful, when he turned to Arran, his eyes suddenly lacked all trace of his earlier boisterous confidence.


    "We''ll need to work fast," he said in a low voice. "If these Blightspawn are as strong as Raina said, the troops won''t be able to resist them for long. Once the battle starts, every moment we waste puts their lives at risk."


    Arran nodded, now understanding that the captain''s lack of concern had merely been a facade, intended to bolster the mercenaries'' spirits. "You''ll take the lead?"


    "I will," Kaleesh replied. "I''ll do my best to break their ranks, so you can cut them down with that big sword of yours. And if any of the Blightspawn use magic, kill those first."


    It was an instruction Arran didn''t need. If he Sensed even the slightest bit of magic, he fully intended to slaughter the Blightspawn that used it instantly.


    At that moment, Sassun''s voice sounded. "We''re ready."


    Arran took a deep breath, calming his nerves for the battle ahead. Although he was confident of his own chances, he knew the mercenaries would face far greater danger. Whether they survived at all would depend on how fast he and the captain could defeat the Blightspawn.


    "It''s the burden of responsibility," the captain said, recognizing Arran''s troubled expression. "But you can''t let it weigh you down ¡ª not with battle ahead. Are you ready?"


    Arran nodded. "I am."


    "Then follow me."


    There were no further words from the captain. As soon as he finished speaking, he set off toward the hilltop in the distance, his sword drawn as he ran through the grass at an inhuman speed.


    Arran followed as best he could, but even so, Kaleesh pulled ahead almost instantly. Whatever Arran had learned of speed in months of training, it still wasn''t nearly enough to match the captain.


    The hilltop was half a mile away, but in less than half a minute, Kaleesh had already covered a third of the distance. And as he drew nearer, his speed only increased further.


    By now, the Blightspawn had clearly realized what was happening. More large figures appeared from behind the hilltop ¡ª a dozen, two dozen, and then even more. In moments, roughly forty of the creatures had appeared, their misshapen silhouettes standing out against the sky on the hill above.


    There was movement below, as well. In the distance, more of the creatures poured forth from the village''s gate, forming a group that was at least as large. And even further away, yet another group emerged from the tree line.


    Arran cast only a single glance at the latter two groups before turning his attention back to Blightspawn on the hill. The only thing that mattered now was to defeat those, and to do so as quickly as possible.


    Just a hundred paces now separated Kaleesh and the large group of Blightspawn, and as the captain charged, the creatures formed loose ranks, weapons drawn as they prepared to cut down the single attacker.


    Yet as they awaited the attack, Kaleesh''s pace suddenly quickened. His speed had been inhuman even on the approach, but now, there was an abrupt rush of movement so fast it seemed impossible, his body a blur as he charged straight into the ranks of the Blightspawn.


    In an instant, a fountain of blood gushed forth from the neck of one of the eight-foot creatures, and it collapsed to the ground a moment later. And even as the first abomination hit the ground, another lost an arm, and a third was pierced through the chest.


    Howls of pain and anger sounded from the giant creatures, their ranks collapsing into chaos as they turned around to chase the attacker who had cut through their ranks so easily.


    And as their attention was seized by the first attacker, most of the creatures seemed to have forgotten all about the second.


    Yet Arran was only moments behind Kaleesh. And while a handful of Blightspawn readied themselves for his attack, the others were still falling over each other as they tried to attack the captain.


    As he neared the Blightspawn, Arran had a moment to see that the creatures were every bit as monstrous as Raina had said. Easily eight feet tall, their skin was scarred and burned, stretched thin over grotesque bodies that bulged with unnatural muscle.


    And then, he was upon them.


    The first two Blightspawn died instantly, as Arran swung his giant sword in a devastating strike that tore through both their bodies and armor with equal ease. And the third fell just as easily, its skull crushed when its crudely forged helmet was hit by Arran''s blade.


    Yet a fourth Blightspawn came barreling at Arran immediately. He severed the creature''s sword arm at the shoulder before it could strike, but its massive body slammed into him an instant later, hitting with such force that he was knocked to the ground.


    As he hit the ground, a rough steel weapon came arcing down at his head. He narrowly managed to block it, then cut the attacker''s legs off at the knees before jumping to his feet again.


    But already, more of the creatures attacked, and he was forced to step back. Yet even as he retreated, the Blightspawn charged at him, attacking as fast as he could cut them down. And even with their bodies torn and rent, they continued to attack, trying to drag him to the ground as their blood gushed to the ground.


    It only took Arran a moment to recognize his mistake.


    He''d fought the creatures as if they were human opponents ¡ª more concerned with protecting their lives than defeating their enemies. But these creatures had no fear. They fought to kill, not to survive.


    Once more, Arran attacked. And this time, he tore through them with the fury of an enraged dragon, his blood-soaked weapon ripping through all the creatures that came within its range.


    He massacred his way through the group like a whirlwind of blood, leaving only carnage in his wake, the Blightspawn''s bodies mutilated beyond recognition where he passed.


    Still, they continued to charge him, howling in rage as they threw themselves upon his sword. And as they met their deaths, their blood-red eyes showed not even the slightest trace of fear.


    Yet now that Arran knew how the creatures fought, his advantage was too great for them to overcome. Strong though the monsters might be, they lacked skill and insight, their attacks relying only on strength and brutality.


    Twice, he Sensed Essence building within the Blightspawn, but each time, he cut the creatures down before they could use whatever magic they had.


    The battle was brief but brutal. Less than a minute after the Kaleesh had struck his first blow, the last of the Blightspawn in the group died, its body cleaved from neck to waist by Arran''s blade.


    There was no time to rejoice. As Arran killed the last creature, he saw that the second group of Blightspawn had already reached the mercenaries.


    With a single glance, he saw that the battle was not going well.


    The mercenaries had formed a line of spears, impaling any creature that came near. Had their opponents been human, the defense would have been impenetrable.


    Yet these creatures did not care for their lives, and they charged the line without hesitation, attacking the mercenaries without concern for the spears that tore through their flesh.


    Just in the few seconds it took Arran to reach the fray, two of the mercenaries. One was dragged to the ground by a dying Blightspawn, while the other had his throat torn out by a creature that charged up his spear.


    Enraged by the sight, Arran rushed forward, his blade ripping through his enemies as he struggled to get between the monsters and his allies.


    Any Blightspawn that came before him died instantly, their bodies ruined as he rained down devastating blows upon them. But even so, he could not stop all of them. And behind him, he heard the screams of his wounded allies.


    The sound fed his rage further, and he attacked the creatures with a bloodl.u.s.t that exceeded their own, his frenzied blows leaving a trail of devastation where he passed.


    Yet the Blightspawn were too many to be defeated easily. And although Arran destroyed any of them that attempted to use magic, two managed to get of magic attacks ¡ª dense balls of Fire Essence that struck the mercenaries'' line with devastating power.


    Arran had no time to think of the damage. All he could do was kill the creatures as fast as he could, tearing through their ranks with the fury of a madman.


    He did not know how long the battle lasted. But then, suddenly, it was over ¡ª the last Blightspawn had been slain, and the only sounds that remained were the cries of the wounded mercenaries.


    Arran turned to his allies immediately, and he was filled with shock when he saw the devastation the battle had wrought.


    Only half the mercenaries still stood, while the others were either dead or wounded. And even those who remained on their feet bore numerous injuries.


    Before he had a chance to fully take in the disastrous outcome of the battle, the captain''s voice sounded.


    "Leave the dead!" Kaleesh yelled. "Carry the wounded into the village! Now!"


    Arran''s confusion lasted only a moment. Then, he saw it ¡ª the fourth group of Blightspawn, less than two miles in the distance. And even from here, Arran could tell that there were at least two hundred of the creatures.


    There was no time to question the captain''s order. At once, Arran carefully picked up a wounded mercenary from the ground, doing his best to ignore the man''s groans of pain.


    The others followed close behind him as he hurried toward the village''s opened gates ¡ª the gates that had failed to protect the villagers.

 Chapter 382 - A Questionable Shelter

    Even before Arran reached the village''s opened gates, he was hit by an overwhelming stench, strong enough that he almost stopped in his tracks.


    He''d fought enough battles to recognize the foul smell immediately. It was the smell of death, and if it was this strong even here, he could scarcely imagine what horrors they would find behind the walls.


    Yet there was no choice but to continue. There were two hundred Blightspawn barely two miles away, and the village''s tall walls offered the only protection they would find for miles around.


    That protection hadn''t been enough to save the villagers, but there was no other choice. Outrunning the Blightspawn would have been a tall order for the mercenaries on the best of days, and with the number of wounded they carried, it was utterly impossible.


    Short of leaving the wounded behind, their only option was to seek shelter. And disastrous though the battle had been, leaving the wounded was a step Arran was unwilling to make.


    When he stepped through the gates, he saw at once what caused the unbearable stench that filled the area. And the sight of it filled him with shock.


    At the center of the village square lay a massive pile of mutilated corpses, large enough that it almost resembled a small hill. There were thousands of bodies, mangled beyond recognition, the pile that held them a tangled mess of blood and broken limbs.


    Arran knew at once that these weren''t just villagers. There were far more bodies than a village this size would hold. That could only mean the Blightspawn had been here for days, perhaps even weeks, massacring all soldiers and traders who passed.


    He stared at the pile of bodies for several moments before his daze was pierced by the captain''s voice.


    "Take the wounded to the temple!" Kaleesh shouted. "The rest of you, close the gates and man the walls!"


    Arran tore his eyes away from the mound of bodies, then hurried to a large building at the side of the village square that he knew must be the temple.


    When he stepped into the building, he saw that the main hall was filled with rubble ¡ª the remains of the Darian gods'' statues, which the Blightspawn must have smashed.


    He paid the broken statues no mind. Though Darians might have been outraged at the sight, Arran''s only thoughts were of his wounded allies and the horde of monsters that still threatened them.


    Carefully, he laid down the wounded mercenary he''d carried into the village. And as he did, he realized it was the lone borderlander who''d chosen to join them instead of accepting Rannoc''s offer.


    "Thank you," the youth said weakly, forcing a small smile to appear on his pale face. "I''d be dead without you. We''d all be."


    Arran quickly looked over the young man''s wounds, and was relieved to see that none seemed fatal. While the injuries were serious, they would heal with time.


    But then, time was exactly what they lacked.


    "I have to go check the gates," he said to the borderlander. "You stay here, and don''t move too much. The others will take care of you."


    There were several mercenaries already caring for the wounded troops who''d been brought into the temple, and Arran knew he could not linger. If the Blightspawn attacked, only he and the captain had a chance of repelling them.


    He hurried back outside without waiting for a reply, then quickly climbed the wall, where he found Kaleesh staring at the Blightspawn in the distance.


    "They''re not moving," the captain said as Arran approached. "I suppose they''ll wait for nightfall before they attack."


    "Then we have a few hours to prepare," Arran replied.


    "For all the good that''ll do." Kaleesh shook his head in frustration, and continued in a harsh voice, "This should not have happened."


    "But it did," Arran said. "Things rarely¡ª"


    "You don''t understand," Kaleesh interrupted him, his voice trembling with anger. "While you were wasting your time on Raina''s daughter, I found out all I could about the Blight. They''ve never attacked east of Knight''s Watch, and even in the Desolation, their groups never count more than one or two dozen. This¡ª"


    He took a deep breath, and the anger in his eyes faded. "This shouldn''t have happened," he said again, though his voice was weary now. "We''ve lost twelve men, and half as much again won''t make it to the morning ¡ª if we even last that long."


    "We''ll think about that later," Arran said. "Right now, we should search the village. I don''t think any Blightspawn remain, but we have to check. And we''ll have to find out how they got inside."


    "You''re right," Kaleesh said. "But first, take care of your wounds. If they attack, we''ll need your strength."


    "My wounds?" Arran looked at him in wonder. "I don''t have any¡ª"


    He stopped talking mid-sentence, as he realized that there were several wounds on his body. And although they were already healing, the carnage of battle should have provided the Blood Ruin with enough fuel to have healed even the most serious wounds instantly.


    And yet, that hadn''t happened.


    "Just take care," Kaleesh said. "You''re strong, but you''re not immortal."


    Without any further words, he set off to search the village.


    Arran remained standing in silence for several moments, only now realizing that the Blood Ruin seemed far weaker than it should be. Hundreds of deaths should have him reeling with power, but instead, what he felt was only a sliver of that.


    The power was more than he would have gained from his allies'' deaths, but far less than he should have seized from the Blightspawn that died.


    Briefly, he worried whether there was something wrong with the Blood Ruin ¡ª whether it had weakened somehow. If so, it would be a disaster.


    Yet before he could even finish the thought, he recalled that something else had been different, as well. In the heat of battle there had been no time to consider it, but now, he realized that he had only barely Sensed the Blightspawn as he was fighting them.


    He had clearly Sensed their magic when they used it, but other than that, it was as if they were shades, their figures somehow weak and blurry to his Sense.


    But they hadn''t concealed themselves with Shadow magic, of that he was certain. Had they done so, he would have known instantly.


    Moreover, they weren''t hidden from his Sense, exactly. Rather, it was like Sensing creatures that were only partly alive, their presence far weaker than their strength suggested.


    He sighed, then quickly set off to scour the village for any hidden Blightspawn. If nothing else, at least he now knew what to search for.


    The village was small enough that it took Arran and the captain less than half an hour to search every single inch of it. But no Blightspawn remained, and Arran found no gaps in the walls or tunnels into the village.


    What he did find were numerous weapons and a massive cache of supplies, all discarded like trash. Among the weapons were several starmetal swords, likely taken from Rangers who''d died to the trap. But why the Blightspawn had thrown them aside, he did not know.


    And either way, it made no difference. Right now, what the Wolfsblood Company lacked most were numbers, not weapons.


    When he met Kaleesh again atop the wall that overlooked the Blightspawn, the captain cursed in frustration. "Nothing," he spat. "Not even the slightest crack in the defenses, nor any sign that the walls were stormed. I can''t see how they got inside."


    "They must have entered before the villagers could close the gate," Arran said. It was the only explanation. The walls were high enough that if the Blightspawn had stormed them, there would have been signs of battle.


    Yet Kaleesh shook his head. "You''ve seen how these villages are. The guards never take their eyes off the gates, and the area around the village is completely clear. A group of Blightspawn couldn''t have reached the gates before they were closed. Unless¡ª"


    "There was only one," Arran said, knowing he''d just had the same thought as the captain. "One fast enough to get inside, and strong enough to defeat the guards alone."


    "A Reaver." Kaleesh spat on the ground, then let out another loud curse. "If there''s a Reaver with that group¡­"


    "Then the situation is worse than we thought." Arran was unable to keep himself from sighing deeply. "And it wasn''t good to begin with. Lady Raina said strong Reavers can match Knights, so both of us would be needed to hold it off."


    "Which would leave two hundred Blightspawn to slaughter the troops." Kaleesh cast a long look at the Blightspawn in the distance, then shook his head. "I have nothing. The walls will help us hold them off, but we are too few to mount a proper defense."


    "Get some rest," Arran said. "We still have a few hours before the sun sets. Perhaps you''ll think of a plan once you clear your mind."


    Arran knew Kaleesh well enough to know how heavily the deaths of his men would weigh upon his mind. But right now, the mercenaries needed their captain to find a strategy. If he lingered on the disastrous battle, a second disaster might well follow it.


    The captain looked as if he was about to object, but after a moment''s hesitation, he nodded. "I''ll go check on the wounded, first. After that, I''ll try to rest for a few hours."


    As Kaleesh made his way to the temple, Arran turned his attention to the Blightspawn in the distance.


    So far, they had shown no sign of moving, much less attacking. Most likely, the captain was right ¡ª they planned to attack after sunset, when the night would help them cross the walls unseen.


    If the Blightspawn charged in force, it would be all but impossible for the mercenaries to hold them all back. And if just one or two made it past the walls, opening the gate would be a simple matter.


    Arran could head out by himself and confront their enemies, of course. Doing so would mean he didn''t have to worry about the mercenaries, which would be no small advantage.


    Yet there might be a Reaver among the Blightspawn, and if Reavers were as strong as Knights, then his chances of victory would be poor at best. And worse, it appeared his Blood Ruin only barely benefited from the Blightspawn he killed.


    Still, the more he thought about it, the more he became convinced that something was amiss ¡ª that the creatures'' strange resistance to his powers was no coincidence.


    He was convinced that when the creature in the cavern had spoken of its brothers ¡ª the ones whose powers Arran supposedly carried ¡ª it had spoken of the Darian gods. If that was the case, there would be Darians who shared such powers.


    The church, after all, granted gods'' bloodlines to Darians warriors who earned them.


    Moreover, Arran knew that Knights, Lords, and Archons all possessed Living Shadow weapons. And although he didn''t know how strong a bond they shared with their weapons, he knew they could use their Sense at least to some extent.


    He''d witnessed this himself when he first arrived in the Imperium and an Archon effortlessly Sensed his starmetal ring.


    That the Blightspawn resisted both these powers could not be a simple matter of chance. They weren''t natural creatures ¡ª they were humans, deliberately twisted into monsters through foul magics.


    If the Blightspawn perfectly countered powers the Darians'' greatest fighters possessed, it would be by design, not by chance. Their creator had created them to resist the Darians, and in doing so, he''d also created creatures that could threaten Arran.


    Yet Arran wasn''t a Darian.


    Though he shared many of the Darians'' strengths, he also had something the Imperium lacked ¡ª magic. And if the Blightspawn had been created to fight Darians, then perhaps magic would be a more effective tool in defeating them.


    It took only moments before an idea formed in his head, and soon, a grim smile appeared on his face. His plan would be risky, but no more so than waiting for the Blightspawn to attack.

 Chapter 383 - A Sea Of Shadow

    Atop the village wall, with his eyes fixed on the Blightspawn in the distance, Arran spent several hours going over his plan, scrutinizing every last detail of it.


    Simple though the strategy he''d concocted was, he could not afford even the slightest oversight ¡ª and neither could his allies. If the plan failed, it would mean not just Arran''s death, but the death of the mercenaries as well.


    And so, with the burden of responsibility weighing upon his mind, he made certain to prepare for every single one of the many things that could go wrong.


    When dusk approached, he knew it was time. He''d prepared as best he could, and all that remained now was to inform the captain.


    As expected, he found Kaleesh in the temple, kneeling at the side of one of the wounded mercenaries.


    A single glance told him the young man would not live to see the morning. His face was deathly pale and covered in sweat, and the bandage that covered his torso was soaked with fresh blood.


    Worse, with every labored breath the young man took, there was a deep rattling sound, as unnatural as it was unsettling.


    Arran was no healer, but at a guess, he thought it meant the mercenary''s lungs were filling with blood. And so, he waited patiently as the captain softly spoke to the mercenary.


    Whatever small comfort Kaleesh''s words might offer the dying young man, he would not take that away.


    The wait was a short one. After only a few minutes, the rattling sound suddenly became heavier, jagged and unsteady as the young mercenary''s body struggled to take in air.


    Then, the sound came to an end.


    Kaleesh stood up and faced Arran, his expression somber. "Come with me," he said. "I have decided what we must do."


    They left the temple silently, and as they stepped outside, Arran gave the captain a sideways glance. "I see you didn''t take my advice."


    "I couldn''t rest," Kaleesh replied. "Not at a time like this. That boy¡­" He looked back at the temple, and when he continued, his voice trembled with anger. "He was stabbed below the arm, just above his armor. An inch lower and he would''ve been unharmed. But instead, he''ll never leave this damned place."


    Arran nodded silently. On the battlefield, even the slightest moment of bad luck could be a death sentence. But there was no point in lingering on that ¡ª not with the threat that lay outside the walls.


    "You said you had a plan?"


    "I do," Kaleesh replied. "The Blightspawn ¡ª they are too many for us to hold off. Even we withstand the first charge, more will follow. There is no way for us to win this battle."


    "Then what do you suggest we do?" Arran asked. Though he had a plan of his own, he''d listen to the captain''s, first.


    "When darkness falls," the captain began, "you lead the troops away. I will remain behind with those too wounded to travel. I can''t hold off the Blightspawn for long, but it should be enough for the rest of you to escape."


    "You mean to sacrifice yourself." Arran gave the captain a flat stare, then shook his head. "It won''t work. We wouldn''t be able to outrun the Blightspawn. And even if I were willing to leave you behind, the troops would not follow me."


    Kaleesh sighed, a resigned determination in his eyes. "There is no other way. We can''t defeat these Blightspawn ¡ª you know that as well as I do. If you run, at least you will have a chance of escape."


    "There is another way," Arran said. He glanced around to make sure none of the mercenaries were nearby, then continued in a lower voice, "I think I know how to defeat them."


    The captain gave Arran a puzzled look, but understanding dawned in his eyes only a moment later. "You plan to use magic?" he whispered. "If the Darians catch you¡ª"


    "They won''t," Arran interrupted him. "If there were any of them nearby with the power to notice it, we wouldn''t be in this mess. And whatever the risk, it''s better than your plan."


    Kaleesh remained quiet for some time. Finally, his brow furrowed in a deep frown, he asked, "Are you sure it will work?"


    "I''m not," Arran replied truthfully. "I''m confident that I can defeat the Blightspawn, but if there''s a Reaver among them, I don''t know how good my chances are."


    That, of course, was the weakness in his plan. He knew far too little about Reavers. He understood that they were stronger than Blightspawn and that they could use magic, but beyond that, he had little to go on.


    But then, the reverse was true as well. If there was a Reaver among the Blightspawn, the creature would not expect to face a mage, much less a mage like Arran.


    "Your chances?" Kaleesh gave Arran a concerned look. "You mean to go alone? Against a small army?"


    "It''s the only way my plan will work," Arran said. "But if things go as I intend, they''ll barely have a chance to fight back."


    The captain seemed unconvinced. He looked at Arran uncomfortably, and said, "Over the years, I''ve witnessed many mages do battle, but I''ve never seen one who could take on a group like that."


    Arran knew Kaleesh had good reason to be skeptical. While he himself knew several mages who were easily strong enough to defeat the group of Blightspawn singlehandedly, his own skill in magic was no match for theirs.


    But he did not intend for the fight to be a fair one. What he intended was murder, not battle.


    "You''ll have to trust me," he said. "And even if I fail, their numbers will be thinned enough that you''ll have a chance at escaping."


    After a moment of silence, Kaleesh gave a reluctant nod. "I suppose you know your powers better than I do. But be careful. Should your plan fail, flee at once. Don''t sacrifice your life for the rest of us."


    Arran did not point out that Kaleesh had intended to make such a sacrifice himself only moments earlier. By now, he understood how much the man valued his allies, and he knew it was one of the reasons the captain inspired such loyalty in his troops.


    Instead, he gave Kaleesh a reassuring smile. "I won''t take any needless risks," he said. "But you should head back to the gate. After today''s battle, the troops need you at their side."


    The captain looked as if he was about to object, but after a moment''s hesitation, he sighed, then gave a small nod. "If you think you can do this," he said, "then I will trust you. Be safe out there."


    As Kaleesh made his way back to the gate, Arran sought out one of the empty buildings within the village, where he stored his giant starmetal within his void ring. Useful though the oversized weapon might be for massed battles, tonight, he needed something different.


    Then, he raised a Shadowcloak.


    Casting the spell was instant and effortless. Months of practicing the Forms with Shadow Essence had strengthened his mastery to the point that using it came as natural as raising his hand, and now, even a complex spell like Shadowcloak barely even required a thought.


    The dense pool of Shadow Essence within his body made him a Master in name, but he was finally beginning to feel as if he''d become one in truth. A good thing, because he''d need every shred of that skill tonight.


    Veiled in Shadow, crossing the wall and leaving the village was a simple matter. Within minutes, he was already halfway to the Blightspawn camp, unseen by allies and enemies alike.


    Yet instead of moving onward and attacking immediately, he hid in a nearby thicket on the hillside that overlooked the assembled Blightspawn. And there, with his eyes fixed on his enemies, he waited for twilight to turn into night.


    Atop the wall, his initial thought had been to attack the Blightspawn with only the protection of his Shadowcloak. Against human enemies, it should be enough ¡ª to attack unseen, striking from the shadows at enemies who had no way to defend themselves.


    Yet he had not forgotten how Remnants could Sense even Shadow Essence, and as different as Blightspawn were from those creatures, he could not help but see a hint of similarity between the two.


    Remnants were natural creatures that had absorbed Essence over the course of countless years, their bodies slowly transformed until nothing remained of their original forms.


    Blightspawn, on the other hand, were humans who''d been forcefully infused with Essence, twisted into creatures that were no longer fully human.


    Different though the two were, they had both had been shaped and changed by magic. And if the Blightspawn were magical creatures, then Arran feared they might be able to Sense Essence.


    It was a small risk, but one he could not take. And so, he''d needed another plan.


    He''d considered attacking the creatures'' amulets rather than their bodies, as well. The seals within the amulets were strong, but not so strong that Arran could not break them. And if Lady Raina was right, breaking the seals would kill the Blightspawn.


    But he''d quickly rejected that idea. While he could break the seals on the Blightspawn''s amulets, doing so would be slow ¡ª far slower than striking the creatures down with his sword.


    Likewise, he''d rejected the idea of using magical attacks. If the Blightspawn had been wrought through magic, then he could expect them to have at least some resistance to it.


    Not to mention that his sword was a far deadlier tool than even his strongest magical attacks.


    But as he considered his trouble in detecting the Blightspawn with his Sense, another thought had come to him ¡ª a plan that should render the Blightspawn completely helpless.


    He waited patiently as the light of dusk faded and gave way to the darkness of night, all the while keeping his eyes fixed on the camp that held the Blightspawn.


    Then, when the last light of the sun had disappeared completely and only dim stars remained in the sky, he stepped out of the thicket. And as he did, he used his Shadowsight.


    After he emerged from the Shadow Realm, his sharpened Sense had meant there had been little reason to use it, and he''d almost forgotten about it. Yet when he realized the Blightspawn were hidden from his Sense, he''d considered using it again ¡ª and promptly realized it might have another use.


    Where his Shadowsight normally used only a thin mist of Shadow Essence, this time he produced a massive cloud of thick fog, hundreds of paces across and dense enough that not even the brightest light could pierce it.


    More than just the absence of light, it was an almost tangible blackness, nearly as thick as the oppressive darkness that had left him insensible when he first entered the Shadow Realm.


    Even with the dense pool of Shadow Essence his body held, it was an effort he could not maintain for long ¡ª perhaps half an hour, if that.


    But then, that should be all he needed.


    He moved toward the Blightspawn camp at a jog, the cloud of darkness that surrounded him moving along across the ground and blacking out everything around him. Thick as it was, it almost seemed like it stifled even sound, its darkness so complete that even darkest night seemed like a bright summer day by comparison.


    As Arran approached the camp, several cries of alarm sounded from the Blightspawn. His intuition had been correct, then ¡ª they could indeed Sense Essence.


    But it was already too late. The darkness was upon them before they could respond. And with it came Arran''s blade.


    The cloud of darkness was formed from Essence that Arran controlled, and while it left others completely blind, he could Sense even the smallest objects within it. And so, while the Blightspawn stumbled around blindly, every blow he struck took a life.


    A dozen Blightspawn died in as many seconds, their throats cut so perfectly that not even a sigh escaped their lips as their bodies collapsed to the ground.


    Yet rather than being pleased with the result, Arran creased his brow in thought. And when he struck again, his target wasn''t as fortunate as the Blightspawn that already lay dead.


    The attack was vicious, a single thrust deep into the creature''s chest. But although it was a mortal blow, it gave the creature some moments to suffer before bleeding out ¡ª enough time to alert the other Blightspawn with its cries of rage.


    The effect was exactly as Arran intended. Within moments, the creature''s howls drew its allies. And although Arran had already moved away, the Blightspawn attacked furiously, striking ahead with vicious blows ¡ª and hitting each other.


    The Blightspawn''s single-minded viciousness had helped them in the battle against the mercenaries, but now, it was their downfall. For each of them Arran that killed, they tore apart half a dozen of their own, blindly striking at everything within reach.


    Yet even as Arran kept striking the Blightspawn down while deftly avoiding any that came to close, his focus was on a single figure at the center of the camp ¡ª the creature he knew to be a Reaver.


    Unlike the other Blightspawn, it stood perfectly still, its body tense with concentration. Only twice did it move, each time to kill an enraged Blightspawn that had wandered too close. And when it struck, it did so with a ruthless efficiency that left even Arran in awe.


    Still, he did not worry. While the creature might be strong, the initiative was still his, and he did not intend to waste that advantage.


    He circled the Reaver silently, striking and wounding Blightspawn where he went. And as their cries pierced the darkness, others came running, drawn on a path that led them to the Reaver.


    As the Reaver killed more of its allies, its calm began to fade. Soon, Arran thought he saw traces of anger and frustration in its movements, as the creature was forced to kill its own troops again and again.


    Then, suddenly, the creature launched an attack ¡ª a dense ball of fire, its heat so intense that Arran could feel it as it soared half a dozen paces past him and burned through a handful of Blightspawn.


    Without the dense fog of Shadow, the fire would have lit up the sky for miles around. But now, its light was stifled instantly, penetrating the thick mist for no more than a single pace.


    More attacks followed the first, and each carried enough power that Arran knew the Reaver could easily match a Grandmaster''s strength in magic. Yet for all its strength, the Reaver attacked blindly, and the massacre it unleashed fell wholly upon its allies.


    And as the Reaver slaughtered its allies, Arran continued to circle the creature in silence, quietly hunting down the Blightspawn that still remained alive within the mist.


    Between Arran''s blade and the Reaver''s devastating magical attacks, it took only minutes before all the Blightspawn lay dead or dying, the howls of their wounded still filling the air.


    But the battle wasn''t won yet. The Reaver remained alive, and Arran had seen enough of the creature to know it was more dangerous than all the other Blightspawn put together.


    At a distance, its attacks were easy enough to avoid. But if he neared the creature, one of its blind attacks might hit him. And once the Reaver knew where he was, he had no doubt it would attack with devastating fury.


    He briefly considered taking the risk. With the Reaver blinded, it should be easy enough to land a single blow, and that was all he needed to kill the creature.


    But then, there was no need to take unnecessary chances. And more importantly, simply killing the creature would rob him of a valuable chance to learn.


    He took several steps backward, easily avoiding another of the Reaver''s magical attacks. And then, he concentrated his will, clenching his jaw in concentration as he forced the dense mist of Shadow Essence to condense.


    The effect was small at first, with the cloud of fog shrinking only the tiniest bit under the pressure of Arran''s will. But he did not let up, and little by little, the cloud of mist grew smaller and thicker.


    Rather than condensing it around himself, Arran forced it toward the Reaver, flooding the creature with Shadow Essence as if he was trying to drown it in a sea of darkness.


    Soon, the mist that had earlier stretched three hundred paces across spanned a mere hundred paces, and still, Arran did not relent. More minutes passed, and the cloud grew smaller still, the Shadow Essence thickening to the point where it was almost a liquid.


    Arran could tell that he was stretching the limits of his ability. To command Shadow Essence like this required not just perfect control, but also took every shred of willpower he had. And even so, he knew he could not maintain the effort for long.


    Yet as he struggled, he saw the effort was having an effect. Where the Reaver had earlier showed a perfect coordination, it now stumbled under the pressure, the Shadow Essence that was pushed into its body cutting off its senses and making it lose control of its limbs.


    This was something Arran himself had experienced when he first entered the Shadow Realm ¡ª the pressure of Shadow Essence invading his body and robbing him of his control.


    But where Karanos had stood watch over Arran until he regained his senses, the Reaver had no such protector. Instead, it had an enemy, and one who was in no mood to show even the slightest bit of mercy.


    When the dense darkness had shrunk so far it was only three paces across, the Reaver''s body suddenly went slack, collapsing to the ground like a puppet with its strings cut. And as the creature fell and Shadow Essence poured into its body, Arran could finally Sense what lay inside.


    The Reaver possessed a Fire Realm, of a sort. Yet where Arran''s own Realms were stable gateways, the creature''s Fire Realm more resembled a jagged tear, a forcible rip from which Essence poured forth.


    The only thing keeping it from consuming the creature was a seal that stretched through its body ¡ª the seal carried by its amulet, Arran realized.


    And as he observed the Fire Realm, a distant memory came to his mind. Long ago, when he had escaped the Academy prison, one of the people he''d freed had told him that using more Realm Opening Pills would risk making his Realms unstable.


    Although he hadn''t quite understood the man''s words back then, he''d avoided using Realm Opening Pills all the same. And now, he was glad to have done so. Because from what he could tell, it seemed that the tear within the Reaver''s body was a Realm that had been forcibly ripped open too far for the creature to control.


    He abandoned the thought almost immediately, however. The effort of concentrating the Shadow Essence around the creature''s body was too great to maintain for more than a few moments. Already, he could feel that his control was on the verge of slipping.


    And while the Reaver still lay senseless, there was one last thing he had to do.


    He approached the creature''s body in a hurry, then quickly cut away the straps that held its armor in place. And as he took the armor away, he found what he was looking for ¡ª a silver amulet, hanging from a thin cord around the creature''s neck.


    Arran reached out without hesitation, taking the amulet firmly in his hand as he cast a last look at the motionless Reaver.


    Then, he ripped the amulet away.

 Chapter 384 - Reavers End

    As soon as Arran had ripped the Reaver''s amulet away, he hurried two dozen paces backward. Then, without hesitation, he tore away the thick mass of Shadow Essence he''d used to subdue the creature.


    Freeing the Reaver was dangerous, but he knew it was necessary. He only had a single chance to witness how removing the amulet would affect it, and to see the full effects, he needed the creature to wake from its stupor.


    Still, the Reaver recovered faster than he could have imagined.


    The instant Arran removed the mass of Shadow Essence he''d used to subdue the creature, it sprang to its feet. And then, with a single leap, it was upon him, swinging its rough blade at his head even before it landed.


    The Reaver''s attack was as ferocious as it was powerful. It came at Arran like a starving wolf attacking its prey, charging at him without the slightest concern for its own safety. Within seconds, it had already struck a dozen vicious blows, each of them intended to kill.


    Yet Arran was prepared for the attack. He''d seen the Reaver''s strength when it was forced to kill its allies, and impressed though he had been, he knew he could match it.


    And so, he weathered the onslaught calmly. Vicious though the creature''s attacks might be, he deflected and parried them as they came, slowly retreating as his enemy struggled to close the distance.


    Lady Raina had said some Reavers could match Knights, but that wasn''t the case for this particular specimen. Though it was stronger than a Ranger, its strength and skill were no match for Arran''s.


    Moreover, as the Reaver completely ignored its defense, Arran had plenty of opportunities to land strikes of his own. After barely half a minute, the creature already bore half a dozen deep wounds.


    Yet it didn''t take long for Arran to realize that something was off. He''d initially thought the creature''s viciousness was like that of its Blightspawn allies, but now, he recognized that it was different.


    What he saw in the creature''s jet-black eyes wasn''t bloodl.u.s.t. Rather, it was fear. And what he''d taken for viciousness was actually desperation ¡ª desperation at retrieving the amulet, he realized.


    Still, he felt no sympathy for the creature. Not after the Blightspawn had taken the lives of over a dozen of his allies.


    He calmly continued to fend off the Reaver''s relentless attacks, slowly retreating as he parried each of its strikes. And although he had several chances to finish his opponent, he did not do so. Instead, he waited patiently to see what would happen to the creature without its amulet.


    The wait turned out to be a short one.


    If the Reaver''s attacks had been furious from the start, they soon grew frantic. Whatever skills the creature possessed, it seemed to have forgotten them completely in its desperation to take back the amulet.


    No longer did it fight like a trained swordsman. Instead, it attacked with a panicked rage, almost impaling itself on Arran''s sword as it blindly charged at him.


    Yet the enraged creature''s frenzied attacks achieved little. A lesser swordsman might have been overwhelmed by its fierceness, but Arran dodged the artless attacks with ease.


    Then, suddenly, the Reaver came to a halt, its giant body abruptly frozen as its black eyes went wide with terror. And as Arran looked at it, he saw a ripple go through the creature''s pale skin, as if the power within its body was on the verge of bursting through.


    At once, he hurried backward, putting several dozen paces between himself and the creature. If all the Essence within its body was unleashed at once, he had no desire to be next to it.


    Yet the eruption he expected did not come. Instead, the Reaver remained frozen in place, its skin bubbling and blistering as if it was being burned from the inside.


    The creature opened its mouth as if to scream, but despite its tortured expression, no sound came forth. Then, after several moments, it collapsed to the ground.


    Arran watched the Reaver with a deep frown, half expecting it to rise again. Yet no more movement came from the creature, and after a minute had passed, he knew it was truly dead.


    Still, he did not approach the creature''s body immediately. Instead, he stared at his fallen foe with a ponderous expression, forehead creased in a deep frown as he considered what he''d learned.


    The battle had not at all gone as he''d expected.


    For a start, the Reaver had lasted far longer than he''d thought possible. He had assumed the creature would die within moments of losing its amulet, but instead, it had fought on for several minutes.


    That could only mean that its resistance to the Essence within its body did not come solely from the amulet. Perhaps, Arran thought, it might even have some innate magical ability ¡ª though not enough to use magic after losing its amulet.


    It had proved more intelligent than he expected, too. While the Blightspawn were little more than beasts, the Reaver seemed almost human. Whatever had been done to grant it its powers, he had little doubt that its mind had remained mostly intact.


    And finally, it had seen through his Shadowcloak with ease. This wasn''t entirely unexpected, but it was a setback nonetheless.


    Effective though the thick cloud of Shadow Essence had been in blinding the Blightspawn, it would blind his allies as well. And worse, any Darian Knights would instantly recognize it as magic.


    Arran let out a small sigh, but then, he turned his attention back to the Reaver''s body. There might be things he could learn from it yet.


    A quick inspection was enough to show that the creature''s previously smooth skin was now covered in burns and blisters ¡ª no surprise, given the manner in which it had died.


    Yet what did surprise Arran was how closely the Reaver''s injuries resembled the scars on the Blightspawn. With a single glance, he knew the similarity wasn''t a coincidence. Whatever means had been used to create the Blightspawn, it was similar to what had killed the Reaver.


    His hopes of finding anything else, however, were soon dashed. Other than the amulet, the Reaver carried no magical items, nor did it have any scrolls or doc.u.ments.


    Still, Arran wasn''t too disappointed by the lack of results. He had already expected as much. Whoever had sent the Blightspawn into the Imperium had surely known they would be killed sooner or later.


    He spent another few moments checking the body to make sure he hadn''t missed anything, and when he was certain there was absolutely nothing to be found, he stood up and cast a long look at the battlefield.


    Though the battle had been easy, the devastation was no less for it. Hundreds of Blightspawn bodies littered the ground around him, and although most of them bore the razor-like cuts of Arran''s blade, more than a few had been burned and disfigured by the Reaver''s magic.


    Arran paid the dead bodies little attention, however. Instead, he sought out those few Blightspawn whose wounds hadn''t killed them yet, then swiftly ended their lives.


    He also gathered half a dozen iron amulets from the Blightspawn''s bodies. The rest would have to be gathered the next morning, but it wouldn''t hurt to study the amulets before that.


    Then, after a final look at his slain enemies, he dropped his Shadowcloak and set off toward the village.


    It had taken him less than an hour to defeat the Blightspawn, but he knew both Kaleesh and the mercenaries would be anxious for news.


    As far as they knew, the Blightspawn were still alive, ready to attack at any moment. And after the disastrous battle they''d fought earlier, he had no doubt that their spirits would be low.


    When he reached the gate, he would it well-guarded, with nearly a dozen mercenaries atop the wall and Kaleesh among them.


    The captain was the first to spot him. "Arran?" he called out, some suspicion in his voice. "Is that you?"


    "The Blightspawn are dead," Arran replied. "So there''s no need for you to sacrifice yourself tonight. Now open the gate and let me inside."


    It took some moments for the mercenaries to open the gate, and when Arran finally stepped inside, he found Kaleesh already waiting for him.


    "You succeeded?" the captain asked, his expression tense as he looked at Arran.


    Arran nodded in response. "I defeated the group that was preparing to attack us," he said. "None of them escaped. Still¡­" He cast a look at the gate. "You''ll want to keep some guards posted. I didn''t see any other groups out there, but that doesn''t mean there aren''t any."


    "Of course," the captain replied. With a curious glance at Arran, he continued, "But you barely look like you''ve been in battle at all. What happened?"


    "We can discuss that later," Arran said, casting a meaningful look at the mercenaries around them. "First, let''s get the gate closed."


    Several minutes passed before the gate was closed and the mercenaries had returned to their posts. Then, when they were finally alone, Arran and Kaleesh stepped inside one of the village''s abandoned houses.


    "So what happened?" Kaleesh asked as he sat down on a rickety wooden chair. "Was there a Reaver among the Blightspawn?"


    "There was," Arran confirmed, handing Kaleesh the silver amulet he''d taken from the Reaver. "Though it wasn''t as strong as I''d feared. But there''s something else we need to discuss."


    The captain gave the amulet a brief inspection before he put it down on the table and turned his attention back to Arran. "Something we need to discuss?" he asked, curiosity in his eyes. "What did you see out there?"


    "The Reaver," Arran said. "After I fought it, when it died¡­" He paused, then continued with a troubled expression, "I think there are stronger creatures in the Desolation. Far stronger."


    "Lady Raina told us as much." Kaleesh gave Arran a questioning look. "But from the worry on your face, I take it you learned something about those creatures?"


    "Not exactly," Arran replied. "For now, it''s only a guess. But from what I saw, I suspect that Reavers and Blightspawn are both failures."


    "Failures?" Kaleesh frowned in confusion. "What do you mean?"


    "Both Blightspawn and Reavers were created through magic," Arran explained. "Of that, I have no doubt. But I think their creator was trying to make something more powerful. The creatures we faced¡­ I believe they are the rejects, the ones who failed to become what their creator intended."


    At this, a hint of concern appeared in Kaleesh''s eyes. "What do you think their creator intended to make?"


    "Mages," Arran replied. "But ones with the physical strength to match their power in magic. Like Knights with the power of Grandmasters, or even Archmages."


    "Like you, then?" Kaleesh asked, his eyebrow raised as he looked at Arran.


    Arran shook his head. "Stronger than me. Probably much stronger. You see¡­" He paused for several moments, trying to find the words to explain it. Finally, he went on, "Both the Blightspawn and the Reavers were forcibly given their magical power, but I think that what separates them is that the Reavers better withstood that power."


    "But not completely," Kaleesh said, understanding now dawning in his eyes. "And you worry that there are ones who withstood it better."


    "Exactly," Arran said. He picked up the silver amulet from the table, and continued, "Both the Blightspawn and the Reavers need their amulets to control the magic in their bodies. But what if there are others who don''t need amulets at all?"


    "I don''t know," Kaleesh replied flatly. "You tell me. You''re the mage here."


    Arran gave him a cheerless smile. "I suppose I am, at that." He shrugged, and went on, "If there are others who can control that artificial power themselves, I imagine the difference between them and Reavers would be as large as that between Reavers and Blightspawn. Maybe even larger."


    Kaleesh made an ugly face. "Then they could be as strong as Lords."


    "Exactly," Arran said. "And if they''re created through magic, there could be many."


    A ponderous looked appeared on the captain''s face, but after some moments, he shook his head. "If there were such creatures in the Desolation, the Darians would have been defeated long ago. You might be right, but if so, those creatures should be far away from the border ¡ª farther than we''ll travel, at least."


    Arran knew Kaleesh was right. Even if the creatures he envisioned did exist ¡ª and he still wasn''t certain of that ¡ª they had to be far enough from the border that the Darians didn''t encounter them.


    Still, something about the thought left him uneasy. They shouldn''t have encountered Blightspawn this far east, either, but over a dozen mercenaries lay dead at the creatures'' hands nonetheless. And if the situation to the west was changing, a distant threat might prove closer than they expected.


    He sat in silence for some minutes, but finally, he let out a sigh and turned to Kaleesh.


    "So what are your plans?" he asked. "After today''s losses, do you still intend for us to travel to the Desolation?"


    "I do," Kaleesh said. "Tomorrow, we will bury the dead. After that, we will rest for some days before continuing to Knight''s Watch." He cast a look at Arran, then added, "At least, those among us who wish to continue."


    There was a hint of a question in his voice, as if he wasn''t certain whether Arran would stay. Yet although Arran was aware of the dangers that lay ahead, the thought of leaving hadn''t even crossed his mind.


    Leaving aside his loyalty to Kaleesh, he knew that for all its dangers, the Desolation still offered his best chance at learning the Darians'' secrets. And what he''d seen had only strengthened his resolve to learn as many of those as he could find.


    "We should recruit some Darians in Knight''s Watch," he said. "If we''re heading into the Desolation, we''ll need all the strength we can get."

 Chapter 385 - Newcomers

    Arran''s victory did much to lift the mercenaries'' spirits. Though none had said it outright, many among them had not expected to leave the village alive.


    But now, they knew they would live to fight another day.


    Still, they did not celebrate. Their losses were too great for them to feel any joy. And even had they wanted to celebrate, the village''s tall walls still needed defending. Because although Arran had slain the group of Blightspawn, other groups might yet be lurking out of sight.


    Yet no attackers came that night. And when morning finally arrived, Kaleesh split the uninjured mercenaries into two groups, sending one to gather the Blightspawn''s amulets and the other to retrieve their fallen allies'' bodies.


    They buried their dead in the small graveyard just outside the village walls. Kaleesh spoke some brief words for the fallen, but no more than that. Few of the mercenaries had a taste for sentimentality ¡ª they had seen too much battle for that.


    When they finally stepped back through the gates, Kaleesh cast a somber look at the hill of bodies that still filled the village square. "I suppose we should bury them, as well."


    Arran nodded silently. Burying the dead villagers wasn''t just a matter of respect, but also one of necessity. The stench of death in the village was already close to unbearable, and it would only grow worse with time. If they intended to remain in the village for several more days, that problem needed handling sooner rather than later.


    Yet disposing of the bodies was no simple matter. There were thousands of dead villagers, travelers, and soldiers ¡ª far too many to bury separately.


    After a brief discussion, they decided to dig a single large pit several hundreds of paces away from the village. Perhaps it wasn''t the burial the villagers deserved, but it was the best they could offer.


    Even that was no small task, however. By the time the mercenaries had dug a pit large enough to hold all the bodies, the morning was already nearing its end.


    Just then, as they were finally preparing to move the bodies from the village, one of the scouts Kaleesh had sent to keep watch in the area came rushing toward them.


    In an instant, the mercenaries readied their weapons. The previous day''s battle still fresh in their minds, there wasn''t a single one among them who hadn''t kept a wary eye on their surroundings as they dug the giant grave. And now, even a hint of trouble was enough to put them on alert.


    As he looked at the troops, Arran saw that they weren''t just ready for battle. Rather, they seemed eager for it ¡ª eager to take revenge for their fallen allies.


    Their thirst for revenge would have to wait, however. Because as the scout approached, he called out, "Soldiers approaching!"


    Darians then, rather than Blightspawn. Which meant they should be safe, at least for the moment.


    The scout came to a halt before Kaleesh some moments later, breathing hard as he faced the captain. "Darian soldiers," he said. "Roughly a hundred, with at least three Rangers. Ten minutes out."


    Only when he finished relaying the information did the scout finally take a moment to catch his breath, though his eyes remained fixed on the captain.


    Kaleesh scratched his chin in thought. "Anything unusual about them?"


    The scout shook his head. "Just common soldiers," he said, his voice calmer now that he''d had a moment to rest. "Didn''t look too experienced, either."


    "Then they should be on our side," the captain replied. "Still¡­" He cast a look at the mercenaries around them. "Form up behind me, in a loose formation. Don''t do anything unless I give the order. Arran, you join me."


    Arran did as told, though he couldn''t stop a frown from crossing his face. While he understood Kaleesh''s desire to be cautious, there was a tenseness in the captain''s voice he hadn''t heard before, a hint of concern that went beyond mere caution.


    It seemed Kaleesh had recognized this, as well. He gave Arran an uneasy smile, and said, "It can''t hurt to be prepared."


    "True enough," Arran agreed. "Especially out here."


    Still, he couldn''t help but feel some worry. There was plenty of reason for caution, of course, but he understood the captain well enough to know their losses had affected Kaleesh more than he let on.


    If that left the captain a little warier than before, it wouldn''t necessarily be a problem. But if his confidence had been affected, it could spell trouble ahead.


    They didn''t have to wait long for the Darians to arrive. Just a few minutes had passed when they saw the group appear in the distance, a long column of soldiers, with several supply carts trailing behind.


    The group did not approach the mercenaries immediately. Between the Darians and them still lay the hundreds of dead Blightspawn Arran had slain the night before, and when the soldiers saw those, a ripple of shock went through their ranks.


    Yet the shock lasted only moments. Then, at a greater pace than before, the soldiers hurried toward the group of mercenaries.


    As the Darians neared, Arran saw that there were three Rangers at the head of the column, two men and a woman. Each of them carried a starmetal blade, and they moved with the quiet confidence of experienced warriors.


    But while the Rangers were clearly experienced, the soldiers behind them were a different matter. They were young, barely more than youths, and the mere sight of the Blightspawn had left their faces ashen with shock.


    At a guess, Arran thought none of them had ever seen battle before. And if they had, it must have been against common bandits rather than Blightspawn.


    When the group of soldiers came to a halt before the captain, one of the three Rangers immediately stepped forward ¡ª a middle-aged man with leathery skin and black hair that carried several streaks of gray.


    "You were attacked by Blightspawn?" the Ranger asked in an urgent voice. "Here? East of Knight''s Fall?"


    "It certainly would appear that way," Kaleesh replied, barely even bothering to conceal his annoyance.


    The Ranger let out a curse, then asked, "Were there more?"


    "There were," Arran replied, speaking before Kaleesh could respond. He gestured at the hill where the mercenaries had fought the Blightspawn, the top of which was still covered in their foes'' bodies. "We defeated those, too."


    After a long stare at the hill, the Ranger shook his head in disbelief. "I''ve been to the Desolation three times, and I''ve never encountered a group even a fifth that size." He sighed, then faced Kaleesh. "Your losses must have been terrible."


    "We lost some good men," the captain confirmed, his voice softer than before. With a glance at Arran, he added, "But it could have been a lot worse."


    "You have my sympathy," the Ranger said. "My name is Arjun, and we are in your debt. Had those Blightspawn attacked us, I doubt any of my men would still be alive."


    They spoke for several minutes, and as the Ranger heard more about what had happened, a grave expression soon appeared on his face. When he was told that there had been a Reaver among the Blightspawn, his eyes widened in shock, and he looked at Arran with barely veiled awe when he learned who''d slain the creature.


    As Kaleesh finished relaying the details, the Ranger sighed deeply. "Khavya can help care for your wounded," he said, gesturing at the female Ranger at his side. "She''s no priest, but she''s a skilled healer. And I''ll have Mezrin carry word to Knight''s fall."


    The other Ranger gave him an uncomfortable look, but after a moment of hesitation, he nodded reluctantly. "I''ll travel as fast as I can."


    "Good," Arjun replied. He turned back to Kaleesh, and continued, "As for the rest of us¡­ If you''ll allow it, we will remain here until we know the road ahead is safe."


    "Allow it?" Kaleesh gave him a surprised frown. "None of us are Rangers. You have no need to ask for my permission."


    Arjun shook his head. "Rangers or not, you defeated the Blightspawn. That puts you in charge."


    "In that case, you''re free to stay." There was a hint of surprise in the captain''s voice, as if he hadn''t expected a Darian Ranger to accept an outsider''s command so easily.


    "You have my gratitude," the Ranger said. "I''ll have my troops bury the villagers. Your men have earned their rest."


    A few sighs of reliefs came from the mercenaries when they heard the Ranger''s words. Moving the massive pile of bodies from the village would be a deeply unpleasant task, and they were glad to let the Darians handle it.


    The soldiers accepted the task without objection. After seeing the dead Blightspawn, they were well aware that without the mercenaries, they would likely have shared the villagers'' gruesome fate.


    In the hours that followed, as the Darians moved the villagers'' bodies to the pit the mercenaries had dug earlier, three more groups arrived. Two of these were small bands of a few dozen soldiers each, with only a single Ranger between them, while the last was a large merchant caravan.


    Having seen the dead Blightspawn, none of the groups dared to continue onward by themselves. And so, when nightfall came, the small village was crowded with well over two hundred people hiding behind its walls.


    Somewhat to Arran''s surprise, most of the mercenaries got along well with the newcomers.


    The Darian soldiers were almost all young men and women, traveling to the Desolation for the first time, and they listened breathlessly as the more experienced mercenaries regaled them with stories of battle.


    Arjun proved to be good company as well. Experienced and unassuming, he readily shared what he knew of the Desolation with Arran and Kaleesh. And if it wasn''t quite as much as they might have hoped, it would still be invaluable in their travels.


    The Ranger''s tales confirmed to Arran what Kaleesh had already told him ¡ª just how unusual the attack they''d suffered had been.


    Not only were attacks east of Knight''s Watch completely unheard of, Arjun also explained that in years of traveling the Desolation, the largest group of Blightspawn he''d seen had only counted fifty of the creatures.


    "I''ve heard tales of larger groups," the Ranger added, "but they''re as rare as trees in the desert. And whenever such groups are discovered, multiple Knights are sent to hunt them down."


    Kaleesh listened with a thoughtful expression, a look in his eyes that made it clear the information did little to soothe his worries.


    That night, Arran and the captain inspected the village''s now well-manned defenses. And as they made their rounds, Arran turned to his companion and asked, "You think there''s change afoot in the Desolation?"


    "Has to be," Kaleesh replied. "An attack like this doesn''t happen without reason. It was well-planned, a targeted attack on one of the Darians'' main routes to the Desolation."


    Arran nodded slowly. "If it was part of a larger plan, there might be even more danger in the Desolation than we expected. It would be good to have allies."


    Kaleesh shot him a sideways glance. "You think we should let Arjun and his troops join us?"


    "If you offered, I doubt he''d refuse," Arran replied. "And we might find others willing to join, as well. You''ve seen the Blightspawn fight. We need the numbers."


    As effective as Arran''s magic had been against the Blightspawn, he''d rather avoid using the same strategy in the Desolation. Blackening the skies with massive clouds of Shadow Essence wasn''t exactly the subtlest use of magic, after all.


    Which meant they would have to rely on simpler means. And against enemies as vicious as the Blightspawn, few options were as simple or effective as having each of the creatures pinned down by half a dozen spears.


    Kaleesh, however, seemed unconvinced. "I''ll consider it," he said after a moment of silence, his expression still as ponderous as it had been earlier.


    Arran did not push the matter. It would take several days before their wounded would be fit enough to travel, which would give the captain plenty of time to reach a decision.


    By then, the Ranger Arjun had sent to Knight''s Watch should have returned as well, hopefully bearing news that the road ahead was clear.


    And if it wasn''t, at least they would have the numbers to face their enemies.

 Chapter 386 - A New Plan

    Over the next few days, as they waited for their wounded to heal and the Ranger to return, groups of Darian soldiers and merchants continued to arrive in the small village.


    There were some uncomfortable looks when the newcomers realized that the ones in charge of the village were outsiders, but none dared object.


    Outsiders or not, that Kaleesh and his troops had defeated the Blightspawn was undeniable. Hundreds of giant bodies proved that fact. And to those Darians who still had doubts, Arjun explained in unsubtle terms that bad behavior would not be tolerated.


    And so, even as the village filled to the point of bursting, the mood remained peaceful. Or, at least, mostly peaceful ¡ª with hundreds of young soldiers packed into a small village, the occasional scuffles and brawls were unavoidable.


    Arran saw little of this, however.


    It hadn''t taken long for word to spread that he was the one who''d defeated the Reaver, and whenever he left the house he and Kaleesh had taken for themselves, he was immediately accosted by young men and women who begged him for training.


    He obliged them more often than not. There was little to do but wait inside the village''s tall walls, and although there was little challenge in sparring against the Darian soldiers, he was glad for the diversion all the same.


    After one of these training sessions, Arjun approached him. The Ranger had watched Arran instruct the soldiers, and there was a curious frown on his face as he came forward.


    "Your style is unusual," he said. "Your foundation is unlike any I''ve seen before, but you''ve clearly had Darian training, as well."


    Arran nodded. "I''ve received instruction from several Knights, but only a few weeks'' worth. I have yet to study Darian techniques properly."


    "Only a few weeks of instruction?" Arjun gave him an incredulous look. "If you don''t mind, perhaps we could spar for a few rounds. I''m curious to see your techniques for myself."


    "Of course," Arran replied. He could not blame Arjun for doubting his words. His progress in the Darian style had been helped by his true insight and his training in the Forms, but for someone who''d spent decades studying the same style, the achievement must seem completely impossible.


    They calmly took positions some two dozen paces apart, then calmly drew their weapons as they faced each other.


    As they prepared to do battle, it took only moments for a large circle of onlookers to form around them. To the young soldiers, the chance to see a Ranger fight the outsider who''d slain a Reaver was something they wouldn''t miss for the world.


    Arran felt some curiosity as well. He knew his opponent was far more experienced than most of the Rangers he''d faced, and although he was confident that he would win, he still hoped he might learn a thing or two from the match.


    The first to attack was Arjun. The seasoned Ranger came at Arran in a controlled charge, and when just a few paces separated them, he suddenly lunged forward and launched a series of powerful blows.


    Parrying the attacks took Arran more effort than he''d expected. While it was instantly clear that his opponent couldn''t match him in either strength or speed, the Ranger''s depth of experience was equally obvious. And with Arran restraining his strength, they exchanged blows for several moments before the Ranger finally took a step back.


    "You''re skilled," Arjun said, some surprise in his dark eyes. "More so than I expected."


    "You''re not too bad yourself," Arran replied with a grin. Outside of the Knights he''d met so far, the Ranger was by far the most skilled Darian he''d faced in the Imperium. Had the man matched his strength and speed, he could have been a real threat.


    But as it was, Arran held the upper hand in every way. His skill and experience were only slightly ahead of his opponent''s, but his physical power was in a different class altogether.


    And so, although Arran did his best to restrain his strength, after half an hour of sparring the Ranger finally lowered his sword, his breath ragged from the exertion.


    "You win," he said in a voice loud enough for all to hear. "Though you would''ve won a lot sooner if you hadn''t held back."


    At this, several gasps sounded from the audience that had gathered around them. Inexperienced as they were, the soldiers had believed the two fighters evenly matched. But now, they were told they''d seen still only a sliver of Arran''s real strength.


    Arran knew this was no accident. The Ranger''s words were intended for the audience rather than his opponent ¡ª to impress upon the soldiers the magnitude of Arran''s power.


    "Why did you do that?" he asked as the two left the soldiers behind, brow furrowed in a frown.


    "I can''t have them think a mere Ranger''s strength is enough to defeat a Reaver," Arjun replied. "If they believe I can match you, they will underestimate the danger."


    Arran nodded slowly. "Fair enough," he said. "Though you easily have the skill. It''s just your strength that is lacking. How come?"


    "Our town is a poor one," the Ranger said with a slight sigh. "We don''t have the resources to advance as quickly as others."


    "But you''ve traveled into the Desolation and fought the Blight." Arran looked at the man in confusion. "Don''t you get rewards for that?"


    This time, a wry smile appeared on the Ranger''s face. "We do. It''s why I''ve made the journey three times already. But without a strong enough protector, I''ve had no choice but to join other groups. And the strong have little reason to be generous toward the weak."


    "Be generous?" A frown crossed Arran''s face, but then, his eyes widened in understanding. "You mean the rewards go to the groups? And the groups'' leaders decide who gets what?"


    He almost smacked himself upside the head for not realizing it earlier.


    When Kaleesh had told him the Darians formed larger groups to travel into the Desolation, he''d assumed that they would be treated fairly. But now, he realized how easy it would be for the groups'' leaders to take advantage of their positions.


    "Exactly," the Ranger said. "Dangerous as the Desolation is, nobody wants to be in a group without at least a few dozen strong Rangers, or better yet, a Knight. But groups like that favor their own, and the rest of us have to make do with the scraps they throw us."


    Arran cast a thoughtful gaze at the Ranger. "Is that why you''re interested in joining us?"


    Though Arjun had not said it outright, his actions made it all too clear what his intentions were. He''d treated Kaleesh and Arran with the deference expected of a commander, while taking care to be useful without being servile.


    The Ranger smiled in response. "It is. My hope is that you, as outsiders, will be more evenhanded in sharing the spoils of battle. That my men and I won''t have to watch some Lord''s son take the rewards that our blood has earned."


    Arran hesitated, but only for a moment. "I can speak to the captain," he said. "But I can''t guarantee anything. His fairness is beyond question, but I don''t know whether he''ll agree to take any Darians into our group."


    At this, Arjun gave him a puzzled look. "He doesn''t mean for you to enter the Desolation by yourselves, does he? Even if you''re strong, for a group as small as yours to enter alone would be madness. Each battle would leave you weaker than the last. After a year¡­"


    He didn''t finish the sentence, but Arran knew what the Ranger was thinking. Even if they encountered no more groups of Blightspawn as large as the one they''d faced here, the creatures'' viciousness made it all but impossible to avoid losses.


    Of course, he knew what Kaleesh had intended, as well. Rather than relying on numbers, the captain had wanted to rely on strength. That''s why he had only taken as many of the mercenaries as he could equip with starmetal armor, and only those with the power to defend themselves.


    A small group like theirs could strike fast and hard, sowing shock and terror among the enemy ranks by quickly inflicting grievous losses, then defeating the remaining enemies as they struggled to escape.


    Yet by now, it was obvious that the captain''s original strategy had failed. Though their group would easily defeat even hundreds of common soldiers and Rangers, the Blightspawn were different.


    They were too strong and vicious to be deterred by a wall of armored spearmen. Even faced with certain death, the creatures charged without wavering, their attacks only coming to a halt when they were all defeated.


    Enemies like that could not be routed by even the most terrible losses. And if a dozen Blightspawn died for every mercenary, the creatures would make that sacrifice without hesitation.


    That meant the captain''s tactics were doomed to fail against the Blight. What they needed were numbers ¡ª enough troops to overwhelm their enemies.


    Arran cast a look at the soldiers who filled the small village''s streets, then turned back to the Ranger. "I''ll talk to him."


    Whether Kaleesh liked it didn''t matter. The truth was that they had no choice. And if numbers were what they needed, then Arjun and his troops would be a good start.


    Unwilling to let the matter rest any longer, he made his way to the house he shared with Kaleesh immediately. A decision had to be made, and delaying it would only rob them of opportunities.


    When he arrived at the house, he found Kaleesh engaged in a game of stones with Sassun. From the look of it, the captain was only a move or two away from winning.


    Kaleesh raised an eyebrow when he saw Arran enter. "Had enough of the soldiers'' attention?"


    "We need to speak," Arran replied. "Now."


    "Very well," the captain said, gesturing at an empty wooden chair. "Take a seat, and tell us what has you so worked up."


    Arran sat down, then recounted everything the Ranger had told him ¡ª how the Darian groups favored their leaders'' allies, and how the less fortunate soldiers and Rangers were left with only scraps to show for their efforts.


    When he finally finished, Kaleesh sighed. "The Imperium never fails to find new ways to disappoint me," he said, voice filled with disgust. "But even so, I don''t see how this changes the situation."


    "It means they''ll be loyal," Arran replied. "That''s your biggest concern, isn''t it? That any Darians we recruit will betray us the first chance they get?"


    He''d long come to understand that Kaleesh placed little trust in the Imperium and its people. Though admittedly, he''d seen just as little reason to trust the Darians himself.


    "It''s a concern I have," Kaleesh acknowledged. "One of many."


    "If we recruit the weaker groups," Arran began, "the ones who''d be left to fight over scraps without us, just treating them fairly will win us their loyalty."


    "Perhaps," the captain replied. "But then, most of them will be useless. To make a difference, we''d need to recruit hundreds, maybe even thousands. An entire army. Which means we''d move slowly, and attract many enemies. And¡ª"


    "Arran is right."


    Unexpectedly, the one who had spoken was Sassun. The dour-faced commander rarely spoke, and to hear him disagree with the captain was as rare as seeing the sun at night. But now, he spoke in a firm voice that demanded the others'' attention.


    "He''s right," Sassun said again. "The original plan won''t work. Those beasts tore through our ranks like wolves through sheep. Another few fights like that, and it''ll just be the two of you left. We need more men. And if an army is what it takes, there''s nothing for it but to build one."


    "Huh." Kaleesh shot Sassun a surprised look, his expression quickly turning ponderous. Yet after several minutes of silence, he finally said, "I suppose it has a certain ring to it¡­ the Wolfsblood Army. Perhaps I''ll have to start calling myself a general."


    Like that, the matter was decided. As rarely as Sassun spoke, when he did open his mouth, his words carried no small amount of weight.


    Arjun received the news with visible joy, which only increased further when he learned that he and the Rangers in his group would be given the starmetal armor of three of the fallen mercenaries.


    Valuable though the armor was, without anyone to wear it, it was nothing but a burden ¡ª and a heavy one, at that. And so, it had taken Kaleesh no time at all to decide that any Rangers who joined them would be given proper equipment.


    He might have been hesitant in accepting Darians as his allies, but once they were, he would treat them no less than the others.


    In the day that followed, several of the other groups in the village asked to join as well, their enthusiasm doubtless fanned when they saw the armor that Arjun had received.


    Yet eager though they were to join, Kaleesh refused all but two of them. In the end, the only groups he welcomed were one that counted only three dozen soldiers led by a single ill-tempered Ranger, and another that counted two dozen soldiers and no Rangers whatsoever.


    The decision caused both confusion and discontent among the rejected groups, but Arran knew at a glance why the captain chose as he did. Unlike the other groups, the ones he chose were those with experienced leaders and disciplined soldiers.


    While the Wolfsblood Army had only just been formed, he already had a good idea of the kind of army the captain would forge. And unless he was sorely mistaken, it would soon be a force to be reckoned with.


    Then, after four long days of waiting, an excited shout finally came from the walls.


    "Soldiers! From Knight''s Watch!"


    Arran had been in the middle of a sparring match against one of the mercenaries, but when the guard''s voice sounded through the village, both his opponent and the sizable audience around them instantly forgot about the fight. At once, they rushed over to the far gate, eager for word from Knight''s Watch.


    Arran, however, did not hurry. Rather than rush to the gate, he calmly made his way to the house he shared with Kaleesh, where he found the captain joined by both Sassun and Arjun, with the latter two engaged in what appeared to be an even game of stones.


    "We have visitors from Knight''s Watch," he announced. With a glance at Arjun, he added, "It seems your man made it safely."


    "Finally," Kaleesh said, a broad smile appearing on his face. "We''ll have to go take a look, then."


    The four of them set off toward the gate at once, though they did not hurry in doing so. After days of waiting, a few minutes would hardly make a difference.


    When they arrived at the gate, they found it already crowded with people, soldiers and merchants alike struggling to get a glimpse of the newcomers.


    "Step aside, please," Kaleesh said in a pleasant tone, though his voice was almost completely drowned out by the noise of the crowd.


    "The captain said step aside!" Sassun''s voice thundered an instant later, loud enough that the crowd went silent in an instant. And this time, the mass of people parted within moments, fear of offending the captain and his men quickly winning out over their curiosity at the newcomers.


    Arran and the others stepped out of the gate a moment later, and when they did, even at a distance he saw at once that the people approaching them were no soldiers.


    At the front of the group was a female Knight, clad in armor that was made from starmetal and leather, with a slender sword at her side. And behind her followed two dozen people, all but one of them Rangers in uniforms and armor.


    The final Ranger, Arran saw, was the man Arjun had sent out several days earlier. And rather than looking relieved, he seemed more than a little tense.


    Yet Arran''s eyes almost immediately wandered to one of the Rangers. It was a young woman, barely more than a girl, and as he looked at her, she seemed strangely familiar.


    He stared for several seconds as the group approached, but then, his eyes suddenly went wide. "Negin?" he said in a soft voice, now recognizing the girl he''d met on the ruined battlefield over a year earlier.


    Recognition dawned in her eyes as well, but before she could speak, the Knight''s voice sounded.


    "Who''s the one that killed the Reaver?"


    At the sound of the woman''s voice, Arran''s eyes went even wider than before. And as he turned his eyes back to the Knight, he could not stop a loud curse from escaping his lips.

 Chapter 387 - An Old Friend

    A curse escaped Arran''s mouth as soon as he recognized the Knight. He''d only seen her once before, but as he looked at her, he knew immediately who she was ¡ª the woman he''d met in the ruined battlefield at the edge of the borderlands.


    Dark-eyed and sharp-featured, she was just as beautiful as he remembered ¡ª and every bit as terrifying, too.


    While she was neither particularly tall nor unusually muscular, her movements held a casual tension that hinted at barely veiled power, as if she could unleash a devastating attack at any moment.


    Arran had already noticed this the first time he met her, but now that his insights had grown, he was startled to discover that her strength was even greater than he had realized.


    Knights were shockingly strong to begin with, but Arran now understood that this woman was a monster even among Knights. And this terrifying woman was the Knight whose invitation he had spurned.


    He couldn''t help but grimace at his misfortune. Of all the Knights in the Imperium, the one who had arrived was the one he was least eager to meet.


    Yet while Arran''s face held a pained expression, there was a flash of amus.e.m.e.nt in the woman''s eyes when she saw him. "Is that how you greet an old friend?" she asked, a hint of mockery in her tone.


    Arran smiled wryly. Though he had cursed under his breath and the Knight was still at least twenty paces away, it was clear that she had heard him.


    "Apologies, Lady Merem," he said in a resigned tone, glad that he at least still remembered her name. "I did not expect to meet you here."


    "I can tell," she replied, a slight smirk on her lips. Her eyes briefly wandered over the crowd that had formed in front of the village gates, and then turned back to Arran. "I assume you are the one who slew the Reaver?"


    "I am," he confirmed. There was no point in denying it. There wasn''t a soldier in the village who hadn''t heard about his achievement, and none of them would dare to hide the truth from a Knight.


    Yet unexpectedly, before the Knight could respond, Kaleesh spoke up.


    "Lady Knight," the captain began, an ingratiating smile on his face, "while it''s true that Arran killed the Reaver, the rest of our group played no small role in defeating the Blightspawn. Only through our combined efforts did we overcome the monsters."


    Although it appeared as if the captain was trying to claim part of the glory for himself, Arran knew the truth: Kaleesh was trying to obscure the fact that Arran had singlehandedly defeated the largest group of Blightspawn.


    For an outsider to defeat a Reaver was no small feat, but to battle hundreds of Blightspawn at the same time was a different matter altogether. Something like that was bound to arouse suspicion if word spread.


    Of course, the captain had taken care to keep the truth hidden from the Darians soldiers in the village, which he achieved by spreading dozens of rumors that were even more outrageous than the actual battle.


    Bored as they were, the soldiers had spread these tales eagerly, embellishing them further with each retelling. Even if one of the mercenaries spilled the truth, by now his tale would just be one among many.


    Yet faced with a Knight who wasn''t so easily fooled, it seemed the captain had opted for a more direct method of deception.


    The Knight gave Kaleesh a curious look. "You must be the outsider who helped cause the mess in the east. I will deal with you later." Without giving the captain the chance to say anything else, she turned her attention back to Arran. "Show me the battlefield."


    A chill went down Arran''s spine. He''d held a sliver of hope that her presence was just an unlucky coincidence, but if she recognized Kaleesh, there could be no doubt that she''d come for a reason.


    Still, he had no choice but to follow her order. He had already offended her by ignoring her invitation, and he was in no hurry to discover what would happen if he provoked her any further.


    "Of course," he said. "It''s on the other side of the village. I''ll show you the way."


    "Be quick about it," the Knight replied curtly. Then, with a glance at the people gathered around them, she said in a louder voice, "The rest of you will wait for us in the village."


    While the words caused some disappointed looks among the soldiers and Rangers, none dared question her commands. In the Imperium, a Knight''s power was enough to grant near-absolute authority.


    And so, barely a few minutes later, Arran found himself alone with the Knight as they made their way to the field where he''d battled and defeated the Blightspawn.


    When they were a few hundred paces from the village, the Knight gave Arran an appraising look. "You rejected my offer," she said matter-of-factly. "Why?"


    It was a question Arran had expected, and he replied at once. "I don''t like to owe debts. Especially to strangers."


    "Foolish pride." The woman gave a disapproving sigh. "I offered you an opportunity that most Darians would give their left hand for, yet you chose to waste your time in the east, even getting involved in the Lords'' petty squabbles."


    "An opportunity?" Arran raised an eyebrow. "You never told me what you were offering. And even if I did, why would I stake my future on a stranger''s charity?"


    He had already decided that there was no point in trying to grovel. Not only did he have little talent for flattery, he also doubted that it would accomplish much with this woman. So far, he''d seen little to suggest that she would be swayed by honeyed words.


    His words seemed to take the Knight by surprise. "You wonder what I was offering?" Her expression turned thoughtful, and then, much to Arran''s surprise, she laughed. "I suppose it makes sense that an outsider wouldn''t know."


    Arran looked at her in puzzlement. "Know what?"


    "That I am an Imperial Knight."


    There was a meaningful pause after the Knight''s words, and she looked at Arran expectantly. It was clear that she expected some sort of response.


    Yet the reaction she hoped for did not come. Instead, all Arran offered was a blank stare. He knew that Imperial Knights were exceptionally talented Knights who worked directly for the Imperator, but he had little idea of how that related to his position.


    Seeing his nonplussed expression, the woman frowned, a hint of frustration in her eyes. "It appears you still have much to learn about the Imperium."


    Arran gave her an apologetic shrug. "I haven''t had much opportunity to learn. Most of my time in the Imperium has been spent in the mines and on the road."


    "Then let me explain," she said. "We are the vanguard that protects the Imperium from the Blight. While the Lords and Archons squabble over power and influence, we serve the Imperium, striking down the enemies who seek to destroy us all."


    Pride shone in her eyes as she spoke, and she continued in a more forceful voice, "We are the elite, the backbone of the Imperium. Without us, the Imperium would crumble like a castle built from sand. But as long as we remain, the Imperium shall persist."


    Passionate though her speech was, Arran couldn''t help but frown. "So what does that have to do with me?"


    She faced Arran with a severe expression. "What I gave you was an invitation to become one of my apprentices ¡ª an invitation to start on the path toward becoming an Imperial Knight. The opportunity to join our ranks and gain power you cannot even begin to understand."


    Had Arran been the common mercenary he pretended to be, perhaps he would have been awed by her words. But he had battled dragons, faced self-proclaimed gods, and witnessed the last breaths of a dying world. And so, his eyes remained calm as he faced the Knight. Even if he''d missed out on a valuable opportunity, it wasn''t a disaster.


    "But, of course, you refused my invitation," she went on. "And so, I was forced to choose another apprentice."


    "Negin," Arran guessed, now understanding why the girl had been among the Rangers who arrived at the village.


    The Knight nodded. "It was her willpower that persuaded me, but¡­" She narrowed her eyes as she peered at Arran. "Her strength has grown faster than I thought possible. Much faster."


    Arran felt a surge of unease at her words. He had granted the girl the Blood Ruin to save her life in the ruined battlefield, but he hadn''t expected that she would become an Imperial Knight''s personal apprentice. And now, from the look in the woman''s eyes, he knew she had suspicions ¡ª and perhaps more than that.


    Fortunately, however, they had just reached the area where he had battled the Blightspawn, and he quickly took the opportunity to change the subject. While he''d still have to deal with her suspicions, at least that would buy him some moments to come up with a plan.


    "We''re here," he said, gesturing at the field before them.


    The gesture was unnecessary. Hundreds of corpses littered the ground ahead, the Blightspawn''s oversized bodies already bloated with rot. And accompanying the gruesome sight was the equally horrifying smell of death, strong enough that it almost made Arran gag in disgust.


    The Knight stared at the battlefield for some time. "It must have been quite a battle," she finally said in a soft voice, though her expression did not betray even a hint of her thoughts.


    Arran merely responded with a silent nod, already wondering whether the Knight had recognized that these Blightspawn had been defeated by a single person.


    At this point, there was little evidence left. The Blightspawn''s bodies were already beginning to rot, and the ground had been trampled by the mercenaries and soldiers who''d looted and searched the battlefield.


    Moreover, most of the wounds on the Blightspawn''s remains weren''t caused by Arran''s blade. In the chaos of battle, many of them had fallen to their allies'' weapons, and no small number had been burned to cinders by the Reaver''s magic.


    Yet although the battlefield''s secrets were well-hidden, Arran did not feel reassured. Not with this woman at his side.


    Had she been a normal Knight, there would have been no reason to worry. As strong as Knights were, he had some idea of their perception and insights, and neither of those should allow them to learn much from the chaotic scene around them.


    But the woman who accompanied him was different. And if her perception matched the power he suspected she had, then she might well notice things that others would miss.


    He silently cursed himself for not doing a more thorough job in destroying the evidence. That had been a deliberate choice, of course ¡ª for the mercenaries to spend a day burning the Blightspawn''s bodies would certainly have raised questions ¡ª but now, he began to wonder whether his choice was the right one.


    Yet if the Knight saw anything that aroused her suspicion, she did not say so. Instead, she quietly examined the scene for several minutes, then finally looked up. "Show me the Reaver''s body."


    Arran did as she said, quickly finding his defeated enemy''s mangled corpse at the center of the Blightspawn remains. "This is it," he said when he found it, pointing at the Reaver''s decapitated body.


    When the Knight saw the corpse, a frown crossed her face, and she gave Arran a surprised look. "You removed its amulet before you killed it?"


    Arran nodded. "I wanted to see what would happen. I was told that removing their amulets would kill them."


    The woman looked at him thoughtfully. "A reasonable thought, though you will have discovered that it''s pointless. Even without their amulets, Reavers can still last for minutes ¡ª and some much longer than that. It''s far easier just to kill them outright."


    "So I''ve noticed," Arran replied. Mere seconds were enough to decide a battle, and minutes might as well be centuries.


    Some time passed as the Knight inspected the Reaver''s body and the area around them, with Arran looking on impassively. Whatever she would discover, it was too late to hide anything now.


    Finally, when the Knight finishing studying the Reaver''s corpse, she turned back to face Arran. And this time, there was a knowing look in her eyes that instantly told Arran he had a problem.


    "It seems that bloodline of yours is even stronger than I expected."


    Arran felt a chill in his heart at her words. His magic might be his biggest secret, but the Blood Ruin was no less important. And in the Imperium, it might well be every bit as dangerous.


    But panic would not help him. Whatever the Knight thought she knew, it couldn''t be more than a suspicion. And so, he faced the Knight with a calm expression, ready to answer her questions.


    Yet as he met her gaze, what he found wasn''t curiosity or suspicion. Rather, her dark eyes held a shimmer of anticipation ¡ª something almost resembling eagerness.


    That glint in her eyes was all the warning he got. An instant after their eyes met, she suddenly burst into motion, drawing her starmetal sword in a single sharp movement.


    And then, she struck.

 Chapter 388 - An Imperial Knight

    Although the Knight''s attack came with no more warning than a flicker in her eyes, that fraction of an instant was enough for Arran. He had already been wary of the woman''s intentions, and now, his response was immediate.


    At once, he drew his own weapon, moving to parry the Knight''s sudden attack with every shred of strength his body contained. He did not dare underestimate his opponent. If she was even half as strong as he suspected her to be, he was in mortal danger.


    Yet when Arran''s blade met the Knight''s as he parried her attack, the violent impact he expected did not come. Instead, when their swords clashed, he barely felt any resistance at all. It was as if his sword had struck a twig of willow.


    At that moment, Arran''s eyes went wide with shock.


    Although he felt no resistance, his sword suddenly moved backward, pushed aside as if some irresistible force controlled it. And as Arran''s defense failed instantly, the Knight''s strike came soaring at his neck.


    He jumped backward at once, narrowly avoiding the cut that would''ve sliced his throat if he''d moved an instant later. And even so, his opponent''s blade left a shallow wound on his neck.


    There was no time to consider the bizarre attack. As he retreated, the Knight came at him again, somehow crossing a dozen paces in a single unhurried step. And the moment she reached him, she calmly thrust her sword forward.


    The attack was almost laughably slow, but as Arran moved to defend, he found that his own movements were even slower. The thrust was one he should have deflected with ease, but instead, there was nothing he could do but watch helplessly as the Knight''s sword pierced his shoulder.


    It was like being stuck in a dream, where the normal laws of the world had ceased to function. Yet the pain from his wounds told Arran that this battle was all too real.


    And so far, he was losing miserably.


    Once more he retreated, eyes fixed on his opponent as he took several steps backward with his sword raised before him.


    By now, any doubts he''d had about the Knight''s strength were long gone. Two brief exchanges had been enough for Arran to understand that her insights were far beyond what he had imagined.


    He still remembered the battle between Lord Rannoc and Lord Kadun, and he was all but certain that this supposed Knight'' power rivaled theirs. With Arran not even able to match normal Knights, that meant his chances of winning against this monstrous opponent were all but non-existent.


    Yet he had no choice but to fight. He knew he could not outrun the woman, and she had not even asked for his surrender.


    He still had a single advantage, however ¡ª she did not yet know all his secrets. And as small as that advantage might be against an Imperial Knight, even a sliver of hope was better than the certainty of death.


    No more than a breath had passed when the Knight''s attacked again. Though Arran had retreated several dozen paces, she crossed the distance in an instant, her sword flashing out in a strike that shimmered with power.


    Again, Arran parried with all his might, moving his blade to block his opponent''s weapon as it came soaring at him. But this time, his strength wasn''t the only thing he relied on. Instead, as the two weapons clashed, he imbued his defense with the full power of his true insight into binding.


    The effect exceeded his expectations. The moment the two blades connected, it was as if they were suddenly frozen in space and locked together, bringing the Knight''s attack to a sudden and complete halt.


    Surprise flashed across the woman''s face, and in her brief moment of confusion, Arran did not hesitate to seize the advantage. In a single movement, he withdrew his weapon and struck with all the power his body could muster, drawing on his true insight into severing to obliterate his opponent in a single strike.


    It was an attack that could not be blocked. With Arran''s full strength and his insight into severing behind the blow, the Living Shadow sword cleaved down with such power that nothing could stand in its way. Even if the Knight tried to parry the strike, her weapon would be torn asunder as easily as her body.


    Yet Arran''s blade met only air.


    Strong as the attack was, it was no use. His target had vanished into thin air before he could hit her. And as the overwhelming power of Arran''s strike tore a deep scar in the ground ahead, a voice sounded behind him.


    "Interesting."


    As the word sounded, a chill went down Arran''s spine when he felt the cold steel of the Knight''s sword against his neck. He did not know how it was possible, but somehow, she''d vanished and appeared at his back.


    He''d been defeated.


    But the death blow he expected did not come. The sharp blade against his neck disappeared an instant later, and the Knight said, "Sheathe your sword. I''ve seen enough."


    Arran did as she said. While he had intended to use his magic as a last resort, he doubted it would do much good. And it seemed that, at least for the time being, the Knight did not want him dead.


    When he turned around and faced her, he found her looking at him with a calm expression. And not just that ¡ª her eyes carried something that appeared to be approval.


    But although the Knight was calm, the same could not be said for Arran. His blood was still heated from battle, and although he now understood the Knight never intended to kill him, that did little to soothe his anger.


    "You were testing me."


    "So I was," she replied. "And you did not disappoint. Your strength is even better than I expected, and those two insights of yours are phenomenal. And I see your wounds are already closing up. If your foundation wasn''t lacking, you would be close to matching a common Knight."


    She gave Arran a pleased smile, almost appearing like a teacher who praised a student for an unexpectedly good performance. From the look on her face, one would never have guessed that she''d stabbed him in the shoulder only moments earlier.


    "What do you want?" Arran asked in a cold voice.


    Though he felt some small relief at still being alive, it could not compare to the fury he still felt at the attack. Even if the Knight had never planned to kill him, he hadn''t known that when they fought. As far as he knew, he had been on the verge of death.


    "I would think the answer obvious," the woman said. "What I want is to give you an invitation."


    Arran suppressed a scowl as he faced her. "And if I refuse?"


    After the Knight''s attack, he had little interest in accepting anything she had to offer. But angry as he might be, if the alternative was death, he wasn''t so foolish that he would reject her invitation.


    Unexpectedly, the Knight shrugged. "Then you are free to do as you wish," she said. "You can choose to become a lackey in some Lord''s service, or you can choose a more pious path and join the church. The choice is yours."


    She briefly paused, then added in a more serious tone, "Though you should know that the church does not look kindly upon heretical bloodlines. If they discover that bloodline of yours, your bright future will meet a swift end at the hands of their Paladins."


    Arran knitted his brows in confusion. "Heretical bloodlines?"


    "As the church would tell you," she explained, "the Darian bloodlines are sacred gifts from the gods, granted to resist the abominations that seek to destroy us. But a bloodline like yours?" She whistled between her teeth, then shook her head. "To the church, that''s no less abominable than the Blight."


    "But you disagree?" Arran asked, looking at the Knight with curious eyes. He still knew little of the divisions within the Imperium, but even so, this latest twist was a particularly unexpected one.


    "Look around you," she said, gesturing at the hundreds of Blightspawn corpses that littered the ground. "A century ago, no Blightspawn had ever gone beyond the Desolation. But now, with every passing year more land is lost. Even if Sacrifice and the other great bastions do not fall, it is only a matter of time before they are cut off from the Imperium, islands in a sea of Blight."


    Arran remained silent, though he looked at the Knight in wonder. As far as the Shadowflame Society knew, the Darians ¡ª or Hunters, as they called them ¡ª were zealots without exception, dedicated to purging all mages from the world.


    Yet the more he saw of the Imperium, the better he understood that the truth was far more complicated.


    The Knight paused for several seconds. Then, finally, she clenched her jaw and shook her head, frustration clear in her eyes. "We need power wherever we can find it. The Imperator knows this, even if the church is too blind to recognize the truth."


    "Then my bloodline isn''t an obstacle if I wish to become an Imperial Knight?" Arran asked, his eyes narrowed.


    "Not unless you''re foolish enough announce it to the world," the Knight replied. "Unusual talents aren''t as rare as you might think, among our numbers. Truth be told, I think the Imperator would recruit even mages if it didn''t mean war with the church."


    It was only with great difficulty that Arran managed to stop himself from exclaiming in shock. If what she said was true, the implications were massive ¡ª perhaps the war between the Imperium and the Shadowflame Society could be avoided, after all.


    "So you''re offering to take me as your apprentice?" Arran asked, his interest in the woman''s offer now far greater than it was before. If the Imperator and his Imperial Knights were potential allies, then joining them might be an opportunity he could not afford to lose.


    Yet now that the woman had raised his interest, she casually shook her head. "Apprentices are recruited before becoming Rangers. While you haven''t received the title yet, you''ve already moved far beyond that stage."


    "Then what is it you''re offering me?"


    A small smile crossed her lips. "Though most Imperial Knights are recruited as youths, it isn''t unheard of for those who achieve glory in the Desolation to be invited to our ranks. Should you prove yourself worthy, I will speak for you."


    At this, Arran''s expression turned sour. "You''re inviting me to win my own place?"


    The Knight gave him a wry smile. "Had you accepted my first invitation, your path would have been easier. Now, you will have to rely on your own strength. But don''t despair ¡ª even my apprentices need to earn the gods'' bloodlines in the Desolation."


    Arran let out a deep sigh. Despite the Knight''s words, he had little doubt that her apprentices had a far simpler road ahead of them.


    But then, it made little difference. He would travel into the Desolation anyway. And, if nothing else, at least he would have more time before having to make a decision.


    As promising as the woman''s description of the Imperial Knights sounded, he would not blindly trust her words. Nor, for that matter, would he tie himself to a faction before learning more about the true situation in the Imperium.


    As Arran pondered this, the Knight cast a final look at the Reaver''s corpse. "I''ve seen enough," she said. "We should return to the village. I have matters to discuss with that captain of yours, and I suspect my apprentice will wish to speak with you."


    As they set off toward the village, Arran gave the Knight a curious glance. "You have something to discuss with Kaleesh?"


    She responded with an amused smile. "You didn''t think yours was the only talent that caught my eye, did you?"

 Chapter 389 - The Knights Apprentice

    As Arran and the Knight made their way back to the village, he could not help but cast an uneasy glance at her. Short though their fight had been, he was still shocked by the skills she had so casually displayed.


    He had faced many formidable opponents in his years of travel, but none of them had shown powers as strange as this Imperial Knight. It was as if her insights somehow twisted the laws of the world, leaving Arran defenseless against even the simplest strikes.


    But if the memory still filled him with trepidation, he felt a sense of eagerness, as well.


    If Imperial Knights possessed such powers, then joining their ranks would increase his strength many times over. And with the Blood Ruin and his living shadow weapon, it was hard to imagine where his limit would be.


    That wasn''t all, however.


    He had long noticed a similarity between the Darians'' techniques and the Forms. Although his proficiency in the Forms was still lacking, he already suspected that strengthening his skill in the Darians'' techniques would help him master the Forms, too.


    But now, he wondered whether the techniques used by Imperial Knights could also be applied to magic. And just the thought of that was enough to make his heart beat faster.


    He''d believed that the Forms were mostly a way to learn and use magic more effectively, but if they led to a control of magic that approached the Knight''s control in battle, then the possibilities were endless.


    Yet after a moment of thought, he forced himself to abandon the thought ¡ª at least for the time being. Important though it was, he was still far away from either mastering the Forms or becoming an Imperial Knight.


    As for combining the two, that was little more than a distant dream.


    It seemed that the Knight had noticed his ponderous expression, however. "Something on your mind?" she asked with a slight smile on her lips.


    "I was just considering what you told me," he replied.


    "And wondering whether you might learn skills like mine, perhaps?" Her smile widened as she spoke, and there was a knowing look in her eyes. Clearly, even if she hadn''t realized the full extent of Arran''s thoughts, she had expected him to be tempted by her earlier display of power.


    "That, too," Arran admitted.


    "The path isn''t an easy one," she said in response, her expression suddenly serious. "But if you accept my offer, your strength may eventually grow to equal mine. Perhaps you''ll even surpass me one day." Her smile returned a moment later, and she continued, "Of course, whether you will get that chance depends on how you fare in the Desolation."


    Arran nodded silently. While he was tempted by her words, he couldn''t help but think that she seemed far too interested in convincing him. If the opportunity was as great as she claimed, there shouldn''t be a need to push him as much as she did.


    Yet she pushed all the same, and from that, Arran knew there was more to it than she let on.


    Whatever her true motive was, he was certain that it wasn''t as simple as recruiting a talented warrior for the Imperial Knights.


    Arran was still deep in thought when they reached the village, where they were met with a large crowd of mercenaries and soldiers. At the center of the crowd stood Captain Kaleesh, and as they approached, the captain''s eyes immediately shot toward Arran''s shoulder.


    The wound Arran had received in his short fight against the Knight had already healed, but blood still stained his clothes, and the sight brought an immediate frown to the captain''s face.


    "I trust there were no problems?" Kaleesh asked, eying the Knight suspiciously.


    "Of course not," she said in a dismissive tone. "But I have matters to discuss with you, as well. Find us a place where we can talk in peace."


    The captain cast a questioning look at Arran, and only after Arran nodded did he respond, "Of course, Lady Knight. I''ve taken one of the buildings here for myself. We can speak there."


    "Very well." She turned to the two dozen Rangers who had accompanied her. "All of you, find quarters for the night. We will depart in the morning."


    As Kaleesh guided the Knight to the building he''d appropriated a few days earlier, Arran cast a curious glance at the group of Rangers.


    So far, his attention had been focused on the Knight, and he''d paid little attention to the troops of Rangers she had brought along. But now that he finally looked at them more closely, he couldn''t help but frown in surprise.


    The Rangers he''d encountered in the past had mostly been experienced veterans, in their thirties if not older. And although there were some exceptions ¡ª like Lady Raina''s son ¡ª those were few and far between.


    But the group before him now was completely different. At a guess, he thought the oldest among the Rangers was barely in his twenties, and most of the others looked to be even younger than that.


    For them to already be Rangers at such a young age could only mean that they were among the most talented youths in the Imperium ¡ª which, he realized, was likely why Lady Merem had recruited them.


    Yet for all their talent, their leader''s departure left them looking around awkwardly, uncertain of where to go. Perhaps they had the skill of Rangers, but it was clear that their confidence was still lacking.


    Arran sighed. "Sassun, could you¡­?"


    "Of course," the commander replied, easily reading Arran''s intent. At once, he turned to face the group of Rangers and called out, "Everyone! Follow me, and I''ll clear out a building for you!"


    The Rangers followed behind Sassun as he moved into the village, and as they left, the crowd of soldiers and mercenaries immediately began to dissipate. While Lady Merem and her Rangers had caught their attention, Arran alone clearly wasn''t anywhere near as interesting.


    But as the soldiers slowly dispersed, Arran saw that one of the Rangers remained ¡ª Negin, the young girl he had saved in the borderlands.


    She hesitated briefly as she looked at Arran, then slowly approached him. From her expression, it was obvious that she was nervous.


    "It''s really you," she said in a voice that carried some wonder. "After you left¡­ I didn''t know if I''d ever meet you again."


    Arran gave her a friendly smile as he glanced at her Ranger''s outfit. "It looks like you''ve done well for yourself."


    A joyous look flashed across her face, and she nodded eagerly. "I''m a Ranger now!" she said, her tone suggesting that she still found it hard to believe. "When we met, that was something I could only dream of. But now¡­" She paused as she looked Arran in the eyes. "And I have you to thank for it."


    Arran made a dismissive gesture. "I only gave you a small bit of aid," he said. "But I wondered if I could ask you some questions."


    Negin did not hesitate in agreeing. "Of course," she said at once. "Whatever you need, I''ll do my best to help."


    "Then let''s take a walk together," Arran said. "Outside the village."


    She did not object. Doubtless, she already understood what Arran wanted to ask, and it wasn''t a topic that could be discussed in public.


    But a few minutes later, they were well outside the village, far enough that none could overhear them. And as soon as they''d moved beyond the guards'' sight, Negin turned to face Arran with an anxious expression on her face.


    "I didn''t tell anyone," she said. "I wouldn''t betray you. Not after you saved my life."


    Arran shook his head. "I know you didn''t," he replied. "But Lady Merem has been asking questions, I suspect?"


    He knew that the girl would not have told anyone the truth. Even ignoring her gratitude to Arran, letting others know what he''d done would endanger her, as well. And young though she was, he knew she wasn''t half as naive as she looked.


    "She has," Negin confirmed. "But I didn''t tell her anything. All I said was that you carried me out of the battlefield, and that I used the pills she gave me to recover."


    Arran gave her an appraising look. Then, after a moment''s thought, he drew his sword. "Draw your weapon. I want to see how strong you are."


    Surprise flashed across the girl''s eyes, but she did as he said, drawing the starmetal sword at her side.


    "Attack me," Arran said. "And don''t hold back."


    Despite his words, her first attack was a hesitant one, and Arran parried it without effort. Though her skill surpassed what he''d expected, it was obvious that she restrained her strength.


    "Again," he said. "This time, I need to see your full power. It''s important."


    She gave him an uneasy look. "What if I hurt you?"


    Arran gave her a wide grin. "Then I''ll be most impressed."


    Negin still looked at him uneasily, but nevertheless, she clenched her jaw and gave a small nod. "I''ll try my best."


    She attacked again, striking with a force that was several times more powerful than her previous blow. But even so, Arran parried the strike easily, which earned him a startled look from the girl.


    She narrowed her eyes, then attacked once more, this time striking with even greater strength than before. And when Arran deflected the blow, another followed immediately.


    The fight continued for half an hour, but though she tried her best, Negin never got close to defeating Arran''s defense. While she was already far stronger than most Rangers, her strength still fell far short of matching Arran''s.


    When Arran was certain he''d seen the full extent of her power, he sheathed his sword. "Enough," he said. "I''ve seen enough."


    By now, Negin''s cheeks were red from exertion, and her forehead was damp with sweat. Yet although she looked tired, her eyes shone with wonder.


    "You''re so strong," she said in between two heavy breaths. "I thought I could at least match you, but¡­" She smiled wryly, then shook her head. "It seems I overestimated myself."


    "It''s only natural," Arran replied. "With time, you''ll grow stronger. But for now, there''s no need to worry about Merem discovering your secret."


    Negin cast a surprised look at Arran. "There''s not?"


    Arran shook his head. "At most, you''ve sparked her curiosity. You''re not strong enough to truly catch her eye ¡ª not yet, at least."


    As he said this, he let out a silent sigh of relief.


    His biggest concern had been that Negin would have grown too strong too quickly. If that were the case, he would be in terrible danger, as Lady Merem would know that his bloodline was easily passed on to others.


    With the Darians already faltering in their struggle against the Blight, he had no doubt that she wouldn''t hesitate to seize such an opportunity. Most likely, Arran would be captured and locked in a dark dungeon, with his blood being harvested to strengthen the Imperium''s warriors.


    Fortunately, however, Negin''s strength could only barely be considered unusual. Her true power lay in her skills, and those had little to do with Arran.


    Yet Negin seemed unconvinced. "But I''m so much stronger than the others¡­"


    "That''s because Rangers are weak," Arran said bluntly. "Their strength isn''t far above that of common Body Refiners. With enough time, you''ll grow far stronger than you are now ¡ª strong enough to raise questions, if you''re not careful. But for now, there''s nothing overly suspicious about your strength."


    "I''ll grow far stronger?" A ponderous look appeared in the girl''s eyes. "What''s the limit?"


    Arran rubbed his chin. "No idea," he admitted. "I''m not sure there even is a limit."


    At this, Negin''s eyes went wide with surprise. "So this¡­ My strength increasing this fast¡­ It can continue forever?"


    "No," Arran said. "The stronger you grow, the slower your progress will be. But with enough time¡­" He shook his head. "If there is a limit, it''s beyond anything you can imagine."


    Negin gave him a thoughtful look. "Then it''s dangerous. If others find out about something like this, they''ll want it for themselves."


    "Which is why I would suggest keeping your mouth shut," Arran replied. "When you grow stronger, you''ll need to hide your strength as best you can. If you don''t, you''ll be inviting disaster."


    Of course, by the time she grew strong enough to draw serious attention, Arran intended to be long gone from the Imperium.


    That was one of the reasons he''d dared give her the Blood Ruin. Without the resources he''d enjoyed, it should take decades before she reached a strength similar to his. By then, the only person who would suffer the consequences if she revealed her strength would be the girl herself.


    Negin nodded, her expression serious. "I understand. You''ve given me a great gift, and I won''t let it become a catastrophe."


    They spent another hour talking, with Negin explaining in detail how she''d been recruited by Lady Merem, and what she''d been told about the Desolation.


    Though Arran listened intently, he was disappointed to find that Negin knew little more than he did about the Desolation. From the looks of it, even Imperial Knights'' apprentices were kept in the dark about the simmering war at the Imperium''s western border.


    "We should return to the village," Arran finally said. "The captain and your master should have finished their talk by now. If we stay out any longer, they might start wondering where we went."


    When they returned to the village, they were greeted by one of Kaleesh''s mercenaries, who offered a sly wink when he saw the girl at Arran''s side.


    This caused Arran a moment of confusion, but then, he realized how it must look. With Negin''s hair and clothes still ruffled from their earlier match, Arran couldn''t blame the man for assuming they''d done more than just talk.


    Arran ignored the mercenary''s knowing grin, and asked, "Any word from the captain?"


    The mercenary nodded. "He came here ''bout half an hour ago. Said I should tell you to visit him as soon as you returned."


    "All right," Arran said, then turned to face Negin. "You should hurry back to your group before they start to get any ideas about us."


    She gave him a puzzled look, but after a moment, her eyes widened in horror. "You don''t think they¡­" She didn''t finish the sentence. Instead, she mumbled, "I have to go," before quickly hurrying off.


    "Pretty girl," the mercenary at the gate opined. "Though perhaps a bit young for you, commander."


    Arran gave the man a flat stare, then silently set off toward the building he shared with Kaleesh and the others. Whatever the mercenary believed, denial would do little to change his mind.


    Some minutes later, he found Kaleesh sitting at a wooden table, cradling a glass of wine in his hand and wearing a pensive expression.


    "There you are, finally," the captain said when he saw Arran. "Lady Merem said one of her apprentices wished to thank you. I didn''t expect her to do so thorough a job."


    Arran let out a deep sigh. "So what was it she wanted to discuss with you?"


    "She made me an offer," Kaleesh replied. "And a tempting one, at that. If we prove ourselves in the Desolation over the next year, we''ll receive her backing in joining the Imperator''s service."


    "That''s the same thing she told me," Arran said. "But if we still have to prove our strength, it hardly seems like much of a promise. Is it a gift if we have to earn it ourselves?"


    Kaleesh chuckled. "It''s not as simple as that. There are many who vie to enter the Imperator''s service, and among them are some of the most talented warriors of the Imperium. Mere talent is not enough to earn a place in the Imperator''s service. It requires strong backing, and that is something we previously lacked. But now¡­ now, we have a chance."


    Arran eyed the captain curiously. "Then you trust her?"


    "Trust her?" Kaleesh gave him an astounded look. "I would sooner trust a rabid dog. That woman clearly has plans for us, and I do not expect that she would be dissuaded by something as simple as our refusal."


    Though Arran felt some relief that Kaleesh hadn''t been taken in by the Knight''s promises, he still felt some unease. "But you still want to accept her offer? Even though you know she can''t be trusted?"


    "I do," the captain replied. "As it stands, we lack the power to resist her schemes. Lords, Archons, Imperial Knights ¡ª all of them have the power to decide our fate. The only way to change that is to increase our own strength."


    Arran furrowed his brows in thought. He understood what Kaleesh intended ¡ª to take the Knight''s benefits, and use them to gain the strength to resist both her schemes and those of others.


    Yet while he could see the logic of it, knowing the captain''s plan brought him little comfort. "Are you sure of this?" he asked.


    "Not at all." Kaleesh raised his glass and drained it in a single large swill. "But we have time to decide. Before anything else, we''ll have to travel into the Desolation and win those precious Darian bloodlines for ourselves. While we do so, we will have plenty of opportunity to consider our path."


    "Fair enough," Arran said. "So what now?"


    "Tomorrow, we leave for Knight''s Watch," the captain said. "Lady Merem will travel to Sacrifice immediately. As for us¡­" A small smile crossed his face as he looked at Arran. "I suppose we''ll have to recruit an army."

 Chapter 390 - Knights Watch

    It was early morning when they left the abandoned village. Even before the sun rose above the grassy hills in the distance, hundreds of soldiers poured out into the narrow road and formed a mile-long column.


    At the head of the column were Lady Merem and her Rangers, their uniforms immaculate and their ranks neat and organized. But impressive though they appeared, anyone who took a closer glance would soon realize that the Rangers looked inexperienced, more resembling young nobles than veteran warriors.


    In that regard, they made a sharp contrast with Kaleesh''s mercenaries, who followed a short distance behind. This group was headed by Arran and the captain himself, and although the mercenaries'' numbers had fallen, they looked no less formidable for it.


    The mercenaries were seasoned fighters to begin with, and the scars they''d gained in the battle against the Blightspawn further added to their vicious appearance.


    Moreover, unlike the Rangers, the mercenaries kept a close eye on their surroundings, ready for battle at a moment''s notice. While the road to Knight''s Watch was believed to be safe, none of them put much faith in that supposed safety ¡ª not after the ambush they''d already suffered.


    And so, the mercenaries traveled down the road to Knight''s Watch with wary eyes, their hands never straying too far from their weapons.


    Just as alert were the soldiers in the larger group that followed behind them. Led by Arjun, this group consisted of the Darian soldiers who had been recruited by Kaleesh, and although they appeared less formidable than the mercenaries, their eyes still shone with pride.


    Common soldiers counted for little in the Imperium, and they had expected having to beg to join some powerful faction, earning mere scraps for risking their lives.


    Yet Kaleesh had made it clear that his Wolfsblood Army would be different. All who joined would be treated as full members, and whatever rewards they gained in the Desolation would be divided based on strength and bravery rather than status.


    It was a simple promise, and one that had yet to be fulfilled. But the captain''s words alone were enough to fill the soldiers with a sense of pride. Rather than beggars, they had become equals in an army that had not only defeated hundreds of Blightspawn, but whose leaders had also earned the recognition of an Imperial Knight.


    Thus, they marched with their heads held high, eager for the chance to prove their worth and truly earn their place alongside the mercenaries.


    Considerably less zealous, however, were the soldiers who followed behind them.


    There, at the very end of the long column, were the groups that had not joined Kaleesh''s army. Many of those groups'' leaders had shown little interest in joining forces with Kaleesh, but now, they looked ahead with somber eyes, questioning whether they had missed a golden opportunity.


    Yet as the column slowly started toward Knight''s Watch, Arran paid his fellow travelers little attention. Instead, his thoughts still lingered on the short exchange he''d had with Lady Merem, and the strange power her attacks had held.


    What troubled him wasn''t just the ease with which she''d defeated him. Although he disliked the idea of being so thoroughly outclassed, he had enough experience to know that the world held many forces he could not yet match.


    Rather, what bothered him was how little he understood of her power. He knew that its source wasn''t magical ¡ª even if the Darians did not consider magic an abomination, he could tell that it was related to insights rather than magical Essence.


    But even so, how insights could produce such effects was a question that left him utterly dumbfounded. And the more he thought about it, the more frustrated he became.


    The journey to Knight''s Watch took several days, and during this time, Arran spent every waking moment pondering the question before him.


    Yet his efforts were to no avail. Though he''d painstakingly built a foundation in the Darian techniques Muna had taught him, he was now reminded of just how shaky that foundation still was.


    The Darian techniques he''d learned should be a first step toward the powers of Lords and Imperial Knights, but a vast chasm still lay between his skills and theirs. And unless he found a way to bridge that gap, he suspected that understanding Lady Merem''s powers would be an impossible task.


    The question weighed on Arran''s mind enough that he barely even noticed it when they finally reached their destination.


    "It''s quite a sight," Kaleesh''s voice sounded, a hint of awe in his tone.


    The words ripped Arran from his thoughts, and when he looked up, his eyes went wide when he saw what the captain was talking about.


    In the distance lay a vast city, stretched across a towering hill that was thousands of feet tall and several times as wide. Yet impressive though the city itself was, what truly astonished Arran were its walls.


    In a wide circle around the hill that held the city stood a massive wall, well over two hundred feet tall and constructed entirely from smooth gray stone. But impenetrable though the defense appeared, there was another wall like it less than half a mile behind it, and yet another behind that.


    In total, Arran saw, there were nine layers of walls, and each of them appeared formidable enough to break even the largest army. To conquer the entire city, an army would have to break all nine of them.


    Arran believed that facing the Blightspawn had given him some small idea of how dangerous the Blight was. But now, a single look at the city in the distance was enough to remind that the Desolation held dangers far greater than anything he''d faced so far.


    The Darians would not build a city like this without good reason. And if they had reason to create defenses like these, it could only mean their enemies were terrifying enough to merit them.


    Of course, Arran already understood that the Blight was a threat to the Imperium''s very existence. But part of him had believed ¡ª or perhaps hoped ¡ª that it was a matter of numbers rather than raw power.


    As vicious as the Blightspawn were, a large enough force of the creatures would be enough to bring down any army. With their inhuman strength and utter lack of fear, even a Knight''s strength would eventually be overcome on the battlefield.


    But the defenses of Knight''s Watch were a different matter. Whether there were a thousand Blightspawn or a million, no amount of such creatures would be enough to break through the outer wall, much less the ones behind it.


    To break through such defenses would require something far beyond mere Blightspawn or Reavers. Something with the strength of dragons or the magic of Archmages.


    The thought caused Arran to let out a weary sigh. Years of training had allowed him to reach a level of strength he once would have thought impossible, but the more he learned of the world, the better he understood just how weak he still was.


    Just then, with the long column barely a hundred paces away from the gate, the Rangers at the front came to a sudden halt. A moment later, Lady Merem appeared in front of Kaleesh and Arran.


    "This is where we part ways," she announced. "After I relay my findings to the governor, my apprentices and I will travel straight to Sacrifice. The two of you, however, should build your strength before traveling there. Beyond Knight''s Watch, the road carries many dangers." With a glance at Arran, she added, "Even for those with the strength to slay Reavers."


    "Then we thank you for your help," Kaleesh replied at once. "And we''ll trouble you no longer."


    Though the captain spoke politely, his expression made it clear that he was more than a little relieved to see her depart.


    It was a sentiment that Arran wholeheartedly shared. Although he knew that his dealings with the Imperial Knight were far from over, he still understood far too little of the Imperium to fully see through Lady Merem''s schemes.


    Until he addressed that problem, every second he spent in her company put him in danger. And if she became his enemy, an Imperial Knight would be far more of a threat than even a hundred Reavers.


    Arran and Kaleesh waited silently as Lady Merem and her Rangers departed and headed into the city, remaining quiet until they were certain that the Knight was far away. Then, finally, Kaleesh let out a deep sigh of relief.


    "That woman terrifies me," he said in a wistful voice. "When she looks at me, I feel like she could kill me without even drawing her weapon."


    "I have no doubt that she could," Arran replied with an uneasy shrug. "But now that we''ve reached Knight''s Watch, what''s your plan?"


    Kaleesh scratched his chin, and his expression turned thoughtful. "I suppose it''s time for us to build an army."


    "How long will that take you?" Arran asked.


    At this, a look of alarm flashed across Kaleesh''s face. "Me? You''re not planning to leave, are you?"


    "Only for a while," Arran said. "I need to train, and I can''t do that here." He cast a meaningful glance at the city, then added, "There are too many people here."


    For a moment, it looked as if Kaleesh was about to object, but then he sighed in resignation. "I suppose it helps us all if you grow stronger," he said. "Though having you around would make it easier to attract talented soldiers. "


    "It can''t be helped," Arran replied. "I need a secluded place to train. But I don''t plan to stray too far from the city, and I don''t expect to be gone for more than a month or so."


    Kaleesh nodded, forcing a smile to appear on his face even if his eyes still held a hint of dejection. "A month shouldn''t be a problem. Gathering an army will take at least twice as long. But be careful ¡ª if Lady Merem says the area is dangerous, you''d best believe her."


    "Then I''ll return within two months."


    Arran did not linger after he said his goodbyes, and although his departure caused more than a few looks of surprise and concern among the mercenaries and soldiers, he did not look back as he left.


    Although his leaving at so important a time would be no small burden to Kaleesh and the others, it was a decision that couldn''t be avoided.


    After they''d left the mines half a year earlier, Arran''s skills had increased rapidly ¡ª so rapidly that he''d believed that he was well on his way to matching the insights of Knights, building a foundation that would sooner or later allow him to even surpass their achievements.


    But after seeing Lady Merem''s techniques, he had finally come to realize just how wrong he had been.


    While he was indeed close to matching Knights in combat ¡ª normal Knights, at least ¡ª that owed more to his strength than it did to his foundation in Darian techniques. Take that strength away, and he was only barely at the level of a Ranger, if that.


    Yet to learn the methods used by Lords and Imperial Knights, he could not rely on his strength. For that, he would need a proper foundation in the techniques that lay at the core of those methods. But so far, he had used his strength as a crutch, using it to avoid building the foundation he so desperately needed.


    Now, however, the time had come to remedy that shortcoming and begin to create the proper foundation he still lacked.


    Of course, one or two months wasn''t nearly enough for such a task. But it should barely be sufficient to make a start in solidifying his foundation. Then, once he''d made that first step, he would have something to build on.


    He forced himself to ignore the twinge of guilt he felt for leaving Kaleesh and the others behind, instead focusing on the path ahead. After all, if his efforts paid off, it would not just help Arran himself, but his companions as well.


    All that remained now was to find a quiet place to practice.

 391 Comprehension

    Although Arran was unfamiliar with the region around Knight''s Watch, finding a sufficiently secluded spot was a simple matter. This close to the Desolation, the roads were few, and no more farms or villages dotted the landscape.


    Instead, there was only a seemingly endless expanse of inhospitable land, with rocky hills and dense forests that had gone untouched by human feet for many years. Amid that barren wilderness, solitude was easily found.


    Still, Arran did not linger near the city. He traveled for a full day and night, journeying far enough from Knight''s Watch that there was not even the slightest risk of encountering others.


    He finally came to a halt at a small clearing amid a dense patch of forest that lay hidden between two large hills. As remote as it was unremarkable, it was the sort of place where he would be impossible to find for all but the most determined pursuer.


    Nevertheless, he spent several hours scouting the area, making sure that there were neither Blightspawn nor Darians nearby.


    But the only sign of life he found for several miles around were a pair of goats and several rabbits, and when he was finally satisfied that the area was truly empty, he returned to the clearing.


    Then, as he sat down on the ground and leaned back against a tree, he cleared his mind and turned his thoughts to the task ahead.


    He had learned Muna''s techniques only half a year earlier, but he had studied them ceaselessly, quickly taking the elementary techniques to their very limits. And after that, he had used both the Forms and his own insights to push well beyond those limits.


    His brief exchange with Lady Merem, however, had shown him it wasn''t enough. Whatever he had achieved so far, his accomplishments still fell short of what he needed.


    After all, his goal wasn''t just to survive in the Desolation. Rather, it was to win whatever rewards the Imperium had to offer, and to set him on the path to gaining the Darians'' most precious secrets.


    And unlike the Darians themselves, Arran could not afford to spend decades slowly building the power and status required to do so. He needed to do in months what Darian Knights took years to accomplish ¡ª and without the guidance that they received.


    Yet impossible though that task might seem, he had some hope that it could be achieved.


    While Muna''s techniques were no longer useful, he had already spent thousands of hours studying the Forms. And although the Forms used magic rather than sword techniques, he still believed that both were based on the same principles.


    More importantly, he''d grown increasingly certain that the Forms were far more advanced than Muna''s techniques. After all, while mastering the latter had only taken him months, years of study and practice had yet to bring him a solid understanding of the former.


    In terms of difficulty, the two were utterly incomparable. And if that difficulty was a reflection of their potential, the power of the Forms would easily eclipse that of Muna''s techniques.


    The challenge, then, was to make a breakthrough in his understanding of the Forms.


    Of course, Arran had no illusions about fully mastering the Forms. That step was still beyond him. But if he could take his comprehension of the Forms beyond its earliest foundation, the benefits should be considerable.


    Yet while Arran knew his goal, that made achieving it no less difficult.


    He spent several days sitting in silence, endlessly poring over his memories in search of something ¡ª anything ¡ª that could help him understand the concept behind the Forms.


    Not only did he contemplate the Forms themselves and Muna''s techniques, but he also once more consider the rudimentary Forms he''d learned from Anthea, his true insight into severing and binding, the things Kaleesh had taught him about his insight into speed, along with all the other ways in which he''d been exposed to various insights.


    Along with that, he carefully recalled his various encounters with Knights, meticulously digging through his memories to see if there was anything that might help him better understand their techniques.


    But despite his efforts, the answers he sought continued to elude him.


    After a week of uninterrupted study, Arran finally stood up, sighing deeply as he stretched his weary body. As much as it pained him to admit it, his efforts had failed to bring even the slightest result.


    Worse, he felt like the path to his goal had become murkier rather than clearer, as if he was lost in a foggy swamp, traveling along a road whose destination he was beginning to doubt.


    He let out another gloomy sigh, then decided that it was time for a break. If nothing else, a few hours of rest and a good meal might help raise his spirits.


    And in his current state of mind, trying to push onward would do little good.


    An hour later, Arran''s mood was much improved. He was sitting at a campfire and eating a much-needed meal, the smell of freshly roasted goat meat in the air as he considered his situation.


    Disappointing though his lack of results was, it wasn''t entirely unexpected. He''d struggled with the Forms for years, and although he still believed that he could make a breakthrough, he had to accept the possibility that he would fail.


    So instead of worrying, he sat back and rested, idly wondering how Kaleesh''s efforts in recruiting an army were proceeding.


    From what he knew of Kaleesh, he had no doubt that the captain would exceed his expectations. After all, as strong a fighter as Arran was, when it came to commanding troops, he could not even begin to compare to Kaleesh.


    He''d spent months studying the man''s manuscripts on strategy, but that was only barely enough to scratch the surface of the knowledge they contained. And contrary to his original expectations, his experience in battle had been only marginally useful in helping him understand tactics and strategy.


    Individual combat relied mostly on strength, skill, and speed. As long as one had enough of an advantage in any of these things, victory would be all but certain.


    Yet mass combat was wholly different. More than anything, it needed coordination ¡ª to forge an army of individual soldiers into a seamless whole, with each part strengthening the others. With that, a competent commander could amplify his soldiers'' strength many times over.


    After all, with a line of spearmen defending a group of archers, their combined strength would be far greater than the individual strengths of both groups added together. And the greater the army, the more such opportunities would arise.


    As Arran pondered this, a frown suddenly flashed across his brow. It remained there for only a moment, after which his eyes went wide with surprise ¡ª surprise, and excitement.


    He cast his food aside, then immediately stood up and drew his sword, fearful that waiting even the slightest moment might cause the nascent idea in his mind to dissipate.


    As he wielded his sword in his right hand, he drew a large amount of Shadow Essence into his left, thoughts racing in his head as he readied himself to test whether his intuition was right. Then, he began to move.


    At first, his movements were clumsy and slow, like those of a child holding a blade for the first time. And although an observer would not see it, the same was true for the way he controlled the Shadow Essence in his hand.


    Yet there was a broad smile on Arran''s face, and as he continued to move, that smile gradually turned into an uncontrollable grin.


    He kept at it for several hours, and although his movements improved only marginally, the grin on his face slowly grew even wider than before.


    Then, finally, he sheathed his sword and sat down to resume his meal. After all, with the training ahead, he would need his strength.


    The breakthrough he wished for had finally arrived. After years of studying the Forms, he had finally found the missing piece. And now that he knew what it was, he couldn''t help but wonder how something so obvious had eluded him for so long. ;


    The secret behind both the Forms and the Darians'' techniques was as simple as it was powerful.


    So far, he''d treated the Forms like ingredients in a well-stocked kitchen, using only those he believed were needed for attacks and spells while ignoring the others. That was how Anthea had said the techniques in her rudimentary version of the Forms were meant to be used, and it was how he had used his own true insights into binding and severing even before that.


    But now, he finally recognized the truth.


    The power of the Forms wasn''t that they allowed one to learn and use separate insights, but that all those different insights could be combined. Like soldiers in an army, each strengthened the others, and to ignore any of them was to forgo a source of strength.


    How this was possible, Arran did not yet understand. As far as he could tell, it made no sense that insights into severing and speed could strengthen a block, or that his insight into binding could lend power to a thrust. But sense or not, it appeared to be true all the same.


    Stranger still, however, were the effects on his magic.


    In the buried city near Amydon, Arran had witnessed Karanos use Shadow Essence to create physical attacks. This was a feat he had tried to replicate on many occasions, but each of his attempts had failed miserably. Even imbuing Shadow spells with his insight into severing had achieved nothing whatsoever.


    Yet now, when he merged all his insights into his spells, they had a sense of physicality that had been absent before. It was only barely noticeable, but he could tell that some of the Shadow spells were already on the verge of becoming tangible.


    And that was after only a few hours of practice, with Arran still struggling to merge his insights into his spells.


    Doing so was no simple matter. The Forms and Muna''s techniques had provided him with hundreds of lesser insights, and to use each of them in his spells and attacks was like juggling a thousand eggs all at once.


    Just becoming proficient at something so complex would be an arduous task, and mastering it was something that seemed borderline impossible.


    But even so, if even these early attempts of his already had such effects, then he could scarcely begin to imagine what proper training would accomplish.


    That thought was enough to leave Arran eager to start his training, but after a thought, he decided to sleep first. He''d already gone a week without so much as a moment''s rest, and the task before him would require every scrap of effort that he could muster.


    Still, he could not resist giving his newly gained ability a final try.


    A look of concentration appeared on his face as he gathered Shadow Essence and formed a spell ¡ª a Flamestrike, but using Shadow Essence rather than Fire Essence. Then, an instant later, a dense streak of Shadow burst from his hand, surging toward a nearby tree.


    The effect was small enough that a casual observer would not notice it ¡ª no more than a brief rustling of leaves, as if a brief gust of wind had brushed by the tree.


    To Arran, the sight was more beautiful than even the most dazzling sunset. He had finally achieved the breakthrough he sought.

 392 Master of Shadow

    Arran awoke early in the morning, well before the break of dawn. And as he awoke, a broad smile appeared on his face almost immediately when he recalled the great step forward he''d made in learning the Forms.


    His first instinct was to pick up where he left off immediately, but as much as he wanted to get started on his training right away, he forced himself to eat a hearty breakfast as he considered the path before him.


    That he must master the Forms was obvious. What was less obvious, however, was whether he should focus his efforts on swordsmanship or magic.


    Only the former would be useful immediately. While it would be impossible to conceal the effect of the Forms on his swordsmanship, the Forms resembled the Darian techniques closely enough that the difference would be all but impossible to discern.


    In other words, he could display the effect on his sword skills with relatively little danger. His rapid progress would doubtless raise some eyebrows, but the Imperium was large enough that there would be many unusual talents.


    His magic, on the other hand, was a different matter. Any progress he made in that area would have to remain well-concealed, which meant he might have precious few opportunities to use it in the Desolation.


    Yet at the same time, magic was among his most important hidden cards. If he was faced with an enemy he could not defeat or was forced to flee the Imperium, he would almost certainly have to rely on his Shadow magic.


    He considered the matter for some time, but finally, he decided to pursue both. While that would inevitably be slower than focusing on just one of the two, he had equal use for both magic and swordsmanship. And perhaps, he thought, approaching the problem from two angles might help deepen his comprehension.


    Decision made, he quickly stood up and readied himself, once more wielding his sword in his right hand while gathering Shadow Essence in the left.


    Then, he set to work on training.


    The first day brought rapid progress. After just a few hours, Arran no longer looked like a child swinging a sword for the first time, with his movements quickly gaining a smoothness and fluidity they had lacked before. And if he couldn''t quite match his normal level of skill just yet, he knew it was only a matter of time before he surpassed it.


    Yet if his swordsmanship improved rapidly, his progress in magic was nothing short of staggering.


    Arran had always felt that he had little talent for magic, but now, he found himself improving with leaps and bounds. Because although truly unifying all his insights was still beyond him, just attempting to do it was enough to make his spells faster and more powerful.


    The most shocking change could be seen in his Flamestrike ¡ª or Shadowstrike, rather, since he now used Shadow Essence to cast it.


    Those results far exceeded Arran''s expectations. He''d expected progress, but nowhere near as fast as what he was seeing. It almost felt as if he''d spent years using magic incorrectly, and had only now discovered the proper way to use it.


    Years earlier, when Anthea told Arran that Elder Nikias and his students had been the Ninth Valley''s most formidable champions in the war against the Imperium, he''d taken her words with a grain of salt.


    He had always believed the Forms had potential, but he''d also believed that the girl''s beliefs were clouded by her blind faith in the techniques she''d learned from her teacher.


    Now, however, he couldn''t help but suspect that she had still underestimated the Forms'' true power.


    That suspicion only grew stronger during the week that followed.


    With each day of training, Arran''s magical power made rapid strides, his spells growing ever more powerful as his proficiency at uniting his insights increased.


    That progress wasn''t limited to his offensive spells, either. A mere week was enough to allow him to create Shadow Shields that were stronger than his Force Shields had ever been, and even his control over his Shadowsight increased.


    What pleased Arran most, however, was the improvement to his Shadowcloak.


    Of all the spells he knew, there were none he valued more than the Shadowcloak spell. It was something that allowed him to travel unseen, to strike his foes before they could defend themselves, and ¡ª if necessary ¡ª to escape those enemies he could not defeat.


    Yet in the Imperium, its use was limited. Both Knights and Lords had Living Shadow weapons, likely allowing them to Sense even Shadow Essence. Because of that, using Shadowcloak in the Imperium might well expose Arran as a mage rather than hiding him.


    Now, however, Arran''s Shadowcloak was steadily improving ¡ª enough that Sensing it would be far more difficult even for those with the means to detect Shadow Essence.


    It wasn''t quite enough yet that Arran would dare to use his Shadowcloak near Knights ¡ª much less Lords ¡ª but even so, he knew it would reduce the risk of him being discovered. And if his Shadowcloak continued to improve, perhaps it would eventually become truly undetectable.


    But as stunning as Arran''s progress in magic was, his swordsmanship proved a more challenging obstacle.


    During the first few days of training, his skill at using the Forms for swordplay had increased greatly. But then, even as his magic continued to progress at a robust pace, his advances in swordsmanship had slowly ground to a halt.


    At first, he''d believed that perhaps the Forms weren''t suited for physical combat ¡ª that perhaps he''d been mistaken about the similarity between the Forms and the Darians'' techniques, after all.


    Yet after giving it some thought, he quickly rejected this idea.


    Now that he was growing more familiar with the Forms, he could see the similarity between them and the techniques he''d seen Knights use, and he knew that they were ultimately the same.


    He spent several days pondering the problem, continuing his training as he tried to uncover the obstacle that was blocking his progress. And finally, he realized what the issue was ¡ª his sword style.


    The sword style Arran used was one he''d crafted himself, with the movements it contained all based around his true insights into binding and severing.


    But now, he was attempting to unite all his insights in his movements ¡ª something that was fundamentally incompatible with a sword style based around a single set of insights.


    He couldn''t help but laugh wryly when he realized the truth.


    He''d painstakingly crafted the sword style over the course of several years, convinced that it would help him reach greatness. But although it had served him well, he now found that it had become a burden rather than an asset.


    Briefly, he considered starting anew ¡ª to build an entirely new sword style from nothing, based on the fusion of his insights.


    Tempting though the idea was, Arran rejected it almost immediately. While such a sword style would doubtless be powerful, creating it would be a labor of years. And right now, that was time he could not spare.


    He considered the matter for a while, but no easy solution came to mind.


    The Darians would likely have sword styles that would better suit their techniques, Arran had no idea if and when he might be able to find one of those. And even if he did find one, learning an entirely new sword style would still take more time than he had.


    Then, however, a thought crossed his mind.


    When he first arrived in the Ninth Valley, he had studied three different sword styles: the Stalwart Blade, the Floating Leaf, and the Thousand Cuts, with the first focusing on defense, the second on evasion, and the third on offense.


    Back then, he had mostly ignored the three styles after gaining his true insights, focusing instead on his own sword style.


    Yet he had not forgotten those styles he''d learned in the House of Swords all those years ago. And now, finally, he had a use for them.


    The three styles were by no means weak. Combined, they provided a solid if unremarkable foundation for a swordsman. But at the same time, the techniques they contained were common enough that if he used them with the Forms, it would be all but impossible for others to recognize their origins.


    His decision made, Arran set to work once more, resuming his training with renewed vigor now that he had a path forward.


    Of course, just having a path didn''t mean the way forward was easy. He''d ignored the sword styles from the House of Swords for years, and even if he hadn''t forgotten them, it took several days before he was able to execute the moves with a semblance of smoothness.


    Still, he persevered with dogged determination, and it wasn''t long before his hard work began to pay off.


    Where his own style had clashed with the Forms, these old sword styles created no such obstacles, and after a few days, the techniques already began to blend together with Arran''s insights.


    Two weeks passed like this, with Arran constantly practicing both his swordplay and his spells. And every day he practiced, his movements grew more confident and his attacks stronger.


    Three weeks after leaving Knight''s watch, he knew his sword skills once more rivaled the power of his old level. Except now, the path forward was entirely clear to him.


    But although his sword skills merely matched his old strength, he knew that his overall power had increased greatly. After all, he now had the ability to use Shadow Essence for physical attacks ¡ª and ones that were nearly as strong as the blows he struck with his sword.


    Moreover, this new power would be hidden from his enemies until it was too late for them to defend themselves. And even then, only Knights and Lords would be able to discern the kind of attack he had used.


    All others would only see his empty left hand.


    Arran celebrated the accomplishment with a large meal and a much-needed night of rest. Yet when morning came, he resumed his training once again, certain that there were more gains to be had.


    Another week passed quietly, the only sounds to be heard in the area coming from Arran''s attacks when they destroyed large rocks and trees near the clearing where he was training.


    Gradually, however, his rapid progress came to an end. Comprehending the Forms had allowed him to make several giant steps forward, but his new foundation had yet to solidify.


    And to achieve that, he would need something other than training.


    Before moving on, Arran spent several hours examining his newly gained skills, and found himself more than pleased with the results.


    His sword skills had now truly surpassed his previous level, reaching a point where he was confident that he could defeat his previous self in less than half a dozen moves.


    That alone would be enough to cause him joy, but he knew that his true progress was even greater than it appeared to be. Where he had previously relied almost entirely on his true insights into binding and severing, he now had a foundation that had more than just that single pillar to support it.


    But that was just half the story.


    The other half, of course, was his progress in using magic. And although his magic was still slightly inferior to his strength with the sword, it had progressed much faster in this month of training.


    At this moment, he no longer doubted whether he truly qualified as a Master mage. When it came to Shadow magic, he was a Master through and through ¡ª and a strong one, at that.


    One thing still remained, however, and that was to put his new powers to the test. And that, he knew, was something he could not do by himself.


    He gave the clearing where he had spent the past month training a final glance, then departed without further hesitation.


    He had achieved as much as he could through individual training, and pushing any further was more likely to do him harm than good.

 393 Finding Enemies

    Arran groaned in frustration. Almost half a week had passed after he''d achieved his breakthrough in the Forms, and he''d ran day and night since then, eager to find opponents to test his skills. Yet despite covering hundreds of miles, he had yet to find even the slightest sign of the opponents he sought.


    Instead, all he saw was inhospitable wilderness, filled with long stretches of thorny trees and craggy hills. Occasionally, there were ruins amid the wasteland, as well ¡ª worn-down remains of long-abandoned settlements, the few houses that still stood crumbling and overgrown, with those who once lived there long since moved to safer lands.


    Had Arran been a treasure hunter or scholar, the secrets that lay hidden beneath these lands might have filled him with excitement. But what he sought were enemies rather than treasures, and of those, there was not a trace to be found.


    The lack of Blightspawn in the area caused Arran no small amount of frustration. After his breakthrough, his swordsmanship and magic were like a pair of freshly forged swords, brimming with potential but still in need of tempering. And the only way to temper them was to use them in earnest, fighting against capable opponents.


    This was especially true for his sword skills. He could practice his spells without enemies to receive his attacks, but swordplay was different. That required enemies. To strike a blow without an enemy was like cooking a meal without tasting it ¡ª an exercise that would never let him discover his flaws.


    But as much as he needed enemies, Arran found none. And so, he continued onward, steadily moving westward, where more danger should be lurking.


    Even without enemies, however, the time he spent traveling wasn''t a complete loss.


    As he ran through the wilderness, he used the Forms to enhance his movements, imbuing every step he took with his newfound comprehension. This allowed him to move far faster than he could otherwise, but more importantly, it served as a form of training, solidifying his skill at combining all his different insights.


    Arran had long since understood that insights related not just to magic or battle. His true insight into severing could apply as much to slicing a loaf of bread or cutting down a tree as it did to striking an opponent with his blade, after all.


    Yet in the past, his insights had been scattered and disjointed. Each time he used them, he had to choose which to use, and doing so had required a deliberate effort. Because of that, he had treated them like spells or techniques, only using them when he needed to do so.


    But now, that was changing.


    As difficult as combining his insights was, it was ultimately only a single skill, and one he could use constantly, no matter the purpose. Whether it was swordplay, casting spells, or simply running, using his newfound comprehension would strengthen him.


    This wasn''t something Arran had intended to happen, but when he became aware of it, he decided at once to let it continue. Mastering the fusion of his insights was a difficult task, and he would gladly accept anything that would hasten his progress.


    Still, he continued his search for Blightspawn, as well. Even if his progress from the Forms exceeded his expectations, only battle could truly temper his skill at using these newfound powers.


    Arran continued his journey westward for more than half a week, searching in vain for any sign of enemies. But then, finally, he came to a reluctant halt.


    By now, he knew he was already nearing the far edge of the Imperium. Another few days of travel at most, and he would cross into the Desolation, where he would surely find the enemies he sought.


    The thought of continuing onward tempted Arran, but as much as he wanted to see what lay ahead, he grudgingly admitted to himself that the idea was a bad one.


    He believed he had the strength to defeat most dangers he encountered ¡ª and escape those he could not defeat ¡ª but he also knew that his knowledge about the Desolation was still lacking.


    Moreover, he was already running short on time.


    He had told Kaleesh that he would return within a month or two, and well over a month had already passed. If he ventured into the Desolation and met with any unexpected obstacles or delays, he might well find himself unable to keep his word.


    That wasn''t a risk he could take. Had it just been him, he would have been willing to chance it, but he could not risk burdening Kaleesh and the others like that ¡ª and that the captain would wait for him, he knew for a fact.


    Yet without enemies, there was no reason to remain in the wilderness. Perhaps he might find one or two groups of Blightspawn if he searched another few weeks, but that wouldn''t be anywhere near enough. He needed dozens of battles, not a mere handful.


    Arran briefly pondered the matter, then let out a deep sigh. There was no way around it ¡ª his best option was to return to Knight''s Watch. At least there, he would be able to practice against others.


    Still, he could not help but cast a regretful glance westward before he left.


    There, beyond the horizon, lay the Desolation, with all its dangers and opportunities. And although he would travel there soon enough, he already felt the pull of curiosity.


    He had long wondered what could threaten a force as mighty as the Imperium, and his first battles against the Blightspawn had provided little more than suspicions. In the Desolation, he would finally get at least a glimpse of the true answer.


    But it would have to wait.


    Without any further hesitation, Arran turned around and set off at a run, his figure soon disappearing amid the trees and rocks that littered the wilderness.


    As he ran, he could not help but marvel at his speed. Although he did not exert himself in running, keeping a pace that he could easily maintain for days without effort, he easily surpassed what would have been his limit just a month earlier.


    Where he had previously relied on the sheer power and endurance of his body, the comprehension he''d gained from the Forms allowed him to move with far greater dexterity than he could before.


    No longer did he depend on brute force, with his feet tearing the earth beneath him as he forged a path ahead. Instead, his bounding steps now only barely made contact with the ground, and the touch of his boots was light enough that it left not even footprints behind.


    Yet his strength was not the least bit diminished. And if he could now achieve double the result with half the effort, then it could be imagined what would happen when he truly expended his power.


    There was no need for that now, however. Instead of hurrying, Arran continued his journey at a fast but even pace, saving his strength as he made his way back toward Knight''s Watch.


    He traveled like this for several hours, his figure barely a shadow as he flitted past stretches of dense brush and jagged crags. Though the terrain was rough, the obstacles Arran met ¡ª deep canyons and shallow rapids, as well as many patches of thorny trees ¡ª now barely slowed him, and when evening began to approach, he''d already traveled close to a hundred miles.


    But then, with the sun bathing the landscape in a deep red as it made its final descent toward the horizon, Arran came to a sudden halt.


    In the distance, he Sensed something ¡ª Blightspawn, and several dozens of them, at that. Though the creatures were difficult to Sense, he had not forgotten his first encounter with them, and vague though their presence might be, he now instantly recognized it for what it was.


    There was no need for Arran to consider what he would do. He had traveled here to hunt Blightspawn, and now that he had finally found a group, he had no intention of letting them escape.


    Still, he did not rush into battle. Instead, he moved toward the group slowly, using the rough terrain to mask his approach. While he did not intend to ambush these opponents, he wouldn''t throw caution to the wind altogether, either.


    It took a few minutes before he was close enough to lay eyes on his unwitting enemies, and when he did, the sight caused him to raise an eyebrow in surprise.


    So far, he had only seen Blightspawn either in battle or readying themselves for it. But the creatures before him now had set up a rough camp at the side of a muddy pond, and they had several roaring fires on which they were roasting meat of unknown origin.


    Though Arran had known the Blightspawn weren''t just mindless monsters, some part of him had still thought of them as such, as their ferocity made it difficult to imagine them doing anything but fight. But now, the scene before him showed just that ¡ª Blightspawn camped out and eating a meal, in much the same way that human soldiers would.


    But there were differences, as well. While soldiers might engage in song or banter, there was no such merriment among the creatures before Arran. Though the creatures spoke to each other, they did so in rough grunts that more resembled the howls and barks of angry beasts than it did the speech of men.


    And more than that, their movements lacked the ease and laziness of weary soldiers. Instead, they moved with jagged gestures, almost as if every move they made caused them unspeakable agony.


    But then, Arran realized, that might well be true. The Blightspawn''s amulets might have restrained the Essence within them, but if they were unable to control it, the feeling would still be like a fire running wild within their veins.


    Although it had been years ago, he remembered well what pain he had suffered after ingesting even a single Realm Opening Pill. If the Blightspawn suffered such pain endlessly, it made sense that they would welcome death rather than fear it.


    Arran gave the Blightspawn only a brief glance, however. As curious as he was about them, his attention was immediately drawn to their leaders ¡ª two Reavers, both of them sat on the ground beside a fire.


    Unlike the Blightspawn, the Reavers showed no sign of being in agony. And although Arran was too far to hear their voices, their conversation seemed little different from one between normal humans.


    Hidden amid a patch of trees, Arran observed the Reavers for several minutes, curious to see whether they would detect him. Yet although he was only a hundred paces away and hadn''t used his Shadowcloak, the creatures seemed oblivious to his presence.


    Finally, he decided he had seen enough. With a thought, he cast a Shadowcloak. Not to hide himself, but to see whether the Reavers would Sense it.


    The Reavers'' reaction was immediate. Both of the creatures stood up at once, eyes instantly scanning the area where Arran was hiding between the trees.


    The result did not surprise Arran. He had long suspected that Reavers might Sense Shadow Essence, and now, that suspicion was confirmed.


    Of course, he still had means to hide himself from the Reavers'' eyes. Covering the area in a thick cloud of Shadow Essence was a simple enough matter, and once he did that, the creatures would be all but blinded, leaving Arran free to strike from the shadows.


    Yet he did not do so. Instead, he let go of the Shadowcloak spell, and as it dissipated, he stepped out from amid the patch of trees, revealing himself to his enemies.


    Then, as the Blightspawn''s eyes turned to him and piercing howls of alarm sounded, he drew his sword.


    The first time he had faced the Blightspawn, it had been a desperate battle, with Arran struggling to protect himself and his allies. The second time, he had attacked from the shadows, exploiting his enemies'' confusion to cut them down unseen.


    But this time was different. This time, he faced the creatures head-on, with no intention of either hiding or fleeing. He needed to temper his newly gained skills, and that tempering would begin with the blood of these Blightspawn.


    His appearance caused a brief moment of confusion among his enemies, as if they didn''t quite know whether he was friend or foe. But then, with a shout from one of the Reavers, the Blightspawn surged forward, rushing at Arran like a pack of starving wolves at an injured goat.


    Arran, however, awaited them with a calm expression, Living Shadow sword in his right hand as he gathered Shadow Essence in his left. And when the creatures had crossed half the distance between them, he raised his left hand in a casual gesture.


    A fountain of blood instantly erupted from the chest of the frontmost Blightspawn, its body easily pierced by the Shadowstrike Arran had cast. And even as the dying creature collapsed to the ground, another two fell beside it.


    Then, the group of Blightspawn was upon him.


    If their comrades'' deaths caused them any fear, they showed no sign of it. They attacked without even the slightest concern for defense, howling in rage as they threw themselves at Arran.


    It was a scene much like Arran''s first battle against the creatures, but this time, the outcome was wholly different.


    He met the onslaught calmly, dodging and parrying the Blightspawn''s attacks with an almost casual ease. Yet where Arran''s opponents failed to even touch him, his attacks weren''t so easily avoided. Each attack he made was as precise as it was vicious, and each time he struck, one of his enemies fell.


    Within moments, half a dozen Blightspawn lay dead, their ferocity no match for Arran''s skill. And although dozens more followed behind them, those fared no better against the Living Shadow blade.


    It was a battle only in name. In truth, it was a slaughter, as one-sided as it was bloody. None of the Blightspawn could match Arran, much less threaten him, and he cut them down like rats.


    When half his foes were already defeated, he Sensed a sudden surge of Fire Essence. Finally, the Reavers had joined the fight.


    A mere instant after Arran Sensed the Fire Essence, a barrage of magical attacks rained down on him ¡ª large spheres of white-hot fire that erupted into flame where they hit, causing the Blightspawn around him to scream in agony as they were burned.


    When the attack finally came to an end, the Blightspawn''s screams had long since disappeared, and their charred bodies lay motionless on the ground, still smoldering from the deadly conflagration that had been unleashed upon them.


    Yet when the smoke cleared, it revealed Arran''s figure, unharmed but for a few singes to his clothes and hair.


    He cast an amused glance at his left hand ¡ª the source of the Shadow Shield that had so easily withstood the full might of two Reavers. Although he''d known he wasn''t in danger, he hadn''t expected his defense to be quite as effective as this.


    A small briefly crossed his lips, and then, he turned his eyes to the two Reavers.


    Both the creatures stared at him with expressions that seemed shocked more than anything, their jet-black eyes wide as they silently faced Arran.


    A moment passed like this, wither neither side moving to attack the other. But as they stood in silence, Arran Sensed that the two final enemies were gathering Essence once more, desperately trying to replenish their depleted reserves.


    Naturally, this was something he would not allow. He moved forward in a single fluid leap, appearing next to the nearest Reaver an instant later. And as he landed, he struck two blows ¡ª one with his blade, and the other with magic.


    The creature next to him fell at once, its severed head toppling to the ground as its body collapsed. And as one Reaver died, the other grabbed at its neck, trying and failing to stem the thick stream of blood that was gushing onto the ground.


    The wounded Reaver stared at Arran, its alien eyes filled with a mix of panic and confusion. Briefly, it appeared as if the creature was trying to speak, but whatever words it had to say were lost a moment later, as it joined its companion in death.


    When the last Reaver died, Arran cast a ponderous look at the battlefield. He''d known his strength had improved, but even so, he felt some shock at the sheer magnitude of the improvement.


    This wasn''t mere progress. Rather, it was as if he''d crossed some previously unknown boundary, with years of effort in studying the Forms finally paying off all at once.


    But while he knew he had made a major step, he had yet to find out just what it meant ¡ª and what other steps could follow behind it. Those were both things he should find out sooner rather than later.


    As he retrieved the amulets from the two dead Reavers, he resolved to investigate the matter as quickly as he could. Even if doing so risked drawing unwanted attention, these were things that could not wait.


    Just then, as Arran was about to move to the Blightspawn to recover their amulets, as well, he suddenly stopped in his tracks, his calm expression instantly turning tense.


    His Living Shadow sword had Sensed something nearby ¡ª a person, or perhaps a creature. That alone wouldn''t be cause for concern, but Arran himself Sensed absolutely nothing. And that could only mean that whoever ¡ª or whatever ¡ª was approaching, they were powerful enough to be dangerous.


    He took a brief look at the area around him, then quickly retreated to the patch of trees where he''d hidden earlier. There, he halted, fixing his eyes on the opposite side of the pond, beyond which the stranger now approached.


    Although he''d faced the Blightspawn and Reavers without fear, a feeling of unease filled his heart as he stood and waited. Whether friend or foe, the thought of someone hiding from his Sense so completely made him clench his jaw in apprehension.


    Still, he knew he could not leave. Not without finding out who ¡ª or what ¡ª was coming. Even if he had to flee, it would be better to know what he was fleeing from.


    The wait was a short one. Barely a minute had passed when a figure stepped into his view, just two hundred paces away. A man, it seemed, dressed in simple brown robes, his shape neither particularly tall nor unusually broad.


    The sight caused Arran a moment of relief as he saw the stranger was no monster, but his relief disappeared as quickly as it had come.


    The figure in the distance cast a single dismissive look at the battlefield, then immediately turned his eyes to Arran ¡ª and even at this distance, Arran could see that the man''s eyes were completely white.


    Then, without word or warning, the figure raised his hand and shot off a thick bolt of lightning that shimmered with destructive power.


    Arran barely managed to cast a Shadow Shield, but he might as well have tried to stop an avalanche with a sheet of paper. His Shadow Shield, which had easily resisted the combined strength of two Reavers, was torn apart in an instant. And then, the bolt of lightning slammed into Arran''s chest.


    The attack hit with terrible force, sending Arran flying a hundred paces before he violently crashed into the ground. Pain immediately surged through his body, but he ignored it and scrambled back to his feet immediately.


    The thought of fighting his attacker did not even enter his mind. Instead, he ran off as fast as he could, using every shred of power his body held as he frantically made his escape.

 394 The Missing Piece

    Arran rushed through the rough landscape in a mad dash, pushing his injured body to its limits as he fled the hostile stranger. The man''s first attack had shocked him with its strength, and he had no desire to discover the full extent of this new enemy''s power.


    As he ran, more attacks rained down behind him ¡ª vicious bolts of lightning that tore through trees and rocks alike, and seething balls of fire that set the very ground aflame where they landed. Arran narrowly avoided the conflagration, however, relying on his Sense to dodge the attacks before they hit.


    He did not glance backward as he ran, much less turn to face the man unleashing the destruction behind him. As much as his strength had increased over the past month, he still had no delusions about the outcome if he tried to fight someone as powerful as this.


    But while he couldn''t match the stranger in battle, he could outrun the man. Arran was no mere mage, after all, but a monstrously strong Body Refiner besides. Together with his comprehension of the Forms, that gave him a speed that few others could match.


    Despite Arran''s injuries, he ran fast enough that a gap soon appeared between him and his pursuer. As the distance grew too large for even magic to cross, the stranger seemed to realize his efforts were in vain, and the conflagration behind Arran finally came to an end.


    Arran breathed a small sigh of relief when he heard the thunderous roar of destruction fade away, but no more than that. He knew through his Living Shadow weapon''s Sense that the stranger was still in pursuit, and even without that, he wouldn''t be so foolish as to assume he was out of harm''s way yet.


    As the sun fell below the horizon and the harsh landscape was covered in darkness, Arran continued to run as fast as he could, his figure no more than a streak of shadow in the night as he cut his way across the wilderness.


    He paused for neither rest nor thought. Both those things could wait until he was truly safe. Instead, he ran through the night, relying on his Sense to guide the way.


    Twice during the night, he Sensed Blightspawn in the distance ¡ª small groups, with even the largest counting under a dozen of the creatures. Though these groups posed no threat to Arran, he avoided them all the same, unwilling to waste even the moments it would take to defeat them.


    Only when dawn arrived and the sun bathed the wilderness in its golden glow did Arran finally come to a halt, taking shelter amid a small copse of trees, the sound of unseen birds filling the air as he inspected his injuries.


    His wounds weren''t as bad as he expected. Although he had suffered several broken ribs and bruises covered much of his body, it seemed that between the protection of a Shadow Shield and his starmetal armor, the stranger''s attack had been weakened enough to do no serious damage to his body.


    With his strength and resistance to magic, even a Grandmaster would be hard-pressed to injure him with a single attack. Yet the stranger had done so, and he had done it with apparent ease.


    That meant the stranger possessed at least a strong Grandmaster''s strength, and likely surpassed even that. An Archmage, perhaps. But if Archmages ran wild in the Desolation¡­


    Arran frowned, then shook his head.


    He could not believe that Archmages were a common sight in the Desolation. If they were, the Imperium would not send armies of Rangers and common soldiers to face them. It would be like sending mice to hunt dragons ¡ª as futile as it was cruel.


    And while he could believe the cruelty, the futility was a different matter. No matter his thoughts on the Imperium, he did not think the Darians would waste their people so carelessly. Not if the sacrifice would be for naught.


    Yet Arran did not believe that the encounter had been mere misfortune, either. It had been difficult enough just to find normal Blightspawn in the wilderness, and if the stranger was the only of its kind, then the coincidence was one that stretched credulity.


    There had to be a different explanation, he thought. But for all the thought he gave the question, he came no closer to finding an answer.


    Whatever the case, he had no time to dwell on the matter. Although he suspected that his attacker had long since given up the chase, he had little desire to put that suspicion to the test.


    After he finished inspecting his wounds, he ate a hurried meal, swallowing down more dried meat and fruits in a matter of minutes than most people could eat in half a week.


    As he finished the last of the bland food, a wistful smile crossed his face when he remembered his mansion in the Ninth Valley. Though most of the luxury there had been wasted on him, there was no denying that he missed having his own cooks.


    But there was no point in longing for the past, and he set off again soon after, traveling at a pace only slightly slower than the one he''d kept while fleeing the stranger.


    Time passed quickly as he ran through the wilderness with its endless crags and woodlands, but for all the miles he covered, there was no more sign of any Blightspawn. From the look of it, the creatures grew rarer the further one traveled from the Desolation.


    Arran briefly wondered why this might be the case, but he''d only barely asked himself the question when he stumbled upon the answer.


    Shortly after noon, when the sun had just passed its highest point and was starting its slow descent toward the horizon, he Sensed a small Darian patrol moving in the distance.


    That alone would barely be worth his attention, but he knew immediately that this was no normal patrol. The small group counted half a dozen Knights, and more importantly, there were two Lords among their number.


    Arran whistled between his teeth when he recognized the sheer power of the group in the distance. These people, though they numbered fewer than a dozen, were strong enough to match an entire army. If more such patrols roamed the region, then it was a small miracle that there were any Blightspawn at all.


    After a quick thought, he decided not to avoid them. His presence in the wilderness was no secret, and he had already abandoned the idea of hiding his strength. Instead, he merely slowed his pace as he continued on his way, knowing that it wouldn''t be long before they discovered his approach.


    As expected, barely a minute had passed when he Sensed the group suddenly change directions, their pace picking up as they moved toward him.


    Arran acted as if he didn''t notice this, continuing forward until the Darians were almost upon him. Then, as they finally came into view, he feigned a look of surprise ¡ª an easy task, given the power of the men and women before him.


    As he came to a halt, he eyed the Darians with unfeigned apprehension. Heading the group were the two Lords, both dark-haired and rough-faced, their appearances similar enough that he thought they might be brothers. Behind the Lords followed the Knights, half a dozen of them, each well-armed and wearing expressions that told they were ready for battle at any moment.


    When they caught sight of Arran, one of the two Lords stepped forward with a curious frown.


    "These are dangerous lands for a lone traveler," the man said, speaking in a voice that was wary but not unfriendly. "What brings you here?"


    "I hoped to find enemies to aid me in my training," Arran replied truthfully. He shrugged, and continued, "What I found exceeded my expectations, so I decided to return to Knight''s Watch."


    "Hah!" The Lord laughed sharply, his expression one of amusement and disbelief in equal parts. "A Ranger, fighting Blightspawn outside the Desolation? You''re lucky to have escaped with your life. Outside the Desolation, even a single Reaver is a mortal threat to a Ranger."


    Arran frowned, then shook his head. "Reavers weren''t what caused me to flee." He produced the two amulets he''d taken from the Reavers he''d slain and tossed them to the Lord. "There was something different out there. Something more dangerous."


    Amusement fled the Lord''s face in an instant, and after inspecting the amulets, his expression turned grave. "What did you find?"


    "I encountered a creature," Arran began. "Or rather, a man¡­"


    He described his encounter with the stranger, straying from the truth only where necessary to hide his secrets. As he told it, the stranger''s first attack had narrowly missed him, and he''d fled immediately after, only hearing the roar of destruction behind him as he ran.


    When Arran finished the story, the Lord gave a forceful curse. "A Warlock," he grunted. "A damned Warlock, beyond the Desolation. When did you meet the thing? And where?"


    "Yesterday," Arran said. He described where he''d met the stranger ¡ª the Warlock, apparently ¡ª then asked, "But what difference does it make whether it''s in the Desolation or not?"


    At this, the dark-haired Lord gave him an odd look. "You don''t know? As a Ranger, you should¡ª"


    "I''m no Ranger," Arran interrupted him. "Not yet, at least."


    Surprise flashed across the Lord''s face. "Not even a Ranger? And already you''re hunting Reavers?" He frowned, but then, he gave a slow nod. "Good. I imagine you''ll be a Ranger soon enough."


    "Then can you tell me?" Arran asked again. "What the Desolation does?"


    By now, he understood that the Desolation had secrets he had yet to learn. From the Lord''s words, he suspected that it somehow affected Blightspawn, likely weakening them.


    Yet the other man merely gave a firm shake of his head. "Once you become a Ranger, you will understand." Before Arran could object, he went on, "But now, we must make haste. If fortune is on our side, we may yet catch the creature you found."


    He made a small gesture with his hand, and immediately, the others in the group readied themselves to move. From the smoothness of their reaction, it was clear that the members of the patrol were well-accustomed to working together.


    The Lord handed the two Reavers'' amulets back to Arran. "What''s your name?"


    "My name is Arran. But¡ª"


    "Should we catch the creature, you will be rewarded." The Lord motioned to his companions, and as they set in motion, he cast a final look at Arran. "You should return to Knight''s Watch without delay. These lands are unsafe, even for one with your talent."


    As the Lords and Knights set off, now moving in the direction from which Arran had come, Arran could not help but frown in frustration. Not only had the Lord treated him as little more than a child, the man had also completely refused to answer his questions. And he had many of those.


    Yet as the patrol disappeared in the distance, Arran''s frustration faded as well. Even if his questions had gone unanswered, he had still learned much from the encounter.


    He now knew for a fact that the hostile stranger had been a type of Blightspawn, and one far stronger than the creatures Arran had faced so far.


    More important still was what the Lord''s words about the Desolation had suggested, even if he hadn''t said it outright ¡ª that facing Blightspawn inside the Desolation was somehow less dangerous than facing the creatures outside of it.


    The thought caused Arran some pause. If true, it would explain many things ¡ª why the Blightspawn the Wolfsblood Company had faced had been so much stronger than they expected, and why the Imperium would dare to send common soldiers and Rangers to face the Blight.


    But for all the things it explained, it raised at least as many questions.


    Arran glanced in the direction where the patrol had gone, then let out a weary sigh. There was no point in speculating. What he needed were answers, not suspicions. And the only way to get answers was to climb the Darians'' ranks.


    He resumed his journey back to Knight''s Watch at once, pushing his questions about the Desolation to the back of his mind. Instead, as he traveled through the wilderness, he turned his thoughts to the Forms.


    His single most important task was to grow stronger. Only that would allow him to accomplish his goals ¡ª to learn the Darians'' secrets, to win their treasures, and to escape with his life after doing both those things. And to grow stronger, he had no better path than the Forms.


    But although he''d achieved far more than he expected in the wilderness, making a breakthrough that had increased his strength several times over, he knew there were still several pieces missing.


    The first of these was practice. He''d made a breakthrough in his understanding, but he had yet to properly temper his newfound comprehension in combat. The two Reavers had given some small help, but those few moments of battle weren''t nearly enough to truly master what he had learned. He needed hundreds of fights, or thousands if he could find them.


    Still, he wasn''t too concerned about this. Given time, he had little doubt that he would find all the enemies he needed ¡ª and probably sooner rather than later, at that.


    The second missing piece, however, was a bigger problem.


    Arran''s comprehension was built around the Forms, atop a foundation laid by the techniques he''d learned from Muna. Improvised though this path was, the results had far exceeded Arran''s expectations, and the insights from the Forms worked almost as well for swordsmanship as they did for magic.


    Almost ¡ª and therein lay the problem.


    The Forms encompassed a wide selection of insights, but as Arran''s understanding grew, it became increasingly clear to him that even the numerous insights within the Forms only represented a small sliver of reality.


    This was to be expected, of course. Elder Nikias certainly hadn''t comprehended all of existence, and even if he had, the entirety of his knowledge wouldn''t have been contained in a single memory amulet he gave to a student. Rather, what the memory amulet contained would be a selection of those insights he thought most suitable for his apprentices.


    Yet all of the Elder''s students had been mages ¡ª specifically, mages of the Shadowflame Society. And as Arran studied the Forms, he grew increasingly certain that the insights within them were those the Elder had deemed most relevant to Shadow and Fire magic.


    That was likely the reason Arran''s Shadow magic had benefited so much from his comprehension of the Forms, and he had little doubt that his Fire magic had benefited similarly. For a Shadowflame mage, that was an incomparable blessing.


    But Arran wasn''t just a Shadowflame mage. He was a swordsman as much as he was a mage ¡ª possibly even more so. And the more familiar he became with the Forms, the more he became convinced that he was still lacking in insights related to physical combat.


    The solution to that was as obvious as it was simple. All he had to do was find a proper teacher. A skilled Knight, or better, a Lord. With that, his progress should be nothing short of phenomenal.


    After all, he had already begun to fuse his insights, which was far more difficult than merely gaining some nascent insights. And with the knowledge he''d gained from his true insights, he could advance far faster than most.


    But as simple as that solution was, it was useless to Arran. Neither Knights nor Lords were likely to take him as a student unless he pledged himself to them, and he had no desire to enter the service of some Darian Lord.


    Which meant he had to find another way.


    Arran pondered the question while he traveled, a thoughtful frown on his face even as he ran through the rough terrain of the wilderness. Yet for all his ruminations on the matter, the answer to his problem continued to elude him.


    He continued his journey through the day, paying little attention to the landscape around him as his thoughts were occupied elsewhere. But he wasn''t so careless as to ignore his Sense, and halfway through the day, he discovered a large group of Darians moving slowly toward the Desolation.


    Arran approached the group cautiously, moving just close enough that he could observe them without being spotted. And when he laid eyes on the group, he could not help but frown in surprise.


    He''d Sensed that the group was large, but what he saw exceeded his expectations. Along a broad dirt road in the wilderness walked a column of soldiers that was at least a mile long, headed by what looked to be over a hundred Rangers.


    There were no Knights among the group, much less Lords, but the sight was formidable all the same. At a glance, he guessed the group counted well over three thousand soldiers, and not a one of them was lacking in weapons or armor.


    Arran realized at once that it was one of the Darian groups headed into the Desolation ¡ª a proper army, with the numbers to face even a large group of Blightspawn. And while they might not be strong enough to face the stranger that had attacked Arran ¡ª the Warlock ¡ª he had little doubt that their combined might could easily match several Reavers.


    As this thought crossed Arran''s mind, he suddenly furrowed his brow when an idea came to him ¡ª an idea on how to approach his problem.


    He had thought he needed a teacher with a vast trove of knowledge, whose insights he could study and learn for himself. But as he looked at the army that inched along the dirt road in the distance, he realized that together, they should hold numerous insights as well.


    Each of the soldiers would have his own talents and his own budding insights, and while they might be weak individually, their combined knowledge would not be negligible.


    Moreover, there were the Rangers. Most of them would have studied Darian techniques for decades, practicing every day from the moment they could hold a sword. Even if their progress hadn''t been as fast as Arran''s, that still represented a wealth of knowledge and experience.


    By themselves, any one of them might have little to teach Arran. But together, they should know at least as much as any Knight.


    A smile crossed Arran''s lips as he reached a decision. If he couldn''t have a single teacher, then he would have a thousand teachers, instead.


    Of course, the group before him wasn''t likely to agree to such a thing. But if Kaleesh''s efforts had been even half as successful as he suspected, then another army should await him on his return to Knight''s Watch.


    He cast a final glance at the Darian army, then quickly turned around and set off. If he traveled through the night, he should reach Knight''s Watch by morning.

 395 Reunion

    Arran reached Knight''s Watch at the break of dawn. He''d traveled through the night, and as the city finally came in sight, the bright morning sun lit up the towering walls even as the lands below were still cloaked in shadow.


    He could not help but feel a sense of awe when he looked upon the city''s mighty defenses. Built atop a massive hill and surrounded by tiered layers of walls, the city resembled a giant castle ¡ª but one that was miles across and thousands of feet tall, far beyond anything human hands could craft unaided.


    Yet imposing as the sight of the city''s walls was, Arran now understood that even these defenses might not be enough to withstand the Blight if it ever pushed beyond the Desolation in force.


    When he had first laid eyes upon Knight''s Watch, he had wondered what enemies its walls were built to withstand. But now, he knew the answer. After seeing the power of a Warlock, he understood that just a handful of such creatures could bring down any wall.


    Against the strength of Archmages, no barrier would offer more than a temporary respite.


    Moreover, Arran suspected that the Blight counted creatures even stronger than Warlocks among its numbers. He''d had his share of bad luck in the past, but he could not imagine that he''d stumbled upon one of the Blight''s mightiest champions the moment he set foot near the Desolation.


    Far more likely was that the Warlock was just one among many, a powerful but otherwise unremarkable creature of the Blight. And if that was the case, there had to be stronger beings among their ranks.


    This thought caused Arran some pause. If Warlocks had the power of Archmages ¡ª or near enough not to make a difference ¡ª then what strength would those that surpassed them possess? Would they be comparable to Sages, or worse, even stronger than that?


    He sighed softly as he considered the possibility, then abandoned the thought as quickly as it had come. Easy though it was to linger on the many dangers ahead, doing so would do him little good.


    Instead, he took a moment to clear his mind, then continued on toward the city, approaching its massive gates at a casual jog.


    Early as it was, the roads were still empty, and even at a distance of a quarter-mile Arran could see the gate guards ¡ª a good two dozen of them, each heavily armed and armored ¡ª eying him warily. Yet as he drew nearer and they recognized that he was no Blightspawn, they visibly relaxed.


    When he reached the gate some moments later, the guards'' leader stepped forward and cast a short glance at his armor. \"Wolfsblood Army?\" There was a hint of envy in his eyes, and not without reason. Though he was a Knight, it was obvious that his armor wasn''t anywhere near as good as Arran''s.


    The guard, however, mistook Arran''s smile for mockery, and gave him a dour look. \"Don''t think a suit of armor can turn a Ranger into a Knight,\" he said sharply, disapproval clear in his voice. With a gesture at the city behind him, he continued, \"You''ll find your group within the outermost layer of the city, about three miles to the south.\"


    Though Arran was tempted to point out that he wasn''t even a Ranger yet, he wisely held his tongue. Instead, he gave the man a friendly nod, then made his way through the gates ¡ª and promptly came to a halt.


    That Knight''s Watch was no common city was obvious even from afar, but inside the city walls, he now saw that the outer part barely even resembled a city.


    Rather than homes and shops, the half-mile between the first and second walls held only barracks and large training fields. And despite the early hour, numerous soldiers were already practicing their swordsmanship and drilling various battle formations.


    Arran had expected to find a city, but instead, what he saw more resembled a vast military camp, with many thousands of soldiers all gathered around the city proper.


    These soldiers weren''t part of a single army, however. They were divided into separate groups, each with its own leaders and many of them flying their own banners.


    Arran understood that these were Darians headed into the Desolation, making a final stop in Knight''s Watch before they continued their journey to Sacrifice.


    Here, they would try to find allies and companions to help them face the dangers ahead. Some of the groups ¡ª the strongest ones ¡ª would grow their numbers, absorbing other groups to bolster their ranks and amass the strength they would need to find glory in the Desolation. The smallest groups, meanwhile, would be absorbed themselves, sacrificing their prospects of rewards for a chance at survival.


    Though Arran already knew all of this, he still found himself startled by the sheer mass of people before him. Hearing about it was one thing, but actually seeing it with his own eyes was something different altogether.


    Still, he didn''t linger for more than a few moments. Impressive as the sight of the Darian soldiers might be, what he really wished to know was what Kaleesh had achieved since his departure.


    That the Knight at the gates had recognized his armor was a good sign. If nothing else, it meant the captain had found at least some success in forging an army. Yet whether it was enough still remained to be seen.


    Arran quickly set off toward the area where the guardsman had said the Wolfsblood Army could be found, eager to see the fruits of Kaleesh''s labor.


    Though he was mainly interested in the Wolfsblood Army, he kept an eye on the groups he passed as he made his past the practice fields, and it wasn''t long before he noticed that there were stark differences between them.


    The smallest groups counted only a few dozen soldiers and were usually led by just one or two Rangers. To Arran''s eyes, the soldiers in these groups looked more like farmhands and shepherds than warriors, with rusty weapons and shoddy armor. And if the Rangers among them seemed more experienced, even their equipment was lacking at best.


    Arran guessed that these groups came from villages and small towns, and he couldn''t help but shake his head as he looked at them. If the Desolation was even half as dangerous as he believed, then many of these youths would not see their homes again.


    Yet where the small groups looked unprepared and under-equipped, the larger groups appeared wholly different.


    With hundreds ¡ª or, in some cases, thousands ¡ª of soldiers, they resembled small armies rather than bands of villagers, and they had the equipment to match their numbers. Their soldiers were well-armed and wore matching uniforms, and there were few among their Rangers who did not carry a starmetal weapon.


    These groups were the ones with strong backing, Arran knew. Their leaders were likely the sons and daughters of Lords and Knights, given the troops and equipment they needed to win glory in the Desolation. And although even they would face danger, he had no doubt that most of them would return with their lives.


    He sighed wistfully as he continued onward. As unfair as the situation seemed, he knew there was nothing he could do to change it. All he could do was try his best to allow himself and his allies to escape unscathed.


    As for the Darian villagers, they would have to fend for themselves.


    Arran walked for several minutes, studying the groups in their drills as he passed them. Some impressed him with their skill and discipline, while others left him wondering whether their soldiers had ever even held weapons before.


    But then, as he laid eyes on yet another group, he came to a slow halt, and his eyes widened at the scene before him.


    To his side there was an army of thousands, with well-armed soldiers who were clad in immaculate uniforms of blue and black. Above the army rose banners carrying a blue dragon-shaped sigil, and even at a distance, Arran saw that several of the Rangers among the soldiers wore starmetal armor.


    That wasn''t what had brought him to a halt, however. Though this group was easily the best-equipped he had seen so far, equipment alone wasn''t enough to cause him pause. Rather, what caught his eye were their drills.


    Where the other groups moved with the slight awkwardness of trained but inexperienced fighters, the soldiers of this group obviously had the confidence of seasoned veterans, their every move shaped by years of experience ¡ª experience that clearly extended beyond the training fields.


    A single look was enough for Arran to know that many of the soldiers already approached the level of Rangers in their abilities, and as he continued to watch, he soon became convinced that most of them had already spent time in the Desolation.


    The same held true for the Rangers in the group, as well. Although they were still far removed from the level of Knights, their skills and discipline made it clear that they were a cut above most of the Rangers Arran had encountered so far. If the soldiers in this army were all seasoned veterans, then the Rangers were master swordsmen, armed with the kind of skills that only a lifetime of training could bring.


    Yet as respectable as their individual skills were, Arran was even more impressed by their coordination. Seeing them practice their formations was like watching a meticulously choreographed dance, with a single shouted command enough to make hundreds of soldiers switch positions in an instant.


    When Arran first saw the Wolfsblood Company do battle, he had been astonished at the coordination of Kaleesh''s forces ¡ª how the captain''s band of mercenaries moved almost as if it was a single being, the different units like weapons expertly wielded by their leader.


    But as he watched this army practice, he was forced to admit that it far surpassed anything he had seen from the Wolfsblood Company.


    Several minutes passed as he watched the army in its drills, and he took the opportunity to study its movements and compare them to what he had learned from Kaleesh''s manuscripts.


    It wasn''t long before a small group of Rangers emerged from the mass of soldiers, however. Led by a tall young man in starmetal armor, they moved toward Arran at a rapid pace, their expressions filled with confidence and hostility in equal measure.


    A wry smile crossed Arran''s face as he watched their approach. It seemed the army''s leaders did not appreciate having an audience.


    \"You there!\" the young man at the head of the small group called out as they approached Arran. \"What''s your business here?\"


    \"I''m just taking a look.\" Despite the Ranger''s hostility, Arran replied calmly, his tone neither fearful nor unfriendly. Mere Rangers posed no threat to him, and he saw little point in picking a fight with people he could easily kill without even drawing his sword.


    \"You think you can¡ª\" the young Ranger began, but he stopped mid-sentence as he noticed Arran''s armor. Then, a cold smile crossed his lips. \"One of Kaleesh''s strays, wandered off by himself?\"


    Arran raised an eyebrow. It seemed Kaleesh had not just managed to make a name for himself, but had earned new enemies, as well.


    The Ranger, seemingly mistaking Arran''s silence for fear, moved his hand to his sword. \"Even a dog should know better than to enter a dragon''s den.\"


    At this, Arran could not help but sigh. Though he hadn''t been searching for a fight, perhaps he would have to teach this foolish Ranger a well-deserved lesson, after all.


    Yet before he could move, a voice sounded in the distance. \"Commander!\"


    When Arran turned toward the sound, he saw Arjun rushing toward him, the middle-aged Ranger accompanied by half a dozen others. Arran recognized none of them, but since several wore the Wolfsblood Company''s starmetal armor, he guessed that they must be among Kaleesh''s new recruits.


    \"Commander!\" Arjun repeated as he came to a halt before Arran. He cast a dark look at the other group of Rangers. \"Are they giving you trouble?\"


    Though he spoke confidently, Arran could see in his eyes that he was anxious ¡ª and rightly so, given that the other group of Rangers had an entire army to back them up.


    Arran shook his head. \"We were just having a friendly chat. But come, let''s go pay Kaleesh a visit ¡ª I''ve been wondering how he fared in my absence.\"


    Without giving the young Ranger from the other group a second look, he turned away and started toward the direction from which Arjun and the others had come, motioning for the Rangers to follow him.


    He''d barely taken three steps when a furious voice sounded behind him. \"You! Don''t think you can walk away like this!\" An instant later, there was the unmistakable sound of a sword being drawn.


    Arran had already expected the young Ranger''s reaction. Although he had offered the young man a chance to avoid humiliation, he was not at all surprised that the youth had failed to recognize his kindness. And now, a lesson was in order.


    In a single fluid movement, Arran turned around, then crossed the half-dozen paces that separated him from the young Ranger. It only took him an instant to cover the distance, but somehow, there was no hurry in his strides. Instead, it was almost as if he''d casually stepped through space, appearing before the Ranger before the man even realized it.


    There was no time for the young Ranger to react. Even as his eyes widened in surprise, Arran''s hand struck his wrist, hitting with a sharp blow that sent the young man''s starmetal sword tumbling from his hand. Arran grabbed the sword before it could hit the ground, then calmly stepped back as the Ranger''s expression turned to one of horror.


    He gave the sword a few appraising swings, testing its heft and balance, before finally nodding in approval. \"Good blade.\"


    \"You can''t¡­\" the Ranger began in a weak voice, clearly afraid that Arran intended to keep the weapon.


    \"I can,\" Arran replied flatly. Yet after a moment''s thought, he tossed the sword back to the Ranger, who fumbled to catch it. \"I trust that you will not repeat your mistake.\" Without waiting for the Ranger to respond, he turned to Arjun. \"Let''s go. I have things to discuss with Kaleesh.\"


    Arjun and the others hurriedly followed behind him, the young Ranger and his companions still silent with shock as they departed.


    \"I suppose you didn''t need my help, after all,\" Arjun said once they were out of earshot of the other group. \"The way you moved¡­\" He let out a deep sigh, as if he could still scarcely believe what he had seen.


    \"I''ve made some progress, these past few weeks,\" Arran replied. \"And needed or not, I appreciate your help all the same. But who were they?\"


    \"You don''t know?\" the middle-aged Ranger asked, some surprise in his voice. The words had barely left his mouth when he shook his head. \"I forget that you weren''t born a Darian. The dragon on their banners is the sigil of Lord Ravir, one of the Imperium''s greatest heroes. The army you saw is led by his youngest son, Matas. They call themselves the Band of the Dragon.\"


    A frown crossed Arran''s face, and he couldn''t help but wonder if he''d caused more trouble than intended. \"The idiot Ranger, that was Matas?\"


    Arjun shook his head. \"Matas wouldn''t lower himself to harassing random outsiders.\" He sighed wistfully, then added, \"But his men are a different matter. Kaleesh has drawn a lot of attention, and not all of it good.\"


    \"I take it not everyone welcomes the idea of an outsider leading an army?\" Arran thought he already understood the situation. It was no secret that many Darians looked down on outsiders, and he could not imagine the sons and daughters of Lords and Knights looking kindly upon one who thought himself their equal.


    Arjun gave a nod in response. \"You have the right of it. They might have turned a blind eye had the captain''s goals been modest, but¡­\" He whistled between his teeth. \"You''ll see soon enough.\"


    At this, Arran could not help but chuckle. Expecting Kaleesh to be modest was like expecting a dog not to bark. And if the captain''s efforts had drawn the ire of Darian lordlings, that would only have encouraged him.


    As they made their way to the Wolfsblood Army''s grounds ¡ª Arran was already certain that it had become an army, rather than a company ¡ª they passed several other large groups that were practicing on the seemingly endless training fields.


    Though none of the groups were as large as the Band of the Dragon, there were several more whose skills left him impressed, and he soon realized that before now, he had truly only witnessed a tiny sliver of the Imperium''s strength and potential. And the more he saw, the more he became convinced that there was still plenty he had yet to see.


    Then, finally, they reached the Wolfsblood Army.


    As soon as Arran saw the army that Kaleesh had forged, his eyes went wide with surprise. There were numerous soldiers ¡ª well over three thousand, drilling and practicing in massed ranks, with banners carrying a wolfshead sigil flying above them.


    Yet impressive though their numbers were, the Wolfsblood Army''s numbers weren''t what caused Arran surprise. Rather, what made him blink in wonder was the appearance of the soldiers.


    Where the Band of the Dragon had resembled a true army, with disciplined soldiers in matching armor, the Wolfsblood Army more resembled a vast band of brigands. Though the soldiers were well-equipped, there was no sign of uniforms. Instead, their equipment was a mismatched hodgepodge of weapons and armor, of the kind one would expect to see on bandits or caravan guards.


    Moreover, where many of the other groups had consisted mostly of fresh-faced youths, Kaleesh''s army appeared to hold mostly grizzled veterans and hard-faced toughs. There were some youths among their ranks, as well, but even they more resembled ruffians than soldiers.


    \"This¡­\" Arran began, but he paused as he found himself at a loss for words. He had expected Kaleesh''s army to be unusual, but he hadn''t been prepared for anything like the army that now stood before him.


    \"Indeed,\" Arjun said with a helpless smile. \"Had I known this was the army I would be joining, I might have reconsidered my choice.\" He shrugged, and continued, \"But appearances aren''t everything. They are more competent than they look ¡ª most of them, anyway. Come, let me take you to the captain. He will be glad to see that you''ve returned.\"


    As Arran followed Arjun through the ranks of the Wolfsblood army, he soon realized that the middle-aged Ranger had spoken the truth. Rough though the soldiers looked, the vast majority of them clearly had plenty of experience ¡ª even if, as Arran suspected, that experience had been gained in dark alleys rather than on the battlefield.


    They reached Kaleesh soon after, finding the captain in the midst of a sparring bout against a burly Ranger. Surrounding the two were several dozens of soldiers, yelling and jeering as they watched the two fight.


    Arran could tell at once that both the Ranger and several of the soldiers that surrounded the two fighters weren''t part of the Wolfsblood Army. Neatly uniformed and clad in armor that bore an eagle-shaped sigil, they appeared to be members of one of the armies Arran had passed on the way, likely come here to match their strength against Kaleesh.


    If that was the case, they were in for an unwelcome surprise. Though the fight might seem even, Arran noticed instantly that the captain was holding back, carefully hiding his strength while studying his opponent''s weaknesses.


    Yet although this was obvious to Arran, the Ranger clearly hadn''t realized it. He fought with the fervor of a man who believed he was on the verge of victory, an eager grin on his face as he launched a series of furious blows at the captain.


    Arran watched the fight for several minutes, but soon, he decided he was in no mood for waiting. \"Kaleesh!\" he called out loudly. \"Finish the poor bastard already!\"


    Hearing Arran''s voice, Kaleesh cast a surprised look in his direction ¡ª and nearly lost an ear to his opponent''s blade, the hapless Ranger for once finding a real opening in his defense.


    Yet the captain narrowly managed to dodge the attack, then quickly took a step back and thumbed his ear, as if to make sure it was still there.


    After he''d made sure his ear was unscathed, Kaleesh turned his attention back to the Ranger. \"Entertaining though this was,\" he said, \"I''m afraid the time has come to bring this fight to an end.\"


    The Ranger responded with a sneer, the excitement of battle still fresh in his eyes. \"Don''t think you can just walk away from our bet!\"


    A small smirk flashed across the captain''s lips. \"I have no intention of walking away.\" Without waiting for a reply, he suddenly dashed forward, striking a forceful blow that the Ranger blocked clumsily. Still, even if the burly man managed to block the strike, the sudden blow brought him off balance, and for a brief moment he swayed on his feet.


    The Ranger struggled to regain his footing, but he didn''t get a chance to recover. The captain''s first attack was followed immediately by a second one ¡ª a vicious punch to his opponent''s gut, hard enough that it made the burly man collapse instantly.


    The Ranger groaned in pain as he lay on the ground, but Kaleesh ignored him. Instead, he turned to the soldiers surrounding them. \"Make sure he pays up before leaving.\" Then, without looking back at his defeated opponent, he approached Arran and the others.


    \"You nearly cost me the fight.\" Despite the captain''s best efforts to appear annoyed, a broad grin appeared on his face as he welcomed Arran. From the look of it, he was more than a little relieved at his commander''s safe return.


    \"Good to see you, as well,\" Arran replied. He cast a look at the defeated Ranger who was still doubled over on the ground. \"What was that about?\"


    Kaleesh gave a helpless shrug. \"The Darian whelps keep challenging me, so I''m forced to keep taking their coin. I suppose I can''t complain, since it helps me pay for this lot.\" He gestured at the soldiers who were training around them, and added in an exasperated voice, \"You wouldn''t believe what it costs just to keep them fed.\"


    \"I can imagine,\" Arran said. \"I thought you merely planned to build an army, but it appears you decided to recruit half the Imperium.\"


    \"That''s on you,\" the captain replied. \"Had you been a bit quicker in returning, the army would be a lot smaller.\" He scratched his chin, then added in a more serious tone, \"Truth be told, with how long you were gone, I almost feared you''d finally met your match.\"


    \"You don''t know the half of it,\" Arran said, a wry smile on his face as he recalled his encounter with the Warlock. \"But that''s a matter better discussed in private.\"


    \"Oh?\" Kaleesh gave him a curious look, then swiftly turned to Arjun. \"Have some food brought to the mansion, and tell Sassun to handle the troops'' training for the next few hours.\"


    \"You have a mansion?\" Arran raised an eyebrow.


    \"Of course,\" Kaleesh replied with a grin. \"You can hardly expect a general to sleep in the barracks like a common soldier.\"

 396 Decisions

    A half-hour after his return, Arran found himself in the garden of a wooden mansion, not far from the barracks that housed the Wolfsblood Army. Spacious and well-maintained, it more resembled a noble''s home than it did a soldier''s quarters.


    \"I didn''t expect they''d give outsiders so warm a welcome,\" he said, taking another portion of the grilled meat and flatbread that stood on the table before him. \"If I''d known about this, I might have returned sooner.\"


    Kaleesh grinned. \"The Governor provides barracks and training fields to all groups that pass through the city,\" he explained. \"And the areas for the larger groups come with some luxuries for their leaders. I don''t think they expected an outsider to end up in here.\"


    Arran nodded thoughtfully as he took another bite of food. With most of the large groups led by the sons and daughters of Lords, it made sense that they''d be given greater luxuries than others. Yet while that explained why the Wolfsblood Army had a mansion, it did nothing to clarify how Kaleesh had amassed so many troops in the first place.


    \"How did you do it?\" he asked. \"This army ¡ª I knew you''d succeed, but this is far beyond what I expected. How did you find all these soldiers?\"


    The captain gave him a small smile. \"I''d like to credit my charm and leadership,\" he said, \"but the truth is that I simply emptied the city''s prisons.\"


    Arran felt a feeling of foreboding rise from the pit of his stomach at the captain''s words. \"The prisons?\", raising an eyebrow as he looked at Kaleesh.


    \"In the Imperium,\" Kaleesh said, \"prisoners may earn their freedom by serving in the Desolation for a single year. Those who choose to do so are taken to border cities like Knight''s Watch, where they wait to be recruited by groups heading into the Desolation.\"


    Arran narrowed his eyes. He understood now why Kaleesh''s soldiers had such a rough look to them, but he also recalled that none of the other groups had looked like that. \"Then why didn''t I see any prisoners among the other groups?\"


    \"Most groups recruit a few dozen prisoners, at most,\" the captain said. \"Any more, and the Darians fear that they will rebel. A reasonable fear, since there are many cases of prisoners doing just that ¡ª killing their commanders and escaping the Desolation.\"


    For several seconds, Arran remained silent. Finally, he said, \"I assume you have reason to believe we will not end up having our throats cut in our sleep?\"


    \"Of course,\" the captain replied, and as he spoke, there was a hint of excitement in his voice. \"Most criminals in the Imperium are outsiders, born in poverty without any hope of improvement. It''s hardly a surprise that they resent the Darian nobles. But we''re outsiders, as well.\"


    \"Don''t take me for a fool,\" Kaleesh replied in an irritated tone. He took a deep breath, then continued in a calmer voice, \"I''ve also offered them a fair share of the rewards ¡ª a chance to not just win their freedom, but to build a future. And unlike the Darians, I will not use them as mere battle fodder.\"


    Though Arran remained unconvinced, he saw in Kaleesh''s eyes understood that he would not be dissuaded. The captain had grown up as an outsider in the Imperium, and for him, these men ¡ª these criminals ¡ª were likely a reminder of his younger self.


    It was obvious that the captain''s purpose in recruiting them wasn''t just to build an army, but to offer the outsiders the opportunities he himself had been denied. And while Arran wasn''t certain whether the idea was a wise one, he could tell that Kaleesh had long since made up his mind about the matter.


    \"What about the Governor?\" he asked instead. \"He didn''t object to an outsider emptying his prisons?\"


    \"I expected that he might,\" Kaleesh said. \"Which is why I sent Rangers to every prison at the same time. By the time word of what was happening spread through the city, the deed was already done. Since then, I''ve done my best to avoid the Governor''s messengers.\"


    \"And with the prisoners already freed,\" Arran said, now understanding the situation, \"you figured that capturing an entire army would be more trouble than it was worth for the Governor.\"


    \"That was my hope,\" Kaleesh replied with a nod. \"So far, it seems to have worked.\"


    \"That was a dangerous bet you made. What if the Governor had decided to take action?\"


    Kaleesh hesitated before answering, and when he finally spoke, there was some uncertainty in his voice. \"The Governor had no real grounds to step in. There are no laws limiting how many prisoners a group heading into the Desolation may recruit.\"


    \"Just common sense,\" Arran replied. \"But clearly, those who wrote the laws didn''t have you in mind.\"


    At this, Kaleesh rolled his eyes. \"You wanted me to raise an army, didn''t you? And whatever you may think of my decision, these prisoners are more competent fighters than the farmers and shepherds I would have had to take without them.\"


    \"I suppose they are, at that,\" Arran admitted. Despite his doubts about the captain''s plan, he could not deny that the prisoners seemed far more capable than the villagers he had seen in some of the other groups. \"But what about the Rangers? I take it you didn''t find them in the Governor''s dungeons?\"


    \"If the prisons held treasures like that, they would have been plundered long ago,\" the captain said with a laugh. \"Most of the Rangers in our army come from smaller groups that joined on the promise of getting a fair share of the rewards we earned. And others have joined, as well ¡ª caravan guards and mercenaries, mostly, many of them outsiders like us.\"


    Arran nodded, then asked, \"Are there enough?\" Although he''d seen several new Rangers within the Wolfsblood Army, he hadn''t failed to notice that there were far fewer of them than in the other large groups he''d seen.


    \"No,\" Kaleesh replied flatly. \"We have just over two dozen Rangers ¡ª more than most groups, but nowhere near as many as I''d like. I''ve been sending Arjun out to recruit others, but most Rangers are hesitant about joining an army of prisoners.\"


    \"Can''t say I blame them,\" Arran said. \"But perhaps we might not need as many as you think. My progress these past few weeks has been better than I expected.\"


    \"Is that so?\" The captain narrowed his eyes as he gave Arran an appraising look. \"Just how much better?\"


    Arran thought for a moment, then answered, \"I should already be close to matching Knights ¡ª normal ones, mind you, not Imperial Knights. But if I''m correct, it''s only a matter of months before I reach the level of Knights in earnest.\"


    \"You¡ª\" Kaleesh stared at him with shock written across his face. \"You were gone for under two months, and you''ve returned with a Knight''s strength?\"


    \"Near enough,\" Arran confirmed. \"I finally recognized some flaws in my training, and resolving those brought some unexpected benefits.\"


    \"Most Rangers never become Knights, and those that do usually take decades. You''re telling me you already achieved the same thing, and without any guidance?\" The captain looked at Arran in disbelief, then stood up from his chair and drew his sword. \"Show me.\"


    Arran gave a small nod, then stood up as well. That Kaleesh would want to see his progress was no surprise. While the captain wouldn''t suspect him of lying, he probably feared that his commander had lost his mind ¡ª and not without reason, given the outrageous claim he''d just made.


    And that the claim was outrageous, even Arran had to admit.


    Only a single step lay between Rangers and Knights, but that step represented a vast difference in ability ¡ª a difference that was far larger than the one between Rangers and common soldiers. A skilled soldier might have some small hope of defeating a Ranger, but no such hope existed for a Ranger who faced a Knight.


    Both Arran and Kaleesh had experienced this when they had joined forces against a Knight. Although Kaleesh''s speed had far surpassed their opponent''s and Arran''s body had been awash with the power of battle, that they had even survived the confrontation owed more to luck than it did to skill.


    And so, if Arran wanted Kaleesh to believe that he had bridged so large a gap in so short a time, mere words would not suffice.


    The two faced each other silently, Arran''s expression relaxed while Kaleesh eyed him cautiously. Then, with a small nod, Arran signaled that the fight had begun.


    Kaleesh was the first to attack. Without warning, he struck forward, his sword shooting out toward Arran''s chest like a bolt of lightning. The movement was fast enough that Arran could only barely see it ¡ª clearly, the captain did not hold back in using his true insight into speed.


    Yet Arran didn''t need to see the attack to stop it. His opponent might be impossibly fast, but the understanding he had gained in fusing his insights meant that he had seen through the strike even before it was even launched. And so, a lazy movement was enough to deflect the thrust, and a second casual swing brought his sword to a stop against the captain''s throat.


    Kaleesh looked at Arran''s blade with wide eyes, then quickly stepped backward. \"That could''ve been luck,\" he said, though his tone made it clear he didn''t believe it. \"Again.\"


    Arran shrugged. \"If you wish.\"


    Again, they faced each other, and again, Kaleesh was the first to move. This time, however, he did not rely on speed alone. Rather than blindly rushing forward, he began an elaborate series of movements, a rapid series of strikes that formed a near-impenetrable defense as he cautiously approached his opponent.


    But near-impenetrable wasn''t enough. As Arran observed Kaleesh''s movements, it only took him a second to recognize the flaws in the captain''s defense, minute though they might be. Once more he moved lazily ¡ª a simple forward thrust that slipped neatly through Kaleesh''s defenses and came to a stop against his chest.


    \"Son of a goat!\" Kaleesh cried out, his eyes wide with a mixture of frustration and astonishment. \"Again!\"


    Arran raised an eyebrow. \"Really?\"


    \"Yes, really,\" Kaleesh replied gruffly. \"I''ll admit that you appear to have made some progress, but I refuse to accept that the difference between us has grown this large.\"


    A third exchange followed, then a fourth, and then more still, but each ended the same way ¡ª with Arran effortlessly besting his opponent. Try as the captain might, it soon became painfully clear that neither effort nor luck was enough to close the gap between them.


    Finally, Kaleesh could no longer deny it. \"You rotten bastard,\" he said, still panting from the exertion of launching several dozens of failed attacks. \"You were actually telling the truth.\"


    Arran was unable to keep himself from smirking in triumph. \"I can teach you,\" he offered gracefully. \"If you wish.\"


    \"You''d better,\" the captain said. \"But first, tell me how you did it.\"


    \"That,\" Arran began, \"is a long story. But then, I suppose I have the time to tell it.\"


    Kaleesh wiped the sweat from his brow, then made his way back to the table, where he poured two large glasses of wine before sitting down. \"And I have the time to listen,\" he said. \"Now get on with it.\"


    Over the next hour, Arran carefully explained what he had learned during the preceding weeks ¡ª how he had come to understand that insights could be fused together, and the path he had followed to arrive at that understanding.


    He didn''t tell Kaleesh everything, of course, nor did the captain attempt to dig too deeply. Even if there were few secrets between them, neither failed to understand that some truths were best left unspoken ¡ª especially in the Imperium, where Arran''s background being discovered would risk both their lives.


    When Arran finally finished, Kaleesh let out a wistful sigh. \"I''m impressed. To gain the understanding you did with what little knowledge you had ¡ª not many could do the same thing.\" He frowned, then added reluctantly, \"I know I couldn''t.\"


    \"Then it''s a good thing you have me to teach you,\" Arran said with a grin. \"With the insights you already have, your progress should be rapid. The hardest part is developing insights in the first place, and you should have an easier time at that than the Darians.\"


    The captain nodded thoughtfully. \"Then I will welcome your help. Still ¡ª I suspect it will take me months if not years to reach your current level.\"


    \"Probably. Which is why we should get started immediately.\"


    \"Immediately?\" Kaleesh cast a glance at the half-emptied bottle of wine on the table, then gave Arran a helpless look. \"Surely we can wait a few¡ª\"


    \"We start now,\" Arran cut him off. \"Time to get up, you lazy fop. There''s work to do.\"


    Despite the captain''s protestations, a few minutes later found them hard at work in the quiet garden, with Arran meticulously detailing the techniques that Kaleesh would have to master before fusing his insights.


    He''d chosen only a small selection of techniques to teach Kaleesh, ones adapted from both the Forms and the Darian foundation, but they should be enough to give the captain a path forward ¡ª even if the two of them were somehow separated.


    Despite his complaints, Kaleesh proved a quick study. It took him less than two hours to pick up the basic techniques he was shown, and although that could only barely be considered the first step of a long journey, Arran still found himself surprised at the captain''s progress.


    Once he finished the lesson, satisfied that Kaleesh understood the foundation he had been shown, he gave his student an appraising look. \"You''ve been studying the Darians'' techniques while I was gone,\" he observed. It was the only explanation. Though he wouldn''t dare underestimate the Kaleesh''s talent, progress this rapid couldn''t be explained through talent alone.


    \"So I have,\" Kaleesh confirmed. \"I''ve seen what Knights can do, and only a fool would fail to recognize the foundation they''re building on. Still, this single lesson of yours was more useful than anything my Rangers have shown me so far.\"


    Arran shrugged. \"The Rangers don''t yet know what they''re working towards ¡ª not truly, at least. Nevertheless, you''d do well to keep learning from them. What I''ve just shown you is only a path, and to reap its benefits, you''ll need to gain many more insights.\"


    \"I gathered as much,\" Kaleesh said, scratching his chin in thought. \"If I understand correctly, fusing your insights should yield better results the more you have of them, right?\"


    Arran gave a small nod in response, and the captain continued with a grin, \"Then it seems that, despite your newfound power, you still have some use for my army. None of the troops might have anything near your strength, but together, they still have a thing or two to teach ¡ª even for you.\"


    At this, Arran could not help but shake his head in wonder. Although he''d had the same thought days earlier, he hadn''t expected Kaleesh to catch on quite as quickly.


    But then, he''d learned long ago not to underestimate the man.


    \"You figured it out more quickly than I did,\" he said. \"And you''re right ¡ª without Knights to teach me, I''ll have to take my knowledge piecemeal, taking parts wherever I can find them.\"


    \"Then the troops are at your disposal,\" Kaleesh replied. He refilled their glasses with wine, then added, \"But now, I think it''s time you give me the bad news.\"


    Arran smiled wryly. Though he''d skirted around the topic for as long as he could, there was no more avoiding it. \"I encountered a creature in the Wilderness, near the Desolation,\" he began. \"A Warlock, the Darians call it.\"


    As he recounted his encounter with the Warlock, Kaleesh''s expression soon turned grim, and when Arran finished, he let out a loud curse.


    \"A Blightspawn Archmage?!\" the captain snapped. \"The Blightspawn have Archmages?! How the hell are we supposed to fight Archmages?\" He began another curse, but halfway through, he suddenly fell silent. Then, brow creased in a deep frown, he peered at Arran. \"If the Blightspawn have Archmages, how do any of the Darians manage to return from the Desolation?\"


    \"I asked myself that question, as well,\" Arran said. \"And not all the news is bad. Though I cannot be certain, what the two Darian Lords I met said suggested that Blightspawn are somehow weaker in the Desolation ¡ª as if the Desolation itself somehow suppresses the creatures.\"


    Kaleesh considered this for a moment, then gave a slow nod. \"Has to be,\" he said in a thoughtful voice. \"You''ve seen the groups here in Knight''s Watch. If those peasants and farmhands had to face Archmages fighting at their full strength, the Imperium would have run out of soldiers long ago.\"


    \"That''s the conclusion I reached, too,\" Arran agreed. \"If Archmages ran wild in the Desolation, this entire conflict would have long since ended.\" He took a sip from his wine, and cast a curious glance at Kaleesh. \"But shouldn''t you know more about this? The Rangers in the Wolfsblood Army ¡ª surely they''ve told you about their experiences in the Desolation?\"


    \"If only,\" Kaleesh replied, his expression turning dour. \"I''ve asked them plenty of questions, but the common soldiers know next to nothing and the Rangers are unwilling to speak of anything I didn''t already know. It''s strange, really. Not even the outsiders among them are willing to betray even the slightest of the Imperium''s secrets.\"


    Though Kaleesh seemed puzzled more than anything, his words caused Arran to feel an instant surge of suspicion. Soldiers were notorious gossips, and Rangers were no different. For even one of them to remain silent was unlikely enough, but for two dozen to do the same ¡ª that stretched the limits of credulity.


    \"None of them said anything?\" he asked intently. \"Not even a slip of the tongue or a careless word?\"


    \"Nothing,\" Kaleesh confirmed. \"It''s as if there''s something holding them back. You don''t think¡ª?\"


    Though the captain stopped short of actually saying the word, it was obvious he''d had the same thought as Arran ¡ª that there was something more than just laws keeping the Rangers from talking. Magic.


    Arran gave a helpless shrug. \"I don''t know. It''s possible.\"


    In truth, he thought it was more than just possible. He''d long wondered how the Imperium managed to keep its secrets so well, and he had already concluded that the tight lock it kept on its borders should not be enough. Over the course of the centuries that the conflict between the Shadowflame Society and the Imperium had lasted, there should have been at least some Darian defectors.


    But if the Imperium used some sort of magical bond to ensure the loyalty of its troops ¡ª something akin to the oath that bound mages within the Shadowflame Society ¡ª then it was a different matter. Then, the Society''s ignorance of the Imperium made more sense.


    Yet if that was the case, it also meant that Arran faced a problem. If becoming a Ranger required that he be bound in a similar way, merely learning the Darians'' secrets was only half the challenge he faced. And the other half ¡ª finding a way to break the bond ¡ª might well prove the more difficult part.


    Worse, with his recent increase in strength, he knew that the moment he was made a Ranger was fast approaching ¡ª whether he wanted it or not.


    His strength already approached that of a Knight, and it was only a matter of time until some Lord decided that his efforts should be rewarded. And when that reward came, he had no doubt that refusing the honor would not be an option.


    As he sat silently in the garden, he considered his options, and quickly found that he liked none of them.


    The first choice he had was to flee the Imperium while he still could ¡ª to take what knowledge he had gained, and return to the Ninth Valley immediately. Doing so would mean abandoning his hopes of gaining a Lord''s power and the bloodlines he hoped to earn in the Desolation, but it was easily the safest choice he had available.


    The second option was to hide his strength as best he could ¡ª to pretend that he was nothing more than a common soldier and hope that word of his past actions would not find its way to the wrong ears. But then, Arran knew that such a plan would be doomed from the start. He''d already shown far too much of his power to go unnoticed, and any attempts to hide his strength now would merely draw suspicion.


    The third option, finally, was to forge ahead on his current path ¡ª to seize whatever secrets the Imperium held, and trust that he would overcome the obstacles this path would bring ¡ª both known and unknown.


    He pondered the question for some time, weighing his options as he sat quietly opposite Kaleesh. Then, finally, he stood up and faced the captain.


    \"I think it''s time you show me this army you''ve built.\"


    Kaleesh gave him a suspicious glance. \"You look like you''ve just made a decision. Care to tell me what''s about to happen?\"


    A grin crossed Arran''s face. \"I expect you''ll find out soon enough.\"

 397 The Wolfsblood Army

    The sun stood high above Knight''s Watch as Arran and Kaleesh made their way back to the training fields. Though Arran had arrived shortly after dawn, their conversation had taken up much of the morning, and now, they found the fields were emptier than before, with many of the troops already taking their mid-day break.


    Kaleesh eyed Arran warily as they approached the fields. \"What are you planning to do?\" he asked ¡ª the fourth time in as many minutes that he''d asked the question.


    \"As I said,\" Arran replied, \"you''ll find out soon enough. But first, show me this army of yours.\"


    The captain sighed, then gave a reluctant nod. \"Very well. Follow me.\"


    Even with many of the soldiers resting, there were nearly two thousand men and women still practicing. They were divided into separate groups, each consisting of around two hundred soldiers and headed by a single Ranger.


    \"I''ve assigned most of the Rangers their own groups,\" Kaleesh explained. \"Not all of them are cut out for command, but it''s best to find out now, before we head into the Desolation.\"


    Arran nodded thoughtfully, wondering how he''d even begin to organize an army as large as this. While the Rangers would be the most obvious choice to command the groups, he knew that power did not necessarily translate into leadership. Yet to spurn the Rangers would create its own problems, as many of them would certainly object to following the commands of their lessers.


    After considering it briefly, he decided that he was glad that he did not have to lead the army. Just the thought of having to organize all these men and women nearly caused him a headache.


    Kaleesh, however, appeared well-suited for the task.


    As he guided Arran past the groups, he effortlessly alternated between exchanging banter with the Rangers and issuing them commands, and although most of the Rangers'' personalities matched their rough looks, they nevertheless treated the captain with respect.


    Arran, meanwhile, got his share of attention from the Rangers as well. Word of his encounter with the Band of the Dragon had already spread through the camp, and no few of the Rangers were curious to meet the one responsible. From their gleeful reactions, it was clear that there was no love lost between them and Matas''s troops.


    \"There have been some confrontations with the other groups,\" Kaleesh said. \"And none of those more than the Band of the Dragon. Nothing too serious, mind you, but I expect that your actions this morning will have earned you quite a few friends among the troops.\"


    \"I hope I haven''t caused any problems for us?\"


    Kaleesh shook his head. \"As long as nobody gets killed, the Governor turns a blind eye to any fights. As for Matas¡­\" He shrugged. \"That one is more concerned with the glory he expects to win in the Desolation. At most, he''ll punish the Ranger for being defeated.\"


    They inspected several more groups, and the more Arran saw, the more he grew convinced that Kaleesh had made the right decision in recruiting the prisoners. Rough though the men and women in their army might look, it was plain to see that each of them was easily worth at least two Darian peasants.


    As they approached yet another group of soldiers, however, the Ranger who led the group immediately rushed toward them. Tall and dark-haired, he had the build and confidence of an expert fighter, though there was something in his features that Arran did not like.


    \"Captain, we need to talk about¡ª\" he began, pausing mid-sentence when he finally noticed Arran. \"Who''s this then?\"


    \"This is Arran, my second-in-command,\" Kaleesh said. \"Arran, meet Domar.\" Though his tone was pleasant enough, the look in the captain''s eyes suggested there was little friendship between the two of them.


    Domar gave Arran a curt nod, then promptly turned his attention back to Kaleesh. \"Captain,\" he said again. \"About the rewards you''ve promised¡­ I''ve been here for over a month, and¡ª\"


    \"Domar,\" Kaleesh interrupted him. \"How many battles have you fought this past month?\"


    \"None, captain. But I''ve been here for over a month. You said we would be rewarded.\"


    Kaleesh faced Domar with a weary expression that made Arran suspect this wasn''t the first time the Ranger had made this demand. Nor the second, for that matter.


    \"As you well know, there are no rewards without battle. Once we venture into the Desolation, you will have plenty of opportunities to earn the bounties you seek.\"


    \"What about the Blightspawn you fought on the way here?\" Domar countered. \"You got their badges, did you not?\"


    At this, the captain''s expression hardened. \"I promised a fair share of any rewards you earned,\" he said in a tone that suggested his patience was quickly wearing thin. \"Not a share of the rewards earned by others. And I do not recall you taking part in those battles.\" He paused, then added, \"Besides, those badges are worthless until we reach Sacrifice.\"


    \"I suppose,\" the Ranger said reluctantly. \"Just don''t go back on your word.\"


    \"I won''t,\" Kaleesh replied curtly.


    As the Ranger made his way back to his group, Arran gave Kaleesh a questioning glance. \"He seems a troublesome sort.\"


    \"I wasn''t exactly spoiled for choice, when it came to Rangers,\" the captain said, answering the question Arran had left unspoken. \"And troublesome though he is, Domar is unusually talented. If he spent half as much time practicing as he does complaining, I wouldn''t be surprised if he surpassed even you.\"


    Arran cast a long look at the Ranger as he resumed his practice with his group, and soon realized that Kaleesh wasn''t mistaken. As unpleasant as his first impression of the Ranger was, there was no denying the man''s talent for swordsmanship.


    \"Come,\" Kaleesh finally said. \"There are more groups to inspect.\"


    Much to Arran''s relief, the next three groups'' leaders all proved more amiable. They eagerly introduced themselves to Arran, and all had a glint of pride in their eyes as they showed their soldiers'' skills.


    Yet just as Arran and Kaleesh were about to move on from the third group, a young woman stepped forth. She was short and dark-eyed, with dark-red hair despite her Darian features, and her expression was one of concern.


    \"Captain,\" she began as she approached. \"We need to talk about the equipment.\"


    \"Elena,\" the commander of her group began, his tone uncomfortable. \"This is not the¡ª\"


    \"He needs to know, Rafi,\" she interrupted him, an angry look on her face.


    Kaleesh raised an eyebrow. \"What do I need to know?\"


    \"Our equipment,\" she answered. \"It''s trash.\"


    \"Trash?\" The captain frowned. \"It may not be quite as lavish as what some of the other armies have, but surely it¡ª\"


    He fell silent as the woman tossed him her weapon ¡ª a sword so rusty the steel could only barely be seen underneath, with a visibly crooked blade.


    Kaleesh looked at the weapon with obvious distaste, as if he was holding a thoroughly rotten haunch of meat. \"This,\" he said, \"is indeed trash. Where did you get it?\"


    \"That''s the sword I was given when I joined your army,\" the woman replied. \"And it''s the same for most others in our group.\"


    Kaleesh frowned, then faced the Ranger. \"Is this true?\"


    The Ranger gave an uncomfortable nod. \"It is, captain.\"


    \"Then why have you not told Sassun about this?\" Kaleesh asked, some irritation in his voice.


    \"I have,\" the Ranger replied. \"Twice. He said he''d take care of it.\"


    \"Is that so.\" Kaleesh''s expression darkened, and he gestured to Arran. \"Let''s go. It seems Sassun and I have some matters to discuss.\" He held up the rusty sword, then said to the young woman, \"I assume you won''t mind me taking this.\"


    As Arran and Kaleesh made their way to the center of the camp, the captain shook his head angrily. \"He should know better than this,\" he said, giving the rusty sword an annoyed swing. \"What was he thinking? I can''t send soldiers into the Desolation with this¡­\" He glared at the sword in frustration, unable to find the words to even describe the weapon.


    \"Trash,\" Arran finished the sentence. \"And if Sassun is handing out such weapons, there must be a reason. He doesn''t strike me as the type to be careless about these things.\"


    Kaleesh hesitated, then gave a slow nod. \"The man is many things, but I''ve never known him to be careless. Still¡­\" He gave the sword another look, then shook his head in wonder.


    They reached Sassun some moments later, and found the commander hard at work instructing his troops ¡ª mostly mercenaries from the original Wolfsblood Company, Arran saw, clad in the starmetal armor that even Knights envied.


    \"Arran,\" Sassun greeted when he noticed them. \"Good to see you''ve returned.\" Though the commander''s expression was flat, given his normal dour look even that could be considered an unusual display of cheerfulness.


    Before Arran could return the greeting, Kaleesh held up the rusty sword. \"What is this supposed to be?\" he demanded.


    \"It appears to be a sword,\" Sassun replied. He tilted his head as he regarded the weapon, then added, \"Though not much of one.\"


    \"Why then,\" Kaleesh began, a dangerous look in his eyes, \"are our troops equipped with trash like this?\"


    \"Because we ran out of coin,\" Sassun replied, unperturbed by the captain''s angry glare. \"Which I already told you about two weeks ago.\"


    At this, a frown crossed the captain''s face. \"Didn''t I give you more?\"


    \"So you did,\" Sassun said, nodding slightly. \"And that¡ª\" he gestured at the sword \"¡ªis what your additional funds bought us. Which is why our newest troops are using equipment that is more rust than steel.\"


    Astonishment flashed across Kaleesh''s eyes. \"What I gave you could have bought equipment for an entire army!\"


    Sassun nodded calmly. \"So it could,\" he said. \"In any other part of the world. But here in Knight''s Watch, coin is as plenty as weapons are rare. And if the stories I''ve heard are true, the situation is even worse in Sacrifice.\"


    For several moments, Kaleesh stood silently. The anger was long gone from his expression, and now, his eyes held concern more than anything. \"Then we have a problem,\" he finally said.


    \"Indeed,\" Sassun agreed. \"Unless, of course, we part with some of our starmetal armor. I know some of the men would¡ª\"


    Kaleesh cut him off with a gesture. \"Absolutely not. Not unless there''s no other option.\"


    Decisive though the captain sounded, his voice nevertheless held a sliver of doubt, as if he found himself at a loss for other options. And no wonder, Arran thought. To equip an army so large was no small matter, and to keep them fed besides would strain the purses of even the wealthiest nobles.


    Of course, Arran had the means to solve their problems in an instant. His void ring held treasures enough to equip every single man and woman in the Wolfsblood Army in starmetal armor, with enough left to outfit a second army should the need arise.


    But the treasures he carried could not be revealed. Even if he trusted Kaleesh to keep the secret, it would not go unnoticed if the Wolfsblood Company suddenly came into possession of a vast hoard of treasure.


    Yet after giving it a moment of thought, he saw another path. And while it would draw just as much attention ¡ª if not more ¡ª that was something he''d already accepted as unavoidable.


    \"Kaleesh,\" he said, \"the Darians like to bet, don''t they?\"


    The captain gave a short nod. \"They do, but a few small bets won''t be enough. The coin I''ve taken from them so far hasn''t even covered our food.\"


    A small smile crossed Arran''s face. \"I think you''ll find some good odds these next few weeks. Now, as for what I had planned¡­\"


    Arran looked around, then quickly decided that this spot would be as good as any. After all, for what he had in mind, location mattered little.


    He cast a quick glance at the many soldiers and Rangers practicing around them, searching for some moments before his eyes finally came to rest on a particularly large Ranger in one of the nearby groups.


    Blond-haired and a good seven feet tall, the man was clearly an outsider. And from the scars that marred his square face, it was equally clear that he had no small amount of experience in battle.


    \"You there!\" Arran called out. As the man turned to him, a questioning look in his eyes, he motioned, \"Come join us for a bit!\"


    The Ranger obliged at once, and as he approached, Arran asked, \"What''s your name?\"


    \"Barric,\" the giant man replied. \"You''re the one that killed the Reaver, aren''t you?\"


    \"That I am,\" Arran confirmed. \"How about the two of us spar a few rounds?\"


    The Ranger cast a questioning look at Kaleesh, who gave him a small nod. Then, a grin on his face, he replied, \"I''d be glad to. I don''t suppose I''ll win, but I''d be happy to see what you can do.\"


    As the two of them faced each other, a circle of onlookers instantly formed around them. There were few members of the Wolfsblood Army who weren''t curious about Arran''s abilities, and it wasn''t long before well over a hundred soldiers and Rangers stood gathered, eyes eagerly fixed on the spectacle to come.


    When Arran was satisfied with the audience, he turned to his opponent. \"Your attack.\"


    The words had barely left his mouth when the Ranger came at him. Despite his size, he moved with surprising speed and skill, and it took only an instant for his blade to reach Arran.


    Although Arran could have ended the battle right there, he did not do so. Instead, he deflected the attack with a flawless parry, then quickly took several steps back.


    \"Again.\"


    The giant man gave him a curious look, then shrugged and launched another attack, the ground almost shaking at the power of his strides.


    Again Arran parried the attack at the last moment, and immediately, he told his opponent to attack once more.


    A dozen exchanges passed like this, and slowly, signs of frustration appeared on the Ranger''s face. No matter how he tried, each of his attacks was effortlessly defeated, with Arran only barely even moving.


    Finally, after yet another failed attack, he could take it no more. \"If your goal was to humiliate me, you''ve succeeded. But I will have no more¡ª\"


    \"Again!\" Arran snapped. \"And this time, pay attention!\"


    A look of confusion crossed the giant Ranger''s face, but after a moment''s hesitation, he did as told. And although this attack was no more successful than the ones before it, his eyes widened with surprise when he made another retreat.


    Then, a hint of excitement in his expression, he attacked again.


    The two sparred for half an hour, and although the Ranger never came close to hitting Arran, the man''s excitement soon grew into unrestrained joy. Though it had taken him some moments to understand what was happening, he had at last figured out what Arran was doing ¡ª correcting his insights.


    Yet despite his enthusiasm, half an hour of sparring was enough to leave the Ranger thoroughly winded, and finally he stepped back, wiping the sweat from his brow before giving Arran a bow.


    \"Thank you for this,\" he said in a voice that held as much exhaustion as it did delight.


    \"Thank you, as well,\" Arran replied, returning the bow.


    For the truth was that not only the Ranger had benefited. As the two sparred, Arran had taken care to study every single one of the man''s movements, copying his insights even as he improved on them.


    This was not an easy thing, and had the gap between them been smaller, it was unlikely that Arran would have succeeded. But as it was, the difference in ability between them made it possible for him to see straight through the man''s attacks ¡ª and in so doing, distill the insights that lay at the heart of them.


    \"Now,\" Arran said, with a look at the soldiers who had gathered around, \"who''s next?\"


    Several Rangers stepped forward at once, but after a brief argument, one of them ¡ª a young woman, short and lean ¡ª took the lead.


    Arran did not ask for her name. Instead, he merely motioned for her to attack, after which another half-hour bout followed.


    Much like his first opponent, the young woman bowed with gratitude when exertion finally forced her to step back, and Arran sincerely returned the gesture.


    Where the insights he''d gleaned from his first opponent were related to strength and force, the ones he''d found in this one were related to speed and agility. And although there were several among them that he had failed to grasp, the match had brought him another small step forward.


    Yet he knew he still had far to go, and with a glance at the audience, he called out again, \"Who''s next?\"


    When the light of day finally began to fade, Arran had faced well over a dozen opponents. Some of these had taught him little while others proved to possess a wealth of skill, but with each new battle he fought, he slowly broadened his insights.


    Still, even as the sun fell below the horizon and shadows overtook the training fields, Arran had no intention of quitting.


    \"Bring me some food,\" he called out to no one in particular. \"And some torches.\"


    A meal was brought not long after ¡ª as much as he could eat, and then some ¡ª and he ate it in silence, pondering the insights he''d witnessed in his opponents so far.


    When he finished the meal, he stood up and looked around, finding that hundreds had gathered around him already. A small smile crossed his lips, and he immediately called out once more, \"Who''s next?\"


    He fought through the night, and then the day that followed, each new opponent strengthening and broadening his insights. By now, he was certain that he was on the right path ¡ª that the knowledge he needed lay hidden in plain sight, scattered amid the ranks of the Wolfsblood Army.


    The Rangers were not the only ones whose knowledge Arran sought, however. Somewhere during the first night, a particularly bold soldier had stepped forward, and when the others saw that Arran treated him much the same as he did the Rangers, there were few among the soldiers who did not wish to seize the opportunity ¡ª even if many of them weren''t quite certain what it was they were supposed to learn.


    Still, Arran instructed them as best he could, and found that if their insights were shallower and fewer in number than those the Rangers possessed, that made them no less valuable.


    And so, he fought on, never pausing for more than a quick meal, which he invariably ate in silence as he contemplated the many different insights he''d witnessed.


    On the third day, a Ranger from one of the other armies came, dressed in a black-and-gold uniform that Arran did not recognize. But then, he did not care about the man''s identity ¡ª what he sought were his insights, and only battle would reveal those.


    The strange Ranger was skilled, and he lasted nearly an hour before bowing out in exhaustion, bestowing a wealth of knowledge upon Arran in the process.


    Arran could see in the corner of his eye that the man handed over a fat purse to Kaleesh after the fight ended, and a brief grin crossed his face before he turned his attention back to the crowd around them.


    \"Who''s next?\"


    More fights followed ¡ª dozens, then hundreds, and finally more than Arran could remember. He faced both soldiers and Rangers, as many from the Wolfsblood Army as not, stopping for neither night nor rain. Only when he needed to eat did he briefly pause, and even then only reluctantly.


    Yet the more he fought, the more eager he grew. Because with each new opponent, he found himself gaining new insights, slowly filling in the gaps that still remained in his understanding.


    As the days grew into weeks, Arran found that he no longer saw opponents when he fought. Rather, what he saw were collections of insights, each of them different from the last, and each with new things to teach him.


    Occasionally, he vaguely noticed voices ¡ª Kaleesh''s, he thought, and sometimes Sassun''s ¡ª urging him to rest or eat between his fights. These, he ignored. Each new fight brought him another step forward, and seeing a long-awaited path lit up before him, he did not dare pause for fear that it might vanish.


    Even with the path before him clear, however, he did not succeed in gaining all the insights he recognized. Some were too advanced, too far developed to comprehend with a single glance. Others, meanwhile, proved too alien, too far removed from his own understanding to be absorbed.


    Yet for every insight that he failed to grasp, there were a dozen that he took for himself, and though most of them could only barely even be considered nascent insights, together they formed an ocean of knowledge.


    As he fought, Arran could feel waves of exhaustion push at the corners of his mind, and he was distantly aware that his body was losing some of its strength. Yet enraptured as he was with the knowledge that continued to pour into his mind, he ignored these sensations, his thoughts fully focused on the insights that still lay ahead.


    He did not know how long this continued, nor did he care. By now, he was long past the point where time was of any concern. Instead, all that mattered were the insights he pursued.


    But slowly, Arran began to realize that the previously plentiful insights were growing sparser with each new fight. While his opponents held no less knowledge than before, more and more of it was knowledge he''d either already gained or had failed to grasp.


    He did not let this discourage him. Although there were fewer new insights than before, there was still plenty of opportunity for him to solidify the insights he already had.


    More days passed like this ¡ª or were they weeks? he distantly wondered ¡ª until finally, Arran found the path ahead of him growing murky. Although he knew that there was still much to be learned, the way to learn it was no longer clear, and he felt some desperation as he realized that he no longer knew how to proceed.


    Yet just as despair was beginning to set in, a new opponent stepped forward to face him. And as he laid eyes on this opponent, his eyes went wide with anticipation.


    Though he no longer recognized whether the person before him was even a man or a woman, much less what they looked like, what he did see filled him with excitement.


    While his previous opponents had only possessed loose collections of insights, what he saw in this new foe was something completely different ¡ª numerous insights, tightly woven together, forming a vast tapestry of knowledge.


    In some distant corner of his mind, Arran realized that he was facing a Knight, and that sliver of a thought caused him to react immediately.


    For the first time since arriving in Knight''s Watch, he called upon the full power of his fused insights.


    The sensation briefly threatened to overwhelm him. Although he''d already succeeded in fusing his insights earlier, what he had possessed before could barely be considered a puddle compared to the sea of insights he now controlled.


    The feeling was a strange one ¡ª a level of control he would once have thought impossible, as if he was fully attuned to the world around him, with even the slightest move he made the result of a thousand different insights all joining together.


    But wondrous though the feeling was, he had no chance to linger on it, as the Knight attacked an instant later.


    For a time, there was nothing Arran could do but defend. Though he''d gained many new insights and had now fused them all together, his opponent possessed numerous insights as well and clearly had far more experience in combining them.


    Yet somehow, Arran persisted.


    Even if his opponent was the more skilled of the two, Arran was not without advantages of his own. For a start, his strength was greater than his opponent''s, as was his connection to his weapon. And more importantly, his true insights into binding and severing continued to empower him as he fused them with the others.


    At first, these advantages were only barely enough to keep him from being defeated. Yet as the battle drew on, he became more familiar with his opponent''s movements, and it wasn''t long before his earlier panic faded, finally giving him the chance to observe what was happening.


    In a sense, he thought, it was as if he was fighting two battles at once.


    The first of these was the physical battle ¡ª two warriors exchanging blows, their swords endlessly meeting as they sought to defeat the other''s defense. This was a familiar thing for Arran, and here, he easily held the upper hand.


    The second battle, meanwhile, was the one between the insights that guided their weapons. And this was where the Knight''s advantage lay.


    Although Arran was both stronger and faster than his opponent, the Knight''s every movement contained a sliver of what could only be called perfection. Each strike was like a flawless version of itself, without even the slightest fault that Arran could see.


    Yet as he recognized this, he also saw that there were limits to this power. While each of the Knight''s strikes might be flawless, none held more power than the Knight''s body could grant them. And even if the Knight''s every move was free of fault, that did not mean those moves were the right ones.


    Rather, Arran realized, what his opponent had was a level of control that went so far beyond mastery that it almost resembled magic. But in the end, control was all it was ¡ª control built from the fusion of numerous insights.


    But if such control would have seemed impossible to him just a year earlier, now, he knew that he was already close to achieving it himself.


    He already had sufficient insights, and he had already discovered how to fuse them. All that remained was to learn how to fully wield that power. And for that, there was no better teacher than his current opponent.


    Arran took a deep breath, then focused his mind fully on the Knight who stood before him.


    It was time to take the final step in mastering his insights.

 398 Enlightenmen

    As Arran faced his opponent, there was but a single thought that pervaded his mind: that he must seize the Knight''s techniques for himself, no matter the cost.


    His thoughts had long since grown hazy from the exhaustion that tore at the edges of his consciousness, but this single truth still stood clear in his mind. Even now, he recognized that the chance before him now would not soon offer itself again.


    Countless hours of ceaseless battle had caused him to enter into a state where insights almost seemed tangible, and the small part of him that still held reason knew that if he allowed it to slip for even a moment, there was no telling when ¡ª or if ¡ª he would succeed in regaining it.


    And so, although waves of fatigue swept through his weary body, his thoughts nevertheless held only a single-minded determination.


    Each time the Knight attacked, he focused on understanding the attack, studying the fusion of insights in his opponent''s movements even as he struggled to keep from being defeated.


    For a long time, this was all he could do.


    Merely defending himself against the Knight''s attacks already touched on the limits of his ability, and to study his opponent''s skills at the same time took every shred of focus he had.


    There was no question of countering the attacks, much less trying to win the battle. Against an opponent like this, just to persist was already a feat that pushed at the bounds of his ability.


    In truth, had Arran had his full wits about him, the Knight''s display of skill might well have left him awestruck.


    While he had learned to fuse his insights, he still did so awkwardly, like a young child that had only just learned to string together words to form crude sentences. Even that gave him power beyond anything he''d had before, but it was a skill he was a long way from mastering.


    Yet if his moves were like the words of a child, then his opponent''s were like those of a poet at the height of his craft. The Knight continuously weaved insights together in ever-changing patterns, each new attack like a singular work of art that reflected a profound understanding of the world.


    It was a chasm that seemed too large to cross ¡ª the difference between a hapless apprentice and an unrivaled master, with the former unable to even fully comprehend what he saw, much less repeat it himself.


    By all rights, the contrast between Arran and his opponent should have discouraged him from even attempting to learn the Knight''s skills for himself. No reasonable man could take on such a task and hope to succeed. The very idea of it bordered on insanity.


    Yet in his current state, no such notions occurred to Arran.


    This continued for a long time ¡ª though how long it was, Arran could not say ¡ª and gradually, his comprehension deepened.


    While the knowledge he gleaned from each attack he weathered was all but imperceptible, the attacks were many enough that those small slivers of understanding steadily began to add up into something more.


    And so, as Arran observed a thousand flawless attacks, he slowly started to gain an inkling of what lay at their heart.


    At first, he barely understood what he saw. The Knight''s command of his insights was so fluent as to almost be unnatural, with endless insights effortlessly fused together as one, and Arran struggled to comprehend it.


    It was a level of mastery that seemed impossible. Arran knew the Knight''s skill far exceeded his own, but for his opponent to control numerous insights more easily than he could control even one ¡ª that stretched the limits of credulity.


    For a time, he watched without understanding, the part of his mind that wasn''t occupied with maintaining his defense trying and failing to grasp how such a thing was possible.


    But then, at last, he saw the answer.


    What he thought he saw didn''t just seem impossible; it actually was impossible.


    As he realized that, he finally understood that the Knight wasn''t merely fusing insights by controlling them individually. Rather, his opponent was calling upon a unity that was already present in the insights themselves.


    The realization came to Arran suddenly, and the sheer simplicity of it nearly left him dumbfounded.


    His journey in learning the Forms had been fraught with confusion and frustration. He''d pursued numerous false leads, spent countless hours studying paths that turned out to be dead ends. And although he had finally found a path he believed to be the right one, the road ahead had still been veiled in a dense fog.


    But now, with a single realization, that fog of ignorance suddenly lifted. And as it did, Arran saw that his goal lay right before him, already within his grasp.


    There was no more need for study or contemplation. Instead, what he saw was a simple truth, so clear and evident that he wondered how it had taken him so long to recognize it.


    Insights represented distinct aspects of reality, yet in the end, they were only tiny fragments of it.


    If the entirety of existence was like an indescribably vast tree, then insights were like its leaves. There were too many to count, and each covered no more than a tiny fragment of the whole.


    Arran had tried to shake that tree by grabbing its leaves ¡ª to seize all the insights he could, and control them all at once. It was a near-impossible task, and although he had achieved some progress, he now recognized it as yet another false path.


    But this time, he also recognized the truth.


    To shake a thousand leaves only required one to grab the branch that held them. And to use a thousand insights, one only needed to touch upon the reality that connected them.


    The realization washed over Arran like a wave of icy water, tearing him from he dream-like state he''d entered.


    He briefly staggered as he was hit by his long-suppressed exhaustion, but even as he swayed on his feet, his vision cleared and he became aware of his surroundings.


    The first thing he saw was his opponent, whom he realized with some surprise was the Knight he''d met at the gates of Knight''s Watch when he first arrived. The man neither moved nor attacked. Instead, he looked at Arran with a weary but expectant expression, as if he was waiting for something to happen.


    That the Knight had waited for some time already was obvious. Though Arran did not know how long his reverie had lasted, the silence and confused expressions of the Rangers and soldiers around them ¡ª and there were hundreds, Arran saw, as many from the Wolfsblood army as not ¡ª suggested that it wasn''t nearly as short as it had seemed.


    He did not linger on either his opponent or their audience, however. Neither of those mattered. There was only one thing he cared about right now, and that was to put his discovery to the test.


    And so, he turned his attention to the sword in his hand. If his suspicions were correct, then putting his newfound knowledge to use should be a simple thing.


    He frowned, then gave the sword a casual swing.


    It was a simple stroke, of the sort a middling swordsman might use when starting his daily practice, neither deliberately infused with insights nor particularly powerful. Among the men and women who stood watching him, even the least skilled would easily be able to copy it.


    Yet a thoughtful expression appeared on Arran''s face, and for several moments, he stood in silence. Then, he nodded to himself and swung the blade again.


    This second strike was little different from the first one. If anything, it was even simpler, like a stripped-down version of the previous strike. Even a novice swordsman would have little trouble duplicating it.


    But while the confusion in the onlookers'' expressions grew stronger, a hint of satisfaction appeared in Arran''s eyes.


    Again he swung the sword, and this time, the strike was so simple as to be amateurish. It was a movement nearly completely bereft of insight, lacking any of the skill and ability Arran had acquired over the years. He swung the sword like a child wielding a stick, the action one of raw intent without even a shred of ability.


    This time, some murmurs sounded from the crowd around him.


    The Rangers and soldiers who stood watching had witnessed him fight at a level they could not hope to match, and now, what they saw left them baffled. It was as if the master swordsman they''d watched all this time had suddenly lost his skills, and although none dared say it out loud, more than a few whispered voices suggested that exhaustion had finally broken him.


    Arran ignored them. He stood still for several seconds, pondering his latest move. Then, finally, he smiled in contentment and swung his sword once more.


    It was another casual strike, but where the previous one had been clumsy enough to leave the onlookers murmuring in confusion, this one was flawless ¡ª perfect enough to draw gasps of shock from the more perceptive of the Rangers who stood watching.


    The simple strike barely differed from the one before it, but the small difference was enough to cause such a fundamental change that the two were completely incomparable.


    But while the onlookers murmured in wonder, incapable of grasping what they''d just witnessed, Arran naturally understood exactly what he had done.


    He''d carefully stripped away the insights from his strikes, grinding the movements down to nothing but their most fundamental essence ¡ª the reality of which insights were only reflections.


    And in so doing, he had caused all those reflections to move as one.


    Still, even if he understood what he''d achieved, he found himself puzzled by how easy it was. Learning the Forms had taken him years, but now, a single epiphany and a mere four strokes of his sword had brought him a greater reward than all those years of effort.


    With a thought, he turned to the one person who might have an answer to his questions ¡ª his opponent.


    As Arran faced the Knight, he was unsurprised to see that the man''s eyes carried a hint of approval. He''d already figured out that the Knight had intentionally aided him, deliberately holding back to give him the chance to learn.


    "Is it really this simple?" he asked, some wonder in his voice.


    The Knight gave an amused smile. "It is rarely the last step that makes a journey difficult."


    Arran considered the man''s words for a moment, then nodded in understanding. As easily as the final step had come, he could not have achieved it without the long road he''d traversed to reach this point.


    That he could strip his attacks down to their purest essence was only because of the years he''d spent honing his insights. That was what allowed him to recognize the essence of his strikes, and without it, even recognizing what to strip away would be utterly impossible.


    "But come," the Knight continued. "After all this effort, I''m curious to see what you have learned."


    Without any further words, the man raised his weapon, and Arran eagerly did the same. After all, while he knew his abilities had made a leap forward, he had yet to see just how big that leap was.


    They silently faced each other for a mere second before the Knight sprang into action. Surging forward in a blur of motion, he launched a flurry of attacks, each of them a marvel of control and power.


    Any remaining doubts Arran had about the man holding back earlier were gone in an instant. Had his opponent attacked like this before, Arran would not have lasted even a single exchange.


    Yet now, he found that he was able to resist the onslaught.


    His control still couldn''t quite match the Knight''s, but his strikes and parries carried a precision that had been absent before ¡ª a mastery that surpassed mere skill and touched on the edges of perfection.


    The exchange lasted mere seconds, but it left Arran marveling at his newly gained abilities. Not only had his control reached a level he once would have thought impossible, but his speed had leaped forward as well.


    As skilled as he was at controlling his insights, doing so had still added complexity to his movements. And although the delay that added to his attacks and parries was only a fraction of an instant, in battle, even the slightest delay mattered.


    But now, he moved with the speed of instinct, the separation between thought and action all but erased. And with that, he could block attacks that would have been unstoppable in the past.


    In the seconds that the exchange lasted, Arran and the Knight exchanged several dozens of blows, with neither of them able to gain the upper hand. Though the Knight was the more skilled of the two, the difference was small enough that Arran''s greater strength evened the odds, if perhaps not completely.


    Yet when the Knight broke off his attack, he immediately stepped back, then gave a small bow. "I concede," he said. "Victory is yours."


    The words took Arran by surprise, yet before he could object, the man continued, "But now, with your training at an end, my master wishes to see you."


    "The Governor?" Arran asked. Though it seemed the most likely answer, he still knew too little of the city to be certain. There might be other powers of which he remained unaware.


    "Of course," the Knight replied. "Will you accompany me?"


    Arran hesitated. "Right now?" As grateful as he was for the help he''d received from the Knight, exhaustion filled every fiber of his body, and he would much rather be rested when meeting the Governor. Especially because he already had some suspicions about what the Governor''s intentions might be.


    "Right now," the Knight confirmed. "As tired as you must be, this is something that cannot wait."


    Understanding that it wasn''t so much a request as it was an order, Arran gave a reluctant nod. "All right, I will come."


    "Excellent," the Knight said, a cheerful smile on his face. "Follow me."


    As they set off, Arran''s eyes found Kaleesh amid the crowd, and he saw that the captain''s expression was one of concern. Yet there was nothing to be done about it, and Arran merely gave Kaleesh a helpless shrug before hurrying after the Knight.


    Still, as worried as the captain looked, Arran wasn''t too concerned. He had a suspicion of what lay ahead, and although it would be a problem, it was one he''d already accepted as unavoidable.


    Rather than dwelling on the matter and succumbing to pointless worry, he turned his attention to the Knight.


    "The Governor sent you to help me?"


    It was more of a statement than a question, and as he expected, the Knight nodded in response. "He did," the man confirmed. "Though I won''t deny that I was curious to see what talents the champion of the prisoners'' army possessed. I will admit that you''re more talented than I expected."


    "About that¡­" Arran began, brow creased in a frown. "What I discovered¡­ I was hoping you could¡ª"


    "I cannot tell you what you wish to know," the man interrupted him. "You''ve already uncovered secrets beyond your station. Before you''re allowed to learn more, your loyalty to the Imperium will need to be ensured."


    "That''s why the Governor summoned me?" Arran asked. "To have me swear allegiance to the Imperium?"


    The Knight hesitated, then gave a small nod.


    "This oath¡­" Arran began, but he stopped mid-sentence when he saw the Knight''s expression. Whatever the man knew, he clearly had no intention of revealing it. Arran remained silent for several seconds, then finally said, "I suppose proving my loyalty isn''t a problem. Though I am still new to the Imperium, I have no intention of betraying my allies."


    "Good," the Knight said simply, though Arran saw that the man''s expression relaxed at his words.


    Rather than continuing on the subject, Arran turned his attention to the city around them. And as they left the outermost area behind, he saw that the inner part much resembled other cities, albeit with some notable differences.


    For a start, while all cities had guards, Knight''s Watch had far more of them than other cities. Arran suspected that this was not only to defend the city against the Blight, but just as much to protect it from the soldiers and Rangers who filled its streets.


    Wherever he looked, there were armed men and women. Many of them were browsing the stores ¡ª at least half of which sold weapons and armor, albeit at ridiculous prices ¡ª but there were equally many who walked the streets with unsteady steps, the smell of drink on them unmistakable.


    "Do they cause much trouble?" Arran asked.


    "More than you would believe," the Knight replied with a laugh, clearly glad for the change of topic. "I''d venture to say that more of them get injured in the taverns than on the training fields. If the Blight truly wished to defeat us, I fear that wine and brandy would do a better job than swords and magic."


    Arran chuckled. "Then it''s a good thing I haven''t seen any carts filled with barrels come out of the Desolation. Though I can''t imagine that drunken soldiers are much of a problem to Knights like yourself."


    At this, the Knight let out a small sigh. "Then your imagination is lacking. The common soldiers might not be too much of a problem, but the Lords'' sons and daughters are another matter."


    "Really?" Arran raised an eyebrow. "I would think even they would be wary of offending a Knight."


    "If only," the man replied. "Strength is nothing without backing, and even with the Governor''s status, there are some among the Lords who would not hesitate to challenge him." In a wistful tone, he added, "Although it isn''t as bad as in Sacrifice, of course."


    "The situation in Sacrifice is bad, then?"


    "That''s putting it mildly," the Knight said. "Sacrifice is governed by the church, and the church cares more about its alliances than it does about ruling fairly. As an outsider, you would do well to remember that."


    "I''ll keep it in mind."


    In truth, Arran had already expected as much. He knew that the Darian lordlings in the Desolation busied themselves as much with fighting over status as they did with fighting the Blight, and based on what he had seen of the Imperium''s politics, it came as no surprise that even the Desolation would be rife with favoritism.


    Fortunately, he could rely on Kaleesh to deal with the politics of the Imperium. And if that meant he could expect to be drawn into a few perilous schemes, it was a price well worth paying.


    Of course, with the strength he now had, he also had the option of going it alone. Yet somehow, he suspected that things weren''t quite as simple as that. Even if he tried to avoid the Imperium''s political conflicts, he had little doubt that those conflicts would somehow still manage to find him.


    Much better to have an ally at his side, to keep an eye on the Darians'' intrigue while Arran focused his attention on growing his strength.


    The walk to the center of the city took Arran and the Knight the better part of an hour, much of which they spent navigating their way around the throngs of soldiers that filled the city''s many narrow streets.


    Some of the soldiers respectfully stepped aside when they recognized the Knight, but just as many were too drunk to even notice him, and still others did not seem to recognize the Knight at all.


    "Country folk," the Knight explained in a voice that carried just a hint of exasperation. "Many of them have never even seen a Knight."


    As they made their way through the city, they witnessed several fights, as well. And while most of these were drunken brawls, on two occasions Arran saw the fighters draw their weapons.


    "You''re not going to step in?" he asked his companion as they passed a large fight outside a tavern, where two burly soldiers faced each other with sword in hand.


    The Knight shook his head. "They know the consequences if they go too far ¡ª or should know them, at any rate. If they lack the wit to restrain themselves¡­" He paused, and a grin crossed his face. "I suppose they might find themselves recruited by that captain of yours."


    At this, Arran could only let out a deep sigh.


    But as easily as the Knight talked about the situation in Knight''s Watch and Sacrifice, it was clear that there were some topics he would not touch on.


    Anything concerning the Desolation itself and the various Darian techniques, he refused to talk about ¡ª even those techniques which Arran had clearly already mastered.


    But then, perhaps it wasn''t that the Knight did not wish to talk about these things, but that he couldn''t. Arran already suspected that the Darians'' oath worked in a similar manner as the one he''d made when joining the Shadowflame Society, and if that was the case, willingness to talk played little part in it.


    Of course, if that was true, it also meant that he would soon find himself bound twice over.


    Yet that was a problem which still lacked an obvious answer, and so, he turned his attention back to the city.


    Where the lower levels of Knight''s Watch were abuzz with activity, the upper levels at the city''s center were quieter, and many of the buildings that stood near the top of the massive hill looked to be centuries old.


    The people here were different, as well. There were fewer soldiers and Rangers, and those few that Arran did see looked to be locals rather than travelers on their way to the Desolation.


    "It''s rather nice, don''t you think?" the Knight asked with a satisfied look at the scenery around them.


    "It''s beautiful," Arran agreed.


    This was no exaggeration. The city itself was attractive ¡ª this part of it, at least ¡ª and the view it offered was nothing short of stunning. Atop the hill, he could see for miles around, past the sprawling city below them and across the endless green hills that surrounded Knight''s Watch. "How long have you been here?"


    A ponderous look appeared on the Knight''s face, and after some moments of thought, he replied, "I suppose it''s been a century already, give or take a few years. I first entered the Governor''s service shortly after I became a Ranger. I passed through Knight''s Watch after I returned from the Desolation, and ended up staying here."


    Arran remained silent for some moments, then asked, "What sort of man is the Governor?"


    "He''s a good man," the Knight replied at once. "Albeit one who carries a heavy burden. He founded Knight''s Watch himself, growing it from a single lone watchtower into the city it is today. And where the other Lords believe they can neglect the Desolation, he cannot afford the luxury of ignorance."


    A thought occurred to Arran, and he asked, "He''s the Knight in Knight''s Watch?"


    "He was," his companion confirmed. "Though he became a Lord long ago ¡ª long enough that there are only a handful of people in the Imperium who remember him as a Knight."


    By now, they had already approached to within a few hundred paces of the large keep that lay atop the hill''s summit, and Arran cast a long look at the large walled building that lay ahead of them.


    As he studied it, he recognized that it was far older than the rest of the city. Its walls were a patchwork of sturdy stone, carrying the marks of many centuries of continuous construction and repairs.


    Yet there were some sections that appeared much older than the others ¡ª old enough that Arran could not even begin to guess how long they had stood. If the Governor had already been here when those first sections of wall were erected, then his age couldn''t be measured in mere centuries.


    Arran''s thoughts were interrupted by the Knight''s voice. "We''ve arrived," the man announced. "I will see you to the Governor myself. I expect we will find him in his garden."


    They passed through the heavy gates and the courtyard behind it unhindered, the guards there ¡ª all of them Rangers ¡ª bowing politely as the Knight passed, though not without casting some curious looks at Arran.


    Then, they were within the keep itself. Yet although the entry hall was spacious, Arran soon found that behind it lay a maze of narrow hallways.


    While the building was large and robust, its interior bore few signs of any intentional design. Instead, it was as if the keep had been built over many years by many different builders, each of them without a care for the plans of those who came before them.


    Hallways and corridors intersected at sharp angles, the different types of stone in their walls proof that they had been created centuries apart. This was further evidenced by the floors, which despite being made from heavy stone were worn so deeply that they almost resembled dried-up streams.


    Yet labyrinthine though the keep was, the Knight seemed well-acquainted with its narrow passages, and it wasn''t long before they emerged into a small secluded courtyard that held a lavish garden.


    At the center of the garden was a thin, gray-haired man, crouched over as he carefully tended to one of the many plants in the area.


    "Lord Governor," the Knight said in a subdued voice, "I''ve brought you the outsider."


    "One moment, Kishan," the old man replied, his voice so soft it was only barely intelligible. "I just have to¡­"


    Though Arran could not make out the rest of what was said, he deduced that it must have something to do with the plant, as the man''s attention remained fully focused on the small bush before him.


    Several minutes passed as the old man groomed and watered the plant ¡ª long enough that Arran almost worried he had forgotten about his guests. But then, at last, the man stood up and turned around.


    Arran felt some shock as he saw the Governor. Short and thin, the man looked so old that it seemed like even a gust of wind might break him, with a face so wrinkled not a single smooth patch of skin remained. And although the Living Shadow weapon at his side was only a thin sword, Arran found himself wondering whether the man would be able to lift even that.


    Yet while his body seemed to teeter on the edge of infirmity, his dark eyes held a sharpness that suggested his mind had weathered the ravages of time unscathed.


    "Now then," the Governor said as he gave Arran an appraising look. "Since you''re here, I assume the boy has succeeded?"


    "He has, Lord Governor," the Knight replied. "And most impressively, at that."


    "Good," the Governor said. "Then you may leave. Send one of the stewards over on your way out."


    Arran barely managed to utter a word of thanks to the Knight before he was left alone with the Governor, who continued to stare at him with studious eyes.


    "A good-hearted young man, that one," the Governor said. "Though sadly lacking in talent. Now, let me get a look at you."


    Without waiting for a response, he approached with a speed that belied his frail appearance, only coming to a halt a mere two paces from Arran. For several moments he stared intently ¡ª much like a stableman appraising a horse, Arran thought ¡ª then finally stepped back and gave a slow nod.


    "Good," he said. "I feared Kishan''s efforts might have been wasted, but it seems my fears were unfounded."


    Arran gave the old man an uncertain look. "Lord Governor," he began cautiously, "why did you have him help me?"


    "Because I owed you a favor," the Governor replied. "Two, in fact, one of which has now been repaid."


    Understanding dawned in Arran''s eyes. "The Reaver?"


    "And the Warlock," the Governor said. "Both could have done great damage to our supply lines, but your timely appearance prevented the worst of it."


    "They caught the Warlock, then?" There had been some doubt in Arran''s mind about whether the two Lords he''d met would manage to find the creature, but from the Governor''s words, it seemed they had succeeded.


    "They killed it," the old man said. "Had they caught it, I would have owed you a more substantial favor. We''ve never caught one alive, you see, and not for lack of trying."


    At a loss for words, Arran merely nodded in response. The Governor was nothing like what he had expected, behaving more like an eccentric mage than a Darian Lord, and he wasn''t entirely sure what to make of the old man.


    "You expected me to be a formidable warrior?" the Governor asked in an amused tone, almost as if he had read Arran''s mind. "I was once formidable, you know ¡ª not to mention a great deal taller. I have been a brave young Ranger, a fearless Knight, a terrifying Lord¡­ I''ve been many things."


    A small frown crossed Arran''s brow, and he could not keep from asking the obvious question. "And now?"


    "Now?" The old man smiled in amusement. "Now, I suppose I am an adequate gardener. And if the Blight doesn''t overrun my city, perhaps I shall eventually become a good one."


    At that moment, a middle-aged man stepped into the garden. "Lord Governor, you called for me?"


    "That I did," the Governor replied. "I need you to find my young guest a room ¡ª a good one, mind you ¡ª and a decent meal." A frown appeared on his wrinkled forehead as he looked at Arran, and after a moment''s thought, he added, "A fresh set of clothes would not go amiss, either. And perhaps a bath after he awakes."


    The steward gave a deep bow in response. "As you wish, Lord Governor."


    The Governor turned to Arran. "Now, off with you. You may have set a first step into Enlightenment, but that does not mean you can go without sleep."


    Arran looked at him in confusion. "Enlightenment?"


    "I will answer your questions once you''ve rested," the old man replied. He turned around even as he finished the words, his attention once more fully focused on the plant he''d been tending when Arran arrived.


    For several seconds Arran stood in silence, thoughts still on the word the Governor had used ¡ª Enlightenment. He didn''t yet know what exactly it was that he had discovered, but the term seemed strangely appropriate.


    His thoughts were interrupted a moment later, when a subdued cough sounded beside him. "Young master," the steward said in a soft voice, "please let me show you to your quarters."


    Arran cast a last look at the Governor, but seeing that the old man was already fully engrossed in his gardening, he reluctantly followed the steward.


    Another journey through the maze-like hallways of the keep followed, with the steward proving no less skilled at navigating the winding corridors than the Knight had been. After some minutes ¡ª and countless stairs and hallways ¡ª they finally stepped into a large room.


    "I trust that these quarters will be to your liking," the steward said, some pride in his voice as he showed the room to Arran.


    Arran nodded silently. The room wasn''t just to his liking, it was astonishing. Vast and luxurious, it held a larger ¡ª and, from the look of it, softer ¡ª bed than he had enjoyed in years, and the walls were covered in intricate tapestries. Moreover, there were several large windows that gave a stunning view of the city and the lands around it.


    "Excellent," the steward said. "Please make yourself comfortable. I shall have food and clothes sent momentarily."


    As the steward left, Arran took off his armor ¡ª the first time he had done so in a very long time. He lazily rubbed the sore spots it had left on his body, then sat down on the bed.


    Though there were many thoughts and questions in his mind, he found himself unable to focus on any of them, and he realized just how tired he was. He had fought for weeks if not longer, and now, he finally felt the force of his long-suppressed exhaustion weigh down on him.


    He hesitated for only a moment, then lay down on the bed. If nothing else, he decided, he had deserved a brief nap before his meal arrived.

 399 An Unwelcome Gues

    "They come again! Brace yourselves!"


    Arran fastened his grip on his sword at the familiar words. Master Zhao had spoken them many times already, and if his voice held a hint of despair that had been absent before, that was to be expected.


    Briefly, Arran''s eyes darted to the bodies that littered the ground around him. There were thousands, too many of them to count. Most belonged to strangers, but there were many that he recognized.


    Kaleesh lay a mere fifty paces ahead, eyes wide and pointed at the crimson sky in an empty stare. Around him lay the remains of the last of the Wolfsblood Army, starmetal armor soaked in the blood of those it had failed to protect.


    Closer still lay Snowcloud and Jiang Fei, side by side, their figures unmoving amid the mass of bodies. The charred remains of their enemies still smoldered around them, a reminder of the ferocity with which they had fought. Yet even that had not been enough.


    Where millions had once stood, only hundreds remained. And soon, even those would fall.


    Arran glanced to his right, where Brightblade still stood. Though she bore many wounds, her face carried only a vicious grin ¡ª a grim determination to kill as many of the enemy as she could before falling herself.


    There were others, as well. Beside Brightblade, he saw Elder Naran and the Sixth Valley''s Patriarch, and further along the line he recognized Lady Merem and the Governor of Knight''s Watch. There were many he did not recognize ¡ª Shadowflame mages, Darian warriors, and others besides ¡ª but none of them were free from injury.


    Only Crassus remained unscathed. The towering dragon stood alone, half a mile away, the area around him a ruined wasteland of fire and ashes. Yet although Crassus was yet unwounded, Arran could see that even the giant dragon was affected by the exhaustion they all shared.


    His thoughts were interrupted by a familiar shimmer in the air before him, and he gripped his sword as he cleared his mind and readied himself for battle.


    The enemy had returned.


    The shimmer in the air lasted a mere instant before it was replaced by a jet-black mass, darker than darkest night, with the space around it distorted as if a hole had been torn in the very fabric of reality ¡ª like a gate to some other world.


    As the gate grew wider, hundreds of creatures poured forth from it, their figures twisted and misshapen, with bodies that seemed to be composed entirely of raw Essence. Some were no taller than a man, while others stood a dozen feet tall. But in each, Arran could Sense an overwhelming force of seemingly endless Essence.


    Without hesitation, he struck forth. In a matter of seconds, a dozen of the creatures died, the Living Shadow blade almost singing with joy as it tore through their bodies. And alien though the creatures were, fear filled their faces in the instant before they were killed.


    It was a battle without glory, an endless struggle to keep from being overwhelmed, with every victory offering only the slightest moment of respite. Fighting the creatures was like trying to stop a flood with only a bucket ¡ª a task so futile it bordered on being ridiculous.


    Yet if there was no victory to be had, there was no surrender either. It was a struggle only death could end, and hopeless though the battle might be, Arran refused to accept his demise.


    And so, he continued the fight, slaughtering his enemies even though he knew that others would come to take their place.


    As the battle raged on, at times he caught glimpses of the other fighters. Master Zhao, surrounded by a flurry of unseen blades that dismembered any of the creatures that neared him. Brightblade, her sword a streak of white fire that burned her enemies even before it touched them. The Governor, who moved with a speed that seemed impossible, his frail body darting between enemies, striking them down with attacks that appeared to violate the laws of reality itself.


    And then, there was Crassus. Tall as a mountain, he spewed streams of liquid fire that incinerated the creatures thousands at a time, leaving naught but smoldering ashes in their wake.


    But formidable as they were, one by one, they fell.


    Brightblade was run through by one of the creatures as she slew another, and although Arran attempted to come to her aid, hundreds of the alien creatures overwhelmed her in an instant. There was one last flash of light ¡ª a searing wave of heat that turned a hundred enemies to dust ¡ª and then, the light of her sword faded.


    The Governor, too, was overwhelmed, torn limb from limb by a mass of creatures so dense they could not be evaded. Even with his dying breath he slew another dozen of the enemy, but amid the endless sea of creatures, the final act of heroism carried no more meaning than a single drop of water in a rainstorm.


    Slowly, their numbers dwindled. It did not matter how many they defeated, there were always more creatures that appeared, more gates from which more enemies poured forth.


    Then, in the distance, Arran saw another creature emerge ¡ª a man-shaped titan wrought from fire and lightning, a thousand feet tall if not more, with waves of raw Essence surging from its hands that destroyed ally and enemy alike.


    Even amid the carnage, the sight caused a tremble to run through Arran''s heart. The titanic creature seemed more god than man, a primordial force of nature that no blade could stop.


    But as Arran touched on the edge of despair, a deafening roar sounded, followed by a sudden storm that swept across the lands and sent hundreds of the alien creatures sprawling on the battlefield.


    Crassus had taken flight.


    For a moment, it seemed as if time stood still, with the titan reaching toward the dragon that blackened the skies above it, fire and lightning surging forth from its hands as it tried in vain to bring down its opponent.


    Then, Crassus descended. Plunging down like an avalanche, he soared toward the gargantuan creature, striking with such power that it caused the earth itself to groan in agony. As he hit, his giant claws lashed out at the titan, ripping and tearing into it with a force that could have shattered mountains.


    The two went to the ground in a violent embrace that caused the ground to shake for miles around, their struggle so fierce it seemed like it could crack the very earth on which they fought.


    Yet after a time, the deafening noise died down. And as it did, Arran saw that neither of the giant creatures rose again.


    He could spare only a single thought for his fallen friend. Then, the battle continued.


    More of Arran''s allies fell. The Sixth Valley''s Patriarch disappeared in a firestorm that scoured the battlefield of life for a hundred paces around, and Elder Naran''s towering figure was dragged to the ground by hundreds of the creatures, never to rise again.


    There were those who were mightier still ¡ª men and women whose power would have left Arran dumbfounded at any other time. They rained down lightning on the battlefield, tore the creatures apart with gusts of wind that struck with a might no sword could match, and opened vast chasms in the earth that swallowed the creatures by the hundreds.


    But for all their power, they died one after another, even their power no match for the endless onslaught of creatures that continued to pour forth from the ever-expanding gates.


    At last, none remained but Arran and Master Zhao, two lone humans amid an ocean of enemies.


    By now, they had killed so many of the creatures that the broken corpses of their defeated foes formed tall hills around them, but still, the creatures kept coming.


    Arran had long since abandoned any hope of victory. Yet even though he knew the battle was lost, and despite the numerous wounds that already covered his body, he continued to fight. Not out of bravery, determination, or even the desire to avenge his fallen friends.


    Rather, what drove him was pure spite. If he was to die at the hands of these strange creatures, then he would do so atop a mountain of their corpses. And if they had a language, then he would make them curse his name for generations to come.


    Yet spite could only do so much. Even if Arran killed a dozen of the creatures for each wound he took, it was still enough to wear him down, every injury he received slowing him and making it harder to resist the next attack.


    But then, just as he thought he could take no more, he heard Master Zhao''s voice.


    "Flee!"


    He looked over in confusion ¡ª if he could flee, he would have long since done so. Yet as his eyes found Master Zhao, he saw that his former teacher had stopped fighting. Instead, he stood perfectly still, one arm stretched toward Arran and a look of utter concentration on his face.


    Suddenly, a tear opened up before Arran ¡ª one much like the gates from which the creatures had come, except where those were smooth and black, this one was red and had ragged edges.


    He understood at once what Master Zhao had done, even if he had no idea of how the man had achieved it. Yet there was no time for hesitation.


    He cast a final look at his teacher, then leaped into the tear.


    As soon as Arran landed, he turned around, ready to face any of the creatures that might have followed them. But the tear winked out of existence even as he laid eyes on it, too quickly for any enemies to have followed behind him.


    A stab of pain went through his heart as he saw the portal close, for he knew what it meant. He had seen that Master Zhao was on the verge of being overwhelmed, and as much as he wanted to believe that his teacher had closed the portal, he knew the truth.


    For several moments, he stood in silence, eyes downcast as the full weight of what had happened suddenly pressed down on him. Snowcloud, Kaleesh, Jiang Fei, Brightblade, even Crassus ¡ª all of them had fallen.


    Then, however, a sudden frown appeared on his face.


    In the heat of battle, all that had happened had seemed entirely natural. But now, he suddenly wondered how he had even ended up on the battlefield. More importantly, he realized that he had no idea who his enemies had been ¡ª nor why the Shadowflame mages had joined forces with the Darians.


    His eyes went wide with confusion, and he turned to look around ¡ª and found that he was standing in what appeared to be an endless empty plain, albeit one with purple grass and a crimson sun shining above him.


    "Was it a dream?" he wondered aloud. Though the idea seemed ridiculous ¡ª it had seemed completely real, and even now, his body was still covered in wounds ¡ª it was the only explanation he had.


    The last thing he remembered before the battlefield was meeting the Governor of Knight''s Watch, and he could not recall receiving so great a blow to the head that he would forget whatever events lay in between.


    "It was," a reply came. "In a sense, at least."


    Arran turned around with a start, and when he saw who stood before him, his heart immediately sank.


    "Panurge."


    The self-proclaimed god gave a broad smile. "In the flesh," he said in a cheerful tone. "Or whatever passes for flesh in here."


    For several seconds, Arran found himself torn between rejoicing that none of it was real, anger at what he''d been made to experience, and no small amount of concern that the god could enter his dreams. But finally, he settled on a single question.


    "Why?"


    "A well-earned reward for your latest achievement," Panurge replied. "Though I''ve planted many seedlings, it''s always a pleasure to¡ª"


    He was interrupted mid-sentence when Arran''s blade came flashing toward him, but he dodged the blow easily, then shook his head in mock dejection.


    "Such an ungrateful child. Not a whit of gratitude for the gift I''ve granted you."


    "A gift?!" Arran stared at him in outraged disbelief. "You call that a gift?! To make me witness the deaths of everyone I know?!"


    Again he swung his sword at Panurge with all his might, but the god effortlessly caught it with his hand. And this time, he seemed less amused at the attack.


    "A gift," he said, his expression uncharacteristically serious. "And a great one, at that. To catch a glimpse of what the future might hold is something that is given to few."


    At this, Arran felt his rage subside. "The future?" Though he wasn''t so foolish as to trust Panurge, the battle was still fresh in his mind, and even the possibility of it becoming reality nearly made him sick with worry.


    "A future," Panurge said. "And one that may yet come to pass, if there are none with the power to stop it." He cast a thoughtful look at Arran, then added, "Although I will admit to taking some liberties with the truth. As it is, your strength would not have gotten you nearly as far."


    "What were those creatures?" Arran asked. As much as he wanted to disregard Panurge''s words, he could not help but feel that there was at least a core of truth to what he''d witnessed.


    "Inevitable," Panurge replied with a shrug. "A consequence which cannot be avoided, and one which only fools would seek to delay. But enough of your questions. I''ve granted you a glimpse of what awaits, and perhaps you will even heed the warning. I bid you¡ª"


    Seeing that Panurge was about to depart, Arran cried out, "Wait! I have one more question!"


    Panurge gave him a flat look. "Well?"


    "Why me?"


    "Why you?" Panurge looked at him in disbelief, then burst into laughter. And although this laughter subsided a moment later, an expression of heartfelt amusement remained on his face. "As I said before, you are just one seedling among many. A spark of potential, but no more than that. Whether you grow into something different¡­ that remains to be seen."


    The answer left Arran unsatisfied, yet as he was about to ask another question, he found that Panurge had already disappeared. And as he noticed this, he saw that the strange plain upon which he stood began to fade, as well.


    Arran came awake with a start.


    Briefly, he hoped that it had all been a dream ¡ª the kind that involved no gods other than the ones created by his own mind.


    This hope was short-lived, however, as he realized almost immediately that the wounds on his body were all too real. And although they were already beginning to heal, he could feel that the bedsheets were soaked in fresh blood.


    He groaned in frustration, then got out of bed, the only thing keeping him from cursing out loud the knowledge that the people he''d seen die in Panurge''s vision were still alive.


    A brief look at the bed was enough to convince him he couldn''t leave it as it was, and after a moment''s thought, he stored the blood-soaked sheets in his void ring. Better the Governor''s servants think he stole the bed sheets than that they find what looked like the scene of a murder.


    Then, after taking a deep breath and muttering a curse at Panurge, he looked around the room.


    He was pleased to see that a small stack of fresh clothes was neatly placed in a corner of the room, and doubly so when he saw that there was also a large copper tub filled with water.


    Though the water was cold, it served well enough, and a quarter-hour later found Arran clean and dressed in a fresh set of clothes. The old ones ¡ª even more blood-soaked than the sheets had been ¡ª he stored in his void ring as well.


    He hesitated briefly, then dug up another well-worn set of clothes from his void ring, which he wrapped in an old piece of bedding to form a large and foul-smelling bundle.


    Finally, after he put his armor back on, he stepped out of the room and waved down a passing servant.


    "Young master," the man said, some surprise in his voice. "You are awake."


    "Clearly," Arran replied. "How long did I sleep?"


    "Four days," the man said. Somewhat apologetically, he added, "We would have asked if you needed assistance, but the Lord Governor gave orders not to disturb you."


    "It''s a good thing he did, then," Arran said. "But now that I''m awake, can you have a meal sent to my quarters?"


    The servant gave a polite nod. "Of course. Is there anything else you need?"


    "There is." Arran held up the bundle of bedding and clothes. "Have this burned. It holds two months worth of filth, and I fear no amount of washing will be enough to salvage it."


    Disgust flashed across the servant''s face, but he recovered his composure in an instant and accepted the bundle with well-concealed distaste. "It shall be done immediately."


    Arran gave the man a friendly nod, after which he stepped back into his room.


    A brief sigh escaped his lips as he sat down on a chair by the window. Four days. In his mind, the battle had lasted months, longer even than the time it had taken him to reach his breakthrough ¡ª what the Governor had called a first step into Enlightenment.


    Yet for all that, the only thing Panurge''s vision had brought him was a heap of new questions, not least about the supposed god''s intentions for him.


    Idly, he wondered what would have happened had he died in the dream, and a wry smile crossed his lips when he realized that Panurge might well have let it happen.


    Though he was still uncertain of what it was Panurge intended for him, he could not help but think that the self-professed god had little patience for the weak. If a seedling ¡ª as he called it ¡ª died before his time, Panurge seemed more likely than not to dismiss the unlucky victim as a failed experiment.


    But as much as Arran distrusted Panurge, he could not convince himself that the dream had merely been a cruel trick. There was something more to it ¡ª almost certainly an attempt to influence him, and likely an attempt to set him against the forces of Order. And, perhaps, a sliver of truth.


    Though he hadn''t yet encountered the creatures he saw in the dream, he had witnessed similar ones. The Remnants that roamed the Shadow realm for one, and the creatures Brightblade had named Demons for another.


    And if the similarity wasn''t perfect, it was strong enough ¡ª especially for the latter ¡ª that he knew it was no coincidence.


    Moreover, the idea that such creatures might one day overrun the world did not seem nearly as impossible as he would have liked. Though he still had little idea of how the Shadow realm had fallen to its current state, what he had seen outside the Ninth Valley brought him little peace of mind.


    Arran''s musings were interrupted when a knock sounded on his door.


    "Enter!" he called out, but as he turned toward the door, he was surprised to see that behind three servants carrying a sizable meal, the Governor himself followed.


    He quickly stood up, managing an awkward bow. "Lord Governor. I didn''t expect you to visit me."


    An amused smile crossed the old man''s face. "I had intended for you to come to me, but after four days, my patience ran thin."


    Arran shifted uneasily. "I apologize," he said. "I didn''t think I would sleep as long."


    As the servants finished setting up the table, the Governor motioned for them to leave. Then, with narrowed eyes, he peered at Arran. "Yet for all that sleep, you seem no more well-rested than when you arrived."


    Arran feigned a smile, struggling not to recall how he had seen the old man torn limb from limb in Panurge''s vision. "I had some unpleasant dreams, but I expect that a proper meal will do me much good."


    The Governor gave a short nod. "A common thing, this close to the Desolation." Again he cast a thoughtful look at Arran. "Though I am surprised to see how well you''ve taken to your step into Enlightenment. From the look of you, I would''ve sworn that you had your breakthrough months ago."


    For an instant, Arran was dumbfounded. But then, he realized that it was true. It seemed that Panurge''s gift had brought more than just questions and wounds, after all.


    Though he had not realized it at the time, the desperate battle ¡ª imaginary though it was ¡ª had allowed him to hone his skill at using his newfound understanding, to the point that he now used it even without thinking.


    Seeing Arran struggle to reply, the Governor gave a dismissive gesture. "Your secrets are your own. Come sit with me."


    Thankful that the old man did not ask any questions he could not answer, Arran gave a relieved nod and sat down beside him.


    "Now then," the Governor said as Arran sat down. "We have much to discuss, and a good meal to discuss it over." He reached into his robe and produced a smooth white disc, which he laid on the table. "But first, there''s the matter of your oath."


    Though the old man spoke casually, Arran''s eyes went wide with surprise when he saw the disc. While he had expected the oath to be somehow similar to the Shadowflame oath, he had not thought that the object used would be exactly the same.


    That it was so, he knew instantly. It was a likeness that went beyond mere similarity, the two objects so alike that they could have been ¡ª and perhaps were ¡ª created by the same hand.


    And whatever hand it was that had created the discs, he knew for a fact that it belonged to a mage.

 400 The Oath

    Arran feigned mild curiosity as he looked at the white disc the Governor had placed on the table before him. Though he already knew what it was, it would not do to let his host know about that.


    "What is this thing?" he asked, trying his best to seem neither too interested nor too confident.


    "It''s an oath disc," the Governor replied. "An artifact supplied by the church, to ensure that those who swear allegiance to the Imperium are bound to their oaths."


    Arran raised an eyebrow. "That sounds like magic."


    "A dangerous thing to suggest," the Governor said with a chuckle, though his eyes carried a hint of warning. "And doubly so if there is any truth to it."


    "Then I will speak no more of it," Arran replied. As casual as the old man''s tone had been, his expression suggested that the words were not to be taken lightly. "But what am I supposed to do with this¡­ oath disc?"


    "You hold it as you speak your oath." The Governor motioned for Arran to pick up the disc, then continued, "Now, you must swear to betray neither the Imperium nor its secrets."


    "That''s all?" Arran asked with a frown that was only partly feigned. "There are no special words?"


    The Governor nodded. "The exact words you use don''t matter much. As long as the meaning is close enough, you will be bound to the same oath that binds us all. Once you''ve done so, you will be a Ranger."


    Though Arran kept a calm expression, he felt a stab of worry at the Governor''s words. If the oath disc required sincerity rather than any specific words, chances were that it wouldn''t work for him.


    After all, he fully intended to betray both the Imperium as well as its secrets.


    Yet with the Governor watching, he had no choice but to try and hope for the best. To refuse would be as good as announcing that he opposed the Imperium, and as friendly as the Governor appeared, that friendliness would not last long if he believed Arran an enemy.


    Arran took a deep breath to steel his nerves. Then, his expression calm despite the concern in his heart, he said, "I swear not to betray the Imperium or its secrets."


    As a wave of cold emanated from the disc, Arran felt a surge of relief. From the look of it, the disc required only words, and not intent.


    The cold spread through his body like a ripple through water, and as it did, Arran''s relief vanished in an instant, terror quickly taking its place.


    When he had sworn the Shadowflame oath, his Sense had been so underdeveloped as to be useless, and he''d had little idea of what was happening. But now, he could see exactly what effect the oath had.


    The smooth white disc sent long tendrils of Essence throughout his body ¡ª Shadow fused with some type of Essence he did not recognize ¡ª which together formed a seal.


    At least, that''s how it should work.


    Yet what was happening now was entirely different. Rather than the oath disc merely forming a second seal, Arran saw that even as the second seal was created, it began to merge with the first one. And as the two seals merged, he realized that they were creating a wholly new one.


    Though he did not know this new seal, he recognized traces of Master Zhao''s seal in it ¡ª but also a shocking amount of destructive energy. And instantly, he realized that if the seal was completed, all that power would be unleashed at once.


    There was no time for hesitation. At once, he gathered as much Shadow Essence as he could muster, then slammed the mass of Essence in between the tendrils that were still trying to link together.


    Briefly, the two competing forces remained at a stalemate, the two seals'' thin strands of Essence trying to bind together while Arran used his full insight into severing and his control over Shadow Essence to stop them.


    Powerful though the seals were, the assault lasted only a moment, then suddenly subsided. Unable to compete with Arran''s vast reserves of Shadow Essence, the strands of Essence slowly withdrew, the power that had driven them entirely spent.


    Arran let out a deep sigh of relief. The attack had been short-lived, but no less dangerous for that. Had his Sense been but a hair weaker or his strength in Shadow just the slightest bit less, he suspected he would be dead already.


    When he was certain that the attack had ended, he carefully removed the mass of Shadow Essence he''d forced between the two seals, wary of another assault. Yet to his relief, none came. It seemed that with the power that had driven the attack spent, both seals had settled in place.


    "Are you all right?" the Governor''s voice sounded. "You suddenly went pale."


    When Arran looked up, he saw the old man stare at him, eyes filled with concern. "I''m fine," he managed. "The sensation discomfited me, is all."


    He glanced at the smooth white oath disc, which now lay on the table. It seemed that in his struggle, he had unknowingly dropped it ¡ª and possibly saved his life in doing so.


    "Are you certain?" the Governor asked. "I felt¡­" He fell silent, though his brow was creased in a deep frown.


    "I am," Arran replied, his tone firmer now. "I just need a moment to steady my nerves."


    He reached out to one of the wine glasses on the table, concealing the tremble in his hand as best he could. He downed the glass in a single gulp, and as he felt his heart slow, he breathed another deep sigh.


    That the Governor would have felt something was no surprise. As well as Arran could conceal Shadow Essence within his own body, the sheer amount he''d drawn was all but impossible to hide completely. But with the oath disc''s Essence mixed in, it should be enough to convince the old man that the Essence did not originate from him.


    A far bigger concern was the oath disc itself. Arran knew for a fact that the attack was no mere coincidence, no unexpected interaction between the two seals.


    Rather, it had been a trap ¡ª one laid with care and cunning, and crafted with a mastery of seals that far surpassed his own considerable skills.


    As for the purpose of the trap, Arran had no need to guess. Without a doubt, both seals had been created by someone who wished to prevent others from taking both oaths. The only question that remained was who that person might be.


    "Show me your wrist," the Governor interrupted his thoughts. "The right one."


    Arran did as the old man said, and as he extended his right hand, he saw that the inside of his wrist now carried a small shadowy image of a sword ¡ª an image that mirrored the small black flame that remained concealed on his left wrist.


    The Governor spent a moment studying the mark, then nodded slowly. "Though your reaction was unusual, it appears the oath took, nonetheless." He raised his eyes to face Arran. "You should have warned me that you''ve dabbled in magic before."


    Arran looked at the old man with wide eyes, at a loss for words. "Magic? I never¡ª"


    "Save it," the Governor cut him off. "Someone with your talents would not join the Imperium except to gain power, and someone who seeks power would not neglect so obvious a path. Even I cannot deny looking into it in my younger years." A small smile briefly crossed his lips, as if he recalled a distant memory. "Nevertheless, you took a greater risk than you realize in coming here. Those who have advanced too far along that path do not survive their oaths."


    Arran was momentarily surprised at how forward the Governor was, but then, he recognized the truth. Now that he was also bound by the oath, the old man could speak freely.


    Yet at the same time, he knew that the Governor was wrong. What killed mages who spoke the oath wasn''t their progress in magic, but the trap that lay concealed within the seals.


    "Now what?" Arran asked hesitantly. Though it seemed that the Governor had no intention of acting on the accusation, to be discovered as a mage still caused him no small amount of worry.


    "Before we continue," the Governor began, "I would urge you not to speak to anyone about this matter, nor to travel any further along that path. It has only a single destination ¡ª the church''s dungeons. And for all the terrors the Desolation holds, there are few as frightful as the inquisitors'' tools."


    Arran gave an emphatic nod. "I did not come to the Imperium to study magic."


    "Good," the Governor replied, the hint of tension that his expression still carried finally easing. "With that taken care of, and with you sworn to the Imperium, I can grant you some of the answers you seek. First, what do you know of power?"


    "Power?" Arran looked at the man in confusion. The question was so broad as to be impossible to answer. "What kind of power?"


    A small smile crossed the Governor''s lips. "A good question, even if you stumbled upon it by accident. What kinds of power do you think exist?"


    This time, Arran had an answer ready. "Body Refinement and magic." He briefly paused, then added somewhat more hesitantly. "And knowledge, I suppose. Or skill."


    The Governor nodded in approval. "That''s closer to the truth than you might realize," he said. "Many types of power exist, yet all of them stem from but three sources."


    Arran considered the old man''s words for some moments, taking the opportunity to gather several large portions of meat and bread on the plate before him. Then, he asked, "So what are these sources?"


    "The first of them," the Governor replied, "stands right before you. Some would call this natural Essence, though I dislike the phrase. It is the power of our world itself ¡ª the power that forms the basis for Body Refinement, but also for the bloodlines that bolster the Imperium against its enemies."


    Arran raised an eyebrow. "Don''t those bloodlines get their power from the gods?"


    "What are gods but those who have attained mastery of our world?" the Governor asked. "If people gather sufficient strength, does that not make them gods ¡ª in truth if not in name?"


    The words took Arran by surprise. Little though he still knew of the Darian church, it was enough to understand that what the Governor had said bordered on heresy.


    He gave the Governor a studious look. "A dangerous thing to say."


    "And doubly so because it is true," the old man replied. "But the truth is what it is, and the power of the lowliest Body Refiner is no different from that controlled by the very gods our priests revere. The only thing that separates them is the amount of it."


    Arran furrowed his brow in thought as he pondered the Governor''s words. Though he wasn''t certain whether he agreed with the man, he couldn''t help but be reminded of Crassus, whose power had reached such a level that he could change even his own shape.


    Unnatural as the ability seemed, he knew that magic played no part in it. Rather, it was a power that could be said to stem from the world itself.


    Finally, he asked, "So what''s the second source?"


    "The second source of power," the Governor said, "is knowledge. Not the knowledge one finds in books and tales, mind you, but a fundamental understanding of the very nature of reality."


    "Enlightenment," Arran said.


    The Governor smiled in approval. "Exactly. If the world grants us strength, then knowledge ¡ª true knowledge ¡ª is the lever that allows us to turn that raw strength into true power. It is the whetstone that sharpens the blade, the eye that guides the arrow. Even the single step you''ve set on this path will increase your power many times over."


    Arran swallowed the chunk of grilled meat he''d just put in his mouth ¡ª realizing with some surprise that he''d already finished over half the food that stood on the table ¡ª then asked, "What lies at the end of the path?"


    The old man sighed. "That is a question I cannot answer, for it is a destination I am still far from reaching. But I can tell you that the road is as rewarding as it is long. With time, you will find that reality can not just be seized but also shaped. As for the marvels that lie beyond that¡­" A wistful smile crossed his lips. "Perhaps your luck will be better than mine."


    "Reality can be shaped?" Though the Governor''s thoughts were on the end of the path, Arran was far more interested in what his next step would bring, and how to take that step. "How?"


    "I cannot tell you that," the Governor replied. "As it is, your comprehension is still lacking. Even what little I told you may be too much already ¡ª any more, and I risk leading you to a path that brings only confusion."


    "I''m willing to take that risk," Arran said.


    "But I am not," the Governor said. "For now, you would do well to focus on strengthening your comprehension, rather than trying to build a tower on unsteady ground."


    Though the old man''s tone was friendly, there was an unshakable firmness to it, and Arran understood that the man would not be persuaded to say more.


    "So what''s the third source of power?" he asked instead. "Magic?"


    At this, the Governor shook his head. "Magic is but a manifestation of power, not its source." His expression turned thoughtful, as if he was trying to find words for what he wished to explain. Finally, he continued in an uncertain voice, "Ours is not the only world that exists. There are others ¡ª as many as there are stars in the sky, some say ¡ª and just as our world holds power, so do these other worlds. To use magic is to draw that power into our own world and wield it as a tool ¡ª or a weapon."


    Arran nodded thoughtfully. Though the old man''s words resembled what he already knew, he could not help but suspect that his own knowledge ¡ª on both the topic of magic and that of other worlds ¡ª already exceeded that of his host.


    Rather than trying to learn magic from a Darian, he turned to a topic the man should know more about. "Why is the Imperium so opposed to magic?"


    The Governor smiled, clearly glad to return to more familiar ground. "As the priests would have it, to draw unnatural power into this world is an abomination ¡ª a perversion of nature that goes against the will of the gods."


    Arran looked at the old man with narrowed eyes. "But you don''t believe that?"


    "I believe it is irrelevant," the Governor replied. "Abomination or not, the danger of magic is beyond question. Just look at the Blightspawn. Magic has twisted them in body and mind, turning what were once men and women into monsters that know only hatred and violence."


    "But not all mages are like that," Arran countered. "To the east of the Imperium, mages are little different from normal people."


    "For now," the Governor said. "But how long until they stumble upon the secrets that corrupted the Blightspawn?" His voice grew louder, and the fire of conviction filled his eyes. "How long until they, too, become a threat to all they encounter? And when that happens, we will not have the Desolation to protect us. How long, then, until the entire world is overrun by twisted monstrosities that seek only to destroy?"


    The outburst took Arran by surprise. The Governor''s earlier seemingly casual attitude toward magic had given him some hope that perhaps peace between the Shadowflame Society and the Imperium was possible, but in an instant, that belief had been shattered.


    If anything, he now suspected that the old man favored war with the Shadowflame Society.


    Seeing the disquiet in Arran''s eyes, the Governor slowly shook his head, then continued in a calmer voice, "There''s no need to worry. I will not blame you for the few steps you have set on that path. To be curious is only natural. But when you have seen the Desolation with your own eyes, you will understand that magic is a path that leads only to ruin."


    Arran cast a glance at the table, where the oath disc still lay. "What would happen if the Blight found the path to Enlightenment?"


    At this, the Governor''s expression turned grim. "Then all would be lost."


    For several minutes, they sat in silence. From the dark look in the Governor''s eyes, Arran understood that this must be among the old man''s greatest fears ¡ª for the Blight to gain the Imperium''s secrets, and turn them against the Darians.


    Finally, Arran could bear the oppressive silence no more. "What is the Desolation, exactly?" he asked, as much out of genuine curiosity as to break the silence.


    The old man gave him a wry look. "Another question I cannot answer. The priests have their theories, but I will not bore you with myths and legends. What I can tell you is what the Desolation does ¡ª which is to suppress all power, both magical and natural."


    "All power?" Arran narrowed his eyes. "You mean the Desolation also suppresses Body Refinement? And bloodlines?"


    "Just so," the Governor answered. "Once you step into the Desolation, much of your strength will be suppressed. The strong will retain more than the weak, but the differences between them are greatly diminished."


    "But then¡­" Arran began, but he stopped mid-sentence as understanding dawned in his mind. "Enlightenment."


    "Exactly." The Governor nodded in agreement. "The Desolation affects us as much as it does the Blightspawn, but while it suppresses raw power, it does not suppress knowledge. In the Desolation, insights are more valuable than strength, and Enlightenment is more valuable still. That is why their attacks have yet to break us."


    Though some pride sounded in the Governor''s voice, Arran could not help but feel a shiver of worry. He''d long relied on the Blood Ruin and his physical strength, and if both were suppressed, many of his advantages would disappear. And not just that ¡ª it seemed that even his magic would lose much of its strength.


    The Governor, however, gave him an encouraging look. "Do not worry. While you will lose some of your strength, your step into Enlightenment will more than make up for it. The Desolation suppresses mages and those who rely too heavily on bloodlines, but for one such as you, it''s a blessing."


    Arran managed an awkward smile. "I suppose there''s only one way to find out."


    "Indeed," the Governor agreed. "But I see that you have finished your meal. Before you leave, one matter remains ¡ª the second debt I owe you." He reached into his robe and produced a jet-black amulet, which he handed to Arran. "This is a Warlock''s amulet, taken from the creature you helped find. You will be able to exchange it once you reach Sacrifice."


    "Thank you," Arran said as he accepted the amulet. He''d half expected that the old man would consider his wisdom the second favor, but instead, it seemed he''d opted for something more tangible.


    "A word of caution," the Governor continued. "The church offers many rewards, and none are more valuable than the bloodlines. Be cautious in choosing. For each bloodline you take, the next will cost you twice as much."


    Arran frowned. "Why?"


    "It isn''t stinginess on the priests'' part," the Governor explained. "Not entirely, at least. Rather, each additional bloodline one receives requires a greater amount of the gods'' blood. To gain more than a handful of bloodlines is beyond even the wealthiest Lords in the Imperium."


    A wry smile crossed Arran''s face. Another setback, then. With as much trouble as it had taken for him just to gain the main Darian bloodline, he could only imagine how difficult it would be to gain any others.


    But that was something he could not change, and he did not dwell on it. If he would have to win more amulets to gain his bloodlines, that merely meant he would have to kill more Blightspawn ¡ª a task he would gladly accept.


    A quarter-hour after Arran said his goodbyes to the Governor, he stepped out of the keep, thoughts still abuzz with the events of the past few days.


    Just his encounter with Panurge was enough to raise many questions. Foremost among these was how much ¡ª if anything ¡ª of the dream had been true. But as much as he hoped that it was just another trick, he had a faint feeling that this time, the trickster god might not have lied.


    Yet if Panurge''s vision was discomfiting, so too was the thought that Panurge could intrude upon his dreams. Worse still, he half suspected that the self-proclaimed god was aware of his every move, and could choose to interfere at any moment.


    And then, there were the things the Governor had revealed. Once Arran stepped into the Desolation, much of his strength would be suppressed. And while the Blightspawn would be weakened even more, the same would not be true for any Darians he faced.


    Yet despite these questions ¡ª and the many others that accompanied them ¡ª Arran found that his thoughts kept returning to a single matter.


    The oath disc.


    Impossible though it seemed, there was no denying that the discs in both the Shadowflame Society and the Imperium came from the same source. And whoever that might be, they had crafted a deadly trap for anyone who tried to join both sides.


    As Arran considered it, he found only a single possible reason for anyone to lay such a trap ¡ª whoever had crafted it was determined to prevent others from gaining both sides'' secrets.


    Which meant he had an enemy. And not just any enemy, but one whose influence extended to both the Shadowflame Society and the Imperium, and whose skill at seals dwarfed his own.


    It was a disquieting thought, and the only thing that brought Arran some comfort was that although he did not know who this enemy was, the reverse held true as well.


    But he also realized that when he returned to the Ninth Valley, that might change. If word got out that he''d gained the Darians'' secrets, then whoever had laid the trap would likely soon learn of his existence.


    At that moment, a voice sounded in the distance. "Wait! Please!"


    Arran turned around with a start, quickly realizing that while he was absorbed in thought, he''d already left the city''s upper levels behind. And as he looked, he saw that the person who had called out was a middle-aged Ranger in a shabby uniform.


    The man came approached him at an awkward run that wasn''t helped by his considerable girth, and as he came to a stop before Arran, he took several moments to catch his breath. Not an accomplished Body Refiner, then.


    "What is it?" Arran asked, eyebrow raised in wonder as he peered at the man. From his appearance, the Ranger seemed more suited to innkeeping than to battle.


    "I wanted to thank you," the Ranger said, still panting as he spoke.


    "For what?" Arran almost felt worried as he looked at the man. Red-faced and still out of breath, he appeared as if he could keel over at any moment.


    The man took several deep breaths. Then, a look of reverence in his eyes, he said, "What you taught me¡­ I had long given up hope of progressing any further. But now¡­ I can feel I''m on the verge of reaching a breakthrough."


    Arran understood that this must be one of the opponents he''d faced while working toward his own breakthrough, and he gave the man a friendly nod. "I''m glad it was helpful to you."


    To his surprise, the Ranger responded with a vehement shake of his head. "You don''t understand¡­ For twenty years, I¡­" Again he shook his head, then fumbled for his coin purse, which he shoved into Arran''s hands. "Take this. It''s all I have."


    Though Arran was tempted to accept the gift ¡ª if nothing else, it might end the increasingly awkward encounter ¡ª a single glance at the Ranger was enough to tell him that the man had no treasure to spare. Even the blade at his side was made out of common steel rather than starmetal.


    Ignoring the Ranger''s protestations, he handed the coin purse back. "You should save up for a proper sword, first."


    "But¡ª" the man began.


    "Consider it a favor owed," Arran cut him off.


    For a moment, the Ranger hesitated. Then, he gave a bow so deep it almost seemed like he would fall over. "I will repay the favor," he said in a fervent voice. "You have my word."


    Arran managed a friendly smile and a nod, then quickly hurried off.


    Yet he''d barely gone two hundred paces when a man stepped out in front of him ¡ª another Ranger, though this one wore a starmetal sword along with a uniform that suggested he possessed no small amount of wealth.


    "You''re the one that defeated the Knight, aren''t you?"


    "I am," Arran replied. "But I need to be on my way."


    The Ranger showed no sign of moving aside, however. "You don''t look so tough to me." He glanced at a group of similarly uniformed Rangers who stood several paces away, next to the entrance of one of the city''s many taverns. "Think I could take him?"


    "Idiot!" one of them said, a young man who stepped forward as he recognized what was happening. "He''d gut you like a fish, and have the Governor''s blessing in doing so. Now move aside!"


    As the first man hurriedly moved aside, this new Ranger cast an appraising look at Arran. "I apologize for my commander''s behavior. I will see to it that he is punished."


    "There''s no need for that," Arran said with a dismissive gesture. "But I must be on my way."


    "One moment," the Ranger said. "You are named Arran, correct? With the Wolfsblood Army?"


    Arran paused mid-stride, a frown on his face as he looked at the Ranger. "Is that a problem?"


    "Quite the opposite." The Ranger gave him a smooth smile, then stepped closer as if he was welcoming an old friend. "For a Ranger to best a Knight is no small achievement. Yet to see your talents wasted in an army of prisoners and outsiders is a tragedy. Perhaps you would consider joining¡ª"


    "Not interested," Arran interrupted him. Before the Ranger could say anything further, he pushed his way past the young man and continued on his way, albeit at a more rapid pace than before.


    Yet as he made his way through the city, more interruptions followed, with other Rangers and soldiers stopping him as he walked. Some to offer challenges, some to offer thanks ¡ª though none quite as fervently as the first man ¡ª and more still who tried to recruit him.


    Arran was friendly if somewhat curt to those who thanked him, but the rest he ignored as best he could. Still, by the time he finally reached the training fields in the outermost part of Knight''s Watch, he found that he was running more than walking.


    It was only when he reached the Wolfsblood Army that he breathed a silent sigh of relief. Though he had known that his actions would draw attention, he hadn''t expected anything quite like this.


    As he approached the training soldiers, it only took a moment before a call sounded. "It''s Master Arran! He''s back!"


    For a moment, Arran stared in astonishment, but his expression quickly turned to one of horror when dozens of soldiers crowded around him, their voices drowning each other out in an excited murmur.


    "Barric!" he called out, easily recognizing the giant Ranger among the crowd of soldiers. "Take me to Kaleesh!"


    "Of course, Master Arran!" Barric replied, nodding with a deference that made Arran''s eyes widen in wonder. Then, in a decidedly less subservient tone, he roared, "The rest of you dogs, get back to your damn practice!"


    Arran arrived at Kaleesh''s mansion a few minutes later, where he saw the captain already standing in front of the building, his expression one of utmost relief.


    "It''s good to see you," Kaleesh said. "When you didn''t return¡­" He paused, then gave a slow shake of his head. "You had me worried."


    "It''s good to see you, too," Arran replied. "Now, when can we leave?"

 401 An Invitation

    "Leave?" Concern flashed across Kaleesh''s eyes. "Is there a problem with the Governor? Is that why you were gone so long?"


    "It''s nothing like that," Arran replied. "The Governor was friendly ¡ª helpful, even. But on my way here¡­" He let out a sigh, then shook his head. "I got more attention than I expected, and not all of it good."


    Kaleesh raised an eyebrow. "You fought for two months straight, defeated most of the Rangers in the city, and ended your display by besting a Knight. I''m not complaining ¡ª not after the small fortune you earned me ¡ª but that you would draw attention is hardly unexpected."


    "It''s not." Arran smiled wryly, and continued, "But I didn''t anticipate that the Darians here would be quite as interested in recruiting me."


    "Recruiting you?" For a moment, Kaleesh looked at Arran in confusion. But then, as understanding dawned in his eyes, he cursed under his breath. At once, he turned to Barric. "Tell Sassun to meet us right away, and inform the other commanders that we''re leaving at first light tomorrow."


    The giant Ranger didn''t move. Instead, he stared at them with bewilderment written across his face. "What''s the problem?"


    Kaleesh sighed. "The problem is that we''re an army of mercenaries and prisoners, led by an outsider who''s been a Ranger for under a month. That alone has been enough for the Darian lordlings to harass our troops whenever they get the chance. And now, we also have something they envy ¡ª or someone, rather."


    Barric furrowed his brow in a deep frown. "They wouldn''t dare attack Master Arran."


    "Indeed they would not," Kaleesh answered flatly. "Fools though they are, they aren''t foolish enough to attack him."


    "Then what problem is¡ª" Barric fell silent mid-sentence. "Oh."


    "Which is why we''re leaving at first light," Kaleesh continued, "and not a moment later. Now hurry up and find Sassun."


    As Barric rushed off, Arran could not help but feel a twinge of guilt. He''d known his actions would have consequences, but he hadn''t fully realized the risk it would cause to his companions.


    He''d initially only felt mild annoyance at the Darians'' unexpected friendliness, but it hadn''t taken him long to understand that their friendliness could easily turn to something else once they realized he had no interest in joining them.


    The welcome he''d received when he first arrived in Knight''s Watch had given him a taste of what that something might be. And although few would now dare face him directly, the same wasn''t true for the others in the Wolfsblood Army.


    There would be no major attacks, of course ¡ª just scuffles and provocations. But even a single scuffle getting out of hand could easily turn to disaster. A single Lord''s son being killed or injured, and even the Governor might not be able to protect them.


    "Too much time spent in the wrong company," Arran replied. "But what''s this about you becoming a Ranger?"


    "The Governor''s men came and dragged me off about a month into your little display," Kaleesh said. "Didn''t give me much of a choice in the matter." He hesitated before continuing. "I wanted to warn you about the oath, but I didn''t get the chance."


    Arran made a dismissive gesture. "I doubt you could have warned me even if you tried. I''m guessing the oath itself is among the secrets it covers. If we hadn''t both sworn it, I don''t think I could say even this much."


    "Probably," the captain agreed. He looked around furtively, and continued in a softer voice, "But they must know it''s magic, right? I''m no mage, but something like this¡­ I don''t see what other explanation there is."


    "Of course," Arran said. "The Governor told me as much, though he also suggested that it''s a dangerous thing to discuss. Even in private."


    Kaleesh looked around uncomfortably. Then, speaking so softly it could barely even be called a whisper, he asked, "What about your plans?"


    He said no further words, nor was there a need for them. Kaleesh knew that Arran had been the Ninth Valley''s heir, and although he''d avoided asking any questions about it, he naturally understood Arran''s purpose in coming to the Imperium.


    "I suppose I will find a way," Arran replied. "Somehow."


    Kaleesh remained quiet for several moments. Finally, he said, "If you manage to break the oath¡­"


    Arran understood what it was the captain wanted. "I''ll search for a way to break yours, as well."


    Though he spoke in a reassuring voice, he could not help but feel some discomfort at the words. Because as much as he hoped he could keep the promise, the truth was that he had his doubts about whether doing so would be possible.


    Just destroying the seal within his own body was already a daunting task, and doing the same for another would be considerably more difficult.


    Yet there was no point in saying that to Kaleesh before he was certain, and so, he kept his doubts to himself.


    Sassun appeared a short while later. Dour-faced as always, he nevertheless gave Arran a friendly nod before turning his attention to the captain. "What''s this nonsense I hear about us leaving tomorrow?"


    "Would that it were nonsense," Kaleesh replied with a dramatic sigh. "But alas, our dear friend has drawn the eyes of the Darian nobility, several of whom have already expressed a strong interest in recruiting him."


    Sassun''s expression darkened at once, and he muttered a curse. "As if things weren''t bad enough already. We''ve had five men killed just this past month, and another two locked up for defending themselves."


    "Which is why we''re leaving at dawn," Kaleesh replied matter-of-factly. "I have little interest in finding out what happens when the Darians are given even more cause for envy."


    "Tomorrow''s awfully soon." Sassun appeared to consider it, as his expression soon turned to a grimace. "Just finding enough supplies and wagons will be all but impossible. And you know we have yet to hire cooks and healers, right? Not to mention the¡ª"


    Kaleesh cut him off with a gesture. "I doubt we''ll get much sleep tonight, but we leave at dawn." He turned to Arran. "We''ll have to continue our conversation another time. If you could make some rounds among the troops today, it would go a long way in boosting their spirits."


    Arran nodded in agreement. If Kaleesh and the others would work through the night to prepare their hasty departure, then spending some time with the troops was the least he could do.


    And just as importantly, doing so would give him the chance to explore the constraints the oath had placed on him.


    As Kaleesh and Sassun set off, already bickering over the logistics of their departure, Arran turned his attention to the training fields. It was still early in the day ¡ª barely past noon, he saw ¡ª and the fields were filled with groups of soldiers, all but a few of them engrossed in their practice.


    After a brief moment of hesitation, Arran approached one of the groups at random, and immediately found himself greeted with several excited calls.


    "Master Arran! Will you be joining us?"


    "If your commander will allow it," Arran replied, speaking loud enough that all could hear him.


    Barely an instant later, a young Ranger stepped forward. "There''s no need to ask my permission," the young man said in an eager voice. "But we''ll be glad to train with you."


    "Good." Arran gave the Ranger a studious look, and saw that the young man appeared to be neither an outsider nor a prisoner. "Are you new to the Wolfsblood Army?"


    "I am," the Ranger replied. "My name''s Ifras. We''ve sparred already, though I doubt you remember it. Truth be told, that''s the reason I joined the Wolfsblood Army ¡ª the chance to train with a master like you."


    Arran forced a smile to his face. "Then let''s not waste any time, Ifras."


    He spent the next half-hour training with the Ranger and his troops, sparring with them and giving advice where he could. And if their admiring looks caused him more than a little unease, at least they listened well when he spoke.


    Yet as he trained with them, he also took the chance to study the seal left by the oath, and quickly found that it worked much as he''d expected.


    Whenever he tried to teach one of the common soldiers anything related to the first step of Enlightenment, he felt a subtle force holding him back ¡ª a painless but firm reminder that such topics were off limits.


    The same turned out to be true for many of the Forms he tried to teach. While he could share the Darian foundation as he wished, many of the techniques related to insights beyond it were walled off by the seal ¡ª including, to his surprise, techniques he''d derived himself from his insights into severing and binding.


    Moreover, he discovered that as long as the soldiers were close enough to hear them, he was unable to explain these techniques even to Ifras, as if the seal somehow understood his attempt to evade it.


    He could not help but feel some awe at the sheer skill that creating such a seal would require. It was a level of mastery he hadn''t thought possible ¡ª one he suspected surpassed even Master Zhao''s abilities.


    The feeling of awe quickly faded, however, when he reminded himself that he needed to find a way to break the seal. And if its defenses were even half as masterful as the rest of it, that would be a near-impossible task.


    After half an hour of training and sparring with the soldiers, he turned to Ifras. "Tell your men to practice by themselves for a bit, so I can teach you, as well."


    The Ranger gave an eager nod and did as Arran said, instructing the soldiers to continue their practice by themselves. Yet excited though he appeared, he did not seem entirely surprised. From the look of it, he was already well-acquainted with the seal''s limitations.


    As expected, Arran found that as soon as they were out of earshot of the soldiers, the seal no longer prevented him from instructing the Ranger. More evidence of its elegance, and with that, more cause for Arran to worry.


    He sparred with the Ranger for a quarter-hour, giving the man advice and pointers as he explored the seal''s effects. And this time, he didn''t encounter even a hint of any restrictions ¡ª as he''d already guessed, the oath did not restrict what he shared with Rangers.


    Finally, he lowered his weapon. "That''s enough for today. We''ll continue this another time."


    "Of course, Master Arran," the Ranger replied, bowing awkwardly. "And thank you for your time."


    Arran gave the man a small nod, then made his way to the next group of soldiers.


    He spent the afternoon training and sparring with half a dozen different groups, but although they were grateful for his advice ¡ª overly so, Arran thought ¡ª he made no more discoveries about the seal.


    It was almost simple in its elegance, preventing him from discussing the oath and any advanced Darian techniques where any of the common soldiers could hear him, but no more than that. It did not restrict him from using his full abilities ¡ª not even against common soldiers ¡ª nor did it appear to place any limits whatsoever on what he discussed with Rangers.


    But if the restrictions were limited in number, he found that circumventing them was completely impossible.


    Whatever he tried, whether it was failing to look for nearby soldiers or merely demonstrating restricted techniques in such a way that common soldiers had some small chance of learning them, the result was always the same. He could use his abilities, but he could not deliberately teach them to anyone who hadn''t made the oath.


    The only way around it seemed to be the path that Arran himself had followed: to learn from actual sparring. But that, he knew, would only work for those who were already close to setting their first step into Enlightenment.


    But although he made no new discoveries concerning the seal, the time Arran spent training with the soldiers and Rangers wasn''t wasted, either. More than a few among them impressed him with their talent, and he could tell that his guidance would help speed up their progress.


    Still, when evening approached and the troops returned to their barracks for their evening meal, Arran couldn''t help but sigh in relief. Useful though the training might be, there was only so much wide-eyed admiration he could endure.


    After a moment''s thought, he set off toward Kaleesh''s mansion. Though he did not expect to find the captain himself ¡ª not with Kaleesh busy organizing a weeklong march with only half a day''s notice ¡ª there should still be some food to be found.


    And more importantly, it would offer a welcome respite from the veneration that the soldiers continued to heap upon him.


    Yet at barely a dozen paces from the mansion, Arran came to a sudden halt when he Sensed something inside the building ¡ª a Knight''s Living Shadow dagger, though somehow the feeling was weaker than it should be, as if the weapon was still hundreds of paces away.


    He briefly hesitated, but then, he put his hand on his weapon and continued onward. If there was danger awaiting inside, there were none in the Wolfsblood Army better equipped to handle it than he was. Against a Knight, even the Rangers would be little more than a distraction.


    Arran tensed as he stepped through the door, his body ready to explode into action if necessary. Yet the attack he anticipated did not come. Instead, he found a dark-clothed man standing in the main chamber, his expression impassive as he faced Arran.


    "My mistress wishes to see you," the man said in a voice so calm he almost sounded indifferent.


    "Who are you?" Arran asked, hand still firmly on his weapon. "And what are you doing here?"


    "I am but a servant," the man replied. "Will you accept Mistress Nisra''s invitation?"


    Though the man''s face betrayed no emotion, his tone suggested that rejecting the invitation would have consequences. And while Arran had some confidence in his chances against a Knight, there was something about this man that exuded danger beyond that of a common Knight ¡ª a hint of utter ruthlessness.


    Arran wasn''t cowed so easily, however. "This mistress of yours, what does she want from me?"


    "She wishes to share a meal with you," the man replied, "and to discuss your present situation. If you value the safety of your companions, you would do well to accept her invitation."


    Arran''s gaze hardened. "If she wants to recruit me, tell her I''m not interested." Then, in a softer voice, he added, "And if you threaten my companions again, I will cut your heart from your chest and have it sent to your mistress."


    To his surprise, a small smile appeared on the man''s face ¡ª one that suggested approval more than anything. "She has no wish to pry you away from your allies," the man said. "Nor did I intend to threaten your companions. The threat you face comes from her adversaries."


    "What adversaries?"


    "That is something my mistress will tell you herself," the man replied. "Should you choose to accept her invitation."


    Though Arran trusted the man no more than he would trust a rabid dog, he understood that only accepting the invitation would get him further answers.


    Moreover, the man could not have known that Arran had Sensed his presence well before entering the mansion. If his purpose in coming had been to kill Arran, he would have attempted an ambush rather than resorting to deceit.


    Arran weighed his options, then finally nodded. "All right," he said. "I will share a meal with this mistress of yours."


    The man gave him a small nod. "Very well. I will escort you to her estate."


    As they stepped outside the mansion, Arran turned to the man. "One moment. I need to inform the others that I''m leaving for a bit."


    "There''s no need for¡ª" the man began.


    "I''ll decide that," Arran cut him off. "Stay here." Without waiting for a reply, he set off toward the training fields, where he''d already spotted Barric sparring against Arjun.


    "You two!" he called out as he approached. "Get over here!"


    As Arran met the two Rangers, Arjun looked at him in concern. "Is something wrong?"


    "I just received an invitation," Arran said, "from someone called Nisra. Does either of you know that name?"


    The spark of recognition in the Rangers'' eyes made it clear that both knew who she was, but it was Barric who spoke first. "That''s Lady Zareen''s daughter," he said. "You do not want to offend her."


    "Lady Zareen?" Arran furrowed his brow in thought, but he could not recall hearing the name before. "Who is she? And why should I be worried about offending her daughter?"


    This time, it was Arjun who answered. "Lady Zareen is the wealthiest ruler within the Imperium. It is said that her riches exceed even those of the Imperator himself."


    Again, Arran creased his brow in thought. "Any connection to Lord Rannoc or Lord Kadun? Lady Raina, perhaps?"


    Although Arjun gave him only a blank look, Barric shook his head. "Lady Zareen has no need for factions. She''s wealthy enough to buy any allies she needs."


    For some moments, Arran considered the situation. "I suppose there''s no avoiding it, then," he finally said. "Tell Kaleesh where I am when you see him."


    Though Arjun gave a concerned nod, a grin flashed across Barric''s face. "You should try to leave a good impression. Marry a woman like that, and you could buy your own city."


    When Arran returned to the mansion some moments later, the Knight ¡ª if that was what the man was ¡ª gave him an impatient glance. "All done?"


    "All done," Arran confirmed. "Lead the way."


    His escort wasted no time in guiding him through the city, and it wasn''t long before Arran realized that this time, nobody tried to stop him. Perhaps it was his companion''s status, or perhaps it was the hint of danger in the man''s eyes, but either way, they passed the streets of Knight''s Watch undisturbed.


    The man did not speak as they walked, and Arran made no attempts at starting a conversation. Still, as they silently passed through the city''s many streets, he soon began to feel that there was something strange about his companion ¡ª as if there was something slightly unnatural about him.


    It was only when they had already entered the upper levels of the city that Arran finally realized what it was that felt off about his escort. He''d been distracted by the man''s Living Shadow dagger, but now, he realized that to his Sense, the man somehow appeared blurry, almost as if he wasn''t completely there.


    Yet although Arran pondered the matter as they continued onward, he could not find a satisfying explanation. The only thing he could think of was that it was some Darian bloodline he had not encountered yet, but what sort of bloodline it could be, he did not know.


    They finally came to a halt near the uppermost level of Knight''s Watch, a mere stone''s throw from the Governor''s keep. Before them lay an estate with walls high enough that Arran could not see what lay beyond them, along with a massive wooden gate that was guarded by half a dozen Rangers.


    "We''ve arrived," Arran''s escort announced. He motioned for the guards to open the gate, and as they stepped inside, Arran saw that the walls held a sprawling and meticulously maintained garden, at the center of which stood a single building ¡ª a mansion so large it almost resembled a palace.


    The man led Arran to the mansion, but as they reached its doors, he came to a stop. "My mistress awaits inside," he said. "I shall remain here."


    Arran briefly frowned, but quickly decided against asking any questions. Though he did not fear his escort ¡ª not exactly, anyway ¡ª the man hardly seemed like he would make for pleasant dining company.


    As Arran opened the doors and stepped inside, he was greeted with the sight of a large hall, gaudily decorated and filled with the bustle of at least two dozen servants.


    He was immediately approached by one of them, a young woman with friendly eyes, wearing a simple dress and a white apron that bore several stains. "You must be Arran," she said, giving him a warm smile. "Follow me."


    She expertly guided Arran through the mansion''s many hallways, and some minutes later, they emerged in a small but elegant dining room with a half-set table and two empty chairs.


    "Please, take a seat," she said, disappearing through the doorway barely a moment later.


    Understanding that his host would be late in arriving, Arran decided there was nothing for it but to wait, and he sat down in one of the empty chairs.


    He waited for a good quarter-hour, but although the maidservant appeared twice more with large trays of food which she deftly placed on the table, there was still no sign of his host.


    Yet when she appeared a third time, Arran saw that she was no longer wearing her apron. And as she sat down in the chair opposite his, he looked at her with some surprise.


    "You''re Nisra," he said, finally understanding the situation. Then, with a look at the food, "You cooked this?"


    "I am, and I did," she replied with an amiable smile. "Consider it repayment for having you hauled to my estate." She gestured at the food, and continued, "Please, help yourself. We can discuss the people who''ll try to kill you once you reach Sacrifice while we eat."

 402 The Dangers Ahead

    Arran remained silent for several moments, studying Nisra as he considered the situation. She was undeniably pretty, with dark eyes and a kind face that revealed not a trace of guile of hostility. Even now, she appeared more like a friendly maidservant than the daughter of one of the Imperium''s most powerful nobles.


    She was young, too ¡ª even younger than he''d realized. From her appearance, he guessed that she had yet to leave her teen years behind her, and he could tell that her youth was genuine rather than the youthful agelessness of Body Refiners.


    Yet for all her youth and beauty, there was something about her that left him wary ¡ª a hint of cunning, carefully concealed behind her harmless appearance.


    "What do you want?" he finally asked, deciding that there was no point in dancing around the question.


    "First," she said with a smile, "I want you to enjoy the food I''ve spent the past few hours preparing. And second, I want to warn you about the dangers that await you in Sacrifice."


    "Why?" Arran gave her a skeptical look. "We don''t know each other. Why would you want to warn me?"


    A flash of displeasure crossed Nisra''s face, but it disappeared a moment later and she let out a sigh. "If you insist on skipping the pleasantries, I suppose there''s no choice but to be direct. I intend to travel to Sacrifice within the next two weeks, and I find myself in need of allies."


    This time, Arran nodded in understanding. "So you want my help."


    "Not just yours," Nisra replied. "I''m looking to forge an alliance with your army." She gestured at the food that still stood untouched on the table, and added, "Please, eat. This took me hours to prepare."


    Arran heaped some food on his plate before turning his attention back to the girl. "If it''s an alliance you want, you should talk to the captain. He''s the one who leads the Wolfsblood Army."


    "I shall talk to him," she said. "But not before I''ve gotten a look at the champion of his army. He might lead the army, but your strength is what makes it a force worth taking seriously."


    "That''s what this is about?" Arran raised an eyebrow. "You want to see if I''m worthy of becoming your ally?"


    "That''s part of the reason I invited you." Nisra reached out to take a small pastry from the table, which she carefully placed on her plate. She took a small bite, then finally turned her attention back to Arran. "The Desolation is a dangerous place, and allying oneself with the wrong people can have dire consequences."


    "So you need allies," Arran said. "But you still haven''t explained what need we have for you."


    "The first part of the answer is obvious," she replied. "To maintain an army is a costly affair, and that''s twice as true in Sacrifice. I can help with that." She took another bite from her pastry, and continued, "But more importantly, you need allies if you wish to survive."


    At this, Nisra gave a small laugh. "Surely you know it''s too late for that. You and your captain were involved in the death of Lord Kadun. That alone is enough to make you a target for others."


    Arran had no response to this. Although he knew that it was true, some small part of him had hoped that their visit with Lady Raina would be the end of it. But as he''d already expected, it appeared that wasn''t the case.


    Rather than admit that he was at a loss for words, he took a bite of what looked to be stew from his plate, and found that it was surprisingly good.


    "There are three major factions among the Lords of the Imperium," Nisra continued as Arran ate. "And members of at least two of those will target you once you enter the Desolation."


    "Three factions?" Arran lowered his spoon, and gave her a questioning look. "I thought there were only two ¡ª those who seek to invade the lands to the east, and those whose focus is on fighting the Blight."


    Nisra made a scornful gesture. "The mages in the east are but a trifling matter ¡ª a distraction from what truly matters."


    "Which is?" Arran asked.


    "Power, of course." Nisra''s earlier facade had all but disappeared, and now, her background as a noble of the Imperium shone through so clearly it was impossible to miss. "The power to shape the Imperium and decide its future."


    Arran nodded thoughtfully. "How do these factions fit into that?"


    "The factions," Nisra began, "are what keeps the Lords of the Imperium divided. Were they united, their strength would far surpass that of both the Imperator and the church. But instead, they squabble and bicker amongst themselves, thus ensuring that the balance of power remains unchanged."


    Arran took some moments to consider her words, quickly realizing that what she said made sense. From what he''d seen of the Imperium, the sheer number of Lords and Ladies was enough that few could stand against them if they joined forces.


    "So what are these factions?" he asked. "And which ones want to kill me?"


    "The factions themselves aren''t after you," Nisra corrected him. "You are beneath their notice. If you weren''t, you''d be long dead already. But there are some among their members who will target you and your companions."


    "Either way," Arran said, giving her an impatient look, "will you tell me which factions there are?"


    "There''s no need to hurry." Nisra took a slow bite of her pastry, almost as if she was testing his patience. Then, at last, she spoke.


    "The first of the factions is commonly known as the Martial Alliance. Their leaders are mostly Lords from the western region of the Imperium, and they''re the ones most closely aligned with the Imperator. What unites them is a desire to bring the full resources of the Imperium to bear against the Blight ¡ª unsurprising, given that most of their members'' lands border the Desolation."


    "I take it Kadun was a member of this faction?" Arran asked.


    "Correct," Nisra replied. "As is Lady Raina ¡ª another of your acquaintances, or so I''ve heard. Although they''re the weakest of the major factions in the Imperium as a whole, much of their influence is concentrated in the Desolation."


    "So they''re the ones I need to watch out for," Arran said. "Understood."


    The small smile that crossed Nisra''s lips suggested that things weren''t as simple, but rather than correcting him, she continued, "The second faction is the Lords'' Alliance ¡ª those who seek to increase the power of the Lords within the Imperium. Their support lies mainly with those in the central and eastern regions of the Imperium."


    "Lord Rannoc?" Arran guessed.


    "And many others," Nisra said. "Although the Lords'' Alliance is the largest faction, their strength in the Desolation is limited. Many of them are more concerned with their own lands than they are with the defense of the Imperium."


    Arran gave her a wry smile. "I suppose I shouldn''t count on their protection, then?"


    "Not if you value your life," Nisra answered flatly. "The only thing that binds them is shared self-interest. Even if their strength in the Desolation was greater, few of them would help you unless there was something to gain."


    With a sigh, Arran asked, "What about the third faction?"


    "The Righteous Alliance," Nisra said. "Traditionalists, closely tied to the church ¡ª an association that brings them many benefits. Their power is spread throughout the Imperium, but in the Desolation, they are the mightiest among the factions."


    Arran creased his brow in thought. He had not forgotten Nisra''s earlier words ¡ª that two of the three factions would target him and his companions.


    Yet the Lords'' Alliance did not appear to be a threat, and no matter how he looked at it, he saw no reason that the so-called Righteous Alliance should bear him ill will.


    "Why would the Righteous Alliance want to attack me?"


    "The Righteous Alliance despises outsiders nearly as much as it does the Blight," Nisra answered. "More, some would argue. An army of prisoners led by outsiders is something they will consider a stain upon the Imperium ¡ª one that many of them will be eager to erase."


    As she spoke, Arran could not help but curse softly. "I suppose I''d best start sharpening my blade, then."


    "And there we have your final problem," Nisra said, a hint of amusement in her expression now. "The armies in the Desolation are led by the sons and daughters of Lords. What do you think would happen should you kill one of them?"


    This time, the curse that escaped Arran''s lips was anything but soft. He''d already realized that killing Darian lordlings would invite retribution, but if the Wolfsblood Army would face open attacks in the Desolation, avoiding violence would be impossible.


    "Your problem is easily solved, of course," she continued. "Leave your companions behind, and you can enter the service of someone with the influence to protect you. With your abilities, there should be plenty of interest."


    "I won''t leave the Wolfsblood Army," Arran replied at once.


    Nisra nodded. "As expected. But for your army to survive the Desolation, you will need allies."


    He gave her a mirthless smile. "Which brings us back to you."


    "So it does," Nisra replied, a wide smile on her face. "I have the means to support your army, as well as the influence to protect you."


    Arran refrained from pointing out that it was her mother who possessed the means and influence, though he knew the distinction was an important one. Even if Nisra could be trusted ¡ª something he was not at all convinced of ¡ª it would only take a single word from her mother to take away whatever help she provided.


    Yet giving voice to that thought would change little, and he had a more pressing question to ask.


    "What do you get out of this?"


    "Allies," Nisra replied simply.


    Arran shook his head. "If you have as much wealth and influence as you claim, finding allies should be a simple matter."


    "It''s not as simple as you think," she said. "Mother maintains friendly relations with all the different factions, trading with each while favoring none above the others. It''s a precarious balance, but one that is most profitable."


    "And allying yourself with any faction''s members would risk upsetting that balance," Arran said, finally understanding her problem.


    "Exactly," Nisra said. "There are Lords who belong to none of the factions, but most are too weak to be useful."


    A frown crossed Arran''s eyes. "I would think that even the weakest Lord is stronger than the entire Wolfsblood Army put together."


    "That goes without saying," Nisra replied. "But Lords rarely travel into the Desolation themselves. They send their offspring and Rangers, and I have no use for some barely trained youth commanding a hundred poorly equipped soldiers. Your strength ¡ª both your own and that of your army ¡ª may be limited, but all of it is here, where I need it."


    "You don''t have soldiers of your own?" Arran gave her a questioning look.


    She gave him an irritated glance in response. "Of course I have soldiers. I have a thousand men here in Knight''s Watch right now, and another two thousand will arrive within the next week."


    "Shouldn''t that be enough?" Arran asked. "I''ve heard that the Blightspawn rarely travel in groups of more than a few dozen."


    Nisra gave a dismissive shake of her head. "That''s only true near the border of the Desolation. The deeper you travel into the Desolation, the larger the groups grow. Travel far enough, and you will find entire armies of Blightspawn."


    "And the more Blightspawn you kill, the greater the rewards," Arran said. "I understand. You need strong allies to achieve what you want in the Desolation, but you can''t risk allying yourself with anyone from the major factions."


    "That about sums it up," she confirmed. "But enough about this. You can discuss my offer with your captain, and I will talk to him myself once I travel to Sacrifice. Now, give the lamb pastries a try. I made them with¡­"


    As Nisra turned her attention back to the meal, Arran couldn''t help but look at her in wonder.


    She had been the very image of a scheming noble only moments earlier, but in an instant, she had transformed back into the friendly young girl who''d welcomed him earlier that night. Had she not been sitting right in front of him, he could almost have thought someone else had taken her place.


    As the evening progressed, she spoke no more of politics. Instead, her attention was wholly focused on the meal they shared, and several times, she pointed out special dishes that she insisted Arran try.


    Yet although her company was as enjoyable as the food she''d made, Arran still recalled her earlier demeanor. He didn''t know whether what he saw now was a facade or merely another part of her character, but either way, the sheer magnitude of the change left him puzzled.


    When they finished the meal ¡ª a good hour later, as Arran made sure not to leave even a single crumb behind ¡ª Nisra gave him a satisfied smile. "I would ask if you enjoyed it, but from the look of your plate, I''d say that question has been answered already."


    "I''ve haven''t eaten this well in a long time," Arran replied truthfully. Perhaps the food couldn''t quite match what his cooks in the Ninth Valley had served him, but the difference was small enough not to matter.


    "Then my efforts haven''t been in vain," she said, a twinkle in her eyes. "But perhaps I can persuade you to stay a little while longer. There''s one more thing I''m curious about."


    Arran hesitated, then responded, "I should return to the others. The captain wants to leave tomorrow, and a lot of work still remains to be done."


    Of course, none of that work would involve Arran, but it was the best excuse he had. And although Nisra had shown not even the slightest sign of bad intent, there was something in the way she looked at him that made him uncomfortable ¡ª like a cat eying a new toy.


    "It will barely take an hour," she said, "and I''ll be sure to make it worth your while." She produced a coin purse and handed it to Arran, who found that it was surprisingly heavy. "This should be enough to get your army through its first few weeks in Sacrifice."


    "What do you want?" Arran asked uncertainly.


    "To see you fight, of course." Nisra smirked, and added, "Or did you have something else in mind?"


    Ignoring the quip, Arran answered, "All right. Who do you want me to fight?" Though he felt some hesitation about showing his abilities, the coin purse was awfully heavy, and he doubted Kaleesh had won enough betting to supply the army for long.


    "Me," she replied. "I could hardly entrust so important a task to someone else. If we will be allies, then I need to see for myself how much truth there is to the rumors about your talent."


    Arran gave her a surprised glance. He knew that the daughter of a powerful Lady would be a well-trained Ranger, but a Ranger would hardly be enough to test his skill. Not to mention that she didn''t even wear a sword.


    Yet after a moment, he shrugged. Whatever her skill, it made no difference to the weight of the coin purse. "If you wish."


    A few minutes later, Arran found himself in a small, walled courtyard with carefully trimmed grass, empty but for half a dozen starmetal swords that were nonchalantly placed against a wall.


    Nisra picked up one of the swords ¡ª seemingly choosing her weapon at random ¡ª then turned to face Arran. "Shall we begin?"


    He couldn''t help but frown at the casual display of wealth. For most Rangers in the Imperium, starmetal swords were their most treasured possessions, worn at all times and meticulously maintained. Yet Nisra treated the weapons like she would rusty iron garden tools.


    Still, he refrained from commenting. Instead, he drew his blade and gave her a small nod. "Your attack."


    The words had barely left his mouth when she leaped forward, striking half a dozen blows in quick succession. And to his shock, Arran found that he struggled to parry them.


    He was forced to retreat several paces, his eyes widening in surprise at Nisra''s ability with the sword. Even if she hadn''t reached Enlightenment yet ¡ª though she was not far from it, either ¡ª the sheer skill she possessed left him astounded.


    It was a level of mastery that could only be attained through years of endless practice, and Arran understood that her training must have started as soon as she could hold a blade. And since then, she must have spent hours each day practicing.


    As Nisra continued her attacks and Arran retreated another two paces, he realized that even endless hours of practice could not fully explain her abilities. In just the two dozen strikes she''d shown so far, he''d already seen several techniques he''d never witnessed before.


    Yet for all her skill, she lacked Arran''s experience.


    She attacked again, and this time, he no longer held back. With a simple but forceful parry, he knocked her sword aside, his blade coming to a halt an inch from her throat before she had the chance to regain her balance.


    "You''re good," he said as he stepped back. "Better than I expected."


    "Thank you," Nisra replied, some color showing on her cheeks. "Mother spared no expense in finding me the best teachers."


    "It seems she found many of them," Arran said, now understanding how she had mastered so many different techniques. Rather than a single teacher ¡ª or even a handful ¡ª she must have been taught by dozens of different instructors, learning what she could from each of them.


    "There have been a few," she admitted with a smile. "Ready for the next round?"


    They ended up sparring for well over an hour, and although Nisra didn''t come close to threatening Arran again after his initial surprise at her ability, he still found himself picking up several new ideas from the techniques she used.


    Their styles could almost be considered opposites. While Nisra relied on weaving together numerous meticulously studied techniques, Arran''s style was built around on simple efficiency, tempered by experience and knowledge. And although he was easily the better fighter, facing an opponent so different from himself proved more instructive than he''d imagined.


    When she finally stepped back in exhaustion, face red and covered in sweat from the exertion, he was almost disappointed that the match was over.


    "I''m beginning to think the rumors understated your skill," she said, breathing heavily as she wiped the sweat from her brow. "But as strong as you are¡­" She sighed. "It''s almost cheating."


    Arran shrugged. "My father was a simple guard. I didn''t grow up with dozens of swordmasters to teach me, so I had to rely on other things. Still, you did well. Another few years, and you might beat me."


    She laughed loudly, then shook her head. "I doubt that. You didn''t even use your step into Enlightenment."


    What she said was true, of course. While Arran had not held back, he had deliberately avoided using his most recent breakthrough. Otherwise, the match would have been so one-sided as to be pointless.


    "Maybe you can force me to use it next time," he said. "But now, I really should return to the others."


    This time, it wasn''t just an excuse. Though his companions didn''t need his help in preparing for their journey, he''d been gone for over three hours already, and evening had long since fallen. Any longer, and he feared Kaleesh might send out a search party.


    "Then I hope we meet again soon," Nisra said.


    A good half hour after they said their goodbyes, Arran returned to the army''s camp, finding it abuzz with activity.


    On the practice fields now stood what looked to be at least a hundred carts, and several times as many men and women were hard at work loading them up with various supplies.


    Even before Arran set foot on the practice fields, however, he was approached by a soldier. "Master Arran!" the man called out in a voice that carried a hint of exhaustion. "The captain is looking for you!"


    "Then I suggest you take me to him," Arran replied.


    They found Kaleesh some moments later, overseeing a group of soldiers who were lifting supplies into one of the carts. "Careful with those barrels!" he cried out, gesturing wildly at the men.


    "Everything still on schedule?"


    Kaleesh turned around with a start, but he sighed in relief when he saw Arran. "There you are. I was starting to worry we''d have to rescue you." With a brief look at the soldiers, he yelled, "The other cart, you donkeys! The other cart!" Then, turning his attention back to Arran, he continued, "So what happened?"


    Arran quickly summarized the evening''s events, interrupted by the occasional shout from Kaleesh at the soldiers who were working nearby. When he finally finished, the captain scratched his head, a thoughtful look in his eyes.


    "I won''t deny that having Nisra on our side could help a great deal." He paused to cast a wary glance at the soldiers, but when he found nothing to draw his ire, he turned back to Arran. "Just buying these supplies burned through much of our coin, and although we can sell Blightspawn amulets in Sacrifice, I''d rather not do that."


    "What about the factions?" Arran asked. As important as their finances might be, he was more concerned with the people who might try to kill them. "Is it as bad as she claimed?"


    "No," Kaleesh replied. "Though it''s true that we have enemies, our situation isn''t nearly as dire as she suggested. Even without her protection, others will hesitate to move against us. I''ll explain it when we make camp tomorrow evening. Right now, I need to make sure these lackwits don''t destroy half our supplies before we even set foot outside Knight''s Watch."


    Almost as if to emphasize Kaleesh''s words, one of the soldiers dropped a barrel at that exact moment. It shattered with a loud crack, and the unmistakable smell of ale filled the air almost immediately.


    As Kaleesh began another tirade, Arran took the opportunity to beat a hasty retreat, leaving the unlucky soldier to suffer the captain''s wrath.


    Whatever work still remained before morning, he quickly decided that he wanted no part of it. With the last stretch of their journey into the Desolation only hours away, he had better ways to use his time than carrying barrels or shouting at soldiers.


    After a moment''s thought, he headed toward Kaleesh''s mansion.


    He''d already investigated the effects of the oath he''d sworn, and now, it was time to study the seal itself. Because for all the dangers that might await him in the Desolation, Arran had an uneasy feeling that the seal within his body hinted at an even greater threat.

 403 Into The Desolation

    Though Kaleesh''s mansion was little more than a shack compared to Nisra''s estate, it still held a good two dozen different rooms, and it didn''t take Arran long to find a suitably comfortable chamber. He sat down in a large wooden chair with velvet padding, then took a moment to gather his thoughts.


    He had no illusions that he would be able to fully unravel the seal before sunrise. It was far too complex for that, a hideously complicated puzzle, forged by someone whose skill and cunning far exceeded his own, and whose intentions were anything but benign.


    Even thinking about how the seal might be broken was too great a step, Arran knew.


    He was all but certain that carelessly damaging the seal would trigger some sort of backlash ¡ª a trap laid to ensnare and kill anyone who attempted to undo the seal. If the seal had been created to keep the Imperium''s knowledge hidden and protected, after all, its creator would surely have considered the possibility of someone trying to break it.


    But even if that wasn''t the case, breaking the seal now would only place him in danger. Others would inevitably discover that they could no longer discuss the Imperium''s secrets with him, and once word of that got out, he''d doubtless be hunted down by the church.


    Thus, although he had some ideas on possible ways to attack the seal ¡ª his insight into severing and his Destruction Realm, to name but two ¡ª he quickly decided that his first step must be to study it as thoroughly as he could.


    Only when he fully comprehended the seal could he start to think of the step beyond that.


    He began the examination by observing the strands of Essence that formed the seal within his body. That would have to come first ¡ª to understand the power used to build the seal. He already knew that the thin threads were made out of Shadow Essence fused with another kind, and the question now was what that other kind might be.


    An hour of observation and pondering yielded few useful answers. He saw that the Essence bore resemblances to other kinds he knew ¡ª Fire, Wind, and Earth, though not Force or Destruction ¡ª but he did not know of any single type of Essence that married them all together.


    That the seal''s Essence carried characteristics of all was undeniable, however. He clearly recognized the ferocity of Fire, the toughness of Earth, and the lightness of Air, along with several other qualities he could not place.


    Finally, he had no choice but to conclude the obvious: that the thin strands within his body fused more than just two kinds of Essence together.


    The discovery brought Arran no joy. Though it was a step forward in understanding the seal, it also meant that any attempt he made to remove the seal would involve manipulating Essence he did not fully understand.


    And that, he knew, would make his task a great deal harder.


    A quarter-hour was enough to confirm much of what he already expected. Both seals consisted of the same sort of fused Essence, the difference small enough that they were almost identical.


    Yet he was surprised to find that as similar as the Essence in both seals was, there were still small differences to be found. If the Darian seal appeared to contain just a sliver more Fire Essence, then the Shadowflame seal was heavier on Wind and Earth.


    This time, he did feel some excitement at what he had learned.


    If the two seal discs had been created by the same person, the mix of Essence fused within both would have been so similar as to be indistinguishable. But with the difference Arran now saw, he knew that the two discs had been wrought by different hands.


    Only a Sense as strong as Arran''s, sharpened by countless years spent in a Shadow realm, could have found so subtle a distinction. But found it he had, and he knew the discovery was a major one.


    He had no doubt that the two seals had been designed by the same person, and that person could only be an unparalleled master. But if the oath discs had been made by others ¡ª mages who were merely copying the original design ¡ª then there was a far better chance of the seals containing subtle flaws.


    And that would give him a much better chance of breaking them.


    The more he considered it, the more it made sense. Just like a master swordsmith would not equip an entire army by himself, a single seal master would not waste his time creating the hundreds ¡ª if not thousands ¡ª of oath discs the Imperium alone must hold.


    In both cases, the work would be done by others ¡ª apprentices, most likely. And while Arran had no confidence in besting the seals'' original designer, apprentices were a different matter.


    He celebrated the discovery with a quick meal of dried meat and fruits, then stepped outside the mansion to take a brief glance at the goings-on on the practice fields.


    As expected, he found the army in a state of near-chaos. More carts had appeared, with hundreds of merchants, porters, and soldiers moving like ants between them, loading and unloading supplies in a bustle of activity that showed little sign of purpose or organization.


    Yet at the center of the disorderly scene stood Kaleesh, and although Arran could make little sense of his shouts and gestures, the captain did not seem to be overwhelmed by the ceaseless turmoil around him.


    If anything, it seemed as if Kaleesh was somehow enjoying the frenzy, his appearance like that of a skilled commander directing an army through a chaotic battle that he was confident in winning.


    Arran watched the spectacle for some minutes, then headed back into the mansion. Though he had some doubts about whether or not Kaleesh would have them ready by morning, he was certain that whatever help he could offer would do little to change the outcome.


    When he returned to his room and sat down in the padded chair once more, he took some moments to clear his mind, then immediately set to work once more.


    After investigating the raw material from which the seals were made ¡ª at least half a dozen types of Essence fused together, as it turned out ¡ª he would now turn his attention to the seal itself.


    He began the work by taking a birds-eye view, examining the overall structure of the seal while ignoring its many details. Even this, however, was enough to make him sigh in discouragement.


    A simple seal comprised dozens of strands of Essence, while a particularly complex one might involve thousands. Yet this seal made even the most complicated ones Arran knew look like the work of rank beginners by comparison.


    Countless thousands of Essence filaments stretched throughout his body, each of them thin enough that only meticulous inspection would reveal them. And the more Arran searched, the more he found ¡ª enough that he began to wonder whether there was even an inch of his body that remained unaffected.


    Several hours passed quickly, and by the end of them, Arran found that his understanding of the seal had not increased the slightest bit. If anything, he now found himself thinking that a seal this complicated should be utterly impossible.


    Just managing thousands of strands of Essence should stretch the limits of even the greatest master, and this seal held that number many times over. And not just that ¡ª if his earlier suspicion was correct, then it wasn''t even the seal master himself who had wrought the oath disc, but an apprentice or assistant.


    Yet impossible though it seemed, there was no denying that the seal was both real and every bit as complex as it appeared.


    Arran continued to ponder the matter for some time, but he found that his efforts were in vain. No matter how he looked at it, the seal could not have been created through any method he knew.


    Daylight was already approaching when he finally decided to give up. Comprehending the seal wasn''t a task that could be achieved in a single night, and he could tell that any more time he spent investigating it now would do little to ease his confusion.


    Instead, he decided to head outside and see whether Kaleesh''s efforts had been any more fruitful.


    As he stood up from the comfortable chair, however, he felt a familiar weight at his side, and realized that he''d forgotten to hand Nisra''s coin purse over to the captain.


    At this, a grin crossed his face. After the long night of work Kaleesh was about to finish, the coin purse should do much to raise his spirits.


    More out of curiosity than anything, he took the coin purse and emptied it on the wooden desk before him. Yet when he saw the black coins that spilled out, his eyes widened with surprise.


    That the coins were black was no cause for shock, of course, as Arran had long since learned that the Darians used a black material called shadowmetal for their currency. Common gold, meanwhile, was worth less in the Imperium than silver elsewhere.


    But where the normal Darian coins were a shiny jet-black, the ones that lay before him now were darker still. They were so completely devoid of color that Arran might have thought they were forged from raw Shadow Essence had his Sense not told him there was nothing magical about them.


    With a thought, he dug up a common shadowmetal coin from his pockets, then laid it down next to the ones Nisra had given him. Then, he placed the Warlock''s amulet beside the coins, and finally produced one of the black coins his void ring held ¡ª the ones of which he had taken thousands in the underground city.


    With the coins and amulet laid out next to each other, the difference was impossible to dismiss.


    While both the common Darian coin and the Warlock''s amulet were black, Nisra''s coins and the one from the underground city were a different shade of black altogether, their lack of color so complete it seemed like they had been wrought from condensed shadow.


    Arran could not help but grimace as he considered the disaster he''d unwittingly escaped. Had he tried to pass off one of his coins as a common Darian one, there was no doubt any wily merchant or shopkeeper would have recognized the difference in an instant.


    He gave a brief sigh, chastising himself for ignoring the coins in his void ring for so long. Though he had little use for wealth, that was a poor excuse for failing to recognize so obvious a truth.


    But there was little point in lingering on the matter, and after a moment of frustration, he turned his attention back to the coins.


    A cursory examination appeared to confirm what he already suspected ¡ª that the common Darian coins were made from the same material, except of a far lower purity.


    Though he was no blacksmith, he guessed that if his own coins and Nisra''s were both made from pure shadowmetal, then the common Darian coins contained only a hundredth of the material, with the bulk consisting of common iron. But even that was already enough to turn them black as night.


    Other than its utter darkness, however, the shadowmetal appeared unremarkable. Some small tests on his own coin showed that it was both softer and heavier than gold, making it completely useless for anything but coins and jewelry.


    After a quick glance at the Warlock''s amulet, he decided to try another test, and he poured a sliver of Shadow Essence into the coin from the underground city.


    This time, the result brought an intrigued expression to his face. Though the shadowmetal did not resist Essence, exactly ¡ª not the way that starmetal did ¡ª it was as if it settled the foreign energy, with the metal barely being affected by the magic.


    With the memory of the oath disc still fresh in his mind, it didn''t take him long to think of a possible use for such a quality. Perhaps the shadowmetal was useless for weapons and armor, but that didn''t mean it was useless altogether.


    He drew a trickle of Shadow Essence, then quickly placed a small seal on the coin. It was a simple practice seal, but even so, he found himself surprised by how well the coin held it.


    Yet before he could do any other tests, he saw that the first rays of daylight were beginning to peek through the window. He had thought there were still hours left before morning, but it seemed time had passed faster than he realized.


    With a sigh, he put Nisra''s coins back into the coin purse and returned the one from the underground city to his void ring. Though there was still much he wanted to investigate, that would have to wait.


    First, he would travel to Sacrifice.


    He headed toward the mansion''s exit without any further delay, curious to see whether Kaleesh had succeeded in his seemingly impossible task. As much confidence as he had in Kaleesh''s abilities, he suspected that to ready an army of three thousand for travel on such short notice was beyond even the captain''s skills.


    But then, he would welcome a few hours'' delay, if only because it would give him the chance to take a closer look at the shadowmetal coins.


    When he opened the door and stepped outside, however, his mouth nearly fell open at the sight.


    There was no sign of the chaos and disorder that had filled the practice fields only hours early. Instead, well over three thousand soldiers stood in neat ranks, their numbers divided into groups of a hundred men or so, each of them led by a single Ranger.


    When Arran first arrived in Knight''s Watch, the Wolfsblood Army had looked little different from a rowdy group of brigands and bandits. But now, he could see that it was an army in earnest ¡ª organized and disciplined, if perhaps a bit rough in appearance.


    There were more soldiers than he had realized, too. While he had witnessed the troops on the practice fields, he''d never seen them all gathered together before, and he could not help but feel a tremble of awe at Kaleesh''s achievement.


    In a short few months, the captain had turned a rough gathering of mercenaries, inexperienced Darians, and prisoners into an army no less than those commanded by the Darian lordlings. But unlike them, Kaleesh had done so without the wealth and powerful backers they relied on.


    "Arran!" the captain''s voice sounded as he stepped onto the practice fields. "Get over here! We''re ready to leave!"


    Some scattered cheers sounded as Arran made his way past the troops, which he answered with a half-hearted wave. Even now, the troops'' admiration made him uncomfortable. He''d entered the Imperium with hopes of drawing as little attention as he could, but instead, he now found three thousand sets of eyes staring at him, not a one among them who didn''t know who he was.


    That the situation was one of his own choosing was of little comfort. While he knew that there was no way to learn the Darians'' secrets without drawing attention, that did not mean he had to like it.


    As Arran reached the captain, he cast a meaningful look at the army. "I''m impressed."


    "As you should be," Kaleesh replied. "Preparing a march with only half a day''s notice is a fool''s errand, but I succeeded all the same." He made no effort to conceal his pride in completing the task, grinning broadly as he looked at the army.


    "Don''t encourage him," Sassun interjected. He cast a dour look at the captain, and added, "He''s been insufferable all morning."


    Arran shrugged. To his mind, Kaleesh had some cause for being proud. "So what''s the plan?"


    "The plan," Kaleesh replied, "is to reach Sacrifice as quickly as possible. I''ve prepared a dozen scouting parties, but the fewer Blightspawn we encounter on the way, the better."


    "So you want me to take the lead?" Arran asked.


    "That would be helpful." Kaleesh gave him a small nod, then continued in a softer voice, "The troops have improved, but not so much that I wish to test them already."


    "Understood," Arran said. "I''ll make sure the journey is a smooth one."


    It didn''t take much to understand the captain''s meaning. If Arran scouted ahead, he could ensure that the army would encounter not even a single Blightspawn during the march to Sacrifice. And the ambush they had faced on the road to Knight''s Watch was still fresh in their minds ¡ª fresh enough that Kaleesh would not dare take any risks.


    Moreover, with most of their troops still inexperienced and untested, another ambush could well be even more devastating. As strong as Blightspawn were outside the Desolation, even a small group of them could easily wreak havoc among the soldiers'' ranks.


    And if they lost a few hundred men to the Blightspawn before even reaching Sacrifice, it would be a devastating blow to the troops'' morale.


    After discussing the route they would take with Kaleesh and Sassun, Arran departed at a jog, making his way to the gates of Knight''s Watch as the Wolfsblood Army slowly set in motion behind him.


    He was disappointed to find that the Knight who had helped him wasn''t at the gates. Although the Knight had acted on the Governor''s orders, Arran still felt he owed the man a favor, as the help had saved him weeks if not months of effort.


    Instead, Arran told the Knight who now stood watch to pass on his thanks, and then hurriedly made his way out of the city.


    He felt a brief moment of relief as he left the city''s tall walls behind him. Though the road ahead was a perilous one, he couldn''t help but feel that the dangers of the wilderness suited him more than those of the city.


    At least in the wilderness, it would be obvious who his enemies were.


    The day that followed proved uneventful. For most of the way, Arran traveled a mile or two ahead of the slow-moving army, occasionally making his way back to ensure that his companions had met no delays, and constantly keeping an eye out for any sign of Blightspawn.


    But no Blightspawn came, and as Arran traveled through the wilderness, he found that his thoughts kept returning to the shadowmetal coins.


    His time in the Imperium had given him little opportunity to ponder the seals he''d studied in the Ninth Valley, but taking the oath had forcefully revived his interest in seals. And the more he thought about it, the more he became convinced that the coins had an important part to play.


    One of the biggest weaknesses of seals was the time it took to create them. Even the few seconds it took to set up a simple seal would be like an eternity in battle, and more complex seals took many times longer to create.


    Moreover, seals had a tendency to degrade over time, as their Essence would slowly dissipate in the world around them. There were some exceptions to this ¡ª especially sophisticated seals like those crafted by Master Zhao and the oath seal ¡ª but all but a few seals would gradually lose strength, requiring regular maintenance to retain their power.


    The simplest way to address this was to infuse a seal with a vast amount of Essence, giving it such reserves that even centuries of gradual decay would not be enough to deplete it.


    But there was a limit to how much Essence a piece of stone or metal could hold.


    While a seal placed upon a mountain or the earth itself could hold as much Essence as the seal''s creator could give it, with smaller objects the sheer power of the Essence would cause them to disintegrate. To put a particularly powerful seal on an object like a rock or a coin would be like trying to rest a man-sized boulder on a single twig.


    But the oath disc had to contain more Essence than common materials could hold. Otherwise, it could not have had the destructive power that had come so close to killing him. And although the oath disc wasn''t made from shadowmetal, he now wondered whether shadowmetal might serve a similar purpose.


    Yet although Arran was eager to study the matter further, he knew it would have to wait. Only after they reached Sacrifice would he have the chance to give the question the attention it needed.


    When the day finally drew to an end and evening approached, Arran made his way back to the army, finding it camped out on a large meadow that must have served the same purpose for numerous armies over the years.


    The camp held an atmosphere of cheer and excitement, with song and laughter sounding across the meadow as the soldiers ate their evening meals. The troops showed little sign of exhaustion from the day''s march, and from the look of it, many were eager for the journey that still lay ahead ¡ª though Arran wondered whether they''d still feel that way after a week of marching.


    It didn''t take him long to find Kaleesh, who sat by himself at a fire near the edge of the camp. The captain gave him a wave as he approached, then immediately asked, "Any Blightspawn along the way?"


    "None," Arran replied as he sat down. "Not even a footprint."


    "Good." Kaleesh nodded thoughtfully. "Though I know it''s unlikely to find any this close to Knight''s Watch, what happened at the village still has me on edge."


    Arran shook his head. "There''s no need to worry. Even if there are any Blightspawn along the way, I''ll make sure they die before they can even bare their weapons."


    Unless, of course, there was a Warlock among them. But he did not point that out to Kaleesh ¡ª the man looked worried enough as it was. And no wonder, Arran realized, as Kaleesh likely felt that the lives of every single one of the soldiers rested on his shoulders.


    Which, admittedly, was true.


    "Where can I get some food in this camp of yours?" he asked, as much because he was hungry as to distract Kaleesh from his worries.


    A frown crossed the captain''s face, but then, he stood up and said, "If you wait here, I''ll go get you some."


    Kaleesh returned two minutes later, balancing two deep plates in his hands and wearing a frown even deeper than the one he''d had when he left.


    "I didn''t have much time to find cooks," he said, shrugging apologetically as he handed Arran one of the plates.


    "How bad can it¡ª" Arran began, but he fell silent as he saw the grayish stew that filled his plate. Lumpy and dotted with indistinct chunks of what he could only guess was meat, its appearance was only matched by its smell. "Maybe it tastes better than it looks?"


    Before he could test the theory, they were approached by a soldier who came hurrying toward them. Arran briefly felt some concern, but it passed when he saw that the man had a wide grin on his face.


    "Master Arran!" the soldier called out, his scarred face covered in sweat. Despite his rough appearance, his eyes held a look of excitement. "Master Arran!" he repeated as he came to a halt. "Barric sent me to ask if you''d care to join us in training."


    Before Arran could respond, Kaleesh''s voice thundered across the camp. "Off with you! Let the man eat in peace!"


    The soldier cringed at the sudden outburst, quickly taking several steps back. Yet although he did not dare to speak again, he still cast a questioning look at Arran.


    "I''ll drop by later," Arran said with. "After I finish my meal." As the soldier gave a thankful bow and hurried off again, Arran sighed deeply. "I wish they''d stop calling me that."


    "Master Arran does not like the way the troops address him?" Kaleesh faced him with wide eyes, only a twinkle in the man''s eyes betraying the laughter he was holding back. "Perhaps Master Arran would prefer to be called Lord Arran, instead?"


    Arran gave the captain a dark look. "It''s not too late for me to head back to Knight''s Watch and join one of the other armies." He swallowed a spoonful of stew, and grimaced in disgust ¡ª somehow, it tasted even worse than it looked. "If nothing else, I can''t imagine the food being any worse."


    "Perhaps," Kaleesh replied. "But then you would miss out on the pleasure of my company." Eying his own barely touched plate of stew, he frowned. "Though I will have to hire different cooks once we reach Sacrifice."


    "You''d better," Arran said. "More than a week of this, and you''ll have a rebellion on your hands."


    As Arran forced himself to swallow down another mouthful of stew, Kaleesh cast a long look at the camp. "You can''t blame them," he finally said. "For calling you that, I mean. I may be the one who leads this army, but you''re the one who gives them hope of besting the dangers of the Desolation."


    Arran did not reply. Uncomfortable though the troops'' continued attention made him, he knew the captain was right. As cheerful as the soldiers now seemed, there could be little doubt that they all dreaded the dangers that awaited them.


    Yet with a Knight among their ranks ¡ª or someone whose power matched that of a Knight ¡ª their chances would be far better. Unless, of course, they found themselves faced with enemy Knights.


    "You said Nisra overstated the dangers of the factions," he said, remembering the captain''s words from the previous day. "Care to explain?"


    "So I did," Kaleesh replied. He paused for a few moments, then finally took a deep breath. "As she said, we have many enemies, both among Kadun''s allies and among those who detest outsiders. But the church does not allow open violence in Sacrifice, and outside Sacrifice, few would be foolish enough to attack us."


    Arran rubbed his chin. "Why wouldn''t they attack us?"


    "For fear of weakening themselves," Kaleesh explained. "The Darians travel into the Desolation to battle the Blight, and if they waste their troops, it will hamper them in their true purpose." He smiled darkly, and continued, "Of course, that''s only half the story. The other half is that if they weaken themselves fighting us, others might seize the opportunity to attack them."


    Arran nodded in understanding. "So they can''t afford to waste their strength. But what about the Knights? Any group with a handful of Knights would make easy work of us."


    "There are few Knights among the armies in the Desolation," Kaleesh said with a dismissive gesture. "Not many Lords have more than a dozen Knights in their command, and most have far fewer than that. Sending those off into the Desolation would leave them too weak at home."


    Once more, Arran nodded. "Then it seems we have less need for Nisra than she claimed."


    Kaleesh hesitated before shaking his head. "I wouldn''t go that far. If there''s any truth to the rumors about prices in Sacrifice, supplying the army will be a tall task."


    "About that¡­" Arran took Nisra''s coin purse and tossed it to Kaleesh. "Nisra gave me that. She said it should be enough to see us through our first few weeks in Sacrifice."


    As Kaleesh opened the coin purse, his eyes went wide in an instant and he whistled between his teeth. "This is a small fortune," he said, a hint of awe in his voice. "Pure shadowmetal coins¡­ A single one of these is more than most people earn in a lifetime. I''ve only ever seen them twice before." Yet his excited expression faded a moment later, concern taking its place. "If this is only enough to last us a few weeks, we might need her help even more than I thought."


    Arran cast a look around them, and when he was certain there were no soldiers nearby, he spoke in a soft voice, "I have many more of these, and not from Nisra."


    The captain gave him a look that wavered between curiosity and disbelief. "How many?"


    "Thousands," Arran replied, deciding that there was little point in hiding it. Kaleesh already knew enough of his secrets to get him killed a dozen times over, after all.


    His words brought a look of shock to the captain''s face. "Thousands?!" he cried out. "How do you have¡ª" He caught himself mid-sentence, and continued in an agitated whisper, "How do you have thousands of pure shadowmetal coins?!"


    "The how of it doesn''t matter," Arran said. "But I have them if we need them."


    For several moments, Kaleesh sat in silence. Finally, he laughed cheerlessly. "We can''t use them," he said. "Perhaps we can sneak in one or two with the others, but any more than that will raise questions that neither of us is willing to answer."


    At this, Arran could only nod. It was the reason he hadn''t shared his wealth earlier, and although he''d thought that Kaleesh might know a way around the problem, it was clear that the captain had no answer either.


    "As for Nisra," Kaleesh continued, "I suggest that we spend a few weeks in Sacrifice before we choose whether to accept her offer. There''s little point in making decisions before we know the situation."


    "True enough," Arran replied, though he could not help but wonder whether the Darians would wait that long before acting. Even if the church forbade open violence in Sacrifice, something told him they would not be given the chance to decide their path at their own leisure. "How long will it take us to reach Sacrifice?"


    "A little over a week, if all goes well," Kaleesh said. "But we should be able to see it several days before that." Seeing Arran''s confused expression, he explained, "Sacrifice sits atop a giant mountain. Supposedly, the god who fell against the Blight raised the mountain from the earth in a last attempt to stop his enemies."


    Arran spent some moments considering this. Though the story sounded more like legend than truth, he found himself wondering what kind of power it would take to raise an entire mountain. If there was even a sliver of truth to the story, then the Darians'' gods might well have been worthy of the title.


    His musings were interrupted when another soldier approached them. "Master Arran!" the woman called out. "Arjun wants to ask if you¡ª"


    Before she could finish the sentence, Arran cast a glance at his half-eaten plate of stew and quickly said, "I''ll join you right away."


    He spent the rest of the evening sparring with the troops, his lingering worries soon forgotten as he engrossed himself in practice. Because even after setting a step into Enlightenment, he knew there was still much to learn ¡ª even from those less skilled than him.


    The days that followed were much like the first.


    Though Arran encountered several groups of Blightspawn, none were large enough to last more than a moment against his blade. Even the largest among them ¡ª a single Reaver accompanied by two dozen Blightspawn ¡ª fell within seconds, their bodies torn apart before they even had the chance to realize they were in battle.


    The troops saw nothing of these enemies, however, and the army continued to advance at a slow but steady pace, drawing ever closer to the Desolation. Even the food improved somewhat after a group of soldiers decided to forcefully replace the cooks ¡ª a small act of mutiny that received Kaleesh''s silent blessing.


    But smooth though the journey was, the soldiers'' excitement waned with every step they took. None would say it outright, but Arran could tell that all but the bravest and dumbest among them feared what lay ahead.


    And as the troops'' fears grew, so did Kaleesh''s concerns. Though the captain spoke little of his worries, Arran knew what was weighing on his mind ¡ª the lives of the three thousand men and women who followed him.


    Finally, Arran could allow it no more. After half a week of witnessing Kaleesh''s ever-worsening mood, he approached the captain one evening shortly after they''d set up camp for the night.


    "You have to pull yourself together," he said bluntly. "Any more of this, and it''s going to be a problem."


    Kaleesh gave him a morose glance. "You don''t understand," he began. "If I make even the slightest mistake, then¡ª"


    "Soldiers will die," Arran interrupted him. "As some of them will even if you make no mistakes whatsoever. But you know this already. You''ve led the Wolfsblood Company for years."


    Kaleesh shook his head. "That was different. The mercenaries, they chose to follow me. But the prisoners had no choice in the matter."


    Arran shrugged. "They had the choice to remain imprisoned. You''ve given them a chance to win their freedom, and I doubt there''s even one among them who regrets the decision they''ve made."


    For some moments, Kaleesh remained silent. Finally, he gave a slow nod. "You''re right, of course. But even so, the weight of it isn''t so easy to escape."


    "Easy or not," Arran replied, "the troops need you to look confident. The way you''ve been brooding by the fire each night, you''ll soon convince them that their graves are all but dug already."


    At this, Kaleesh gave a wry smile. "I suppose I have been indulging in worry of late. Perhaps overly so."


    "Perhaps?" Arran gave him a skeptical look.


    Kaleesh groaned. "No need to belabor the point. I''ve already admitted that you''re right."


    "Good," Arran said. "Now let''s have a drink."


    In the days that followed, Kaleesh''s mood appeared to improve. And although Arran couldn''t be certain whether it was only an act, just to have the captain make his rounds among the troops each evening made a big difference to the soldiers'' morale.


    Finally, after nearly a week, Arran caught his first glimpse of Sacrifice. And although it was still days of travel away, he could see that it was much like Kaleesh had said ¡ª a giant if squat mountain, standing solitary amid an otherwise flat landscape, with its peak hidden among the clouds.


    But as Arran continued to look, he soon realized that the dimensions were off. The mountain was farther than he''d initially thought, and vastly larger as well.


    His heart nearly skipped a beat when he finally got a sense of its true dimensions. It wasn''t mere miles across, as he''d believed at first, but easily dozens of miles, and likely even more than that. To call it a mountain almost seemed to understate its size ¡ª like calling a lizard a dragon, or a village a nation.


    It was so impossibly large that even while looking it, he had trouble comprehending its gargantuan size.


    But as Arran stared at the mountain, he could also Sense the Desolation itself. Or rather, he could Sense the unnatural stillness that stretched endlessly in the distance, like a vast void that held nothing but silence.


    He shuddered at the uncomfortable feeling it gave him, but he knew that there was no avoiding it. The Desolation lay only a few more days of travel away, and it wouldn''t be long before he would finally cross its boundary.


    The odd stillness grew stronger in the days that followed, and although Arran had initially not shared the soldiers'' unease, he now found himself growing restless at the prospect of being enveloped by the unnatural emptiness.


    Yet as much as he had tried to prepare himself for what was to come, it still came as a shock when it finally happened.


    He took a single step forward, no different from the thousands that had come before it, and suddenly he felt his body drained of strength and Essence alike. There was no barrier or warning of any sort ¡ª a single step, and his power was instantly reduced to a fraction of its usual level.


    The sudden sensation caused him to stumble, and he briefly felt a sense of panic. Even knowing it would come, he had not been prepared for so sudden a change.


    It took him several moments to quiet his racing heart, but then, he got back to his feet and took a deep breath.


    He had finally entered the Desolation.

 404 Suppression

    Arran''s brow was furrowed in a deep frown as he swung his sword, and that frown grew deeper still when he saw the minor imperfection in the movement. The flaw was small enough that only a master swordsman would recognize it ¡ª no more than the hint of a tremble in his hand ¡ª but to Arran, it almost felt like having his own body rebel against him.


    He''d stepped into the Desolation half an hour earlier, and after the initial shock of having his power suppressed wore off, he''d immediately set to work on studying the Desolation''s effects.


    His magic had been the first thing he tested. After all, he relied on magic to hide his most dangerous secrets, and if he was unable to maintain the concealments that shielded his void Ring and his Shadow Essence from discovery, he would have no choice but to leave the Desolation.


    That concern, at least, had turned out to be unfounded.


    While his magic was undeniably weaker in the Desolation, it was still more than enough to supply the sliver of power his concealments needed, and his control of Shadow Essence was undiminished even if its strength was reduced.


    Likewise, his worries about his sword had quickly proved unnecessary.


    Though he could feel that the Living Shadow weapon disliked its new environment, it continued to mask itself with contemptuous ease. If anything, what he sensed through the bond suggested that the weapon felt only disdainful irritation at whatever small effect the Desolation had on it.


    Yet relieved though he was that neither his weapon nor his magic would be a problem ¡ª not unless he tried to perform any major spells, at least ¡ª his strength was a different matter. There, the Desolation''s effects caused him no small amount of concern.


    The suppression wasn''t as strong as he''d initially feared. Though his strength was much-diminished, it still easily surpassed the strength of the Rangers he''d encountered, and he suspected that his power still matched that of most Knights outside the Desolation.


    Yet if the suppression was less than he had worried, its effect on his swordsmanship proved even worse than he had imagined.


    Again he swung his sword, and again he grimaced when he saw the result. There was no question about it ¡ª his control had suffered a blow far greater than his reduction in strength would suggest.


    A wry smile crossed his face as he realized what the problem was.


    The thousands of hours he''d spent honing his swordsmanship had not just brought him a level of skill that few could match, but had also granted him a near-perfect control of his body. And it was that union of skill, strength, and control that gave him his power.


    It was a temporary setback, Arran knew. The foundation of his skills remained untouched, and for him to fully adjust to the suppression of the Desolation would be a matter of mere weeks. After that, his control should rapidly return to its old level.


    Yet he also knew that anyone who wished to attack the Wolfsblood Army would almost certainly do so now ¡ª before he had a chance to restore his control, and before they reached the safety of Sacrifice.


    After a moment''s consideration, he decided to wait for the army at the edge of the Desolation. As weak as he was now, scouting ahead would be too much of a risk. Better he seize what small progress he could before the others arrived.


    The work yielded only minor improvements to his control, but he was happy even for those. If he faced a powerful enemy, even the slightest advantage could make all the difference.


    With that thought, he also cast the giant starmetal sword aside. Though he still had the power to use it ¡ª if only barely ¡ª to do so would immediately betray his strength to any opponent he faced, robbing him of one of the precious few advantages he still had.


    The army arrived an hour later, with Kaleesh leading the long column of soldiers and carts. He brought the troops behind him to a stop with a single sharp gesture, then advanced another few steps before coming to a halt some two dozen paces from Arran.


    "I take it this is it?" he asked, eying the area warily. "The Desolation?"


    "It is," Arran replied. "Another few paces and you''ll step across the boundary."


    Kaleesh muttered a curse. "You''d think they''d at least take the trouble to mark it. How bad is it?"


    "Bad," Arran replied. "Worse than I thought. It''ll take us several weeks to adjust, if not more."


    Before the captain could respond, Barric stepped forward. "You exaggerate, Master Arran," he said in a respectful tone that nevertheless held a hint of disapproval. He started toward the boundary of the Desolation, and continued, "I have been in the Desolation before, and although the first few moments are unpleasant¡ª"


    Whatever else he had wanted to say was lost, however, as he crossed the boundary and immediately stumbled, his giant figure sprawling across the rocky ground like a puppet with its strings cut.


    It took the Ranger some moments to get back to his feet, and when he finally rose again, he swayed precariously. "Gods'' blood," he said, shock in his eyes. "I don''t remember it being this bad."


    Arran raised an eyebrow, carefully suppressing the grin that was trying to form on his face. "I take it you were weaker when you last entered the Desolation?"


    That, at least, was something he already knew about the Desolation ¡ª that the stronger one was, the more one''s strength would be suppressed. And while that difference wouldn''t be large enough to fully close the gap between the strong and the weak, it would go a long way in reducing it.


    Barric nodded weakly before giving a cheerless smile. "I guess I improved more than I realized."


    The next to cross the boundary was Kaleesh, and unlike Arran and Barric, he did not stumble as he entered the Desolation. From his firmly clenched jaw, however, Arran surmised that the only thing keeping him upright was sheer willpower.


    One by one, the others followed behind him, with the Rangers going first, then the soldiers, and finally the carts that held their supplies.


    Most of those who stepped into the Desolation stumbled or fell, and there were more than a few among the soldiers who retched as they felt the strength drained from their bodies. Yet despite the unease on their faces, none refused to pass.


    While the army continued to pour across the boundary, Kaleesh announced in a loud voice, "Make camp! We continue tomorrow!"


    Weak and pale-faced as they were, the troops wasted no time in following the order, and the captain turned to Sassun. "Set a triple guard, and tell the men to retreat across the boundary if there''s even the slightest sign of trouble."


    As Sassun set to work on securing the camp, Arran gave Kaleesh a questioning look. "I thought you were confident that the Darian lordlings wouldn''t attack us?"


    He had no doubt that Darians were what the captain worried about. With less than two days'' travel between them and Sacrifice, it was unlikely that they''d run into any Blightspawn at all, much less a group large enough to threaten an army.


    Kaleesh shrugged. "I''m confident," he said, "not certain. And while I don''t expect any open attacks, that doesn''t mean there won''t be trouble." He rubbed his chin thoughtfully, then added, "Besides, if some lordling decides to size us up, it can''t hurt to have the men look like they''re in fighting shape."


    Arran nodded in agreement, glad that Kaleesh did not wish to press on immediately. While half a day would not be nearly enough for them to fully adjust to the Desolation, it would make a big difference if they were forced to do battle.


    Setting up the camp took the better part of an hour, with Kaleesh painstakingly inspecting the defenses several times over. But even so, when the captain was finally satisfied with the soldiers'' efforts, it was only barely afternoon.


    Then, with the camp fortified as if they expected an attack at any moment, they set to training.


    Though the soldiers were weak and weary from the Desolation''s suppression, none complained that there was no time to rest. It was abundantly clear that they were in no state to fight, and few did not understand that in their current condition, any battle would result in disaster. And so, even the laziest and weariest among them sparred and practiced with the fervor of necessity.


    The first few hours offered a strange spectacle, with soldiers and Rangers alike moving with the clumsy awkwardness of drunkards as they sparred. Yet gradually, the soldiers'' control improved, and by early evening many of them had already regained a semblance of their previous vigor.


    The Rangers, however, were another matter. Most of them were considerably stronger than the soldiers, which meant they had lost a far greater portion of their strength. And while the soldiers adjusted quickly, many of the Rangers found themselves struggling.


    "Each time I go into the Desolation, it gets worse," Arjun grunted, wiping the sweat from his brow as he faced Arran. They''d spent the past quarter-hour sparring, and although Arran had taken care to hold back, the Ranger was already approaching his limit.


    "That merely means you''re getting stronger," Arran replied with a laugh. "By the time you become a Lord, you''ll probably spend a day puking your guts out whenever you enter the Desolation."


    "A price I''d be glad to pay." Arjun gave a weary chuckle, but then, he cast a curious look at Arran. "And yet, from the look of it, you seem to be handling it well enough."


    Arran was about to protest ¡ª he hardly felt like his usual self, after all ¡ª but he paused when he realized that the Ranger was right.


    When he first stepped into the Desolation, he''d been shocked at how much his strength was suppressed. But seeing the Rangers'' reactions, he could not help but think that he was affected far less than they were.


    Briefly, he wondered whether it might be because he had more strength to spare, but he rejected the idea as quickly as it had come. Having more strength than the Rangers should mean he was affected more severely, not less.


    "I guess I have a stronger stomach than most," he finally said, forcing a chuckle. "But if you have the strength to talk, then you have the strength to fight another round. Let''s go!"


    It took another quarter-hour before Arjun was pushed beyond the brink of exhaustion, and as the Ranger sat down to catch his breath, Arran quickly moved on to another opponent.


    He fought throughout the evening and the night that followed, dividing his attention equally between the Rangers and the soldiers in the army as he slowly adjusted his techniques to his reduced strength.


    Yet the more he fought, the more he became convinced that his strength hadn''t fallen nearly as much as it should have. While some of the Rangers retained more of their power than others ¡ª especially Kaleesh, whose true insight into speed remained formidable ¡ª all of them were clearly affected more than Arran was.


    The mystery confounded him, but he knew that investigating it would have to wait. Before they reached Sacrifice, the only thing that mattered was actually reaching their destination. And while Kaleesh might be confident that there would not be any outright attacks, Arran still had his doubts about that.


    Sunrise found the Wolfsblood Army in a weary state. Most of the soldiers had barely slept, choosing to practice through the night to adjust to the suppression of the Desolation as quickly as they could. Between their lack of sleep and diminished strength, few of them welcomed the day with enthusiasm.


    Kaleesh showed the soldiers little mercy, however.


    He had them break camp as soon as they finished their morning meals, making it clear that he had no intention of wasting even an hour of daylight. After all, once they traveled beyond the edge of the Desolation, there would be nowhere to retreat if they were attacked. The safety of Sacrifice was less than two days'' travel away, but until they reached their destination, they would be completely exposed.


    "Should I scout ahead?" Arran asked the captain as they watched the soldiers ready themselves for the journey ahead.


    Kaleesh hesitated in answering. Finally, some uncertainty in his voice, he said, "You should, but don''t stray too far. If trouble finds us, we will need your strength."


    Arran responded with a nod. "I''ll make sure to stay within a mile or two of the army."


    He understood the captain''s worries all too well. If any Darian forces attacked the Wolfsblood Army, they would be sure to bring Knights. That would be a problem at the best of times, but with the army in its current state, it would more likely than not end in disaster.


    Of course, Arran''s power would provide scant protection if they faced more than one or two Knights in battle, but his mere presence should do much to dissuade potential attackers. While he might struggle to defeat enemy Knights, killing the Darian lordlings who commanded them would be all too easy ¡ª even in a losing battle.


    The only question was whether their enemies were aware of that.


    Despite Arran''s misgivings, the morning passed quietly. He constantly traveled around a mile ahead of the army, his Sense spread across the Desolation as he searched for any hidden threats. Yet carefully though he looked, he found nothing to cause concern ¡ª neither Blightspawn nor Darians.


    If anything, this part of the Desolation seemed more peaceful than the wilderness that lay before it. There were none of the ruins that littered the wilderness, and the only tracks he encountered were those of armies traveling to and from Sacrifice.


    The tranquil surroundings brought Arran little comfort, however. Peaceful though the hilly woodlands around him might seem, he suspected that if they were attacked, it would likely be a good distance from the Desolation''s edge.


    But as morning passed and midday came, he knew that they had truly left safety behind. Here, miles away from both Sacrifice and the Desolation''s edge, there would be no question of fleeing. If they were attacked, there would be no choice but to fight.


    And so, when he finally Sensed an army in the distance ¡ª a thousand soldiers and Rangers, accompanied by a single Knight ¡ª he felt not the slightest bit of surprise. Instead, a grim smile flashed across his face, and then he hurried forward.

 405 Confrontation

    Arran had initially approached the Darian army at a hurry, but as he drew nearer, he slowed his pace, hiding between the trees that lined the road as he cautiously crept forward.


    He had little to fear from the army, of course. If he was discovered, escaping a handful of Rangers and a single Knight would be an easy matter. That should hold true even with his strength diminished by the Desolation.


    But he could tell that they were waiting for something, and he was all but certain that that something was the Wolfsblood Army. Which meant that if he was spotted, it might alert these Darians to his companions'' approach, as well.


    Still, as he came closer to the army, he began to feel some doubts about their intentions.


    While he had initially thought it was an ambush, the group did not appear to have posted any lookouts, nor had they even bothered to hide themselves. Instead, they simply stood gathered on a clearing that looked to be a campsite for passing armies, with little sign that they were preparing for battle.


    But if it wasn''t an ambush, it also wasn''t just another army traveling to Sacrifice. They lacked the supply carts that more than a few days of travel would require, and although they did not look like they were expecting battle, they hadn''t set up camp, either.


    After a moment''s hesitation, Arran decided to risk moving close enough that he could actually lay eyes on the army. Though the Knight might be able to Sense him at such a short distance, he had to see what sort of welcome awaited them.


    He quietly moved between the trees, advancing until he was only a few hundred paces away from the Darian army ¡ª near enough that he could see them through the foliage.


    As soon as he laid eyes on them, he knew this wasn''t just a ragtag band of soldiers. Well-armed and dressed in uniforms of green and black, they resembled some of the wealthier armies he''d observed in Knight''s Watch, with the troops standing in neat lines as they waiting in the clearing.


    Much as he''d expected, it only took a moment before the Knight ¡ª a lean man with a hard face ¡ª glanced in Arran''s direction, after which he leaned over to whisper something to the Ranger beside him.


    That Ranger would be the group''s leader ¡ª probably the son or nephew of one of the Imperium''s many Lords. From the haughty expression on the young man''s face, Arran guessed it was the former.


    The young man cast a bored look at the tree line where Arran was hidden, then made a dismissive gesture to the Knight. Apparently, he was unconcerned with a scout observing him.


    But dismissive though the Ranger appeared, now that Arran had been detected, no time could be wasted. The Wolfsblood Army would be barely a mile behind Arran, and he had to bring word of these Darians before the captain and the others arrived.


    He cast a final look at the army ahead, noting the banners it flew ¡ª green, with a white sigil shaped like a stag ¡ª then turned around to leave.


    Yet as he turned, he felt something from the bond he shared with his weapon. Two more Living Shadow daggers, farther away than Arran''s own Sense could reach, but close enough that his sword could still barely make them out.


    More Knights, then, almost certainly with more troops to accompany them. Which could mean that the army he''d found was merely the vanguard of a larger force.


    He had no time to investigate any further. Though the Wolfsblood Army moved slowly, it would be no more than a quarter-hour before they arrived here. That only barely gave Arran enough time to warn Kaleesh.


    He departed at a run, no longer caring whether the Darians spotted him. By now, they already knew that the Wolfsblood Army would soon arrive, and there was little point in trying to hide the obvious.


    Arran hurried back to his allies as quickly as he could, his figure rushing between the trees and brush with the speed of a wolf about to catch its prey.


    Just minutes later ¡ª sooner than he would have liked ¡ª he caught sight of the Wolfsblood Army. Kaleesh and several of the Rangers headed the slow-moving column, and Arran approached the captain at once.


    "Trouble," he grunted even before he came to a halt. "A Darian army awaits further up the road, less than a mile away."


    Kaleesh immediately signaled for the soldiers behind him to halt, then gave Arran a sharp look. "How many? And what else did you see?"


    Arran took several minutes in explaining all he had discovered, and when he finished, Kaleesh gave a thoughtful nod.


    "The banners you saw are Lord Malach''s, which means the army is Garvan''s. He''s Lord Malach''s youngest son, and he should have arrived in Sacrifice some two months ago. Someone must have sent him a messenger the night before we departed." Seeing the surprise in Arran''s eyes, he gave a small smile. "I did more than just drink ale while you were busy training."


    "Yet you don''t sound concerned," Arran observed.


    "I''m not," Kaleesh replied. "Lord Malach was an ally of Kadun, but if Garvan planned to attack us, he would not go about it this way." He fell silent for a moment, stroking his chin as he considered the situation. "My guess is that he wants to assess our strength before committing. Lord Malach is not so powerful that his sons can afford to waste troops on a quest for vengeance."


    Before Arran could respond, a Ranger stepped forward, whom Arran recognized as the one he''d sparred against in Knight''s Watch ¡ª Ifras, he vaguely recalled.


    "My apologies, captain," the Ranger said in an uneasy tone. "But if Garvan wants to attack us, it won''t be vengeance that drives him."


    "You know the man, then?" Kaleesh asked, raising an eyebrow.


    "I know of him," Ifras replied. "His ambitions reach beyond what his father''s power allows. If he wishes to fight us, it will be to build his reputation among the others in Sacrifice."


    At this, Kaleesh let out a deep sigh. "So he''s an idiot who wants to prove himself, and he thinks to use us as a stepping stone." He shook his head in disgust. "It changes nothing. Whether it''s vengeance or ambition that drives him, he''ll back off once he understands that we are no easy prey."


    "Do you know his strength?" Arran asked.


    "He has three Knights to protect him, and four thousand troops at his command. Enough to defeat us, perhaps, but not without heavy losses." Kaleesh gave Arran a glance, then added in a softer voice, "Naturally, if they did attack, Garvan himself would be the first to die."


    Arran nodded, though he wondered whether that threat would be enough of a deterrent. Kaleesh assumed their opponent had the wits to see the danger of attacking, but if Garvan proved a fool, the entire Wolfsblood Army would pay the price ¡ª a price for which the death of the man himself would be poor compensation.


    And that was without taking into account the three Knights.


    Supposedly, Knights would not lower themselves to face Rangers, nor would Rangers face common soldiers. To do so would be a disgrace ¡ª an indelible stain upon their honor. That was why the situation might not be as dire as it seemed, and it was likely the reason Garvan had chosen not to attack yet.


    But honor was a fickle thing, and Arran was loath to bet his life on the Darians'' peculiar sense of righteousness.


    If he cut a bloody path through Garvan''s forces, he wondered whether the Knights would truly remain idle. And if Garvan himself was in danger, he very much doubted that the Knights would stand silently and watch as their Lord''s son died.


    Yet there was no avoiding the confrontation. Even if they still had time to retreat without provoking an attack, doing so would only put more distance between them and the relative safety of Sacrifice.


    Kaleesh spent a quarter-hour rearranging the army''s formations, bringing more of their strength to the front while moving the weaker groups to the back of the column. When he was finally satisfied that the army''s vanguard looked sufficiently imposing, he gave a sharp gesture, and the soldiers set to marching once more.


    At the very front of the column, Kaleesh and Arran were joined by a dozen of the strongest Rangers among the group ¡ª Barric, Arjun, and several others who had the experience to face a surprise assault without breaking.


    Kaleesh gave them an appraising look. "When we meet Garvan," he said, "do not let him provoke you. Maintain your calm, and let me do the speaking. If all goes well, there will be no battle today."


    "And if things don''t go well?" Barric asked. From his tone, he seemed not the least bit apprehensive of that possibility. If anything, his tone was hopeful.


    Kaleesh shrugged. "Then we will make the ground run red with the blood of our enemies."


    His words brought several cheers from both the Rangers as well as the soldiers behind them, but only Barric''s shout had any real conviction to it. As for the others, they knew all too well that if battle erupted, their odds would be far from great.


    They''d arrived in the Desolation only a day earlier, after all, and they had yet to fully adjust to its suppression. In a battle against Rangers who''d arrived months earlier, that would be no small disadvantage.


    But they weren''t given much time to linger on the danger. The Wolfsblood Army had already been within a stone''s throw of Gavran''s army when Arran reached them, and as they set off again, it took barely a quarter-hour before they reached the clearing where their opponents awaited.


    Kaleesh came to a halt roughly a hundred paces from Garvan, Arran beside him as the Wolfsblood forces silently fanned out to their left and right, forming a broad line of grim-faced Rangers and soldiers to match the line of green-uniformed troops that stood opposite them.


    To Arran, it seemed like a strange and pointless dance.


    If there was to be a battle, then Garvan would do better to attack immediately. And if battle wasn''t what the man intended, a handful of scouts would have done just as well in sizing up the Wolfsblood Army''s strength.


    But instead, the two forces merely faced each other, Garvan and his troops waiting silently as the Wolfsblood Army took position.


    "Does he actually plan to do something?" Arran asked Kaleesh in a low voice. "Or will we just stand here and gawk at each other?"


    "Patience," Kaleesh replied. "He''ll come forward in a moment or two, when most of our strength is laid out. Until then, use the chance to see what we''re up against."


    The suggestion was unnecessary. Arran had studied the opposing army from the moment they stepped into the clearing, and although the Darians had done little to betray their skill, he thought he already had an inkling of their capabilities.


    Garvan''s army comprised roughly a thousand soldiers, divided into groups of about fifty, each of which was led by an armed and armored Ranger. And although they now stood quietly, the groups'' formations were tight enough to show that they were well-practiced.


    Moreover, even from a distance he could see that there was little sign of anxiousness on the faces of Garvan''s troops. They watched the Wolfsblood Army with the calm of experienced veterans, expressions alert but not the least bit fearful.


    Little though that was, it was enough for Arran to know that the Wolfsblood Army would face heavy losses facing even this small force. And if thousands more soldiers like this awaited further down the road, it might well turn into a disaster.


    Yet if Kaleesh was concerned, he showed little sign of it. The captain''s expression was calm as he observed the Darian army, and he nodded to himself several times, as if what he saw confirmed some silent suspicions he had.


    Finally, when most of the Wolfsblood Army had lined up in a rough formation, there was some movement among the opposing army, and a moment later the Ranger leading them ¡ª Garvan, Arran surmised ¡ª walked forward, the single Knight among the troops at his side.


    "That''s our sign," Kaleesh said. "Arran, come with me. But please, watch your temper."


    Arran followed the captain as they stepped forward into the open space between the two armies, and they came to a halt some twenty paces from Garvan.


    "What is the meaning of this?" Kaleesh called out, his voice loud enough that both armies could hear him. "What reason have you for blocking our path?"


    A frown crossed Arran''s face when he heard Kaleesh''s words. There was something unnatural about the captain''s tone, almost as if he was an actor in a play.


    "You were complicit in the death of Lord Kadun," came Garvan''s reply, his tone similarly formal. "I have come to seek redress for that crime."


    Kaleesh gave a loud snort. "Ludicrous!" he cried out. "Lord Kadun fell by the hands of Lord Rannoc. Only a fool would think mere Rangers would dare meddle in the affairs of Lords. But if it is battle you seek, you will find our blades ready."


    Garvan shot the captain a contemptuous glare. "There is one with the strength of a Knight among you. If we do battle, my Knight will face him."


    Arran''s heart sank at the Ranger''s words. He''d already expected that Garvan''s Knight would not stand idle if the two armies fought, and from the sound of it, Garvan considered Arran''s presence enough of an excuse to involve a Knight.


    Kaleesh sneered. "Have you no honor? To bring a Knight to bear against a mere Ranger?"


    A small smile crossed Garvan''s lips. "There is no dishonor in having a Knight face one whose strength matches his own," he replied. "But if you object to facing us on equal terms, I have a proposal."


    Kaleesh did not reply, and after a moment, Garvan continued, "There is no need to shed the blood of our troops. We can settle this matter with a duel ¡ª your champion against mine."


    "I will allow no such¡ª" Kaleesh began, but Arran spoke up before he could finish the words.


    "I accept."


    Garvan stared at him with a shocked expression. "You¡­ accept?"


    "I do," Arran replied. "But after I defeat him, his weapons are mine to keep. Do you accept these terms?"


    The Ranger briefly appeared dumbstruck, then finally said in an uncertain tone, "I had not thought¡­" He shook his head. "Very well. If you wish to throw away your life, then I will not stop you. I agree to your terms."


    Arran cast a sideways glance at Kaleesh, and saw the captain stare at him with a mixture of fury and incredulity. But Arran decided that any argument would have to wait until after the fight, and he hissed, "Bet on me!"


    Kaleesh looked at him in confusion for a moment, but then understanding dawned in the captain''s eyes. Turning back to Garvan, Kaleesh produced Nisra''s coin purse, and held it up in the air. "If there is to be a duel, then we may as well place a wager. I will stake ten pure shadowmetal coins on my champion, if you are willing to do the same."


    Garvan, still not fully recovered from his earlier shock, gave a slow nod in response. "I will match you."


    "Perhaps we should raise the stakes," Arran interjected. He produced the Warlock''s amulet he''d received from the Governor of Knight''s Watch, and held it up in his hand. "Can you match this?"


    Greed flashed across Garvan''s face as he fixed his eyes on the black amulet, and this time, he nodded eagerly. "I can," he said, fumbling through his pockets before producing a similar amulet.


    The Knight''s response, however, was wholly different. Where his expression had been stolid earlier, a hint of concern now appeared in his eyes. Clearly, he understood the amulet''s meaning ¡ª or at least thought he understood.


    Arran gave the man a dark smile. "Shall we begin?"


    The Knight did not speak, but he unsheathed his sword, then drew the Living Shadow dagger at his side as well. From the look of it, he had no intention of underestimating his opponent.


    Kaleesh gave Arran a troubled glance. "Don''t die," he finally said before stepping back.


    Garvan moved back a moment later, and then, only Arran and the Knight still stood between the two armies. Yet while the Knight''s expression was one of utmost focus, Arran only showed mild amusement.


    He walked forward at an almost casual pace, approaching the Knight with a disdainful confidence that caused the man''s frown to deepen even further.


    When just ten paces separated them, Arran made his move.


    In a sudden motion, he rushed forward, moving as if to strike a fast overhand blow with his sword. It was a simple and predictable strike, and the Knight clearly believed it to be a feint. Though he raised his sword to deflect the blow, he kept his dagger free to parry the real attack.


    Yet just before the strike hit, Arran allowed his weapon to drop the concealment that hid it from his opponent''s Sense.


    The Knight''s eyes went wide with shock as he Sensed the Living Shadow weapon, and he raised his dagger in a panicked attempt to block the strike that he now knew his sword could not stop.


    Panicked though the block was, it held the flawlessness of Enlightenment, and it would have easily stopped Arran''s attack ¡ª had the attack not been a feint. Yet a feint it was, and as the Knight raised a both arms to block a strike that wouldn''t come, Arran''s blade suddenly changed direction, tearing through the man''s wrist with a vicious cut.


    The Knight stumbled backward, his expression one of utter horror as blood gushed from the stump where his hand had been. "He¡ª"


    Arran did not let him finish the words. At once, his blade pierced the Knight''s throat, with his injured opponent too stunned to even attempt to block the attack.


    As the defeated Knight slumped to the ground, there was only a shocked silence.


    Though some cheers of encouragement had sounded from the Wolfsblood Army earlier, even Arran''s allies were astonished at the outcome of the battle. A Knight had died in a mere two blows, killed before he even had a chance to defend himself.


    Barric was the first to break the silence, giving a jubilant roar that thundered across the clearing. And as the soldiers'' astonishment faded, a deafening cheer erupted across the battlefield.


    Arran knelt down to pick up his defeated foe''s weapons, taking the opportunity to breathe a deep sigh of relief and calm his racing heart.


    The truth was that he hadn''t been nearly as confident as he''d led the Knight to believe. He''d needed the man to be cautious, however ¡ª cautious enough that he would not take the initiative ¡ª which was why he''d made an effort to appear as confident as he could.


    But now that the fight was over, the sudden release of tension nearly made him vomit.


    He knew he could not have defeated the Knight in a fair battle ¡ª not before he''d had time to adjust to the Desolation ¡ª and so, he''d used his weapon to force his opponent into making a deadly mistake.


    Enlightenment or not, even a perfect movement was useless if aimed at the wrong target.


    Yet if the Knight had weathered those first few moments, the outcome could have been very different. Even if Arran had somehow won the battle, the Knight might well have betrayed his secret to the thousands who stood watching.


    Arran let out another sigh, then quickly gathered himself. Though he had won the fight, the confrontation wasn''t over yet.


    As he collected the Knight''s weapons, it took him some effort to prevent his weapon ¡ª once more masked from the world ¡ª from attacking the dagger. Strong though his bond with the Living Shadow weapon had grown, the sword still seemed to have a mind of its own, and his control of it remained far from perfect.


    Yet after a moment''s struggle, the sword relented, falling back into its usual languid state as Arran fasted the dagger to his belt. Then, he got back up, his expression once more one of disdainful confidence.


    When he got back to his feet, he was surprised to find Kaleesh already standing next to him.


    "You alright?" the captain asked, a trace of worry in his eyes.


    "Better than him," Arran replied with a glance at the dead Knight on the ground before them.


    Kaleesh grinned. "Then let''s collect our winnings and make sure that Garvan doesn''t do anything foolish."


    Arran turned his eyes to Garvan, and saw that the man''s expression was one of shocked disbelief, mixed with no small amount of anger.


    But angry or not, the young Ranger took a fearful step backward when Arran and Kaleesh approached the Darians'' ranks ¡ª which did him little good, as the Rangers at his side stepped backward as well.


    "Pay up," Kaleesh said, no longer bothering with the formal tone he''d used before. "Now."


    "I will not!" Garvan responded, his face twisted in a grimace. "He¡­ he must have used some sort of dishonorable trick to win the fight! I will not accept this!"


    Arran sneered. "You have two more Knights, don''t you? I can fight them both, if you wish. Perhaps the two of them together will prove more of a challenge. Or maybe you would like to fight me yourself?"


    The Ranger looked at him with wide eyes. "You can''t attack me," he said in a trembling voice. "My father¡ª"


    "You think your father will protect you?" Kaleesh interrupted, a dark grin on his face. "You''ve already lost one Knight, Garvan. Lose another, and your father may thank us for killing you. From what I understand, he has more sons to spare than Knights."


    The captain''s words seemed to strike a nerve, as Garvan paled several shades in an instant, then nodded weakly. "I will honor my debts," he said with downcast eyes. "And I hope that with this, the disagreement between us is at an end."


    Arran could not help but give the Ranger an incredulous stare. The only reason there had been trouble to begin with was because the man had come looking for it. Yet now, he had the gall to act as if he was the hapless victim of some great injustice.


    Still, Arran''s mood improved a great deal when Garvan produced ten pure shadowmetal coins and a Warlock''s amulet, which he handed over without complaint ¡ª though there was a pained look in his eyes as he handed Arran the amulet.


    Kaleesh gave a pleased smile. "I trust that this will be the last disagreement between us. Should there be another one, I fear it might prove far costlier."


    "There won''t be," Garvan said hurriedly. "This ¡ª this is the last of it, you have my word." He glanced at the Rangers at his side, then continued, "But we should take our leave. I wish you well on your travels, and I apologize for the delay we''ve caused you."


    He made no effort to retrieve the fallen Knight''s body, nor did he say anything else. Instead, he turned around instantly, motioning for his troops to follow him as he hurried off.


    It took some time for the army to leave, but the soldiers and Rangers were every bit as anxious to depart as their leader, and it wasn''t long before the last of them disappeared in the distance.


    "Think he''ll try anything else?" Arran asked.


    "No," Kaleesh replied. "He didn''t want to fight in the first place, and after this, I don''t imagine we''ll see either him or his troops again any time soon."


    Arran frowned. "You say he didn''t want to fight?"


    Kaleesh let out a weary sigh. "That''s why he came with so small a force ¡ª so that he could claim to have offered us every advantage. He sought a bloodless victory, to browbeat us without ever drawing steel. He never expected you to accept his challenge."


    "Huh." Arran cast a puzzled look at the empty road before them. "Didn''t work out too well for him, that."


    "Indeed it didn''t."


    Arran remained silent for several seconds. Finally, he said, "So when he said he''d have his Knight face me on the battlefield¡­"


    "He was bluffing," Kaleesh replied. "He came here for honor and glory, and for a Knight to face an unwilling Ranger would bring only disgrace." He hesitated, then continued, "Of course, now that you''ve slain a Knight, things will be different. Before, you were only rumored to have a Knight''s strength. Now, you''ve actually killed one."


    "I may have been a bit rash," Arran admitted.


    "A bit, though I should have understood the situation sooner." Kaleesh flipped one of the shadowmetal coins in his hand. "But at least we got something out of it. Do you intend to keep that dagger?"


    "I do," Arran replied.


    In truth, the dagger had been a large part of the reason he''d accepted the challenge. Though he was confident in his sword''s ability to mask itself, he had little idea of what threats awaited in Sacrifice, where the church ruled supreme. And with the dagger at his side, anyone who Sensed a glimpse of Living Shadow near him would have a simple explanation.


    "Then let''s hope you''re allowed to keep it," Kaleesh said. "From what I understand, Knights are usually given their daggers by the church or their Lords. I don''t know if anything like this has ever happened before."


    Arran shrugged. "I guess we''ll find out soon enough. Sacrifice is only a day''s travel away."


    He cast a wary look at the enormous mountain in the distance, once more boggling at the sheer size of it. Even here, dozens of miles away, the lumbering mass filled most of the horizon.


    As they turned around and started back toward the Wolfsblood Army, Kaleesh shot a glance at the Knight''s body. "So how did you do it?"


    "It''s just as Garvan said," Arran replied with a grin. "I used a dishonorable trick."

 406 Arrival

    Though the soldiers were eager to celebrate Arran''s victory, Kaleesh made it clear in short order that there would be no celebrations until they reached Sacrifice.


    "Get ready to move!" he shouted even as he and Arran rejoined the soldiers'' ranks. "We depart at once!"


    Some dissatisfied mutters sounded among the troops, but there were no real complaints. With the excitement of the duel beginning to fade, the soldiers quickly realized that Garvan''s challenge meant there might be other enemies out there yet. And although Garvan had been a fool, the next attacker might prove a more serious threat.


    "Should I scout ahead like before?" Arran asked, casting a wary glance toward the lumbering mass of Sacrifice in the distance. The closer they came, the larger the mountain seemed ¡ª more like a vast wall that stretched across the horizon than a single mountain.


    Kaleesh considered it for a moment, then shook his head. "I will not risk having you away from the army. If trouble finds us, we need you here. The scouting parties should discover any dangers our path still holds."


    Arran gave an uncomfortable nod in response. He understood the captain''s concern, of course. If the army was attacked, even the mere moments it would take him to return could prove disastrous. And with Sacrifice this close ahead, any enemies they encountered were more likely to come from the flanks or rear than from the front.


    But although he knew Kaleesh was right, he could not help but feel some unease at trusting others with his safety. Accustomed as he was to relying only on himself, putting that much faith in others was a difficult thing.


    A knowing look appeared in Kaleesh''s eyes when he saw Arran''s troubled expression. "You can''t do everything yourself," he stated. "Not with use leading an entire army. That''s true for anyone ¡ª even you."


    "I''m more than happy to let you handle the supplies and provisions," Arran replied. He frowned slightly, then added, "Though perhaps next time, I should be the one recruiting the cooks."


    Kaleesh rolled his eyes. "I''d like to see you do better with only a single night''s notice."


    "Don''t see how I could do any worse," Arran replied with a shrug.


    They set off again some moments later, the soldiers quickly forming up behind them as they departed. Though it took some time to get the entire army back on the road ¡ª an unavoidable consequence of having well over three thousand troops ¡ª Arran could see that just the week of travel had helped improve the soldiers'' coordination.


    Perhaps the former prisoners couldn''t quite match the well-trained troops that the Darian lordlings commanded, but with each passing day, they seemed to draw a little closer to that target. Another few weeks of training in Sacrifice, and they might actually begin to resemble a real army instead of an overly large band of brigands.


    Still, Kaleesh pushed them hard in marching, traveling at the highest pace the carts could maintain and only ordering the army to make camp when the light grew too dim to continue.


    After another unpleasant meal, Arran sat with Kaleesh and a handful of Rangers at one of the campfires as they discussed the next day''s journey ¡ª the final one before they reached their destination.


    "I don''t see us meeting any more trouble." Barric took a swig of lukewarm ale and frowned in disappointment, then continued, "After today, only a fool would dare attack us."


    "I don''t expect us to find enemies before we reach Sacrifice," Kaleesh agreed. "But," he continued with a glance at Arran, "once we arrive, I imagine we''ll face problems of a different sort."


    "I suppose the untimely demise of a Knight will not go unnoticed." Arran smiled wryly. Although he''d known his actions would have consequences, he now wondered just what shape those consequences would take.


    "Garvan''s the one who challenged you," Barric said. He paused to drain his mug of ale, the taste of it bringing a brief grimace to his face. Then, he went on, "Nobody can blame you for that poor bastard''s death."


    "It might not be a matter of blame," Ifras said. The young Ranger looked around uncomfortably, almost as if he was surprised at himself for speaking up, but he continued nonetheless. "A Ranger who defeats a Knight is bound to draw the church''s attention, especially if that Ranger only just gained the title."


    "My thoughts exactly." Kaleesh gave the Ranger an approving nod before turning back to Arran. "The church will want to talk to you when we arrive. Though they have no cause to do more than talk, I would suggest you be careful. There''s no telling what their intentions are. And if they insist you return the dagger¡­"


    "Then I will return the damn thing," Arran said. "I defeated a Knight, but I''m not fool enough to think I can take on the church."


    "Good," Kaleesh said, a hint of relief in his eyes. From his expression, it almost seemed like he''d feared that Arran might try resisting the church.


    They spent the next hour going over their plans in Sacrifice, but the discussion yielded little of value. None of the Rangers had any experience leading an army of this size into the Desolation, and few had any idea about how either the church or the other armies would react to their presence.


    Arran only listened with half an ear as Kaleesh and the Rangers spoke. Instead, his attention was on the camp and the soldiers, and it wasn''t long before he began to notice a peculiar change among the troops.


    During the previous days of the journey, he''d had a hard time getting more than a few moments of quiet, with soldiers constantly approaching him to ask whether he could join in their practice.


    But this evening, no such invitations came. Although he found soldiers staring at him more than once, they only did so from a distance, hurrying off when he returned their looks.


    When he mentioned this to Kaleesh, the captain gave a shrug in response. "It''s to be expected," he said. "The gap between you and them has grown too large. Having witnessed you slay a Knight, the troops consider you one as well ¡ª in truth if not in name. And few common soldiers would dare ask a Knight to join them in practice."


    Before Arran could respond, Barric rose to his feet. A wide grin on his face, the giant Ranger grabbed the hilt of his sword, then said loudly, "The troops might not dare demand your attention, but I want to see just how you killed that bastard. Care to instruct me?"


    Arran accepted the invitation happily, glad for the diversion. Important though the Imperium''s politics might be, he much preferred the simplicity of swordplay.


    As they set to sparring, it wasn''t long before other Rangers and soldiers joined in. Perhaps the soldiers no longer dared to invite Arran themselves, but they clearly had no such qualms about joining in when he was already practicing with others.


    Their practice lasted well into the night, and although the soldiers initially faced Arran somewhat uncertainly, apprehension soon gave way to the focus of sparring. On the training field, at least, there was little room for fawning and flattery.


    The next day, the army broke camp before dawn. Kaleesh appeared to have no intention of wasting even a single moment of daylight, and with the towering shape of Sacrifice looming ever-closer and ever-larger, there were few in the army who disagreed with him.


    They made good progress through the morning, the long column of soldiers finding no obstacles in its way along the winding road through the densely forested landscape. Yet although the landscape was pleasant, few of the soldiers had eyes for anything but the looming shape of Sacrifice.


    This was true for Arran, as well. Though much of his attention was taken up by his Sense, his eyes barely left the mighty mountain that now stood only a few hours'' travel away.


    He had thought the mountain unnatural even when he first laid eyes on it, but as they gradually drew closer, he began to see just how strange it truly was.


    The lower part of the mountainside was so steep that it resembled a vast wall more than any natural structure, with its dark rock smooth enough that it almost appeared to be shaped by human hands.


    Yet if it resembled a wall in shape, its size was undeniably that of a mountain. Just the smooth lower part was nearly a mile high, and above that followed another mile of sharp, jagged rocks that jutted from the mountainside like thorny spikes.


    If Knight''s Watch was like a fortress built to withstand endless armies of Blightspawn, then this was like a fortress created to break the assault of gods and titans.


    Warlocks might have the power of Archmages ¡ª outside the Desolation, at least ¡ª but Arran did not think even they had the strength to damage this towering mass of rock. It was too tall to scale with ropes or ladders, too steep to climb without those, and massive enough to weather even the strongest magic.


    But for all its might, there was one thing about it that Arran did not understand.


    He turned to Arjun, who walked beside him near the head of the column. "Sacrifice ¡ª the city, I mean ¡ª it stands atop the mountain, right?"


    The Ranger gave him a curious look, as if he was surprised at the question. "It''s more than just a city," he explained. "Although the basin atop the mountain holds a city and several towns, it also has many miles of farmlands and villages. Crossing from one side to the other takes a good four days of travel."


    Though Arran had not known this, he needed only a single glance at the mountain to realize it must be true. He''d guessed the mountain was over a hundred miles across, and steep as it was, the basin that lay at its top should not be much smaller.


    But that wasn''t what had drawn Arran''s curiosity. Rather, he was concerned with a more practical matter.


    "A small kingdom, then," he said with a shrug. "But if it lies atop the mountain¡­ how do we actually get there?"


    He''d already considered the question for some time, and he had yet to find an answer. The mountainside was clearly too steep to climb, but he had seen no signs of paths or passes, either. Instead, there was just the smooth rock face, unbroken wherever he looked.


    "Tunnels," Arjun replied. "At the foot of the mountain stand four fortresses, to the east, west, north, and south. Each of them guards a tunnel that leads up through the mountain and into the basin."


    "Tunnels?" Arran raised an eyebrow. "If there are tunnels leading up through the mountain, doesn''t that mean that the Blightspawn have to overrun just one of the fortresses for the whole of Sacrifice to fall?"


    Defenses were only as strong as their weakest point, after all. If Sacrifice had tunnels running up through the mountain, then the mountain''s sheer cliffs were of little consequence. Any attacker would surely focus on the tunnels, instead.


    Yet even as he thought this, he realized it would not be that simple. The Imperium certainly would not have overlooked so obvious a problem, which meant there had to be another explanation.


    Arjun chuckled. "You''ll get your answer soon enough," he said, amusement clear in his voice. "The tunnels aren''t easily taken."


    Arran gave him a sideways glance, but decided against asking pressing the matter. As the Ranger had said, he would see the truth soon enough.


    The morning''s journey was smooth, and although Arran Sensed several patrols along the way, none of them paid the Wolfsblood Army much attention. He surmised that these were patrols from Sacrifice, hunting for any Blightspawn who might have entered the region ¡ª and doing a good job of it, too, as Arran had yet to Sense any of the creatures.


    For most of the morning, the road led them through dense woods, with only the occasional clearing along the road for passing armies to rest or camp.


    Yet just after midday, the woods suddenly cleared, making way for open grasslands that stretched all the way to the foot of the mountain, where a large walled fortress stood pressed against the steep mountainside.


    Arran recognized at once that these grasslands were not the work of nature. Rather, every tree and shrub for several miles around had been painstakingly cut down, creating an open field of view that made it impossible to approach the fortress unseen.


    "They''re thorough, I''ll admit that much," Kaleesh remarked, apparently having the same thought as Arran. "Between this and the patrols in the woods, I doubt even a single attacker could get close without being noticed."


    Arran nodded in agreement, though he could not help but think that a single attacker might be all that was needed to take the fortress.


    Formidable as it looked, with hundred-foot walls and hulking towers, mere walls were a poor defense against magic. And if the Desolation held Blightspawn stronger than Warlocks, they might consider the fortress little more than a nuisance ¡ª even with their magic suppressed.


    Yet the fortress still stood, and from that, Arran guessed that its defenses included more than just walls.


    The soldiers moved across the grasslands at a rapid pace, any weariness they felt all but forgotten now that their destination was in sight. And barely an hour later, the Wolfsblood Army came to a halt before the fortress''s massive steel gates, which currently stood closed.


    By now, Arran already had some idea of what defended these gates, as he''d Sensed no less than four Living Shadow swords within the fortress. Lords, then, and enough of them to effortlessly break most armies. And further into the fortress, he Sensed what appeared to a vast mass of starmetal.


    One of the Lords stood atop the walls beside the gate, dispassionately regarding the Wolfsblood Army as they approached. He was a handsome man, clad in a simple white uniform that Arran could Sense hid an elaborate suit of starmetal armor.


    As the army came to a standstill, the man called out, "State your name and your purpose for coming here." There was barely veiled contempt in his voice, as if the Wolfsblood Army''s very presence offended him.


    Kaleesh ignored this, and offered the man a polite bow. "Greetings, Lord Paladin," he replied, his tone friendly enough that it almost seemed to mock the cold welcome they''d received. "My name is Kaleesh, and these are my troops. We have come to seek shelter in Sacrifice, to prepare ourselves for facing the Blight in defense of the Imperium."


    Understanding dawned in Arran''s eyes. The man was a Paladin, then, rather than a Lord ¡ª even if he carried a Lord''s weapon.


    The Paladin did not respond to Kaleesh''s words. Instead, he looked to his side and shouted to some unseen soldiers, "Open the gate!" Without giving either Kaleesh or the army another look, he turned around and disappeared behind the wall.


    The gate swung open some moments later, revealing what looked to be a small town behind it. Yet even as Arran and the others prepared to move forward, the Paladin emerged from the gate, and he immediately moved toward Arran.


    "You are the one who killed the Knight."


    It was a statement rather than a question, but Arran gave a nod in response. "That I am."


    "Once you enter Sacrifice, you will seek out Archon Roshan at the Sanctum, and you will do so without delay."


    Without waiting for a response, the Paladin turned around and headed back through the gate, leaving Arran behind with a puzzled look in his eyes.


    "Friendly fellow, that," Kaleesh said, a bemused expression on his face. "As far as Paladins go."


    "Are they all like that?" Arran asked, raising an eyebrow.


    "Certainly not," the captain replied. "Most are nowhere near as amiable." Though he spoke in a casual tone, his expression suggested that the words were not just mere jest.


    Arran remained silent for a moment, then shrugged. As curt as the Paladin had been, the man had not tried to attack or capture him. If nothing else, that had to be a good sign. "So what''s this Sanctum I''m supposed to visit?"


    "The Sanctum is the church''s enclave at the heart of Sacrifice," Kaleesh said. "A den of priests, Paladins, and Archons, where the church weaves threads of intrigue around all who enter, and where even the whisper of blasphemy means certain death."


    The words elicited a barking laugh from Barric and uneasy smiles from several of the Rangers, but Kaleesh merely shrugged before continuing, "Or so I''ve heard."


    "Sounds pleasant," Arran said. "I don''t suppose I can reject the Archon''s invitation?"


    "The Sanctum also happens to be where the church keeps its bloodlines," Kaleesh said. "So there''s no avoiding it. But we''ve wasted enough time. We should move on before they decide to close the gates on us."


    At a gesture from the captain, the army set to moving once more, the long column of soldiers slowly making its way through the gates and into the fortress.


    Behind the tall walls, Arran found that the fortress looked much the same as the Darian strongholds he''d seen before, albeit with far more soldiers and priests filling its ample grounds.


    Few of the Darians paid the Wolfsblood Army much attention, however, and what little attention they got came mostly in the form of contemptuous looks. Clearly, the locals were well-used to seeing armies pass through the fortress.


    But Arran barely even noticed this, as his eyes were immediately drawn to the far side of the fortress, where he could see a large rectangular entryway cut into the dark stone of the mountain.


    Fifty feet wide and nearly as high, it was lined with intricate carvings made to resemble walls and pillars, as if it was the face of an ancient temple rather than a passage into the mountain. Guarding the entrance stood over a hundred white-clad soldiers, led by another Paladin.


    Yet what caught Arran''s eyes weren''t the carvings or the soldiers, but the opened gate that stood beyond the entry.


    He looked at it in astonishment, briefly uncertain whether his eyes and Sense were deceiving him. Finally, some shock in his voice, he said, "The gate is made from starmetal."


    Though Arran''s void ring held a vast amount of starmetal, the massive gate looked like it held nearly as much. There should be enough of the metal to equip a small army with weapons and armor, but instead, it had all been used to construct a single formidable gate.


    Finally, he understood Arjun''s earlier words. Even if the fortress was overrun by enemies, it would slow the attack enough that the gate could be closed. And once that happened, it should take even an Archmage months to get past the barrier ¡ª enough time to bolster any further defenses, or perhaps even collapse the tunnels that lay behind the gate.


    "The rock is said to be nearly as tough as starmetal," Arjun noted, a satisfied look on his face as he glanced at Arran. "If an attacker tried to dig his way around the gate, it would still take years."


    Arran nodded silently, though he knew the Ranger''s words weren''t exactly true. Even if the rock truly was as tough as starmetal, an attacker with a Living Shadow weapon would not need years to break through.


    His thoughts were interrupted by Kaleesh''s voice. "Unless any of you knows of a way for us to take that gate," the captain said, "there''s little point in staring at it. Now, let''s move forward. Sacrifice awaits."

 407 The Archons Summons

    As Arran stepped through the gate that led into the mountain, he found not the simple tunnel he had expected to see, but instead a spacious cavern, nearly a hundred paces deep and half as high.


    The floor sloped upward toward the far end, with several rows of low walls with archers standing atop them, while the walls on both sides had stone balustrades that held more archers still. And finally, at the far end of the cavern, there was another gate, also forged from starmetal.


    Arran instantly recognized the space for what it was ¡ª a killing ground, much like the courtyard one would find beyond a castle''s gate. Even if an attacking army somehow broke through the first starmetal gate, its troops would only be able to enter a few at a time, while finding themselves instantly flanked by defenders and pelted with arrows.


    It was a place where a hundred men could easily slaughter thousands, and although Arran was not the intended target of the defenses, he could not help but feel uncomfortable as he passed them. If the Darians decided to turn on the Wolfsblood Army in a place like this, it would be all but impossible to escape.


    Kaleesh''s tight expression suggested that the thought had occurred to him, as well. "Nasty place," he opined. "You could butcher an entire army here and not lose a single man."


    Apparently mistaking the captain''s unease for admiration, Arjun nodded eagerly. "If the Blightspawn ever break through, they''ll surely meet their doom in these tunnels," he said, pride clear in his voice. "And it isn''t just the entrance. The tunnels have numerous spaces for traps and ambushes. No enemy can hope to pass through alive."


    Arran and Kaleesh shared a knowing look, neither of them the least bit reassured by the Ranger''s words.


    Yet ill-timed as Arjun''s words were, they proved to be true all the same.


    It took the Wolfsblood Army nearly three hours to pass through the winding tunnels, and during the slow, ever-upward march across the seemingly endless torch-lit passages, they came across at least half a dozen large caverns that held vicious fortifications ¡ª along with yet more starmetal gates.


    Arran observed the defenses with appreciation and concern in equal measure.


    Even if Blightspawn overran the fortress at the foot of the mountain, it was clear that conquering Sacrifice itself would be a different matter altogether. Against determined defenders, every pace forward would take hundreds of lives, filling the tunnels with the bodies of fallen Blightspawn while the Darians could retreat with ease.


    Yet impressed as Arran was by the defenses, he also recognized that they would do equally well in preventing one from fleeing Sacrifice. There was no way to pass the tunnels without being noticed a hundred times over, and if the starmetal gates were shut, there was no different path available.


    But that was a problem for the Darians to solve.


    When they emerged from the tunnels, evening was already approaching, and Arran saw that they had stepped into yet another killing ground ¡ª a large field surrounded by tall stone walls, with a single gate leading out of the area.


    They had barely stepped onto the grass when a white-clad priest came through the gate, accompanied by a handful of soldiers. He approached them at a casual pace, briefly glancing at the Rangers who headed the group, before coming to a halt before Kaleesh. Apparently, the man had already known they were coming.


    "You are the leader, yes?"


    "So I''m told," the captain replied flatly.


    "Very well." The priest gave a small nod. "There are grounds at the edge of town where you and your men can set up camp for the night. Past that, you are expected to secure a location of your own. You can find¡ª???


    "I''m aware of the customs," Kaleesh interrupted the priest. "I have only one question."


    The priest frowned. "Which is?"


    "Where can we find some proper food and ale?"


    An hour later found the Wolfsblood Army at the edge of town, where there were several large fields intended to accommodate passing armies. At the moment, there were only two smaller groups aside from the Wolfsblood army, but there was easily space enough for five times their number.


    Finding food proved simple. Even as the troops were setting up their camp, merchants and peddlers poured from the town, eager to sell their wares to the army''s soldiers. Most of them left in disappointment when they discovered the troops had no coin to spend, but those who sold food and ale soon found most of their stock bought up by Kaleesh.


    "It''s extortion, is what it is," the captain said, dejectedly thumbing his much-lightened coin purse. "Back in Knight''s Watch, that would have fed the army for half a month."


    Arran shrugged as he swallowed a chunk of grilled meat, then wiped his mouth on his sleeve. "Compared to what we''ve been eating this past week, I''d call it a bargain at twice the price."


    Kaleesh sighed. "A few more bargains like this, and we''ll only have grass to eat." A hesitant look flashed across his eyes, and he continued in a hesitant tone, "That giant sword of yours¡­"


    "Sell it," Arran said with a dismissive gesture. "I do not plan to use the thing in the Desolation. If I ever find myself needing another, I''ll have one made."


    The truth was that the weapon''s only function was for practice. In combat, letting his Living Shadow sword take the weapon''s shape was a matter of a single thought. And while he could not do so with others watching, in the Desolation that also held true for using the giant starmetal sword.


    Kaleesh gave a thoughtful nod, then glanced at the Rangers who were sat at the fires near them. "Arjun! Get over here!"


    The Ranger got up and approached, a questioning look in his eyes. "Yes, captain?"


    "Take some men and go into town to sell that ridiculous sword of Arran''s. The stores should be open for several more hours. I expect you to get the best price you can."


    Arjun''s eyes went wide with surprise, but after a moment of hesitation, he nodded uneasily. "I''ll do my best, captain."


    As Arjun began to gather some troops to haul off the massive sword, Kaleesh had already turned his attention back to the Rangers. "Ifras!" he called out. "I have a task for you, as well!"


    The young Ranger looked at Kaleesh uncomfortably. "What is it, captain?"


    "I need you to take one of the Reavers'' amulets along with a dozen Blightspawn amulets, and sell them in town." He frowned, then added, "Mind you, getting a good price will require you to visit every shop that might take them. Make sure you get the best price before agreeing to sell."


    This time, it wasn''t just the Ranger who looked at Kaleesh in surprise, as Arran stared at the captain in astonishment as well. To sell off Blightspawn amulets was no small thing ¡ª those were the very reason they''d come to the Desolation in the first place.


    Yet as Kaleesh dismissed Ifras, he immediately turned to Arran. "Come along. We''ll need to secure lands in Sacrifice for the next few weeks, and we can do so in town."


    Something in Kaleesh''s eyes suggested that there was a motive behind his actions, and as they set off toward the town, Arran gave the captain a curious glance. "I take it you have a plan."


    "Naturally," Kaleesh replied. "You told me you have many pure shadowmetal coins. Would it be possible for you to hand over, say, twenty of them? Thirty would be even better."


    Arran frowned, but he did as asked, producing thirty of the coins and handing them to Kaleesh. "If we''re going to be using these, I don''t see why we had to sell off Blightspawn amulets."


    The captain smiled knowingly. "We''re selling off a few of them so that we can use these coins without arousing suspicion. Between the amulets, the sword, and Nisra''s generous gift, others will have a hard time estimating our true wealth ¡ª especially once we''ve visited a few money changers."


    Arran gave him a skeptical look. "Will that be enough?"


    "It will," Kaleesh replied. "Don''t forget that we already have fifty troops in starmetal armor. As far as most Darians know, we might be wealthier than all but a few lordlings."


    "That''s not what Nisra thought," Arran said.


    "Which is why we''re selling off some treasure," the captain said. "Few merchants are willing to discuss their dealings with others, so after tonight, even she should be in the dark about the extent of our resources."


    As they entered the town, Arran was surprised to see that it was much like the ones he''d seen elsewhere in the Imperium. While the streets perhaps held more inns and taverns ¡ª all of them hideously overpriced ¡ª the common folk seemed little different. And if there were more priests and guards than one would see in other places, the contrast wasn''t so large as to be conspicuous.


    They spent the following hour visiting well over a dozen money changers. That was more than Arran had expected there to be in even a town as large as this, but he soon realized that with armies passing every day, they would see no shortage of business.


    Kaleesh exchanged no more than one or two coins at each of them so as not to draw too much attention, but after an hour, they already had a decent number of bulging coin purses.


    "That should do," the captain said, a satisfied look on his face. "With this, we have no more cause to worry about supplies. Next, it''s time to acquire some lands for our stay." With a small frown, he added, "Though that may prove a bigger challenge."


    "How so?" Arran asked, following Kaleesh as the captain started toward a large, white building in the middle of the town center.


    "Sacrifice is divided into four quarters," Kaleesh explained. "The northeastern quarter mainly hosts those aligned with the Lords'' Alliance, the northwestern quarter those within the Righteous Alliance, and the southwestern quarter those within the Martial Alliance. Which leaves the southeastern quarter for everyone else."


    "I see," Arran said. "But why is that a problem?"


    "Because the church controls Sacrifice. And while it favors members of the Righteous Alliance and avoids antagonizing the other two, we have no such protection." Kaleesh cast a dark glance at the building before them. "Which means we''re about to make a hefty contribution to the church''s vast coffers."


    "I don''t suppose we''d be accepted in the northeastern quarter?" Although Arran wasn''t too concerned about coin, he still disliked the idea of the church taking it ¡ª all the more so because he suspected the pure shadowmetal coins could be used as more than just money.


    "The Lord''s Alliance would accept us, of course," Kaleesh said. "And once word of it got out, we''d be bound to Rannoc and his allies ¡ª as tightly as if our armor still bore his sigil." A wry smile on his lips, he added, "Though I doubt any of them would help if the Martial Alliance took revenge for Kadun''s death."


    Arran shrugged. "The southeastern quarter it is, then."


    When they stepped inside the building, they found a large hall, empty but for a single desk at its far end, behind which sat a middle-aged man with a bored expression. Though he was dressed in white, he did not appear to be a priest. Rather, he seemed to be a clerk of some sort.


    "Kaleesh?" the man asked as he laid eyes on them.


    The captain raised an eyebrow. "You were expecting me?"


    "Of course," the clerk said, though he offered no further explanation. "Four thousand troops, correct?"


    "Closer to three thousand," Kaleesh said, "if it makes a difference."


    "It doesn''t." The clerk produced a large roll of paper from under his desk, then asked, "Have you chosen a quarter yet?"


    "We have. The southeastern one."


    The clerk frowned as if surprised, but said nothing. Instead, he put away the roll of paper and took out a similar one, which he rolled out onto his desk.


    "This is a map of the southeastern quarter," he said, motioning for Kaleesh and Arran to move closer. "Now, I can offer you the following choices¡­"


    When they exited the building a quarter-hour later, Kaleesh was red-faced with anger. "Ten!" he said, his voice a near-shout ¡ª loud enough that several passersby shot startled looks in his direction. "Ten pure shadowmetal coins! For a month in some farmer''s field!"


    Calling the estate they''d rented a farmer''s field was an exaggeration, but not by much. It lay well over a day''s travel from the main city in Sacrifice, and several miles from the nearest town. Moreover, from the clerk''s words, its barracks were austere at best.


    Arran gave a small shrug. "We could''ve had our own village near the city if you were a little less stingy."


    Although the price they''d paid had been extortionate, he saw little point in grumbling about it. Overpriced or not, they had needed an estate, and Sacrifice offered no more affordable accommodations for a group as large as the Wolfsblood Army ¡ª not for those who weren''t in one of the major factions, at any rate.


    Kaleesh looked at him with a frustrated expression. "Ten pure shadowmetal coins!" he repeated, as if saying it enough times might somehow change the price they''d paid. "In the east, that''s enough to buy a castle!"


    "Yet we''re not in the east," Arran said, "and we don''t need a castle. You, however, look like you need an ale, so let''s find a tavern."


    Kaleesh accepted the suggestion reluctantly, doubtless fearful that an ale in Sacrifice would be the price of a farm elsewhere ¡ª a concern that proved not entirely unfounded, as the taverns in the town center charged more for a single mug of ale than ones elsewhere would charge for an entire meal.


    Yet as they sat down and drank, the anger finally fled the captain''s face, and slowly, a thoughtful look took its place. "I''ll have Sassun lead the army to the estate tomorrow," he said, "while we travel to the Sanctum together."


    Arran took a swig of ale. "Eager to meet the priests?"


    "Eager to see their wares," Kaleesh replied. "The bloodlines we choose will decide our future, both in the Imperium and beyond it. Decisions like those need proper study."


    "Have you discovered anything useful about the bloodlines, so far?" Arran asked. "I''ve asked the Rangers, but none of them had much to share."


    "That''s to be expected." Kaleesh took a moment to ensure that none in the tavern were close enough to listen in, and continued in a softer voice, "The Darians believe their bloodlines come from the gods themselves, and even the least pious among them don''t discuss the matter easily. From what I''ve heard, though, there are three different kinds of bloodlines ¡ª lesser, common, and greater."


    "I suppose none of our Rangers possess greater bloodlines?" Arran guessed.


    "Greater bloodlines?" Kaleesh laughed as he shook his head. "Among our Rangers, only Barric even has a common one. The others only have lesser bloodlines, with most possessing just two or three of those."


    "Even the Rangers?" Arran frowned. He''d expected that the Rangers, at least, would have more than that. Reavers were fierce opponents, but not so much that a Ranger wouldn''t have a chance of defeating one.


    "Our Rangers, at least," the captain said. "Ones with stronger backing doubtless do better."


    Arran pondered the matter for some moments, then asked, "If there are three types of bloodlines, do they correspond to the amulets? Blightspawn amulets to acquire lesser bloodlines, Reavers'' amulets for common ones, and Warlock amulets for the greater bloodlines?"


    "That is my understanding," Kaleesh said with a short nod. "From what I''ve heard, the first bloodline from each tier requires only a single amulet, but the ones that follow depend on the strength of one''s blood." He paused to take a sip of ale, then added, "In your case, I imagine that will prove costly."


    Arran smiled wryly, but after a moment, he furrowed his brow in thought. "If what you say is true, we''ll have to start with the greater bloodlines."


    "How so?" Kaleesh asked, his expression curious.


    "Think about it," Arran said. "If each bloodline makes the next costlier to acquire, then every lesser or common bloodline you gain will make the greater ones much harder to get."


    "Huh." Kaleesh briefly looked puzzled, but as realization set in, his bemused expression turned to one of frustration. "So you''re telling me I can''t choose a bloodline right away?"


    "Not unless you''re willing to cripple your future progress." Arran scratched his chin. "Which means it must be nearly impossible for commoners to climb the ranks in the Imperium. A common soldier who acquires too many lesser bloodlines will find it impossible to ever gain more than a few common bloodlines, much less any greater ones."


    Kaleesh drained his mug of ale, then sighed as he cast a dark look at the Darians in the tavern. "Knowing the Imperium, I''d say that sounds accurate."


    When they returned to the camp, they found that Arjun and Ifras had already returned, both Rangers carrying fat purses that they were anxious to hand to Kaleesh.


    The captain inspected the purses'' contents before giving a satisfied ¡ª if unenthusiastic ¡ª nod. "That''ll do," he said. "Not as much as I had hoped, but it''s enough."


    Arran suspected Kaleesh could have gotten more himself, but he understood the captain''s purpose in sending the Rangers. Having different people visit many of the shops in town, it would be all but impossible for others to discover exactly what had been sold and at what price.


    And either way, the proceeds from the sword and the handful of amulets mattered little. Compared to what Arran had handed Kaleesh, the entire sum was barely worth mentioning.


    When Kaleesh finished inspecting the two purses, he turned his attention back to the Rangers. "Rangers!" he called out. "Gather up! I have an announcement to make!"


    It took some moments for the Rangers to assemble, their expressions curious as they gathered around the captain. Finally, when they had all arrived, he looked around, then spoke.


    "I have secured an estate where we can prepare ourselves for the Desolation," he began. "It''s located in the southeastern corner of Sacrifice, far enough from the city that we can practice without distraction or disturbance, with little risk of any lordlings interfering in our affairs."


    Arran only barely managed to suppress a laugh. Barely an hour earlier, Kaleesh had scoffed in anger that they had been forced to choose so isolated a location. Yet now, he spoke as if the choice had been a deliberate one.


    "The Wolfsblood Army will depart at first light tomorrow morning," the captain continued. "And as the army travels, I will accompany Arran to the Sanctum. We will rejoin you all at the estate. In my absence, I am placing Sassun in charge of the army, with Arjun to serve as his second."


    His announcement caused some whispers of surprise, and the young Ranger who''d demanded rewards back in Knight''s Watch ¡ª Domar, his name was ¡ª spoke up in an indignant tone. "You''re abandoning us to visit the city? And you''re putting a common soldier in charge?"


    "Correct," Kaleesh replied. "I assume you can handle a two-day march through safe lands without me there to hold your hand. But perhaps you disagree with that assumption?"


    Some laughs sounded among the Rangers, but Domar was undeterred. "A Ranger should be in charge!" he said in an angry voice. "You can''t expect us to follow a common soldier!"


    Before Kaleesh could respond, Ifras spoke up. "I trust the captain''s judgment," he said, his tone firm even if he looked uncomfortable at drawing so much attention to himself. "And if he says Sassun will lead, then I will follow Sassun."


    Arran watched the exchange with narrowed eyes, unsure of what to make of it. It should make little difference who led the army in the few days that he and Kaleesh would be away, and among all of them, Sassun was undoubtedly the one with the most experience ¡ª if only because Kaleesh already had the dour commander do much of the actual work of handling the army.


    That was something well-understood by most of the Rangers, and Arran could not see how a few days of having Sassun in charge should be an issue. To his eyes, it looked almost as if Domar had been searching for a reason to get upset.


    Barric seemed to have had the same thought, as he cast an annoyed look at Domar. "Is there a point to your whining?"


    "I just think a Ranger should be in charge," Domar said, though he seemed uneasy rather than indignant now.


    At that moment, Sassun spoke up. "If any Ranger wants to arrange supplies, set a guard schedule, supervise provisions, and plan our route, I will gladly relinquish the task."


    A small smile crossed Kaleesh''s face. "I do not believe that will be necessary. As I said, it''s only a two-day march." His expression grew harder as he looked at Domar. "Of course, if anyone here has a problem with my orders, then I suggest they depart now. Once we leave the safety of Sacrifice, I will not tolerate disobedience."


    Domar offered no further objections, and from his expression, he already regretted his earlier words.


    Kaleesh paid the young Ranger no more mind. As he turned his attention back to the others, his smile returning in an instant. "Now, I suggest we move to more important matters. I paid a king''s ransom for our food and ale, and I do not intend to see it go to waste."


    His words were enough to break the tension, and the Rangers soon rejoined the troops. Although some still appeared uncomfortable with the captain''s decision to leave ??? if only for a few days ¡ª a week''s worth of travel with warm ale and barely edible food had left them eager to enjoy the fresh supplies.


    That night, the troops did little but eat and drink, singing bawdy songs as they celebrated their unscathed arrival in Sacrifice. Though there had been no battles along the way ¡ª none but Arran''s duel with the Knight, at least ¡ª it was now plain to see that the troops had been more worried than they''d let on while traveling.


    And no wonder. With the Desolation diminishing their strength, even the strongest-willed among them were left feeling feeble and vulnerable ¡ª a state that did their confidence in facing the dangers of the Desolation no favors.


    The next morning, Arran awoke before dawn. Though he easily could have gone several more days without rest, he''d decided to take what sleep he could get before traveling to the city. Even if he didn''t expect to do battle, a conversation with an Archon would be at least as dangerous as a duel against a Knight, and likely more so.


    Before they departed, Kaleesh gave Sassun some brief instructions, then handed the commander several fat coin purses. "Make sure the troops eat well," he said. "And if anyone causes trouble¡­"


    "I''ll have Barric and Arjun handle it," Sassun replied. Though his expression was severe as always, his tone was unconcerned. But then, after years of helping lead the Wolfsblood Company, he likely knew what he was about.


    Arran and Kaleesh left the camp without ceremony, taking to the road before most of the soldiers were even awake. When the first rays of sunshine appeared, they were already an hour underway.


    As daylight appeared and they left the town behind, Arran could see that Sacrifice was filled with seemingly endless farmlands, with crops, orchards, and pastures covering the landscape as far as his eyes could see. There were numerous farms, too, as well as the occasional small village.


    "With lands like these, you''d think the food would be cheaper," Arran said. "Though I suppose feeding all the armies is no easy task."


    "That," Kaleesh said, "and the church takes a hefty cut of all that is sold here. The income from Sacrifice and the other bulwarks is one of the pillars of the church''s power, and most wealth in the Imperium finds its way into the priests'' hands sooner or later."


    Arran cast a long look at the bountiful lands around them. "It looks like the church has made good business of the gods'' sacrifice, then."


    "Indeed," the captain said. "Though I would suggest not saying so where anyone can hear."


    They made good distance through the morning, following the long, straight road that led to the city ¡ª aptly named the Eastern Road, as Kaleesh informed Arran ¡ª through a patchwork of farmlands and villages.


    Most of the villages held a variety of taverns and inns to accommodate passing armies, and they stopped at one of these for a quick midday meal, Arran recalled the previous night''s events.


    "Do you expect Domar to cause trouble?" he asked in between two bites of stew.


    "Perhaps," Kaleesh said. Then, after a moment''s thought, "Probably."


    "Then why allow him to stay?"


    "I considered dismissing him," the captain replied, "but there is no need to be hasty about it. We won''t depart Sacrifice for another month, so I have plenty of time to reach a decision."


    Arran furrowed his brow as he looked at Kaleesh. "Why not dismiss him right away? He''s a talented swordsman, but other than that, he''s more trouble than he''s worth."


    Kaleesh smiled. "Don''t be too quick to judge. Sometimes, the least agreeing companions end up becoming the most valuable allies. Barely a month after Sassun joined the Wolfsblood Company, he actually led a mutiny against my command."


    "Sassun? A mutiny?" Arran stared at Kaleesh in surprise. Sassun might not have the sunniest of dispositions, but the man was nothing if not loyal.


    Kaleesh nodded. "We were hired by some noble in the borderlands to hunt down a band of raiders. When the time came to collect our payment, Sassun decided that he would prefer to have the captain''s share and stabbed me right in the chest. An inch higher, and he might be the one leading the Wolfsblood Army."


    Arran cast an incredulous look at Kaleesh, but he saw not the slightest trace of insincerity in the captain''s eyes. "Then what happened?"


    "I repaid the favor by beating him to within an inch of his life," Kaleesh said. "He ended up saving me from a spear to the back barely two months later, and we''ve traveled together ever since."


    For some moments, Arran remained silent, mind still boggling at the thought of Sassun stabbing Kaleesh. Finally, however, he said, "I bet Sassun didn''t whine as much as Domar, though."


    Kaleesh chuckled. "I will admit that his manner so far has been less than pleasant."


    The afternoon''s travels proved as smooth as the morning''s had been, and as they walked along the wide road, Arran had ample opportunity to observe the other travelers.


    Most of these were farmers and merchants who transported food and other supplies between the villages, but there were many white-clad priests and guards as well, and twice, they passed small armies.


    The first of the armies had clearly just arrived in Sacrifice, with its soldiers looking fresh-faced and excited, their uniforms so spotless that Arran doubted the soldiers had ever worn them in battle.


    The Rangers, however, showed little of the soldiers'' enthusiasm. Instead, their expressions held concern whenever they glanced at the troops, as if they already knew that many would not return.


    The second army, meanwhile, was traveling eastward from the city, and a single glance was enough to know that the soldiers had already seen many battles. Their gazes were hard and weary, with many of the troops showing scars in the angry red and pink of freshly healed skin.


    Although this army counted over a thousand soldiers, Arran had little doubt that the number had been much higher half a year earlier.


    While Arran observed the people who shared the road with them, not many of those they passed had eyes for him or Kaleesh, and those few who did gave them no more than a passing glance.


    That was a good sign, at least. Arran had worried that they''d encounter more hostile lordlings while traveling, but it appeared that their enemies had not yet learned that they had left the Wolfsblood Army behind to visit the city.


    That night, they slept in a small inn along the road, overpaying at least fivefold for a simple meal and two equally simple but unexpectedly clean rooms.


    The next day, as they set off in the early morning light, Kaleesh gave Arran an appraising look.


    "If I didn''t know any better," the captain said, "I''d almost think you were glad to be rid of the army."


    Arran briefly pondered the question before answering, "I suppose I am, in a way. It''s strange, really. Whenever I travel alone, I find myself wanting the company of others. But when I''m surrounded by others, I miss the solitude of traveling by myself."


    He''d never given the matter much thought, but as he spoke the words, he realized they were true. In his years of traveling alone, he''d often missed having companions at his side. Yet now that he had an entire army to keep him company, he almost found himself overwhelmed by the constant presence of others.


    He cast a glance at Kaleesh. "But what about you? You seem to be glad for the quiet, as well."


    Kaleesh sighed. "It''s not the quiet I''m glad for. It''s being away from the soldiers. You saw the army we passed yesterday. When they first entered the Desolation, they must have numbered hundreds more, maybe even thousands. When we leave Sacrifice for the last time, how many of our soldiers do you think will still be alive?"


    Arran shrugged. "More than there would be without you to lead them."


    The gloomy mood didn''t last long, however, as the bright morning sun soon broke through, bathing the rolling farmlands around them in golden light. And while that did little to ease their problems, it made it far easier to think of other things.


    Another day of travel was followed by another night in a costly inn, and on the morning of the third day, they finally saw their destination appear in the distance ¡ª a sight that briefly brought them to a halt.


    At the very center of Sacrifice lay a large, clear lake, and across the lands surrounding it stretched a large city, with numerous buildings filling both the flat area beside the lake and the low hills surrounding.


    It was as great a city as Arran had ever seen, yet what caught his attention wasn''t the city, nor was it the lake that lay at its center. Rather, what drew his attention was a walled complex of white buildings to the northwest of the city, large enough to be called a town itself.


    "I assume that''s the Sanctum," he said.


    "It should be," Kaleesh replied. "Though it''s bigger than I expected."


    "What is that?" Arran said, pointing to a walled complex that lay to the southwest of the city like a mirror image of the Sanctum, except with its buildings dark gray rather than white.


    "That should be the Citadel," the captain said. "The seat of power of the Imperator''s forces in Sacrifice. Should you wish to visit Lady Merem, I expect you will find her there."


    A shiver ran across Arran''s spine as he recalled the Imperial Knight. Even now, the memory of her power still left him uneasy. "I don''t think that will be necessary. Let''s head to the Sanctum."


    Kaleesh nodded in agreement. "Do you want to find an inn in the city, first?"


    Arran hesitated briefly, then shook his head. "I''d rather get this over with as quickly as possible."


    It took them a good two hours to cross through the city''s winding streets, and Arran soon realized that it was a city much like any other. While he saw many Rangers and more than a few Knights, the vast majority of the people he saw were commoners, with shopkeepers and merchants hawking their wares as laborers and the like moved through the busy streets.


    "It''s strange," he said, "to find a city like this within the Desolation. If I couldn''t feel the suppression weighing down on me, I''d think it no different from any other place."


    "Supposedly," Kaleesh replied, "the eastern part of the Desolation was at one point fully controlled by the Imperium, with numerous cities covering the lands even hundreds of miles to the west of here ¡ª before the Blight overran them, at any rate." He scratched his chin, then added in a thoughtful voice, "If we find any of those abandoned cities, there might be treasure to be had."


    When they finally arrived at the Sanctum, they found its gates open, a steady stream of priests, soldiers, Rangers, and others continuously moving through. And although a group of white-clad soldiers and a single Ranger stood guarding the gates, they paid those who passed little attention.


    Arran hesitated only a moment before approaching the Ranger. "I have a question," he said as he walked up to the man. "One I hope you might answer."


    "What is it?" the Ranger asked, his expression irritated as he glanced at Arran.


    "I received an invitation from Archon Roshan," Arran said, ignoring the man''s annoyed glare. "And I wonder where I might find him."


    At the mention of an Archon, the Ranger''s expression instantly softened. "You can find him in the Inner Sanctum." Seeing Arran''s blank look, he added, "Just follow the road, and you will eventually reach a second gate. The guards there will show you inside."


    Arran gave the man a nod of thanks before continuing on through the gates, Kaleesh at his side as they slowly made their way through the masses.


    "Tread carefully," Kaleesh said in a soft voice. "We''ve just stepped into the lions'' den."


    As they passed through the gates, however, Arran found that the Sanctum resembled a peaceful park more than it did a lions'' den. On either side of the road were carefully maintained grasslands that held numerous temples, pavilions, and flower gardens, with small gravel paths connecting them to each other.


    Past the gate, the crowd on the road quickly grew thinner, with many of the people leaving the road to follow the small paths to the various temples and pavilions. Many bore reverent expressions, and Arran guessed they had come here to worship their gods.


    "It doesn''t seem too bad to me," he said, looking around with some curiosity. "If anything, I''d say it looks pleasant."


    "It does," Kaleesh admitted. "But no less dangerous for that. There are few in the Imperium who would dare oppose the church, and piety is the least of the reasons for that."


    They continued on for a quarter-hour, until finally, they approached the white walls of the Inner Sanctum. And where the guards at the outer gate had looked disinterested more than anything, the ones here appeared wholly different ¡ª if only because all but one were Rangers, with the only exception being a Paladin.


    By now, the traffic on the road had dwindled to a mere trickle, and as far as Arran could see, only priests entered and exited the Inner Sanctum, all of them nodding respectfully to the Paladin as they passed.


    Kaleesh cast a single look at the guards, then came to an abrupt halt. "I think I will wait for you outside. Perhaps explore the grounds for a bit."


    "You''re not coming along?" Arran asked, surprised. He''d thought the captain would eagerly seize the chance to get a look at the Inner Sanctum.


    "I doubt they''d let me enter even if I wanted to," Kaleesh replied. He smiled cheerfully, then added, "Besides, if you don''t return, you''ll need someone to rescue you."


    Though it was a joke, Arran could not help but wonder if the captain''s words might turn out to be prophetic. Still, he gave a small nod. "I''ll meet you here when I return. Soon, hopefully."


    When he approached the Paladin, the man immediately shot him a wary look, clearly Sensing the Living Shadow dagger he carried. "What''s your business here?"


    Arran met the Paladin''s distrustful glare with a calm expression. "Archon Roshan summoned me."


    "So you''re the one¡­" Though the Paladin''s expression was still far from friendly, a hint of curiosity appeared in his eyes. He glanced at one of the guards, and ordered, "Fetch someone to accompany him." As the guard hurried off, the Paladin turned back to Arran. "In defeating a Knight, you''ve drawn quite a bit of attention to yourself."


    Arran shrugged. "Better than the alternative."


    "Perhaps," the Paladin said simply.


    Arran gave the man a flat look. Though he had no intention of causing the Paladin offense ¡ª not here, certainly ¡ª he would not let himself be intimidated, either. And that the man wished to intimidate him was obvious, though he could only guess at the reason.


    They faced each other for several uncomfortable moments, the tension only broken when the guard returned, a young white-robed priestess in tow.


    "You''re to be my escort?" Arran asked.


    "Yes," she said. "Please follow."


    Arran gave the Paladin a small nod, then followed the priestess through the gates and into the Inner Sanctum.


    Though the large area inside the walls looked much like the grounds outside, with meticulously groomed gardens and no small number of temples and pavilions, he saw at once that there were some large differences.


    For a start, while there had been many soldiers, Rangers, and ¡ª especially ¡ª commoners in the outer area, he saw only priests and guards here, all of them clad in white. And where most of the temples in the outer area had been modest in both size and ornament, many of the buildings here were built like palaces, vast and elaborately decorated.


    Arran followed the priestess for several minutes until finally, they arrived before a large building, circular in shape and topped with a massive dome.


    As the priestess came to a halt, she turned to Arran. "I will wait here until you are ready to return."


    Understanding that he was to enter alone, Arran stepped through the entrance, finding a single room, large and circular. The floor, he saw, was covered with an intricate mosaic, and the walls were lined with a series of tall statues, all carved from white marble.


    A man stood before one of the statues, his eyes focused on some detail of the carving. Like the priestess, he wore a white robe, but at his side was a Living Shadow dagger. Archon Roshan, Arran knew.


    "I take it you are Arran." The man did not take his eyes off the statue as he spoke, and he continued, "I expected you to arrive earlier." There was a trace of irritation in his voice, though it was only barely noticeable.


    "My apologies," Arran said cautiously.


    Finally, the Archon took his eyes off the statue and turned to Arran. "No matter," he said. "Come, let me take a look at you."


    Arran moved forward uneasily. Though he had met an Archon before, there was something about this man that exuded danger ¡ª something that had been absent in the other Archon.


    As he approached Roshan, he saw that the man had a sharp face and a short beard, with light eyes despite his dark hair. And although his hair held some streaks of gray, he did not seem particularly old.


    "So you''re the Ranger that killed a Knight," the Archon said, giving Arran a long appraising look.


    "He challenged me," Arran said. "At least, his commander did."


    Roshan held up a hand. "Do not worry ¡ª I do not hold you responsible for his death, nor would it be a crime even if you were responsible. As you said, the challenge was his, and you merely accepted it."


    Arran gave a relieved nod. Though he''d been unconcerned about the matter just moments earlier, there was something about this matter that unsettled him ¡ª an aura of power that reminded him of Lady Merem.


    "But in defeating him," the Archon continued, "you gained something you should not have ¡ª something that carries little value to Rangers, but great value to the Imperium. Which forces me to make a difficult decision."


    "You can have the dagger," Arran said at once. Though the dagger had some use to him ¡ª if not for the reasons Roshan might think ¡ª he did not value it nearly enough to risk making an enemy out of an Archon. Especially not this one.


    Roshan shook his head. "Do not be so hasty in relinquishing your possessions. As I said, I have yet to decide what I shall do." He paused to cast a long, studious look at Arran. Finally, he spoke, "Tell me, what do you know of our bloodlines?"

 408 The Masters Bloodline

    Arran hid his unease as best he could, facing the Archon with an expression he hoped conveyed a confidence he did not feel. Bloodlines were a dangerous topic, and appearing to hide something might be just as dangerous as revealing too much.


    "What I know of the bloodlines?" He paused in thought, choosing his words with the care of a clumsy man forced to juggle knives. "Truth be told, I don''t know much. From what I''ve heard, the bloodlines were granted by the gods to help the Imperium resist the Blight. Other than that, I know little of either the gods or their bloodlines."


    Archon Roshan gazed at him with disapproving eyes. "You arrived in the Imperium well over a year ago. By now, you should now more than that."


    "I''ve been preoccupied with other things." Arran managed an uneasy smile, as if embarrassed at his lack of knowledge. "I hoped to prove my gratitude to the Imperium by fighting against the Blight."


    The Archon sighed. "The folly of warriors. To believe that there is no question so great a sharp blade cannot answer it."


    "Perhaps you can teach me about the gods, then?" Arran did not let the opportunity go to waste. The more he got Roshan to speak, the better, because if the Archon was speaking, then Arran could hold his tongue.


    Roshan hesitated for a moment, and he briefly seemed tempted to accept the offer. Yet after a moment, he shook his head. "To remedy your ignorance would be a matter of days, perhaps even weeks. I do not have that much time to spare."


    "I would be grateful for whatever wisdom you could impart," Arran replied, imitating the way he''d seen Kaleesh interact with the priests. It was a poor impression, but one he hoped would be sufficient.


    To his relief, Roshan responded with a slow nod. "Very well," he said. "I suppose there''s no harm in steering you toward the proper path."


    Though Arran was relieved to hear these words ¡ª if nothing else, they meant the Archon had no intention of killing him ¡ª he didn''t fail to notice how easily the man was convinced. From the sound of it, the Archon had intended this all along ¡ª to not only steer Arran toward a path, but to make him ask for it, first.


    It seemed a pointless thing, so petty as to be almost childish. Yet Arran understood what it really meant. The Archon wanted something from him.


    As Arran pondered the Archon''s true intentions, Roshan gestured toward the white marble statues that lined the walls of the circular chamber, a reverent look in his eyes as he gazed at each of them.


    "Each of these statues represents one of the gods," the Archon said, "but there are many other gods, both known and unknown to us. And while it is true that the gods'' power has allowed the Imperium to thrive even in the face of the Blight, that is not why we revere them."


    This caught Arran''s attention. "Then what is the reason?"


    The words sounded well-rehearsed, as if he''d spoken them thousands of times before. Still, Arran found himself intrigued by what he heard. "You mean to say that we can become gods?"


    "We can," Roshan said, and this time, the fervor in his eyes appeared to be entirely real. "Do you know what makes a god?"


    "Power?" Arran guessed.


    "Indeed," the Archon confirmed. "It is power that separates us from the gods, and power alone. Should you ¡ª or I ¡ª become sufficiently powerful, we will become gods ourselves. But the power they wield is no mere strength. It is the power to change the world itself ¡ª to shape both the earth and oneself."


    A frown crossed Arran''s face. "Shape the earth? The way Sacrifice was created?" The words had barely left his mouth when a thought occurred to him. "And the gods'' bloodlines¡­"


    "Exactly!" Roshan replied. "The gods created both the Desolation and Sacrifice, changing the very nature of the world in doing so. Yet that wasn''t all they changed ¡ª they altered their own nature, as well, granting themselves abilities mere mortals can scarcely begin to imagine. Abilities that linger in their bloodlines even today."


    "Then by gaining the gods'' bloodlines, we gain their powers?" Despite himself, Arran felt some enthusiasm at the man''s words. While he had no interest in worshiping the gods, gaining their powers was another matter. That was something he was most interested in.


    "Only the tiniest sliver of them," the Archon said. "Bloodlines are mere seeds. While they grant power, what they grant is only a shred of what the gods possessed." He paused meaningfully, then continued, "Yet with time, a seed can grow into something more. And with endless toil and labor, even the smallest seed can grow to match the tree from which it came."


    Arran furrowed his brow. "Has anyone ever achieved that?"


    "Of course," Roshan replied at once, as if he''d expected the question. "The gods themselves started life as mere mortals, men and beasts both. Yet they became more than that, and in so doing, they showed the rest of us the path to divinity."


    At this, Arran''s frown deepened. The Archon''s words did not answer his question in the slightest ¡ª the gods could hardly have followed in their own footsteps, after all. Yet from the Archon''s fervent expression, he suspected that saying as much would be ill-advised.


    "So the gods'' bloodlines offer us a path to divinity," he said instead. "And by following the gods'' example, we can become gods ourselves?"


    The more he thought about it, the less sense it made. While there like was more to the church''s teachings than what the Archon could tell in a few short minutes, what little he''d heard hardly inspired confidence.


    Yet Roshan nodded as if he''d spoken an obvious truth. "Indeed," he said. "The gods'' bloodlines offer a path, and greatness awaits those who walk that path. That holds true even for those who fall short of the destination."


    "Then what''s the difference between the types of bloodlines?" Arran asked. "If all the bloodlines come from gods, why are there greater and lesser bloodlines?"


    "A good question," Roshan said, the earlier excitement gone from his voice. Now, he sounded more like he was lecturing a student. "The answer is that not all gods are equal. While even the smallest among them test the limits of our comprehension, the greatest created bloodlines so powerful that even a sliver of them can remake those fortunate enough to gain them." He narrowed his eyes as he looked at Arran. "Which brings us to your situation."


    "My situation?" Arran gave a puzzled look. "Are the bloodlines connected to the dagger, somehow?"


    ???One of them is," the Archon replied. "Come, follow me."


    He walked to the other side of the chamber, coming to a halt before a white marble statue in the shape of a tall man with a severe expression.


    "This," Roshan said, pointing to the statue, "is the Master. Among the gods, there are few who can match his power. It is said that in his battles against the Blight, their foul magics never so much as touched him, and that he turn their own attacks against them with a mere wave of his hand."


    At this, Arran''s eyes went wide. "He was a mage?"


    In an instant, the Archon''s eyes filled with fury, and he burst out, "Do not utter such blasphemy in this sacred hall!"


    "I apologize for my ignorance," Arran said hurriedly, silently cursing himself for being so careless. Of course an Archon would not respond well to hearing one of his gods called a mage.


    It took the Archon''s expression a moment to calm, and even when it did, some annoyance remained ¡ª though, oddly, it almost seemed like he was more annoyed with himself for the outburst than he was with Arran for sparking it.


    "I forget that you are an outsider," Roshan said, speaking in a tone that was too friendly by half. "You do not yet fully understand our customs."


    "I apologize," Arran said again. "I know little of magic, and I assumed that¡­" He caught himself mid-sentence, barely avoiding a repeat of his earlier mistake.


    "The gods'' powers are great," Roshan said, quickly cutting Arran off before he could utter any further blasphemous thoughts. "And few among them as great as the Master''s. So complete is his control of this world that he can direct even unnatural energies that taint it."


    "And his bloodline grants a similar ability?" Arran spoke as calmly as he could, though his heart raced. If a bloodline could increase his control over magic ¡ª even the magic of others ¡ª then its value would be beyond anything he had imagined.


    "A sliver of it," the Archon said. "But even that is a gift beyond compare. This single bloodline is the reason we have resisted the Blight for so long ¡ª the reason that the strongest among us are able to face the magic of our enemies."


    "I understand," Arran said, nodding slowly. "A great gift indeed. But how is that related to the dagger?"


    "Magical attacks carry tremendous power," Roshan replied. "And although the Master''s bloodline allows one to redirect a part of that power, that is of little use if one cannot get rid of it ¡ª the force will merely wreak havoc within one''s body until it is completely spent."


    "Is there a way to solve that problem?" Arran asked, although by now, he already knew what the answer would be.


    "There is," the Archon said. "There are weapons ¡ª Shadowblades, they are called ¡ª that can absorb magical energies. One who possesses both the Master''s bloodline and a Shadowblade can channel part of the power of magical attacks into the weapon, making it possible to survive attacks that would otherwise be certain to kill."


    Arran paled slightly, though out of concern rather than surprise. If what the Archon said was true ¡ª and he had little doubt that it was ¡ª then the Shadowflame Society would get slaughtered if the full might of the Imperium ever turned eastward.


    He had uncovered another of the Imperium''s secrets, and this one was far worse than anything he could have imagined.


    Now, he understood how Lady Merem had walked the ruined battlefield at the edge of the borderlands so easily ¡ª how she had withstood the violent unbound Essence that raged there with no apparent effort whatsoever.


    And if that was a power shared by all the Imperium''s Knights, Lords, Archons, and Paladins, then using magic to fight the Imperium would be like trying to kill a fish by drowning it.


    Yet at the same time, he knew that he must gain the Master''s bloodline for himself, no matter the cost. Even if it would not increase his control over magic ¡ª though he suspected it would ¡ª the advantage it would give him against mages and Blightspawn was too big to ignore.


    "The dagger I possess is a Shadowblade?"


    A small smile crossed Roshan''s lips as he saw Arran''s shocked expression. "So it is," he said. "And as you can see, the weapon is of little use to you without the bloodline to match it."


    "Then how can I gain the Master''s bloodline?" Arran asked, no longer bothering with subtlety. He understood perfectly well that the Archon had deliberately led him to this point.


    From the start, Roshan had set out to leave Arran desperate to gain the Master''s bloodline. And now, the Archon would reveal what it was he wanted in return for the prize he offered.


    "As you might have deduced," Roshan said, "a bloodline as great as this cannot simply be bought. It is given only to those who are worthy."


    "Then how do I prove myself worthy?" There was no point in pretending he was anything but desperate to gain the Master''s bloodline. No sane man would be unmoved by the prospect of gaining such a power ¡ª and especially not within the Desolation, where it would be invaluable against the Blight.


    "A good question," the Archon said, a satisfied smile on his face. "And one to which I have yet to find an answer. But perhaps we can reach an understanding. Tell me, is it true that Lady Merem has taken an interest in you?"


    Arran barely managed to suppress a groan. For all his hopes of avoiding the Imperium''s politics, it appeared that he''d already achieved the exact opposite.


    Yet with the Master''s bloodline at stake, there was no choice but to endure.


    "It is," he said, forcing a polite smile to his face. "I take it the two of you are already acquainted?"

 409 Bloodlines

    Roshan did not answer Arran''s question immediately. Instead, the Archon remained silent for a time, looking at him with appraising eyes as if he were a stable master and Arran was a newly bought horse.


    "I have known Lady Merem for many years," the man finally said in a ponderous tone, "and not once have I seen her take an interest in someone without good cause. Even had others not told me of the potential within your blood, her interest would have sparked my curiosity."


    Arran''s heart nearly skipped a beat at the Archon''s words. "The potential within my blood?" He hadn''t forgotten what Lady Merem had told him ¡ª that the church made quick work of those found to have heretical bloodlines.


    "You thought we did not know?" There was a hint of amusement in Roshan''s expression, as if the very idea was absurd. "There aren''t many who have such a difficult time gaining their citizenship. You did not expect such a secret to stay hidden, did you?"


    That was exactly what Arran had expected, of course. He''d journeyed thousands of miles since gaining that first lesser bloodline, and had believed the matter long behind him. But now, it seemed word had traveled just as far ¡ª and as fast ¡ª as he had.


    "There is no need to be concerned," the Archon said, giving a smile that did little to reassure Arran. "I take it Lady Merem told you frightful tales of how the church treats those with heretical bloodlines?"


    "She did," Arran replied cautiously, his muscles tense even if he maintained a calm expression. "Was she lying?"


    "Not lying, exactly," Roshan said. "But she did not tell you the whole truth, either. While it''s true that we are forced to extinguish heretical bloodlines, not all bloodlines carried by outsiders are considered heretical."


    "Then what makes a bloodline heretical?" Arran asked.


    "Corruption," Roshan replied. "All bloodlines derive from gods, both those we know and those we do not. Yet over time, as they are passed on, some bloodlines become corrupt. Those corrupt bloodlines inevitably drive those who possess them to madness, destroying their minds even while strengthening their bodies. And such bloodlines, if they are not mended in time, must be destroyed."


    Arran could not help but be reminded of how the Blood magic had affected him before he gained the Dragon''s Ruin and the two were fused into the Blood Ruin. "Corrupt bloodlines can be mended?" he asked, curious if his suspicions were correct. "How?"


    "A corrupt bloodline can be purified by an intact one," Roshan replied. "Though that will only work when the corrupt bloodline is still a mere seed. Beyond that, too much power would be needed to undo the damage." He shook his head. "But this is a matter unrelated to you. Had your bloodline been corrupt, the strength of it would long since have driven you mad. Which means that the bloodline you possess must be a pure one."


    Yet he also ¡ª finally ¡ª realized what Roshan''s true goal was.


    "You want me to share this bloodline with the church?"


    The Archon nodded. "Correct. There are many gods we do not know, and one of your ancestors was likely empowered with the blood of one of them ¡ª a gift we hope you will share with the church. But before you can do so, you must nurture its power. Only when the seed has truly sprouted will we know whether your bloodline is a lesser one or something more."


    Arran looked at the man with wary eyes. "What exactly does sharing a bloodline entail?"


    "Nothing as ominous as you may think," Roshan said with a laugh. "Once you are strong enough, a small amount of your blood will be all we need."


    For several moments, Arran remained silent. "Do you intend to strengthen me, then?" he finally asked.


    "No," Roshan replied. "The true path to strength ¡ª the path the gods have shown us ¡ª is one of toil and labor. If we were to fatten you up like a pig, we might well end up corrupting your bloodline. Your strength needs to be your own." A small smile crossed his lips, and he added, "Though if you accept my offer, I can offer some small help."


    Arran furrowed his brow in thought as he looked at the Archon. So far, the man had proved far more reasonable than he had expected ¡ª enough that he was convinced there must be some trap lurking in the shadows.


    "What exactly is your offer?"


    "It''s simple," Roshan said. "I need but two promises from you. The first of these is that when you grow strong enough, you will share your bloodline with the church. As for the second, I ask that you regularly visit me, so that I can keep an eye on your development."


    Arran''s frown grew deeper. "That''s it?" he asked, unsure whether he''d understood the man correctly. "That''s all you want?"


    Yet the Archon merely nodded. "That''s all," he confirmed. "In return for those two things, I will not only grant you the Master''s bloodline, but also ensure that the cost of your greater bloodlines remains manageable. Otherwise, with your strength, just the second bloodline you choose might cost dozens of amulets."


    Arran looked at the man in puzzlement. He''d expected some outrageous demand ¡ª that he would have to spy on Lady Merem, or fight Roshan''s enemies. But instead, the Archon had made an offer so generous he could scarcely believe it.


    Roshan smiled as he saw Arran''s surprised expression. "Truth be told, Lady Merem would eventually have offered you the Master''s bloodline, as she will doubtless tell you when you next visit her. I am merely offering you a faster path, and one that does not require you to choose a faction."


    "But why?" Arran asked, almost as baffled by the Archon''s apparent honesty as he was by the man''s unprovoked generosity.


    "Too many newcomers to the Imperium distrust us, believing that we are biased against outsiders. And while that holds true for some among our ranks, the church itself exists for all within the Imperium." Roshan made a gesture toward the statues that lined the walls of the chamber, reverence in his eyes as he looked at each. "The gods'' wisdom is available to all who wish to accept it."


    "Then I accept your offer."


    "Good," Roshan responded with a pleased nod. "Bloodlines are granted in the Hall of Blessings. I have arranged for you to be given the Master''s bloodline when you choose to take it. I would suggest that you do so immediately, but if you wish to wait, the choice is yours."


    "You already arranged it?" Arran raised an eyebrow. "What if I''d refused?"


    "I assumed ¡ª correctly, as it turned out ¡ª that you weren''t an idiot," Roshan replied flatly.


    Arran frowned, but he could not deny that only a fool would have refused the offer. In truth, it was more a token of goodwill than it was an agreement ¡ª a gift that would benefit him greatly, and at no real cost.


    "But we have spoken enough, for now," Roshan continued. "I ask that you visit me again after your first true foray into the Desolation, so that I can observe your development."


    "Then I thank you for your help," Arran said. "It''s beyond what I had expected."


    Roshan smiled once more. "You will find that the church treats its allies well," he said. "But for now, I bid you farewell."


    When Arran stepped outside the hall, he found the young priestess still waiting for him, and as she escorted him out of the Inner Sanctum, he pondered his conversation with Roshan.


    It was clear that the Archon had planned it all in advance. The man had expertly put him in a position where he would have agreed to any demand, and had then proved his beneficence by demanding nothing of value whatsoever.


    Yet although Roshan had shown him nothing but kindness, Arran could not shake the impression that the man had hidden his true motives. It was a gut feeling more than a reasoned thought, but he was nevertheless all but certain that it was true.


    Still, no matter how he looked at it, he could not see what the Archon could have gained from the exchange other than fostering goodwill.


    When they reached the gates of the Inner Sanctum some minutes later, Arran gave the priestess a nod of thanks, then stepped outside, where he found Kaleesh already waiting for him.


    "You were gone a long time," the captain said, curiosity clear in his eyes. "I was starting to wonder whether I''d actually have to rescue you from the church''s clutches. How did it go?"


    "Better than I expected." Arran glanced at the Paladin who still stood guarding the gates to the Inner Sanctum. "If you know where we can find the Hall of Blessings, I''ll tell you on the way."


    As they made their way through the Sanctum, Kaleesh listened intently while Arran talked, his eyes going wide with surprise when he heard about the Master''s bloodline, and again when he heard about the Archon''s offer.


    "So it''s a bloodline, then," the captain finally said, a thoughtful frown on his face. "I''m almost disappointed. I always thought they had special techniques against mages."


    "They probably have those, as well," Arran said. "I doubt this bloodline will be enough to weather the full force of a Warlock''s attack."


    "Perhaps," Kaleesh said, though he sounded doubtful. "I''m surprised that Archon gave you the bloodline so easily, though. I''ve never known the church to be especially generous."


    Arran shrugged. "I doubt it was simple generosity. I imagine Roshan thought this the best way to get what he wanted."


    "Now if only we knew exactly what that was." Kaleesh sighed, then gestured ahead. "But we''ve arrived. Behold the Hall of Blessings."


    The building that lay before them was built from the same white marble as most of the other buildings in the Sanctum, but many times larger than the ones Arran had seen so far. Tall and imposing, its facade alone already resembled a small palace, with two rows of massive columns on either side of the entrance.


    "I can see why the church needs so much coin," Arran said, raising an eyebrow. "You could buy an entire village for just one of these pillars."


    "Just wait until you see the inside," Kaleesh replied with a grin. "I had a look when you were talking to the Archon, and¡­" He shook his head as he chuckled. "You''ll have to see it for yourself."


    Arran looked at the steady stream of people entering and leaving the building, many of them soldiers and Rangers, with no few bearing nervous expressions. "We can just walk in?"


    Kaleesh nodded. "The Hall is divided into three parts. The first is for the lesser bloodlines, and anyone can enter that. The second part, however, requires you to show a Reaver''s amulet to enter, and the third a Warlock''s." He cast a sideways glance at Arran. "I didn''t get to see that part."


    When they stepped inside the building some moments later, Arran''s eyes immediately went wide with astonishment. They had entered a vast hall, with numerous elaborate murals painted on the walls, most of them depicting various people and animals.


    Yet what made Arran do a double take was the ceiling. It was high and featured many intricate carvings in various geometric shapes. But most surprisingly, it appeared to be made completely out of gold.


    "Is that actually gold?" Arran asked in a low voice, uncertain if his eyes were deceiving him. Even if he had more gold than he could ever spend, to use so much of it just to decorate a ceiling almost seemed obscene.


    "I can''t see them using fake gold," Kaleesh said. "Not here. To the Darians, this is as holy a place as the Imperium holds."


    As Arran looked around, he quickly saw that his companion was right. While there were many soldiers studying the various characters in the murals, he also saw many people kneeling before the painted figures, touching their foreheads in reverence as they did so.


    "These paintings," Arran said, "they represent the gods?"


    "The lesser ones," Kaleesh confirmed. "Of course, the gods all have their own temples in the gardens, but the gods'' blood is supposedly kept in the catacombs beneath this place."


    Arran watched the soldiers and worshipers for a time, then finally asked, "So how do we buy bloodlines?"


    "From what I gathered, you just approach one of the priests," Kaleesh said. "You tell them which bloodline you''ve chosen, and they take you apart to receive your blessing."


    "Did you see any interesting bloodlines here?"


    Kaleesh shook his head. "As far as I can tell, the bloodlines of these gods mostly do ordinary things." He lowered his voice as one of the priests glared at them ¡ª apparently, calling the gods'' bloodlines ordinary was frowned upon ¡ª then continued, "I saw at least half a dozen different ones that all claimed to enhance strength."


    Arran furrowed his brow. "Then let''s move on. I want to see what greater bloodlines there are to be had."


    They walked to the far end of the room, where a pair of large closed doors stood guarded by half a dozen white-clad Rangers and twice as many soldiers. As they approached, one of the Rangers stepped forward. "Are you worthy of entering?"


    Kaleesh gave the man an annoyed look. "I was here barely half an hour ago. Do you think anything has changed since then?"


    The Ranger did not respond. Instead, he merely repeated, "Are you worthy of entering?"


    Kaleesh sighed and produced two of the Reavers'' amulets he''d gotten from Arran. "See? Still as worthy as I was half an hour ago."


    The Ranger gave a calm nod, unperturbed by the captain''s blunt manner. "Open the doors."


    The soldiers behind him immediately opened the large doors, and as Arran and Kaleesh stepped into the next hall, they saw that it was much smaller than the previous one, though no less ornately decorated.


    This hall, too, had murals painted on its walls, albeit far fewer than the previous one. There were fewer people, too ¡ª only Rangers and priests, along with a single Knight.


    Arran''s eyes only lingered on the murals and the Rangers for moment before he fixed his attention on another set of the doors at the far end of the second hall. These doors, too, were guarded by half a dozen white-clad Rangers, although they had no soldiers to accompany them.


    "No point in wasting time here," Arran said. "Let''s head to the third hall."


    They reached the second set of doors a moment later, and the Ranger who stepped forward asked with a single glance, "You are Arran?"


    "I am," Arran said. "May we pass?"


    "You may," the Ranger replied. "But your companion¡­"


    Before the man could finish the sentence, Arran produced his two Warlocks'' amulets. "This makes us worthy, I assume?"


    "It does," the Ranger replied with a respectful nod, while the other Rangers behind him already began to open the doors.


    As they stepped into the third hall and the doors were closed behind them, Arran saw at once that this hall was markedly different from the previous two. There was no more gilding to be seen, with the walls instead painted a simple white.


    And while there were nine paintings with various imposing figures on the walls ¡ª three on the left wall, three on the far wall, and three on the right ¡ª there were no elaborate murals that surrounded them.


    Moreover, there was only a single person within the hall ¡ª a white-robed priestess, who looked up as soon as she saw Arran and Kaleesh enter.


    "Be welcome," she said, giving both of them a small bow. Turning to Arran, she continued, "Archon Roshan has ordered that you be given the Master''s bloodline, and at no cost to yourself."


    Arran raised an eyebrow as he realized that Roshan had done him yet another favor. Apparently, the Master''s bloodline was normally not granted for free even to those who were judged worthy of receiving it.


    "Since you will receive the Master''s bloodline as a gift from the church," she went on, "it will not count as your first greater bloodline. If you possess a Warlock''s amulet, you can choose another, as well."


    "And what would a third cost me?" Arran asked, glancing at the paintings on the walls. Now that he got a closer look, he could see that none of them clearly showed the faces of the figures they depicted. Instead, they showed only vague features.


    "The cost will depend on the strength of your blood," the priestess said. "In your case¡­" She hesitated, then continued, "Archon Roshan has instructed us to be generous, but if what he said is correct, the third bloodline you take will require at least ten amulets, and the fourth ten times as many as that. Without the kindness he has shown you, it would be twice as many."


    Arran gave her a wry smile. "I don''t suppose I even need to ask about the fifth, then."


    "Few Knights ever gain four bloodlines," she replied, some surprise in her voice. "And to gain five is only given to the strongest of Lords and Paladins."


    "Very well," Arran said. "Can you show us these bloodlines, then?" As the paintings carried no writing, he''d already deduced they would have to rely on the priestess for information.


    "Of course," she said. "Please, follow me."


    She walked over to the nearest painting on the left of the room, giving it a pious bow and touching her hand to her forehead before turning back around. A hint of unease flashed across her face when she saw that Arran did not repeat the gesture ¡ª though Kaleesh did ¡ª but it disappeared an instant later, and she indicated the painting with her hand.


    As Arran studied it, he saw that it bore the image of a giant man, thickly muscled and radiating an aura of incomparable strength.


    "This," the priestess began, "is the Titan. It is said that he has the power to shatter mountains and tear even starmetal with his hands. In his battles against the Blight, he destroyed entire armies through sheer force, even their strongest champions no match for his power."


    Arran listened with great interest. "So what does his bloodline do?" he asked when the priestess finished talking.


    "The gods'' bloodlines are reflections of their abilities," she replied calmly. "None among us know the full extent of their power, however, and the shape each takes depends not just on the bloodline, but also on its recipient."


    "In other words, this one grants strength." Arran quickly decided that this would be among the bloodlines he took before leaving the Imperium, and ignoring the priestess''s irritated look, he turned to the next painting, which held the image of a vicious-looking man. "What about this one?"


    "The Devourer is often said to be the most ferocious of the gods. He is thought to have the ability to draw strength from those he slays, their deaths feeding his fury and healing his wounds as he cuts an unstoppable path through all he encounters."


    Arran frowned as the description immediately sparked recognition in his mind. Unless he was very much mistaken, this was a bloodline he already possessed. "Narzhan?" he guessed, recalling the name the woman in the mines had used.


    At once, the priestess''s eyes went wide with shock. "To speak the gods'' names is blasphemy!" she hissed, almost seeming fearful that someone might overhear her.


    "I apologize," Arran said. "But it''s him, isn''t it?"


    Though she did not answer the question, her uneasy expression told him all he needed to know. Narzhan was the Devourer, then, whose bloodline he already carried.


    Yet even if the priestess could tell him anything he did not already know, he doubted she would choose to do so, and he quickly moved to the next painting. "And this one?"


    Some relief in her eyes, the priestess said, "The Sage is thought to be wisest among the gods. His comprehension of the world is said to be so complete that there is nothing beyond his understanding."


    "The Sage?" Arran rubbed his chin as he stared at the painting, and although he had a hard time imagining what exactly the Sage''s bloodline would entail, he decided that he would definitely need to acquire it.


    Yet a thought came to him as he looked at the painting and considered the priestess''s words. "You speak of the gods as though they are still alive," he said. "But didn''t they sacrifice themselves to drive back the Blight?"


    The question earned him a dumbfounded look from the priestess. "Gods are eternal," she said, with a tone in her voice that suggested even the smallest child should know this much. "Though they sacrificed their bodies, their immortal spirits live on."


    Arran gave her a puzzled look, but quickly decided against asking more. Interesting though the matter might be, right now, he was more concerned with the bloodlines he had to choose from.


    On the far wall they found the Hunter, who the priestess said could find any prey, even from a thousand miles away. This bloodline, Arran suspected, had to be related to the senses ¡ª which made it another one he needed.


    Then came the Immortal, who could heal instantly from even the most grievous wounds, shrugging off even mortal blows without ill effect.


    And third was the Gale, a god whose speed was said to exceed the impossible ¡ª a description that immediately drew an intrigued look from Kaleesh.


    And finally, on the right wall, they found the last three paintings.


    First of these was of the Guardian, whose body was said to be unbreakable to starmetal and magic both. And as Arran heard the priestess describe him, he could not help but imagine having both the Guardian''s bloodline and the Immortal''s.


    Then came the Champion ¡ª a god the priestess described as an incomparably skilled swordsman. It was a description that hardly seemed to match the others in the hall, yet the priestess''s tone suggested she held him in even higher regard than the others.


    And last, there was the Shade, who was said to move without being seen, striking down his enemies without them ever knowing he was there. And as Arran heard his description, he was immediately reminded of Nisra''s Knight ¡ª the one who could somehow mask his presence.


    As the priestess finished the last of the descriptions, Arran knew he had a problem.


    There wasn''t a single one among the bloodlines he did not desperately want. Even the Hunter''s bloodline would be invaluable in studying the seals he had to break, and the others seemed more valuable still.


    Yet another thought came to him, and he asked, "The Master wasn''t among these. Is his bloodline not a greater one?"


    "It is, of course," the priestess replied. "But not all the gods are represented in these halls, and there are some bloodlines that cannot be bought with amulets alone."


    Arran narrowed his eyes at these words. From what she said, it seemed the Master wasn''t the only one who was missing. "What about Mardek?" he asked, taking the risk of offending the priestess to see if he could glean some information from her reaction.


    If the mention of Narzhan had shocked the priestess, this time she stared at him in horror, pale and at a complete loss for words. Several moments passed in silence, before she finally whispered. "The Ruiner''s bloodline is not present within these halls. And I beg you, do not speak the gods'' names again."


    "I apologize," Arran said, although he was not the least bit sorry. Her reaction had exactly what he had hoped for ¡ª an unmistakable sign that Mardek''s bloodline not only existed, but that it was important, as well.


    When the priestess had finally regained her composure, she faced Arran uneasily. "Have you made a decision?" she asked, clearly eager to see him leave sooner rather than later.


    Arran thought for a moment, rubbing his chin as he considered his options. Finally, he gave the priestess a short nod.


    "I believe I have."

 410 The Ruiners Temple

    "What have you decided?" the priestess asked. Though she spoke in a polite voice, the look in her eyes strongly suggested that she wished Arran would hurry up and leave already.


    "I have decided to postpone my choice," Arran said, answering the priestess'' frustrated stare with an overly friendly smile. "Decisions like these require careful thought, wouldn''t you agree?"


    The priestess remained silent for a moment, and finally grimaced in a poor imitation of a smile. "Of course," she spoke between clenched teeth. "Then I take it you will return soon?"


    "I will," Arran replied. "A day or two should be enough to properly weigh my options. So you will see us again before long."


    Kaleesh kept a calm expression as they made their way back out of the Hall of Blessings, but the moment they exited the massive building, he turned to Arran with a dumbfounded look in his eyes.


    "Any particular reason you decided to antagonize the church? Or did the Archon somehow take your wits during your meeting? To speak the gods'' names is dangerous anywhere in the Imperium. And to do it here, at the center of the church''s power¡­" He shook his head in disbelief. "How did you know those names, anyway?"


    Arran cast a glance at their surroundings, and when he was certain there was no one near enough to hear him, he replied, "I believe those are the gods whose bloodlines I possess."


    Kaleesh''s eyes went wide with shock. "Those are your bloodlines? And you spoke their names in the Hall of Blessings?! Once word of this gets to that Archon¡ª" He cut off mid-sentence, a frown appearing on his face. "You already told him?"


    "I didn''t tell him," Arran said. "But I might as well have, for all the difference it made. It took me longer to realize than it should have, but I''m confident that Archons can see bloodlines."


    "See bloodlines?" Kaleesh stroked his chin, his brows furrowed in thought. "It''s well-known that priests can recognize those who carry the Darian bloodline, but you''re saying Archons can see all bloodlines? How do you know this?"


    "The priests'' ability has to be a bloodline," Arran replied. "The way they can recognize those who carry Darian blood ¡ª it must come from a bloodline. And if that''s the case, it should be far stronger in Archons than in common priests."


    Kaleesh nodded, his eyes briefly roaming the Sanctum''s grounds around them. In the distance, many people could be seen wandering the paths between the temples ¡ª soldiers, commoners, and more than a few priests among them. The captain''s gaze lingered on a small group of priests for a moment, an uneasy frown forming on his brow.


    "It makes sense," he finally said, "but how do you know it''s true?"


    Kaleesh gave him a skeptical look. "That''s what convinced you? An Archon having a chat with you?"


    Arran shook his head. "It was the same with Roshan. He had no good reason to invite me personally. Any random priest could have told me the same, and he made no real demands of me, either. Instead, he merely kept me around long enough to get a good look at me."


    "If priests can recognize a single bloodline, then Archons might see more than that," Kaleesh said, though his voice still held some doubt. "But if the church already knows what this bloodline of yours is, why would they not just take it?"


    "Why indeed." Arran rubbed his chin in thought, then continued, "I don''t think they can. All that talk of toil and labor ¡ª I think it''s more than just piety. I think bloodlines somehow have to be mastered before they can be shared."


    Kaleesh shrugged uneasily. "Perhaps you''re right. But even if you are, why antagonize the church?"


    "Two reasons," Arran replied. "First, I needed to know how interested the Archon really is." He cast a glance at the Hall of Blessings. "I think we have an answer to that. And second, I had to know which bloodline he''s after." He paused as he cast a long look at the temples that littered the Sanctum''s ample grounds. "Do you think the Sanctum has a temple for the Ruiner?"


    "If I didn''t know any better, I''d almost believe you''re developing a taste for intrigue," Kaleesh said flatly. "But yes, there should be a temple for the Ruiner somewhere around here. The church would not risk offending even the least of the gods."


    "Then I suggest we go find it," Arran said. "Before I take any new bloodlines, I''d like to see what secrets this one might hold."


    Finding the Ruiner''s temple proved a simple matter. The first priest they approached was happy to give them directions ¡ª even if the man seemed surprised that they wished to visit the Ruiner''s temple ¡ª and barely a quarter-hour later, they found themselves standing in front of one of the many temples the Sanctum held.


    Like all the temples in the Sanctum, it was built from white marble, with elaborate carvings covering its outer walls. Yet where most of the temples were large and busy with people, this one was modest in size, and it stood in a secluded corner of the Sanctum with barely anyone around.


    "I guess he''s not the most popular of the gods," Kaleesh observed.


    Arran raised an eyebrow. "You grew up in the Imperium. Shouldn''t you know already?"


    "The Imperium has hundreds of gods," Kaleesh replied with a shrug. "And nobody''s ever accused me of being pious. As far as I''m concerned, you''ve seen one temple, you''ve seen them all."


    Arran cast a glance at the temple before them. "For once, I hope you''re wrong."


    When they entered the temple a moment later, Arran saw that it was all but empty. The only person inside was a lone priest, who was carefully cleaning one of the elaborate murals that covered the walls. Absorbed in the task, he barely appeared to have noticed the newcomers at all.


    Yet if the priest paid them little mind, Arran did not have any attention to spare for the man, either. Instead, his focus was entirely on the murals and what they depicted.


    Covering the walls were several large paintings, showing various scenes of battle. The scenes were all different, but the main character in each was the same ¡ª a giant dragon, slaughtering Blightspawn by the thousands. And while the artwork was masterfully done, it was obvious that the artists had never seen a dragon with their own eyes.


    But if the details of the dragon weren''t quite accurate, the artists clearly hadn''t worked entirely from mere myth and legend, either. At the very least, they''d been instructed by someone who had actually seen dragons.


    "The Ruiner is a dragon?" Kaleesh shot Arran a sideways glance, both surprise and a hint of envy in his eyes.


    "Indeed he is." The one who had spoken was the priest, who had silently appeared beside them as they were studying the murals. He was a man just past his middle years, with several streaks of gray in his otherwise dark hair. And as he stood next to them, he gazed at the murals with a reverent expression.


    "And not just any dragon, mind you," the priest continued. "The Ruiner is the god of dragons, the ancestor of all dragons that ever roamed this world." He paused briefly, then added in a softer tone, "And despite what you may have heard, the Ruiner is no less than any of the gods."


    Arran raised an eyebrow. "What is it you think we heard?"


    "The usual lies," the priest replied morosely. "That the Ruiner is a mindless monster, possessing only viciousness rather than true power. That he is weak, robbing only the strength of others."


    "Weak?" Arran looked at the man in astonishment. "The Ruiner is weak?" The very idea of it was preposterous. He had witnessed the strength of Crassus, and if the Ruiner was even half as strong, then nobody in his right mind would call him weak.


    "Of course not!" the priest snapped, apparently mistaking Arran''s confusion for doubt. "If he was weak, do you think he could have¡ª" He caught himself mid-sentence, and angrily shook his head. "He isn''t weak. Not even the Titan could match his strength."


    "That''s not what the other priests told us," Arran lied. "They said his strength pales compared to the Titan''s."


    The man''s eyes went wide with outrage, as if he''d just been personally insulted. "They did, did they?" Face twisted in a grim smile, he continued, "The Titan stronger than the Ruiner? Ridiculous! When the two fought, it wasn''t the Ruiner who was eaten!"


    "Eaten?" Kaleesh looked at the priest in wonder. "You mean to say the Ruiner ate the Titan?"


    "That''s right," the man replied, a satisfied grin now replacing his earlier anger. "I bet the others didn''t tell you about that, did they? About the fate of their precious Titan."


    Arran gave the man a questioning look. Not because the Ruiner supposedly ate the Titan ¡ª if he was a dragon, such a thing only made sense ¡ª but because he couldn''t understand why the church would consider him weak.


    "If the Ruiner is so strong, why do the other priests not respect him?" he asked, eager to goad the priest into revealing more. "How could they dare offend so powerful a god?"


    "The Ruiner never shared his bloodline with the church," the priest replied. "See that?" He pointed at one of the murals, where a small figure could be seen fighting beside the giant dragon. "Supposedly, that''s the first Imperator. Rumor has it that the Ruiner favored him over the church."


    "Did he share his bloodline with the Imperator, then?"


    Arran asked the question in a casual tone, but although his expression remained calm, his thoughts were racing. Because if his suspicions were correct, then his position in the Imperium was even more precarious than he had realized.


    If, as he suspected, the Ruiner''s bloodline was something the Imperial Knights had and the church wanted, then he had unwittingly stumbled into a conflict between two of the Imperium''s most powerful forces. And for all the attention Kadun''s death had brought them, he could not help but feel that this matter was a far more dangerous one.


    The priest, however, neither confirmed nor denied his misgivings. "I wouldn''t know," the man said with a shrug. "Though it wouldn''t surprise me. But matters like these¡­" He shook his head. "The Archons tell us priests little, and my choice of temples doesn''t help my position within the church."


    There was a hint of defiance in his voice as he spoke those last words, and Arran had little doubt that the man''s devotion to the Ruiner easily outweighed his loyalty to the church.


    "Then I thank you for your time." Arran gave the priest a friendly nod. "I have no doubt that we will meet each other again soon. I still have many questions about the Ruiner."


    Disappointment flashed across the priest''s eyes when he heard his guests would be leaving, but Arran''s final words brought a broad smile to his face. "If you wish to learn more about the Ruiner, you will always be welcome in this place."


    Arran and Kaleesh left the temple some moments later, and as they stepped outside, the captain shot Arran an envious look.


    "Dragon''s blood," he said in a wistful tone. "You lucky bastard."


    "Lucky?" Arran frowned. "Whether I''m lucky remains to be seen. You heard what that priest said about the Ruiner and the Imperator."


    "You think the Imperator has the Ruiner''s bloodline?"


    "I do," Arran confirmed. "And if I had to guess, I''d say the Imperial Knights have it, as well."


    Kaleesh muttered a curse. "If that''s true, we have a problem. If the church wants¡ª" He stopped talking mid-sentence, and looked at Arran suspiciously. "You mean to visit her, don''t you?"


    Arran shrugged. "I don''t see another way. If I''m right, then only the Imperial Knights can tell me more about the Ruiner''s bloodline. And besides¡­ Lady Merem wants to recruit us, while the church just wants my blood. Between those two, I''d say her offer is the better one."


    "If she finds out which bloodline you carry, she might change her mind," Kaleesh replied. "Unless you think she already knows?"


    Arran considered it for a moment, then shook his head. "If she knew, I doubt she would''ve let me leave so easily."


    "Yet you still want to visit her."


    "If you have a better option, I''d be happy to hear it." Arran shrugged. "It''s either the church or the Imperial Knights, and I prefer my chances with the latter."


    Kaleesh remained silent for a moment, his eyes wandering across the white-clad priests who could be seen walking the Sanctum''s grounds. Finally, he sighed. "I suppose you''re right. Though you risk making an enemy out of the church, and that''s a dangerous thing."


    "I know," Arran replied. "But I fear that to have them as allies would be even more dangerous."


    "Probably." Kaleesh rubbed his chin, then continued, "But enough of that. Let''s find an inn in the city. If we''re going to the Citadel, I want a solid meal and a good night''s sleep, first."


    Arran had no objections to this. The prospect of meeting Lady Merem was daunting even if he''d made the decision himself, and although a meal and a night''s sleep would do little to change that, he was all too happy to postpone the meeting by a day.


    As they made their way out of the Sanctum and back to the city, Kaleesh gave Arran a curious look. "Have you decided yet? Which bloodline to choose?"


    "Of course," Arran replied. "All of them are tempting, but my first choice has to be the Sage''s bloodline."


    In truth, he''d made his decision instantly, before the priestess even told them of the other bloodlines. If the Sage''s bloodline increased his comprehension, it was invaluable not just to his swordsmanship, but also to his magic.


    Moreover, it should help him advance along the path of Enlightenment the Governor of Knight''s Watch had spoken of ¡ª the path he believed led to the power of Lords and Imperial Knights.


    Kaleesh, however, seemed unconvinced. "Comprehension is well and good," he said, "but all the understanding in the world won''t save you from a dagger to the back."


    "Which bloodline will you choose, then?" Arran asked. "I have two amulets, and I only need one."


    At this, the captain''s eyes went wide with surprise. "You''re giving me one?!"


    "Of course," Arran replied. "The first bloodline I buy requires only a single amulet, but the next one will take much more than that. No point in having a single amulet sit around unused."


    "I don''t¡ª" Kaleesh began, but he fell silent mid-sentence. "Thank you," he finally said.


    "Don''t mention it," Arran said somewhat uneasily. "So which bloodline will you choose?"


    "The Guardian''s," Kaleesh replied instantly.


    "Really? Why?" Arran furrowed his brow. While all the greater bloodlines were valuable, the Guardian''s seemed almost lackluster compared to some of the others. While it might offer some protection, in his experience the best protection was to simply kill one''s enemies. And with that, the Guardian''s bloodline would offer little help.


    Kaleesh shrugged. "As much as I dislike admitting it, I''m not as strong as you ¡ª which is something a bloodline or two won''t change. But as long as I avoid dying, the army can be my sword."


    After giving it a moment''s thought, Arran realized Kaleesh''s choice made sense. As skilled a swordsman as he might be, he would hard-pressed to defeat a group of Rangers by himself. But with an army at his command, he didn''t need to ¡ª all he needed was to enough time for his allies to arrive.


    It was a path very different from the one Arran followed. While Arran had spent years trying to improve his own strength, Kaleesh relied on the power of others as much as he did on his own. And where Arran spent most of his time honing his skills, Kaleesh spent at least as much time managing his troops and studying strategy.


    "I suppose you''re right," Arran said finally. "It wouldn''t be my first choice, but for you¡­" He paused, then gave a small nod. "It''s a good choice."


    He left another thought unspoken, however ¡ª that the two different paths would ultimately lead to different destinations. But he did not have the chance to linger on that thought, as the captain''s reply came an instant later.


    "Of course it is," Kaleesh said. "But more importantly, you should know that someone is following us. Ever since we left the Sanctum. Look to your right ¡ª the man in gray, about a hundred paces away."


    They had exited the Sanctum a quarter-hour earlier, and amid the crowds that filled the streets of the city proper, Arran had not noticed the man. But as he cast a furtive glance in the direction Kaleesh had indicated, he knew at once that the captain was right ¡ª the man was following them.


    That they were being followed was no big surprise ¡ª not with them thoroughly mixed up in the Imperium''s intrigue ¡ª but when Arran focused his Sense on the man, his expression immediately hardened.


    "It''s a Knight," he said in a low voice. "One with the Shade''s bloodline, I think."


    He should''ve Sensed the man''s Living Shadow weapon ¡ª his Shadowblade, as the Darians called it ¡ª far sooner, but much like the Knight Nisra had sent to fetch him in Knight''s Watch, this man''s presence was somehow masked, as if he was much farther away than he actually was.


    "A Knight?" Though Kaleesh kept a calm expression, concern flashed across his eyes. "Who would send a Knight to follow us?"


    "The church, maybe?" Arran suggested.


    Kaleesh shook his head. "The church has no need for such clumsy tactics. In the city, little escapes their notice. Besides¡­" He cast a casual glance at the area where the man still followed, making it look as if he was looking at the market stalls there. In a softer tone, he continued, "I don''t think anyone would use Knight just to observe us."


    "Then¡­" A deep frown formed on Arran''s brow as he realized what Kaleesh was thinking. "An assassin?"


    The captain did not answer immediately, remaining silent as they passed a crowd of people outside one of the city''s taverns. Only when they moved out of earshot of the group did he reply, "Not an assassin. If he had any skill at it, I doubt I would have noticed him. Rather, I think he''s a Knight sent to do an assassin''s job."


    Arran had no time to wonder just where Kaleesh got his knowledge of assassins. Instead, resisting the urge to look at the grey-clad man again, he asked, "Any suggestions?"


    "Of course," Kaleesh replied. "For a start, I''d suggest we make sure he doesn''t succeed in his mission."

 411 Assassin

    Arran gave Kaleesh a flat look. "As much as I support the idea of us not dying, I hoped you had some more practical suggestions to give."


    Though he did not glance backward as they made their way through the city''s streets ¡ª so as not to tip off their pursuer ¡ª his Sense made it easy to keep track of the Knight.


    And with as poor a job as the man did of remaining inconspicuous, it only took him moments to realize that Kaleesh was right ¡ª the Knight had clearly not been sent for his proficiency as a spy.


    The captain shrugged. "We have time. I doubt he''ll attack with others around. Chances are he intends to wait until we leave the city, then make his move as we travel back to the army."


    "So we have time," Arran said, nodding thoughtfully. "But we still need a plan." He pondered the situation for some moments, then added, "We could ask Lady Merem for help."


    "Or the church," Kaleesh replied. "I expect either would offer help if asked. But following us is no crime, and the request would leave us indebted to the side that offered aid."


    This thought had occurred to Arran, as well. And worse, receiving the aid of either Lady Merem or the church would be as good as announcing that they had chosen a faction. That would afford them some protection, but at the price of earning them far more powerful enemies than they already.


    "We''ll have to deal with him ourselves," he finally decided. "And we''ll have to do it today."


    "Today?" Confusion was written across Kaleesh''s face as he stared at Arran. "It''s a Knight. How do you propose we deal with him?"


    Arran replied at once. "An ambush. He won''t expect us to strike first, much less here in the city. Unless we ask either Lady Merem or the church for help, it''s our best chance."


    An uneasy frown crossed Kaleesh''s face. "It might be our best chance, but that doesn''t make it a good chance. I know you defeated a Knight once, but¡­"


    "In a fair fight, most Knights would still defeat me," Arran admitted. "Which is why I don''t intend to make this fight a fair one." He cast a glance at the taverns and inns around them. "But let''s find a meal, first. If we''re going through with this, we''ll have to do it after sunset, anyway."


    And perhaps, if they were lucky, the situation would change while they ate. Perhaps the Knight''s backer would call him off at the last moment, or perhaps the man himself would decide against instigating violence in Sacrifice.


    It was a small hope, but one Arran couldn''t let go. Because even if he''d already bested a Knight, he had some doubts about his chances of repeating the feat.


    Finding a tavern for a meal proved more difficult than Arran had expected. While the city held many inns and taverns, most of these looked disreputable at best, serving food that looked barely edible and with drunken Rangers and soldiers making up most of the customers.


    "You could grow rich running a tavern in this city," Kaleesh observed. "With troops returning from the dangers of the Desolation, they''ll spend their coin easily when celebrating their survival."


    "Maybe," Arran said. "But don''t you think the church takes most of it?"


    As realization dawned in the captain''s eyes, his intrigued frown turned sullen. "You''re probably right." He shook his head, annoyance clear in his eyes. "I suppose that in Sacrifice, even the brothels'' earnings end up in the church''s coffers."


    "There are brothels in the city?" Arran looked at Kaleesh with some surprise. In lands run by the church, he had somehow thought such things would be absent.


    "Of course," Kaleesh said. "See that tavern?" He pointed to one of the many taverns that lined the street they were on ¡ª one especially full of drunken revelers. "At least half the people there aren''t soldiers, and most locals wouldn''t visit a place like that. The ones that do¡­ well, a few coins, and you can easily find someone to warm your bed at night."


    Arran gave him a flat look. "Perhaps you should put your skills to work on finding us a tavern that serves a proper meal."


    To his relief, Kaleesh successfully did so just a few minutes later, finding them a small tavern run by a friendly old woman whose size suggested that she had more than a passing interest in good food.


    The meal was every bit as good as Arran had hoped ¡ª a meaty stew, served at a price more reasonable than any they''d found in Sacrifice ¡ª and when they finished the last of the food an hour later, he cast a satisfied look at his empty plate.


    Yet his contentment lasted only a moment before a frown returned to his face. He could Sense that the Knight was waiting perhaps a hundred paces away, hiding among a group of soldiers outside a tavern they''d passed earlier.


    With evening already fallen and the streets filled with drunken soldiers, going unnoticed would be an easy matter even for so clumsy an assassin.


    "He''s still there," Arran said in a low voice. "Waiting for us."


    Kaleesh sighed. "Then we go through with your plan, such as it is. What do you have in mind?"


    Arran hesitated, but only for a second. "If he wants to kill us both, then I''ll be his first target ¡ª once I''m dead, getting to you should be an easy matter."


    "I suppose you''re right," Kaleesh admitted reluctantly. "So you want to use yourself as bait?"


    Arran nodded. "We''ll leave through the back. There are some alleys nearby where hardly anyone goes." He''d Sensed only two people passing in the past hour, and right now, the alleys behind the tavern stood empty entirely. It was the perfect place for the Knight to attack ¡ª or be ambushed.


    "We''ll split up behind the tavern," he continued, "and you''ll continue toward the crowded street ahead. I''ll remain behind, but I''ll make him think I''m moving down another alley."


    "You can do that?" Kaleesh asked, a hesitant look in his eyes.


    "I can." At least, Arran thought he could. Weakening his aura to the Knight''s Sense shouldn''t be too difficult using Shadow Essence, and his control was good enough to have the magic go unnoticed.


    "Then let''s move. There''s no point in waiting."


    The tavern keeper gave them an odd look when they said they''d prefer to leave from the back, but when they explained that they were trying to avoid some drunks who''d tried to brawl with them earlier, she gave a sympathetic nod and pointed them toward the back door.


    The alley behind the tavern was dark and carried the foul smell of drunks'' emptied bladders, but Arran barely noticed it. His focus was solely on his Sense, and he could tell that the Knight was already hurrying behind them.


    The alley branched in two parts barely fifty paces from the tavern, and as they reached the small junction, they came to a halt.


    "You go ahead," Arran said. "There''s a crowded street nearby."


    "But what about¡ª" Kaleesh began.


    "No time," Arran cut him off, Sensing that the Knight was rapidly approaching. "Go, and hurry."


    As Kaleesh moved ahead, Arran moved into the other alley, quickly hiding himself behind a small wall. Then, as he drew his sword, he drew upon his Shadow Essence, gradually masking his presence so it would seem to the Knight that he was moving away.


    Though the Desolation suppressed his magic, the spell required control more than power, and Arran found that his skill was easily up to the task. And as the Knight ran toward the alley where he was hiding, Arran''s body tensed in anticipation of the fight ahead. If he was lucky, a single blow was all it would take, struck before the Knight even realized what had happened.


    He clenched his teeth as the Knight ran toward the small junction at a breakneck pace, readying himself for the man to turn and move into his alley ¡ª and swallowed a curse as the Knight continued ahead.


    Kaleesh was the target, not he.


    There was no time for doubt or hesitation. In a burst of movement, he sprinted after the Knight, instantly seeing that although Kaleesh had almost reached the busy street ahead, the Knight would catch up before that.


    "Kaleesh!" he yelled. "Behind you!"


    His friend turned at once, sword drawn in an instant. Yet as Kaleesh turned, so did the Knight, and suddenly Arran found himself faced with an opponent who wasn''t taken the least bit taken off guard.


    Arran struck immediately, his sword darting forward like a viper before the Knight had even fully turned around. And had his control not been affected by the Desolation, it would have been a killing blow.


    Yet as it was, the Knight narrowly parried the attack with the Shadowblade in his left hand, then countered immediately with a thrust of the sword in the right.


    Arran felt a sharp pain as his opponent''s blade ran through his left shoulder, and although he moved to block the follow-up, he already saw that it was too late. He had lost.


    But right as the Knight was about to strike a killing blow, the man suddenly spun around, barely blocking the sword of Kaleesh, who had come up behind him. And before he could counter the captain''s attack, Arran''s sword tore through his neck, the man''s head toppling to the ground a second before the rest of his body followed.


    The battle had barely lasted three seconds, if that, but in those seconds a Knight had died and Arran had been gravely wounded. If his opponent''s first strike had been a mere two inches to the side, it would be him on the ground instead of the Knight.


    "That could have gone better," Kaleesh began, but concern flashed in his eyes when he saw Arran''s wound. "Are you¡ª"


    "No time," Arran grunted. Already, people from the busy street ahead were moving toward the alley. "We have to leave. Now."


    Ignoring the pain in his wounded shoulder, he gathered up the dead Knight''s body and weapons in his void ring. And then, they ran.


    Calls of alarm sounded behind them, but although the soldiers who''d found the scene of the fight mounted a short pursuit, Arran''s Sense allowed them to escape with ease.


    Still, they did not come to a halt immediately, instead continuing on through the city''s deserted alleys for a good half hour, until Arran was completely certain that none would find them.


    "I don''t think anyone saw us," Kaleesh said as they came to a stop in yet another quiet alley, breathing heavily from the exertion. "But that¡­" He paused to take a deep breath. "That nearly ended badly."


    "It did," Arran said in a grim tone. Although the run had not tired him, the wound he''d sustained was serious, and he could tell that the Desolation''s suppression was hindering the healing power of his body. "I thought he''d come after me¡­"


    "So did I," Kaleesh said. "But I suppose I was lucky. Had he found us together, he could''ve struck me down, then run off before you could respond. Even with people around."


    Though Arran knew that Kaleesh was trying to raise his spirits, he also understood that the captain''s words were true. Perhaps Arran could''ve fended off the Knight in an even fight, but he couldn''t have protected another while doing so.


    "Maybe his belongings will tell us who''s behind this," he said, already worrying who''d sent the attacker.


    "Maybe. But first, let''s take care of that wound of yours."


    After they''d bandaged Arran''s wound and he put on a fresh set of clothes, they carefully searched the Knight''s possessions, but were disappointed to find there was nothing there to give away the attacker''s identity.


    There was, however, a far purse of gold and shadowmetal coins, along with two Warlocks'' amulets.


    "We''ll each take one," Kaleesh said. "Though we can''t use more than two total before we return from the Desolation. Not without arousing suspicion, at any rate."


    "These are yours," Arran objected. "I nearly got you killed."


    "So you did," Kaleesh replied with a thoughtful frown. "But if you hadn''t, I''d probably be dead already. Then again, I also saved your life back there, so I''d say an even split is fair."


    Though Arran insisted on giving Kaleesh both the amulets, but although the captain was happy to take the Knight''s coin purse, he would not budge on the amulets, and finally, Arran was forced to relent.


    As they departed in search of an inn, he asked, "Any thoughts about who might have sent him?"


    Kaleesh thought for some moments, then replied, "The most likely culprit would be one of Kadun''s allies. Neither the church nor the Imperial Knights have any reason to come after me."


    There was a hint of doubt in his voice, however, and Arran understood why. If it was revenge for Kadun''s death they both would have been targeted, in which case Arran would have been the first target. Any assassin would have wanted to take out the most dangerous target without warning, after all.


    Yet the Knight had gone after Kaleesh, only turning to Arran when forced to do so. Which could only mean the man had been sent to kill the captain.


    The question occupied his mind as they searched for an inn, and from Kaleesh''s silence, he knew the same held true for his friend. And no wonder ¡ª as unsettling as it was to have known enemies, unknown ones were many times worse.


    They finally found an inn at the edge of the city, busy enough that two travelers would draw little notice, yet small enough that there would be few who might recognize them.


    "I suggest we stay here for a day or two," Kaleesh said. "We''ll visit the Citadel after your wound is healed."


    Arran gave a small nod in response. A day or two should be enough for the injury to heal even with the Desolation suppressing his power. But more importantly, it would give them time to consider who''d sent the attacker.

 412 The Citadel

    Arran''s injury healed slower than he had expected, with the Desolation''s suppression affecting his blood just as strongly as it did his strength and magic.


    Where he would normally recover from even the gravest wounds in a matter of hours ¡ª less, if he had enemies whose strength he could rob ¡ª it now took him two full days to recover. And even then, the wound had yet to heal completely.


    Kaleesh had little sympathy for his condition, however.


    "A wound like that would have killed a commoner," he said with an indifferent shrug. "And even I would''ve taken weeks to recover. For you, it might serve as a lesson ¡ª that you''re not invincible."


    There was some truth to the captain''s words. Arran had long grown accustomed to shrugging off even the most grievous wounds, and if he didn''t believe he''d grown careless, exactly, perhaps he hadn''t been quite as careful as he should, either.


    Because strong as he might be, Kaleesh was right about one thing ¡ª he was not invincible.


    But if the time he spent recovering provided a valuable lesson, it was ill-spent otherwise. Two days of discussing the attack brought them no insights about who was responsible, and finally, they were forced to conclude that it could be almost anyone.


    Even if they hadn''t been involved in Lord Kadun''s death and Arran hadn''t slain a Knight ¡ª two of them, by now ¡ª just being outsiders who dared command an army in the Desolation was enough to earn them numerous enemies. That the army was composed of prisoners only added to the scandal.


    There could be little doubt that more attacks would follow, and while the Knight who''d attacked them in Sacrifice had been dangerous, those enemies who were waiting for the perfect moment to strike would be a far bigger threat.


    That knowledge did little to soothe their frustration at not knowing who''d attacked them, and as they sat eating the unpleasant grub the innkeeper passed off as breakfast on their third day at the inn, Kaleesh let out a discontented sigh.


    "I bet Lady Merem could find out," he said, casting a distrustful look at the bowl of lumpy porridge on the table before him.


    "Probably," Arran agreed. "But if we expose whoever ordered the attack, we''ll involve the Lord backing them, as well."


    The attack had clearly been arranged by someone with a Lord''s backing. No one else could have ordered a Knight to attempt a murder in the heart of Sacrifice.


    Which meant they could not expose this hidden enemy. If they exposed a Lord''s son or daughter, then the Lord would certainly not ignore it.


    Better to give their enemy a path of retreat ¡ª a way to back down without losing face. Hopefully, losing a Knight would be enough of a setback to dissuade them from trying again.


    "I suppose," Kaleesh said, some reluctance remaining in his voice. "But I still dislike the idea of having an enemy lurking in the shadows."


    "That we have," Kaleesh agreed, a trace of worry in his eyes. "Hopefully, we can finish our business in the city today. I trust Sassun with the army, but¡­"


    Of course, Arran knew exactly what caused the captain concern. New as the army was, the troops'' loyalty was still a shaky thing. And the longer he and Kaleesh were gone, the higher the chances that trouble would arise.


    He cast a glance at the mostly half-eaten bowl of porridge before him and grimaced. "Let''s go. We''ll eat something along the way."


    Kaleesh did not object to wasting coin for once, and a half-hour later they were moving along the city''s busy streets, eating grilled meat wrapped in flatbread as they walked.


    "The city looks a lot more peaceful now," Arran observed, his eyes on the pleasant bustle that filled the streets. They hadn''t left the inn while he recovered from his wound, and now, he almost found himself shocked by how different the city seemed in the early morning.


    There weren''t many soldiers and Rangers on the streets, and among those he did see, none appeared drunk or rowdy ¡ª though more than a few bore the pained expressions of men who''d drunk too much the previous night. Other than that, however, there were mostly commoners, wandering about the shops and food stalls that lined the streets.


    "Most soldiers should still be sleeping off last night''s ale," Kaleesh said. "But don''t grow too comfortable. To get to the Citadel we''ll have to go through the southwestern quarter of the city, and that''s where most members of the Martial Alliance are."


    A frown crossed Arran''s face. "Think there will be trouble?"


    "Probably not," Kaleesh said, though he sounded far from certain. "But we should keep our eyes open all the same."


    As they moved into the southwestern quarter of the city, it soon became obvious that the captain had been right. While the Rangers on the streets still weren''t many, most of the small groups they saw cast suspicious looks in their direction, whispering amongst themselves as the two walked past.


    "It seems word of our arrival has spread already." Kaleesh looked at the Rangers curiously, unruffled by their hostile stares. "And further than I had expected."


    Arran could only agree. He''d known they would draw attention, but he hadn''t expected that they''d be recognized by almost every Ranger they saw. And while he wasn''t too worried about another assassination attempt ¡ª not in broad daylight, at least ¡ª even a simple brawl could easily get out of hand.


    Yet for all the dark looks the Rangers cast in their direction, none said anything. Instead, they slunk back whenever Arran and Kaleesh passed ¡ª not quite so fast that it could be considered fleeing, but fast enough that their intention was clear.


    If nothing else, it seemed that Arran''s defeat of the Knight on the road to Sacrifice had served as a warning to any would-be harassers.


    And as the Rangers took pains to avoid crossing their path, the soldiers and commoners on the street did the same, quickly moving out of the way wherever Arran and Kaleesh went. While they might not recognize the two, anyone Rangers steered clear of was clearly worth avoiding.


    A small smile crossed Kaleesh''s face as he noticed the streets clearing. "I could grow to like this," he said. "It certainly makes for a peaceful journey."


    "For now," Arran replied in a flat tone, making no attempt to hide his unease.


    Perhaps the Rangers they encountered so far did not dare to make a move, but with the sheer number of hostile stares they received, it was only a matter of time before one gathered the courage to confront them.


    When that happened, others might rediscover their bravery, as well.


    Arran''s misgivings were confirmed barely five minutes later, when a young Ranger appeared on the street before them. There were two Knights at his side and half a dozen other Rangers following behind him, all of them dressed in immaculate uniforms of blue and black.


    And unlike the groups they''d encountered so far, this one showed no sign of stepping aside.


    Kaleesh let out a deep sigh, then said wistfully, "I suppose it was too good to last." He gave Arran a sideways glance. "Best you let me do the talking."


    Arran didn''t get the chance to ask any questions. They reached the group just a few moments later, forced to halt as the Rangers and Knights showed no sign of moving out of the way.


    For several moments, neither side spoke. Instead, the Rangers looked at Arran and Kaleesh with wary eyes, their posture tense and their hands hovering near the hilts of their swords. And although the Knights appeared more at ease, even their eyes were tense with anticipation.


    Finally, it was Kaleesh who broke the silence. "Matas." He gave the young Ranger an unenthusiastic smile. "I hadn''t expected to meet you here."


    Arran recognized the name at once. Matas was the Ranger whose army he''d seen in Knight''s Watch, and whose underling he''d taught a small lesson. The son of Lord Ravir, as Arjun had said.


    The young Ranger did not reply immediately. Instead, he cast a dark look at the two, a contemptuous sneer on his otherwise handsome face. When he finally spoke, his voice was thick with disdain.


    "Kaleesh. You have no business in this part of the city."


    "There''s an Imperial Knight who disagrees," Kaleesh replied. "I can''t imagine she''d be happy to hear you blocked us from visiting the Citadel."


    Surprise flashed across the Ranger''s face, but he regained his composure almost instantly. "I cannot bar you from the Citadel, but do not believe you can provoke the Martial Alliance without consequence. Not after the part you played in the betrayal of Lord Kadun."


    "Lord Rannoc was the one who killed him," Kaleesh replied, a hint of weariness in his voice. "Though Kadun''s fate was well-deserved."


    Matas''s expression turned to one of barely suppressed fury. "Lord Kadun was an honorable¡ª"


    "He was an idiot," Kaleesh cut him off. "An idiot who turned a blind eye as his stewards exploited newcomers, treating allies as if they were slaves. Had he acted honorably, he might still be alive."


    Matas struggled for words, his expression a mixture of anger and doubt. "Do not think I will believe such vile allegations," he finally spat. "I will not allow you to besmirch his name."


    "Besmirch his name?" Kaleesh gave the Ranger an amused look. "Kadun''s treatment of newcomers was hardly a secret. And from what I''ve heard about you, you are far too honorable a man to defend such things."


    The Ranger had no answer to this. For several seconds he stood in silence, appearing at a loss for words. Then, with a sharp movement, he turned to his men. "We''re leaving."


    Arran watched with furrowed brow as the Ranger''s party departed. Once the group was out of earshot, he turned to Kaleesh. "Well done, I think?"


    The captain offered a satisfied smirk. "Extremely well, I would say. Matas believes himself a righteous hero ¡ª the kind of man who treats even his enemies justly. He might have little love for outsiders, but he has even less respect for rulers who act like Kadun."


    "So he isn''t a threat?"


    "I wouldn''t go that far," Kaleesh replied. "Right now, he''s torn between loyalty to his father''s allies and distaste for Kadun''s actions. But if he ever figures out where he stands, he could become a dangerous enemy." He shrugged, and added, "Fortunately, he''s not exactly known for his quick wit."


    Arran nodded in understanding. "Then let''s hope he doesn''t figure it out. We have enough enemies as it is."


    They set off toward the Citadel once more, finding no further delays along the way. After another half-hour of walking through the city''s busy streets, they finally saw the fortress appear in the distance.


    If the Sanctum had been a place of beauty, with even its outer walls carved from white marble, the Citadel was wholly different. Built to be functional rather than inviting, its walls were erected from simple gray stone, rough and undecorated. And the same held true for the buildings that rose above the walls, as well. Simple and practical, they were clearly built for function rather than form.


    Still, imposing as the fortress appeared, it was obvious that its walls weren''t built to withstand the Blight. Rather, they were made to keep out simple intruders. Against a serious assault, they would barely be a delay.


    But then, there was no need for real defenses. The true fortress was Sacrifice itself, and a force that could breach such a bulwark would have no trouble disposing of any walls men could erect.


    When they reached the Citadel''s gate, they found it guarded by two dozen soldiers, headed by a single Knight. As they approached, the Knight stepped forward.


    "Your business?"


    "We''ve come to see Lady Merem," Arran said.


    The Knight gave a small nod, then motioned to one of the soldiers. "Take these two to Lady Merem."


    For a moment, Arran was surprised at how easily the Knight let them pass. Yet after giving it a moment''s thought, he realized there was no need to verify whether they were speaking the truth.


    If they had lied, Lady Merem herself was perfectly capable of handling the situation herself. And from what he knew of her, any unwanted visitors would certainly regret their mistake.


    As the soldier led them through the gates, Arran saw that the Citadel was exactly as he''d imagined, filled with austere barracks and well-used training fields upon which hundreds of recruits were practicing, their clothes already drenched with sweat despite the early hour.


    Most would hardly consider the sight an inviting one, but Arran felt something close to envy as he looked at it. This was a place for practice, sleep, and little else, and it was obvious that those who resided here were fully dedicated to increasing their strength.


    "I wouldn''t envy them too much," Kaleesh said, sensing what was on Arran''s mind. "I''ll bet you a pure shadowmetal coin that this place has just as much backstabbing and politics as any other." He grinned as he shot a glance at the soldier escorting them. "Isn''t that right?"


    The man gave a non-committal shrug, though his eyes betrayed a hint of weariness. "The road to strength holds many obstacles."


    "I didn''t take the bet," Arran grumbled. From the soldier''s reaction, it was obvious that Kaleesh had been right.


    It made sense that the Citadel would have its share of schemes and intrigue, of course. Lady Merem''s power left Arran in awe, and for a chance at power like that, many would not hesitate to betray even their best friends.


    But even so, Arran had hoped the Citadel might be different ¡ª an isle of calm amid the storm of intrigue, where strength rather than influence mattered.


    He sighed as his eyes wandered across the practicing recruits before turning his attention back to the soldier. "How much farther is it?"


    "Not too far," the man replied. "We should find Lady Merem in her practice yard. It''s where she spends most of her time."


    His words proved true, and a few minutes later they reached a walled garden within the Citadel. Secluded from the rest of the area, it was clearly created for solitude as much as it was for practice, and when they stepped through the wooden gate they were immediately met with the sight of Lady Merem.


    She stood on the grass with sword in hand, their arrival seemingly having interrupted her practice. Yet as she turned to face the unexpected visitors, her expression showed no sign of surprise.


    "You may leave," she instructed the soldier. The man bowed and left, after which she turned her attention to Arran and Kaleesh. "I had expected you to visit, but not quite as soon as this. I assume something happened?"


    Arran briefly considered his words, then decided there was no point in dancing around the issue. He''d chosen to trust Lady Merem over the church, and now, all that remained was a leap of faith.


    He calmed his nerves as best he could. Then, his voice more confident than he felt, he said, "I have the Ruiner''s bloodline. And the church wants it."


    This time, a flash of surprise crossed Lady Merem''s face, though it lasted only a second before she spoke, "Draw your weapons, both of you."


    Arran hesitantly did as she said, wondering whether he''d just made the greatest ¡ª and perhaps last ¡ª mistake of his life. Yet as both he and Kaleesh drew their swords and faced Lade Merem uncomfortably, she gave a thoughtful nod.


    "We will spar while you talk," she said. "Now tell me what happened."


    Before Arran had a chance to object, she lunged forward in a sudden attack that he only barely parried. He managed a clumsy retreat, yet even as he moved, Lady Merem turned to Kaleesh, striking a single sharp blow that caused the captain to stumble backward as well.


    For several moments, it was all they could do to ward off Lady Merem''s attacks. Her skill was masterful, and the effort of defending themselves left not the slightest bit of opportunity for counterattacks ¡ª much less the explanation she had demanded.


    She appeared to realize this as well, and after the first few moments, her attacks slowed, if only slightly. "Talk," she said. "And do mind your defense." She emphasized those last words with a quick flick of her sword that brought the blade''s edge to within a hair''s breadth of Arran''s throat, faster than he could even attempt to block or parry it.


    Though Arran was unnerved by her display of skill, he could not help but breathe a silent sigh of relief. If she was correcting his technique, it meant she did not intend to see him dead. At least, not yet.


    "I only just learned it''s called the Ruiner''s bloodline," he began, "but I gained it long ago¡­"


    Lady Merem slowed her attacks enough to allow him to speak, but she did not let up any more than that, and he spent the half-hour that followed simultaneously telling his story and unsuccessfully trying to match her far-superior skill.


    The pressure of sparring left little room for careful thought, and had Arran tried to spin an elaborate web of lies, he surely would have failed ¡ª which was doubtless Lady Merem''s intention.


    Yet he''d known before coming to the Citadel that straying too far from the truth would end badly. And so, instead of inventing an entirely new story, he merely moved the setting several thousands of miles eastwards, beyond the Shadowflame Society''s mountains and to the lands of the Jiang clan in the Empire.


    Other than that, he changed little, truthfully explaining that he''d inadvertently gained a flawed version of the Devourer''s bloodline and that he''d only been saved from madness through the blood of a dragon. He left out all parts related to magic, of course, but the result was still a tale that was more true than not.


    Lady Merem frowned in wonder several times as he told the story, but she neither objected nor interrupted. Instead, she merely listened, only occasionally using the brief pauses between her attacks to ask additional questions.


    Only when Arran''s story reached his visit to the Sanctum did Lady Merem''s attacks come to an end ¡ª and none too soon, as both Arran and Kaleesh were already close to collapsing from exhaustion.


    "An interesting tale," she said, her expression thoughtful. "And outrageous as it is, I''m inclined to believe it. However¡­" She paused, fixing her eyes on Arran. "You say you spurned the church''s gift. Why?"


    This time, Arran replied without hesitation. "I don''t trust them."


    "But you do trust me?" A smile crossed her face, as if his words greatly amused her.


    "More than I trust Roshan," Arran said truthfully. "And I figured I had to choose between the two of you."


    She inclined her head slightly, the gesture stopping just short of a nod. "As luck would have it, you chose correctly. Had you accepted his gift, you would have died before the year was over."


    Arran narrowed his eyes. "He would have killed me?" Though he understood why Lady Merem might claim such a thing, he silently thought that it made little sense. Roshan wanted his bloodline, after all.


    "Not at all," Lady Merem replied. "He would have given both bloodlines as promised, and more besides ¡ª a corrupted bloodline, one that would have bound you to his service as surely as a chain around your neck. Naturally, I would not have allowed that."


    A mirthless smile crossed Arran''s face. As expected, there had been more to the church''s offer than just generosity. "I take it you don''t want the Ruiner''s bloodline in the hands of the church?"


    "I do not," she said. "As you already guessed, we Imperial Knights possess the Ruiner''s bloodline, and the church seeks this power for itself. It''s a foolish endeavor, but we cannot allow it."


    Arran raised an eyebrow. Though he understood why they wanted to keep the bloodline to themselves, the church''s desire for it hardly seemed foolish. Its power was considerable, after all. "Foolish?" he asked. "How so?"


    "Bloodlines are not mere treasures to be taken at will. Without truly mastering them, one can only touch on the edges of their power." She cast a glance at Arran, and continued, "You will learn of that when you truly join our ranks. For now, all you must know is that for all its wealth, the church has yet to learn how to use its treasures."


    Her tone made it clear that she would speak no more of the matter. If Arran wanted to learn about mastering bloodlines, his only path was to join the Imperial Knights.


    Still, Arran relaxed at her words. While there was much she hadn''t yet told him, what she said did answer his most urgent question.


    "I take it you''re not going to kill me, then?"


    "Kill you?" A peal of laughter came forth from the Lady''s lips. "And waste a perfect opportunity to teach the church a costly lesson? I think not. Wait here. I will return shortly."


    She departed promptly, and as she left, Kaleesh gave Arran a contemplative look. "It seems your bet paid off." He paused, then added in a low voice, "What you said about the dragon¡­"


    "It''s true," Arran replied in an equally soft voice. "For the most part, anyway."


    Kaleesh muttered a curse. "You really are a lucky bastard."


    When Lady Merem returned some minutes later, her lips were curled in a devious smile. "When you leave here," she said to Arran, "you will go straight to the Sanctum, where you will accept Roshan''s gracious gift without delay."


    Arran raised an eyebrow. "Didn''t you say he intends to give me a corrupted bloodline?"


    "He does," she confirmed. "A corrupted version of the Hungerer''s bloodline, which will increase your power by consuming your body''s foundation. At first, you will see only benefits ¡ª greater strength and speed, stamina beyond your wildest dreams. Yet as your foundation is slowly consumed, you will begin to experience spells of weakness, each more severe than the last. Only with the church''s help will you be able to stave off death."


    Her words were hardly reassuring, and Arran''s frown deepened. "But you still want me to take this bloodline?"


    "Indeed I do," she replied. She tossed him a small black vial, made from pure shadowmetal to obscure the contents. "The liquid within contains the Hungerer''s true bloodline. You are to take it after you receive the church''s gifts. Immediately, mind you ¡ª before the corrupted bloodline can take hold."


    Arran cast a doubtful look at the small vial. "What does it do?"


    "Its effects are similar to the corrupted bloodline," Lady Merem replied, "but where the corrupted version feeds upon your own strength, the true bloodline will draw in strength from your surroundings."


    Arran remained silent for several moments. Then, as understanding dawned in his mind, he began, "With the Ruiner''s bloodline¡­"


    Before he could finish the words, Lady Merem flashed him a smile ¡ª a warm one, this time. "I do not think I need to explain just how potent the combination is."


    Arran weakly shook his head, barely registering her words as he considered the implications of what he''d just learned.


    The Blood Ruin ¡ª the fusion of the Ruiner''s and Devourer''s bloodlines ¡ª was already frighteningly powerful. It allowed him to absorb Natural Essence without any need for Body Refinement techniques, strengthening his body at a rate others could scarcely imagine.


    Yet for all its power, it still had constraints. To gain strength, he needed a source of Natural Essence ¡ª the meat of monsters or the lives of enemies. And although his void ring currently held an ample supply of monster meat, there was a limit to how much of it he could consume.


    A dragon like Crassus had no such problems. He could devour barn-sized beasts ¡ª dragons or otherwise ¡ª in a single bite, taking only seconds to seize power that would require Arran years to amass.


    However, if the Hungerer''s bloodline drew power from the world around him, he would no longer be limited by how much he could eat or kill.


    There were Body Refinement techniques that worked similarly, of course. By focusing one''s efforts, it was possible to gather Natural Essence from the world itself. Such techniques required constant effort, however, and even then they only provided a trickle of power.


    But Lady Merem would not speak of the bloodline''s potency if its benefits were so small. Which meant that its power must be considerable.


    Still, as Arran thought about this, another question occurred to him. "These bloodlines¡­ Do all Imperial Knights have them?"


    "Naturally," Lady Merem replied. "Though most of us don''t gain them quite as quickly as you, these bloodlines form the core of our foundation."


    Arran pondered her answer for a moment, then asked, "Why are you giving me this?"


    "Over the next year," Lady Merem said, "you will regularly visit Roshan. Each time you do, you will complain that you''ve been experiencing spells of weakness. He will inform you that there''s a problem with the Ruiner''s bloodline, while offering treatment to keep your condition from worsening."


    Arran furrowed his brow, unsure of what she was getting at. "And then?"


    Although Lady Merem wore an even expression, a glean of amusement appeared in her eyes. "A corrupted Hungerer''s bloodline can be stabilized, but only at a cost so great that even the church feels it. In fact, the cost of doing so is precisely the cost of raising a Paladin."


    Though Kaleesh looked on with a dumbfounded expression, sudden comprehension dawned in Arran''s eyes.


    If a corrupted Hungerer''s bloodline drew strength by consuming one''s foundation, then the only way to stabilize it would naturally be to consume vast amounts of Natural Essence ¡ª to strengthen one''s foundation so much it could withstand being plundered by the corrupted bloodline.


    Which meant that he would receive benefits even greater than the true Hungerer''s bloodline. The greatest reward for choosing the Imperial Knights and deceiving the church would ultimately be given by the church itself.


    But beautiful as the plan was, its success depended on one thing ¡ª fooling the church. And that was something he still had doubts about.


    "Won''t Roshan realize that I have the true Hungerer''s bloodline?" he asked, forehead creased in a worried frown. He was all but certain that Archons could see bloodlines, and he had little interest in finding out what happened if Roshan discovered the deception.


    Lady Merem simply shook her head, her expression showing not even the slightest hint of concern. "The difference between true bloodlines and corrupted ones isn''t easily recognized, even by Archons. Moreover, Roshan has no reason to investigate a bloodline he believes he gave you himself."


    Arran considered her words for some moments, and found that he still wasn''t entirely convinced ¡ª not with his own life in the balance. "Won''t he become suspicious once he discovers that I visited you?"


    Once again, she shook her head. "He knows that we do not allow those outside our ranks to carry our bloodlines. When you depart the Citadel, he will know that you weren''t so foolish as to tell me about your bloodline." She narrowed her eyes as she looked at them. "But then, he doesn''t know that I already consider you ¡ª both of you ¡ª recruits in all but name."


    She spoke in a friendly voice, but the warning in her words was unmistakable.


    The only reason they were still alive was that Lady Merem expected them to eventually join the Imperial Knights. Should that ever change, it wasn''t difficult to imagine what the outcome would be.


    "Understood." Arran gave a nod, then continued with some hesitation, "There''s something else you should know. After we met on the battlefield, I saved Negin''s life by giving her my blood."


    At his words, a loud curse burst forth from Lady Merem''s lips. "You idiot!" she snapped. "If you hadn''t told me¡ª" She caught herself mid-sentence, the fury fleeing her eyes as quickly as it had come. "But I suppose you did tell me, and not too late for the girl to be saved."


    "The bloodline is corrupted?" By now, Arran had an inkling of how bloodlines worked, and he already understood that passing one on wasn''t as easy as he''d once believed.


    "Naturally," she said. "With your lack of strength and control, how could it not be?" She gave a long sigh, then continued, "Leave, and do not be quick in returning. Undoing the damage you''ve caused will not be a simple matter."


    With that, she turned away, speaking no further words as she left the walled garden. Her steps betrayed a hint of urgency, however ¡ª that, and frustration.


    "I suppose we''ll have to show ourselves out." Kaleesh cast a sideways glance at Arran. "Unless you plan on antagonizing any more of the Imperium''s rulers? I doubt we''ll find the Imperator himself here, but there should be some Lords around."


    Arran ignored the jibe ¡ª especially since it had the ring of truth to it ¡ª and they silently made their way out of the Citadel, neither of them willing to speak where others could hear.


    When they departed the Citadel some minutes later, Kaleesh''s expression turned serious. "A dangerous woman, that," he said, a thoughtful look in his eyes.


    "Even more so than you think," Arran replied, casting an uncomfortable glance over his shoulder at the Citadel behind them.


    "That hardly seems possible." Kaleesh raised an eyebrow. "Just from what she showed while we sparred, I have no doubt that she could match a Lord."


    Arran shook his head. "She''s stronger than that. Unless I''m mistaken, she''d have no more trouble defeating a Lord than she''d have defeating us."


    "You really believe she''s that strong?" Kaleesh asked, a hint of incredulity in his eyes.


    "That, and then some," Arran responded. "You heard what she said about the Hungerer''s bloodline, as well as how it combines with the Ruiner''s bloodline. Given enough time, there''s no limit to how much power one could gain with those two things."


    Kaleesh remained silent for some seconds, stroking his chin as his expression turned thoughtful. When he finally spoke there was some doubt in his voice. "But in the end, doesn''t all of that just amount to a more effective method of Body Refinement?"


    Arran gave a wry smile. "Remember that dragon I mentioned? He had the strength to flatten mountains, and that strength was built on nothing but a more effective method of Body Refinement and plenty of time."


    "But she''s not a dragon," the captain pointed out. "That should count for something."


    "She has a Lord''s comprehension and strength that should dwarf my own. Not to mention what she said about mastering bloodlines." Arran shook his head. "Given the choice, I''d much rather face a dragon."


    Kaleesh remained silent for some moments before giving a pensive nod. "I suppose it''s a good thing she''s on our side, then. Though it seems I underestimated the church."


    This time, it was Arran who frowned in puzzlement. "The church? How so?"


    The captain scratched his chin. "It''s no secret that of the Imperium''s major factions, the Imperator''s has always been the weakest. And if his Knights are as strong as you say, then the other factions must be stronger than I realized."


    Arran cast a glance in the direction of the Sanctum, his expression thoughtful. "You might be right," he finally said, "but they were our enemies to begin with, and not ones we can face by ourselves."


    "True," Kaleesh replied. "Still, I suggest you guard your secrets well. Once the church discovers our deception, I doubt the pretense of friendliness will last. And when they become our enemies in earnest, we''ll need Lady Merem''s protection."


    "Then we''d best hurry to the Sanctum," Arran said, his face breaking into a grin as he spoke, "and pluck the church''s fruits while we still can."

 413 Fruits of a Poisonous Tree

    "That''s the fifth group so far." Arran lazily stretched his arms as he walked with Kaleesh, pointedly ignoring the small group of Rangers who stood watching a few dozen paces away. "At this rate, the entirety of Sacrifice will know where we are by sundown."


    They had set off for the Sanctum a half-hour earlier, traveling through the city''s western outskirts in an attempt to avoid drawing attention. The effort had proved to be in vain, however, as it quickly became apparent that there was no avoiding the Rangers'' inquisitive eyes.


    Kaleesh shrugged. "Both nobles and soldiers gossip more than kitchen maids. Give it another day or two, and it will be impossible for us to travel Sacrifice unseen."


    Though the captain sounded unconcerned, his words caused Arran to sigh in displeasure. "If someone is planning another attack, they''ll have an easy time finding us."


    Kaleesh remained silent for several seconds, then finally shook his head. "I do not expect another attack. Not soon, at least."


    It only took Arran a moment to understand his friend''s reasoning. "You think our connection to Lady Merem and Roshan will protect us?"


    "It should," Kaleesh said. "Word of your talk with Roshan will have spread by now, and it won''t be long before our visit to Lady Merem becomes common knowledge as well. Until the lordlings figure out what our relationship with the both of them is, none will dare attack us."


    Arran gave a slow nod. "And with the number of eyes on us right now, it would be impossible to strike unseen."


    "Exactly." Kaleesh waved at the Rangers in the distance, his friendly smile widening into a mocking grin when he saw their dumbfounded expressions. Turning his attention back to Arran, he continued, "Right now, the eyes of our enemies give us all the protection we could wish for."


    "For now."


    "For now," Kaleesh admitted. "But by the time that changes, I expect we''ll have bigger things to worry about."


    Arran could only nod in agreement. Once the church discovered their deception ¡ª as it eventually would ¡ª the lordlings in Sacrifice would be the least of their worries.


    But there was no point in fretting over the matter. Serious though the danger might be, the threat remained a distant one. And before they became enemies to the church, they would first seize the treasures it had to offer.


    When they approached the Sanctum''s immaculate white walls nearly two hours later, Kaleesh gave Arran a cautious look. "I''d suggest not antagonizing them any further."


    "I don''t intend to," Arran replied. "At least, not without cause."


    This time, as they passed through the Sanctum''s gates, neither of them had eyes for the splendid temples and pavilions within the Sanctum''s grounds, nor did they pay attention to the curious glances of the priests and Rangers who filled the paths between the many temples.


    Fortunately, they met with no obstacles or delays. While the guards inside the Hall of Blessings looked at them with more curiosity than before, the Warlocks'' amulets they carried meant that none barred their way. And so, it wasn''t long before they entered the third section of the Hall of Blessings once more, finding themselves faced with the same priestess who''d received them on their previous visit.


    A hint of despair flashed across her face when she saw Arran, but a forced smile took its place an instant later. "You have returned," she said, unable to fully mask her displeasure. "Have you reached a decision on which bloodline you wish to receive?"


    "We have," Arran replied curtly. He turned to Kaleesh. "Captain?"


    "I shall take the Guardian''s bloodline." As he spoke, Kaleesh glanced at the painting on the far right wall that supposedly depicted the Guardian ¡ª a fearsome existence said to be nigh-impervious to injury.


    The priestess frowned ¡ª apparently, she had not expected that Kaleesh would select a bloodline as well ¡ª but after a moment, she gave an approving nod. "A wise choice. The Guardian''s bloodline will be of great value in the Desolation." Then, a trace of unease in her eyes, she turned to Arran. "And you said that you have reached a decision as well?"


    Arran nodded. "In addition to the Master''s bloodline, I''ve decided that I will take the bloodline of the Sage."


    "The Sage?" The priestess briefly fell silent, her expression troubled as she appeared to struggle for words. Finally, she said, "Are you certain of this?"


    Raising an eyebrow, Arran asked, "Is there a problem with that?"


    "It''s not a problem, exactly. It''s just¡­" The priestess hesitated before continuing, "The Sage''s bloodline is not a common choice."


    "It''s a greater bloodline, isn''t it? Are you saying it''s lesser than the others?"


    "Of course not!" the priestess hurried to say, her eyes darting toward the painting of the Sage on the far wall as she spoke. "But the full benefits of the Sage''s bloodline are slow in coming. Even if your comprehension increases, that will do little to protect you in the Desolation."


    Of course, this was something Arran had already guessed. While the Sage''s bloodline might shorten the time it took him to set another step into Enlightenment, it would still take years of effort. By then, he would long have left the Desolation behind.


    Yet although the Sage''s bloodline would do little to help him survive the Desolation, it should help with something equally important ¡ª to break the seal left inside him by the oath disc.


    Even now, he could Sense two seals within his body, one left by the Shadowflame Society and the other by the Imperium. The two of them together formed a deadly trap which he''d barely avoided, narrowly saving his life by restraining the seals.


    But the seals were still there, created by someone who clearly did not wish for him to keep his life. And if there was one trap, there could yet be others, ready to be sprung at any moment.


    Moreover, the oath he took should prevent him from betraying either the Imperium or its secrets. If that was indeed the case, then he would have to break the seal before returning to the Shadowflame Society.


    In the end, the choice was an easy one.


    "I choose the Sage''s bloodline."


    For a moment, it looked as if the priestess was about to object, but she finally gave a small sigh. "Very well. The decision is yours to make. The both of you, please follow me."


    Without speaking any further words, she led them through a large door and into a large spiral stairwell that descended below the Hall of Blessings. It took several minutes before they reached the bottom, but eventually, they emerged into a vast hall.


    Arran looked around with some surprise. He could see at a glance that this hall was larger than the entire building that housed the Hall of Blessings, and the numerous passages along the distant walls suggested that an entire city lay beneath the Sanctum.


    There were people, too ¡ª numerous priests, hurrying along the vast underground space as they cast inquisitive looks at the newcomers.


    The priestess waved one of them over, a white-clad youth with a nervous look about him. "These two are to receive greater bloodlines. Escort them to their chambers."


    "Of course, Prelate Shula," he said, bowing clumsily as he spoke. "Please, come with me."


    Arran and Kaleesh followed behind him as he immediately set off for one of the passages on the side of the hall, but after a few moments of silence, Kaleesh asked, "She''s important, then?"


    A nervous chuckle burst forth from the young priest''s lips. "Naturally! She''s a Prelate! She''s only a single step away from becoming an Archon!"


    Kaleesh shot Arran a meaningful look. "Then we''ll have to take care not to offend her."


    The priest gave a small gasp. "To offend a Prelate¡­" He didn''t finish the words, instead shaking his head as if the very idea of it bordered on blasphemy.


    They spent a quarter-hour passing through a series of hallways and passages, until finally, they reached a large chamber that held a number of marble statues, several of which Arran recognized as gods from the paintings in the Hall of Blessings. Then, after the young priest exchanged a few words with a white-clad man, two young women appeared.


    "These acolytes will see you to your chambers," the priest said. "Your bloodlines will be brought to you shortly. Once you receive your bloodlines, you are to remain here for a single day in order to properly integrate them."


    Arran furrowed his brow. "We have to stay here? Why?"


    "These are greater bloodlines," the priest said. "Fully integrating them will take some time. And should something go awry, it is best that you are here, where help is at hand."


    "Do things often go¡­ awry?" Kaleesh asked, his expression wary.


    "Not at all," the priest replied. "It is extremely rare for problems to occur. Still, for those rare occasions that trouble does emerge, it is preferable that you are here in the Sanctum. Now, unless you have further questions, I''ll have you escorted to your chambers."


    Kaleesh nodded, then turned to Arran. "Good luck."


    "Same to you."


    A few minutes later, Arran found himself in a spacious, well-furnished room. Simple but elegant, it was something befitting the Knights who would normally be the ones receiving greater bloodlines. If not for the location, it would have been vastly preferable over the inn room where he''d spent the past few days.


    Yet here, in the catacombs of the Sanctum, the pleasant setting did little to ease his worries. After what he''d learned from Lady Merem about Roshan''s intentions, he knew that the church was his enemy. Of the bloodlines that would soon be brought, one would be corrupted ¡ª a poison to put him firmly within the church''s grasp.


    Lady Merem had given him a complete bloodline to counter the threat, but he was fully aware that there was no certainty with such things. If her prediction was incorrect and the church used a different method, then the Hungerer''s bloodline would do nothing to help him.


    In that case, escaping Roshan''s schemes would be a difficult matter.


    Arran''s misgivings grew further when an hour passed without sign of any priests carrying bloodlines. The young priest who''d escorted them had said the bloodlines would be brought shortly, and by now, Arran was clear that something was amiss.


    Still, there was no leaving now. All he could do was wait and hope that the church had not caught on to his plans.


    Nearly two hours had already passed when the door finally opened, revealing a figure that was unwelcome if not unexpected.


    "Archon Roshan." Arran feigned a surprised expression. "I had not expected to see you again so soon."


    "I''ve come to bring you your bloodlines," the Archon said. He put down a small wooden box on the table at the center of the room, then continued, "But first¡­ I understand you visited Lady Merem this morning?"


    "I did. As I told you in our previous conversation, she took an interest in me before I came to Sacrifice. Naturally, I could not reject her invitation."


    Of course, there had been no invitation, but he did not expect the Archon to know that. While their visit to the Citadel was impossible to hide, an Imperial Knight should have the means to deliver an invitation without the church knowing of it.


    Roshan silently looked at Arran for several seconds before giving a small nod. "Very well. Now, as for the matter of your bloodlines¡­" He opened the wooden box, revealing four small vials and a dozen marble-sized pills from which Arran Sensed a terrifying amount of Natural Essence. "I understand that you have chosen the Sage''s bloodline. While not necessarily a bad choice, it will do little to help you survive the Desolation. After giving the matter some thought, I have decided to grant you two additional bloodlines."


    For a moment, Arran was dumbstruck. "Two?" he finally asked, a tremble in his voice. "Which ones? And why?"


    "The reason is simple," Roshan said. "I value both you and your bloodline, and I do not wish to see your life wasted in the Desolation. While growing your strength will ultimately depend on your own labor, these bloodlines should help grant you a better chance of survival. As for the ones I chose¡­"


    He took two vials from the box and carefully placed them on the table, then continued, "Within these vials are the Guardian''s bloodline and the Titan''s bloodline. Together, they will greatly help increase both your strength and your resilience. I do not think I need to explain how useful that will be in the Desolation."


    Arran briefly remained silent. Then, he asked, "Is this because of my visit to Lady Merem?"


    A slight chuckle escaped the Archon''s lips. "I can not deny that I wish to earn your loyalty. Hopefully, these gifts can serve as a first step toward that goal. Receiving this many bloodlines carries a small risk, however."


    At this, Arran frowned. "What sort of risk?"


    "To receive four different bloodlines at once takes a toll on one''s foundation. This shouldn''t be a problem for someone with your strength, but nevertheless, I''ve also added several pills that will help strengthen your foundation. With those, the risk should be minimal."


    Arran''s frown deepened. "But there is still a risk?"


    "There is," Roshan confirmed. "If your foundation is insufficient, taking these bloodlines may cause a backlash. Thus, whether you choose to accept them must be your own decision. If you wish to delay the matter, that is fine as well ¡ª if you return several months from now, I will naturally still grant you these bloodlines."


    It took Arran some effort not to burst into laughter.


    Roshan was even more crafty than Lady Merem had predicted. By giving two additional bloodlines the effects of the corrupted Hungerer''s bloodline would be masked, and when Arran fell ill, he would only have himself to blame for the decision.


    By then, Roshan would graciously offer to help, winning not just Arran''s dependence but also his gratitude.


    As for him refusing the bloodlines, that was clearly an impossibility. No warrior would pass up the chance to gain additional strength before braving the dangers of the Desolation.


    Had Arran not already learned from Lady Merem what Roshan intended, the plan would have been a perfect one. But as it was, all the Archon would accomplish was to hand treasures to a future enemy.


    "I thank you for these gifts," Arran said, the joy in his eyes entirely real. "This is an opportunity I cannot squander ¡ª not with my journey into the Desolation this close."


    Roshan nodded slowly, a small smile on his lips. "The Desolation is a dangerous place, even for one as talented as you. If these bloodlines help keep you safe, then I am glad to bear the cost."


    There was a core of truth to that, Arran knew. With the effort Roshan had put into this, he would doubtless feel no small amount of anguish if Arran lost his life in the Desolation.


    "Speaking of cost¡­" Arran produced a single Warlock''s amulet, which he offered to Roshan. "For the Sage''s bloodline."


    Roshan laughed, then shook his head. "Keep it. With what I''ve given you, a single amulet makes no difference whatsoever."


    Arran did not object. While the Archon seemed intent on feeding him as many bloodlines as possible, Kaleesh wasn''t as lucky. For him, a single amulet would still be worth a great deal.


    "Now then," Roshan said. "I will leave you to absorb your new bloodlines. As for the pills, I suggest you take two every week, starting tomorrow."


    "Then I will do as you suggest," Arran said. In truth, he''d already Sensed how potent these pills should be, and he already knew they would help him greatly.


    After Roshan said his goodbyes and left the room, Arran turned his attention to the box in front of him, a wide grin on his face as he looked at the unexpected windfall.


    In a single morning, he''d gained four bloodlines from Roshan, a fifth bloodline from Lady Merem, and a dozen pills whose value he suspected would nearly match a single bloodline.


    Even if the price of these treasures was to become mortal enemies with the single most powerful faction in the Imperium, he could not help but feel that it was well worth it.

 414 The Strength of Bloodlines

    Arran''s brow was furrowed in a deep frown as he stared at the four vials that stood on the table before him.


    Though the vials were small, they contained priceless treasures ¡ª four greater bloodlines, each of which should have a power to rival the Ruiner''s and Devourer''s bloodlines he already possessed.


    That one of these vials also contained a corrupted version of the Hungerer''s bloodline was a small matter. Lady Merem had granted him the true version of that bloodline, and as long as he consumed it before the corrupted bloodline could take hold, he would suffer no ill effects.


    Instead, he''d merely gain yet another powerful bloodline.


    While these five bloodlines should cause his strength to increase with leaps and bounds, they also represented something nearly as important ¡ª that he could finally choose to leave the Imperium.


    His goal in coming to the Imperium had been twofold. First, he wanted to learn its secrets, and second, he wanted to seize its treasures. At this moment, both those things had been largely achieved.


    There were still bloodlines to be had and secrets to be uncovered, of course. He had yet to touch on the Lords'' second step into Enlightenment, and he hadn''t even begun to learn whatever technique the Imperial Knights used to control their bloodlines.


    But if he was forced to flee now, he would no longer consider it a failure. He''d already achieved more than could reasonably be expected, with his strength increasing several times over in just a few short years.


    A faint smile crossed his lips when he imagined how Brightblade and Snowcloud would react when they learned of his progress. When he left the Ninth Valley, he''d barely had the strength to defeat a Master in a fair fight. But when he returned, he''d have the strength to defeat even Grandmasters.


    Yet fast as his progress had been, he knew that further gains would be slow in coming.


    Seizing another bloodline or two might still be possible, but learning the Imperial Knights'' techniques or setting another step into Enlightenment would be far more difficult. Those were things that might well take decades.


    And by then, the war between the Shadowflame Society and the Imperium would long have started.


    Arran let out a small sigh, then turned his attention back to the four vials.


    It only took him a moment to decide that he would take the vial with the Titan''s bloodline last. He was all but certain that was the one that also contained the corrupted Hungerer''s bloodline, as the Titan''s bloodline would be best suited to mask its effects.


    As for the others, the order in which he took them shouldn''t make much of a difference.


    He pondered it briefly, then decided to start with the Sage''s bloodline. Of the three, that should be the one with the mildest effects.


    Arran grimaced as he tasted the liquid. It was a cloyingly sweet wine that utterly failed to mask an aroma of fresh blood, with the two unpleasant flavors instead combining to create a taste so foul it almost made him gag.


    Yet despite his revulsion, the grimace lasted only a single breath. Then, as the liquid entered his stomach, his eyes widened when he felt a warm glow spread through his body.


    It was a pleasant sensation, albeit one that was even milder than he had expected. While it was stronger than what he''d felt when becoming a citizen of the Imperium, the difference between the two was modest at best. And it certainly came nowhere close to receiving a bloodline from Crassus.


    Yet as he sat and waited for the bloodline to take hold, he could tell that it had some small effect on his mind. His mind became slightly clearer, as if he''d stepped outside on a crisp spring morning after a good night''s sleep.


    That was the extent of it, however. Though he waited for another quarter-hour, no more changes came.


    "That''s it?" he muttered, a slightly dejected look on his face. While he hadn''t expected a miracle, he hadn''t expected something as weak as this, either.


    The increase in his clarity of mind should help his comprehension, but the difference was small enough that he could not help but be disappointed. Had it not been for the fact that he''d received this bloodline for free, he almost would have thought the church had swindled him.


    Still, he spent the next hour fully focusing his Sense on the Natural Essence within his body, carefully observing the minute changes in the paths of its flows.


    When he was finally satisfied that he''d observed everything he could ¡ª which wasn''t much, as the changes were exceedingly small ¡ª he immediately moved on to the next vial.


    This time, he chose the Master''s bloodline. Unlike the Sage''s bloodline, this one should have a more formidable effect, giving his body a wholly new power.


    Again, he downed the vial''s foul liquid in a single gulp, suppressing a scowl as he waited for the bloodline to take hold.


    Only a single breath of time passed before he felt it ¡ª a chilly sensation that rapidly spread through his body, causing him to shiver violently. Yet although Arran expected the feeling to strengthen further, it faded as quickly as it had come, with the only lasting effect he could Sense another small change to the flows of Natural Essence within his body.


    Forehead creased in an uneasy frown, Arran carefully examined himself, quickly finding that his control of Shadow Essence had seen a slight increase. But again, the result left him disappointed.


    Although he had no way of testing it here, he was certain that this Master''s bloodline would allow him to control just a sliver of the Essence used in any serious magical attack he suffered.


    With this small bit of power, he would barely be able to deflect an Adept''s attack. As for the attacks of Grandmasters or Archmages, there was no need to even mention those.


    Nevertheless, he spent two full hours using his Sense to observe the effects on the flows of Natural Essence within his body, occasionally nodding to himself as he was beginning to recognize the problem.


    Then, he moved on to the next vial.


    The Guardian''s bloodline proved no different than the previous two. Once more, the effect was exceedingly faint, small enough that it would make next to no difference in battle.


    As Arran had already expected this, he was not disappointed. Instead, he merely focused his Sense once more, spending three hours contemplating the small changes the bloodline had caused within his body.


    Once he was confident that he''d seen all there was to see, he moved to the last vial ¡ª the one that should hold not only the Titan''s bloodline, but also the corrupted Hungerer''s bloodline.


    While he''d emptied the previous three vials without hesitation, this time, he felt some reluctance as he reached out. To knowingly take poison was an unpleasant thing, after all, even with the antidote in hand.


    But then, if his suspicions were correct, the corrupted bloodline should pose little danger to him.


    He grabbed the fourth vial without any further delay, downing it like he had the previous three. Once again, he nearly gagged at the taste of the liquid, but a mere moment later a look of utter surprise appeared on his face.


    Just as he suspected, the fourth vial contained two bloodlines. While this would have been impossible to notice for a normal Darian warrior, Arran was a mage, and a Master of Shadow at that. Moreover, he''d already carried two strong bloodlines for years, and he''d just spent several hours observing another three.


    With that, it would have been impossible for him not to notice that there were two bloodlines, one of which was completely unlike the ones before it. Rather than the calm energy he''d felt in the other ones, this one contained a twisted energy that caused the Natural Essence within his body to briefly flow in a jagged and chaotic manner.


    Yet that was something he''d already expected. What caused his eyes to go wide with surprise wasn''t the tainted bloodline itself, but rather, his body''s reaction to it.


    He''d suspected that the Blood Ruin would reject it, but the response far surpassed his expectations. Rather than merely rejecting the corrupted bloodline, the Natural Essence in his body tore it apart in a savage attack, eradicating even the slightest trace of it in an instant.


    "So that''s how it is¡­"


    By now, Arran understood clearly that the disappointing effects of the previous bloodlines were a result of the Blood Ruin suppressing them. This was something he hadn''t expected, but now, he realized that it made perfect sense.


    The Blood Ruin was the fusion of two powerful bloodlines, both of which had been strengthened to the extreme.


    The Devourer''s bloodline had been forced upon Arran by a frightfully powerful creature whose strength he still did not fully comprehend, and he''d gone on to further feed it with the lives of thousands of foes.


    The Ruiner''s bloodline, meanwhile, was something he''d gained while fully submerged in the blood of a dragon so strong it could shatter mountains, and he''d gone on to build it up by eating the meat of dragons and monsters.


    No wonder the church''s bloodlines could not compare. A few drops of blood diluted in wine could not possibly match such strength.


    It had been different with the lesser bloodline he''d gained when he became a citizen of the Imperium. But that bloodline, Arran now realized, merely served to unlock strength that was already present within his body.


    The greater bloodlines, meanwhile, would effect more fundamental changes. And achieving that required them to alter the vast foundation the Blood Ruin had already built - something they clearly lacked the strength to do.


    As for the corrupted Hungerer''s bloodline, it was little different from a poison. Since dragons'' blood naturally resisted even the most powerful poisons, such a thing naturally failed to take hold.


    A wry smiled crossed Arran''s face, but after a moment of thought, he took out the shadowmetal vial that contained the true Hungerer''s bloodline, and downed that as well.


    If the church''s four bloodlines had proved too weak to leave more than a faint presence inside his body, the one given by Lady Merem was slightly stronger. While its effects still fell far short of his original expectations, it should still be somewhat useful.


    Arran couldn''t help but laugh at himself as he remembered his earlier excitement. He''d honestly believed that he would gain another source of power equal to the Blood Ruin, easily surpassing even the strongest of Knights in a single step.


    But now, he knew the path would be more difficult.


    Although the bloodlines failed to grant him the power he hoped for, that didn''t mean they were useless. At the moment, they were like seeds inside his body, waiting for the nourishment that would allow them to grow into true powers. And for that, there were two options.


    The first of these was to increase his strength. In doing so, he would allow these five bloodlines to benefit as well, slowly growing them into the treasures he''d believed he already had.


    This was the path the church followed ¡ª a path of toil and labor, slow but certain in its outcome. Decades might pass, but eventually, these so-called greater bloodlines would become worthy of the title.


    Arran rejected this path the moment he recognized it.


    While its outcome was certain, the time it would take was far too long. And not just that ¡ª he could vaguely sense that such a path would only reveal a shred of the bloodlines'' true potential.


    After all, the Knights he''d faced should all have had greater bloodlines of their own. And yet, they had died far too easily, the bloodlines they carried not enough to protect their lives.


    But there was another path. And as Arran pondered that path, his expression soon turned thoughtful.


    Perhaps the journey would not be quite as long as he feared, after all.

 Chapter 415: A Path Forward

    Arran sat in complete silence, his body completely unmoving and a blank look in his eyes. Had it not been for the faint smile on his lips, it would have been easy to think that he''d fallen into a stupor.


    But while his exterior seemed frozen, the picture within his interior was completely different. There, strands of Essence circulated continuously, the energy incessantly forming various intricate patterns as it permeated every fiber of his body.


    This Essence consisted of two distinct types.


    The first of these was Shadow Essence. Perfectly controlled, its motion followed Arran''s commands without the slightest effort on his part, the patterns it formed changing instantly at his slightest thought.


    He was, after all, a Master of Shadow magic, his control honed to the extreme by the countless years he''d spent trapped in the Shadow world.


    The second type of Essence was Natural Essence. And although its flows mirrored the flows of Shadow Essence, its movements weren''t quite as smooth, its patterns not quite as perfect. A single glance was enough to know that Arran''s control of it was lacking compared to his mastery of Shadow Essence.


    But with every hour that passed, his control improved. The patterns grew more intricate, the flows of Essence more precise. And if a tremendous gap still existed between his skill at manipulating the two kinds of Essence, that gap was gradually growing smaller.


    "Two weeks," he said to himself. "Less, maybe. By then, it should be possible¡­"


    If he wanted to strengthen the greater bloodlines he''d received, there were only two paths from which he could choose ¡ª the church''s path and the Imperial Knights'' path.


    He''d already rejected the former, as it was slower than he could accept. And as for the latter, all he knew was that it involved finding a way to control the bloodlines.


    By any reasonable standard, that tiny shred of information should be useless. Knowing that magic existed did not make one a mage, and knowing that bloodlines could be controlled did not allow one to do so.


    But Arran had things that others lacked. Not only was his Sense was sharper than any Knight''s, but he''d also had years to observe the Blood Ruin within his body, gradually gaining an understanding of the Body Refinement method it contained.


    Most crucially, he''d spent years trapped inside the Shadow world, where he was forced to use Shadow Essence to nourish his body, using as if it were Natural Essence.


    None of that would let him control his bloodlines. But then, what he needed wasn''t full control. Just being able to strengthen them directly would be more than enough.


    And that was well within his reach.


    The first step toward that goal was honing his skill at controlling the Natural Essence already within his body. And for that, he needed practice.


    The hours passed quickly, with Arran fully absorbed in his task. Time after time he formed patterns of Shadow Essence, and each time, he would replicate them with Natural Essence. Then, he would use his Sense to seek out the differences between the patterns.


    The method was simple but highly effective, far better than anything a teacher could provide. After all, each mistake he made ¡ª and he made plenty ¡ª would be obvious at once, allowing him to correct himself at once.


    But effective as the method was, it was also tiring. After half a day of rapid improvement, Arran felt he could go no more. By now, he could tell that his control was actually beginning to weaken, his focus all but completely drained by the constant effort.


    He did not attempt to push through his exhaustion. Instead, after a moment''s thought, he decided to take the opportunity to get some rest.


    The task he''d set himself was a difficult one, after all, and succeeding would require his full concentration. With that the case, trying to rush things would do more harm than good.


    The next morning, Arran was roused from his slumber by a light knock on the door.


    Although he had half a mind to ignore the voice and go back to sleep ¡ª he doubted the priests would dare barge in ¡ª he forced himself to rise, adjusting his clothes before opening the door.


    Waiting behind it, he found a cheery-faced priest. Short and round-figured, the man more resembled an affable innkeeper than he did a clergyman. Had it not been for his neat white robes, Arran could easily have believed he was a servant.


    "I trust the morning finds you well?" The priest gave Arran a friendly smile, apparently not the least bit annoyed at having been kept waiting.


    "Well enough," Arran replied. "I suppose it''s time to leave?"


    "It is," the priest said, a smile on his face. "Your companion should be ready to leave, as well."


    Arran gave the man a nod. "Lead on, then."


    It only took a few minutes before they reached the large chamber where he''d parted ways with Kaleesh the previous day, and as he stepped inside, he saw that the captain was already waiting for him.


    Kaleesh''s expression was thoughtful, though there was a subtle hint of dissatisfaction in his eyes. From the look on his face, it wasn''t just Arran who was been disappointed with the church''s offering.


    "Not what you expected?" Arran asked as he approached.


    "Good morning to you, as well." Kaleesh sighed before continuing, "As for the bloodline, it''s¡­" His voice trailed off mid-sentence, as if he wasn''t entirely sure of what to say.


    "Weak?" Arran asked, raising an eyebrow in curiosity. While he''d been disappointed with his bloodlines, it should be different for Kaleesh. After all, his friend had no powerful bloodlines to suppress the new one.


    "Not weak, exactly," Kaleesh said. "But not as strong as I expected, either."


    At this, a laugh sounded from the priest who accompanied Arran. "Don''t be too quick in judging your bloodlines," he said. "You have to remember that you are in the Desolation. Right now, the bloodlines are only able to show a tenth of their true power."


    "A tenth?" Arran''s eyes went wide with surprise. Though the Blood Ruin was suppressed by the Desolation, he guessed that it still had half its power available. He''d assumed the same was true for these new bloodlines, but now, it seemed the difference was far greater than that.


    "More or less," the priest confirmed. "The effects can vary slightly, but you have to understand that bloodlines suffer more from the Desolation''s suppression than other parts of one''s strength."


    For some moments, Arran was too stunned to speak ¡ª not so much because of this new information, but because he knew he should have realized it far sooner.


    Upon entering the Desolation, he''d noticed almost immediately that its suppression seemed weaker for him than it was for the Rangers in the Wolfsblood Army. And although he had no explanation for this, his suspicion had been that it must be related to the Blood Ruin.


    Seeing Arran''s dumbfounded expression, the priest grinned. "I see you''re beginning to understand how potent the bloodlines truly are. Besides, what you have now is just the beginning. As you grow stronger, so will your bloodlines."


    Arran nodded quietly, though his surprise was not for the reason the priest thought. Instead, he realized that in underestimating the bloodlines, he''d inadvertently stumbled upon a great fortune.


    The method he''d devised to strengthen the bloodlines was one born of a misunderstanding, but that made it no less useful. If anything, with the bloodlines more potent than he''d thought, it would be even more valuable. Rather than sharpening a rusty blade, he would be polishing a treasure. ;


    "But that''s enough from me." Though the priest still spoke in a friendly tone, a hint of impatience had appeared in his voice. "You will come to appreciate the bloodlines'' power in due time."


    "We''d best leave, then," Arran said, understanding that the priest was ready to see them off.


    The priest nodded. "I understand that your camp lies a few days to the south. If you wish, I can arrange for you to be escorted¡ª"


    "There''s no need."


    "That won''t be necessary."


    Arran and Kaleesh spoke at the same time, rejecting the offer before the priest could even finish his words. Having the church look over their shoulders as they traveled was the last thing they wanted.


    A frown crossed the priest''s face. Clearly, he hadn''t expected his offer to be rejected to easily. "Very well," he said, a trace of annoyance in his voice. "Then I will see you to the Sanctum''s gates."


    A half-hour later, as Arran and Kaleesh found themselves outside the Sanctum''s white walls once more, the captain gave a displeased sigh.


    "Had I known how weak the Guardian''s bloodline would be, I would''ve chosen a different one." He poked his own arm as if to illustrate it, a look of annoyance in his eyes. "This would barely stop a commoner''s blade."


    "Still better than falling to a commoner''s blade," Arran said with a shrug. In truth, he knew that Kaleesh was right. He had the Guardian''s bloodline as well, and if Kaleesh''s version was as strong as his own, then it would offer little protection from the Blightspawn. "At any rate, as the priest told us, it will grow stronger. Give it some time, and we might grow impervious to blades yet."


    Kaleesh narrowed his eyes. "You have the Guardian''s bloodline as well?"


    Arran nodded. "Roshan came to offer me the Guardian''s and Titan''s bloodlines. Naturally, I accepted the gift."


    "In addition to the other two?!" Kaleesh stared at him in shock for several seconds, then finally spat a curse. "Wealth truly seeks the rich. The things I could do with four bloodlines¡­"


    "Not too much, I reckon," Arran said. "Haven''t you ever wondered why Knights and Lords never take more than a few bloodlines?"


    Kaleesh frowned. "Because it''s costly?"


    "That''s what I originally thought," Arran said, "but I''m not so sure of that anymore. Bloodlines need Natural Essence to grow stronger, so the more of them you have, the slower it will be to develop them."


    Kaleesh clicked his tongue, some concern on his face as he looked at Arran. "Then you have a problem?"


    At this, Arran shook his head, a small grin appearing on his face. "Of course not." He cast a glance around, and continued, "But I''ll explain it to you once we''re out of the city. Too many people here."


    Indeed, several people along the busy road to the Sanctum had already recognized them, and although none were close enough to overhear their words, this was a matter Arran could not let others know about.


    "Then let''s hurry," Kaleesh said. "We''ve been away from the army for too long already."


    It took them several hours to leave the city behind, but when its many buildings had finally faded in the distance, they soon found themselves completely alone.


    Busy as the route between the entrance to Sacrifice and the city at its center had been, the roads to the more distant parts of the vast bulwark were decidedly less traveled. The only people to be seen were the farmers working the lands in the distance, and even those were few and far between.


    "So are you going to tell me?" Kaleesh asked. "Or do you think those farmers might be spies as well?"


    Arran hesitated for a moment, then began, "As you know, I''m a mage¡­"


    It took him a good half-hour to explain what he''d learned about the bloodlines and how he planned to address the matter. It was a complex subject, and several times, he found himself having to explain various intricacies of magic and bloodlines to Kaleesh, who knew little of either.


    The captain proved a quick study, however, and it wasn''t long before he recognized what Arran intended to do.


    "It sounds like your strength is about to take another leap forward," he said, forehead creased in a deep frown.


    "You say that like it''s a bad thing."


    "It''s not that," Kaleesh replied. "It''s¡­" He paused, then asked, "If you were forced to fight the entire Wolfsblood Army by yourself, how confident would you be in winning?"


    "Completely."


    Arran had no need to ponder the question, and he did not hide the truth. Even if forced to fight the entire army by himself, he did not see any possible way he could lose. The gap in strength was simply too large for that. Facing just common soldiers and Rangers, he''d be like a dragon among sheep.


    "What if you had to fight Lady Merem?"


    "I''d lose." Again, Arran did not need to consider his answer. Just like he could effortlessly defeat the Wolfsblood Army, Lady Merem would have no difficulty in defeating him.


    Even if she''d never revealed her actual strength, what little he had seen was already enough to convince him of that.


    "And Lord Rannoc?"


    This time, Arran hesitated, but no more than a moment. "I''d lose," he said again. "Now, can you tell me where you are going with this?"


    Kaleesh nodded. "After I left the Imperium, I spent years building up my strength, training for the day of my return." A mirthless smile on his lips, he continued, "When I came back, I actually believed I had some strength. But I understand the truth now. I''m just a mouse playing with wolves."


    "Perhaps," Arran admitted. "But you''ll get stronger. Lady Merem has invited you just like she invited me. With the Imperial Knights'' techniques, you might eventually become as strong as her."


    "That''s too far away," Kaleesh said with a shake of his head. "It won''t help with the dangers we''re facing now."


    "And you''re worried you don''t have the strength to protect the Wolfsblood Army?" Arran remembered that Kaleesh had worried about that before, and he could imagine that the captain''s concerns had only grown further. ;


    "I am," Kaleesh replied, "but it''s not just that. You can protect yourself, but if you have to defend the rest of us¡ª"


    "Then I''ll find a way to do that," Arran cut him off, finally understanding what the captain was worried about.


    Though Arran had joined the Wolfsblood Company as just one of its commanders, he had long since outgrown that role. By now, he was the army''s protector in all but name ¡ª a position that carried many risks and few benefits.


    With his current strength, he could easily choose to join forces with one of the more influential lordlings in Sacrifice, receiving both benefits and protection in return for his allegiance.


    But even if he set out by himself, that would still be safer than having the Wolfsblood Army to protect. Alone, he could escape notice far more easily. And should he meet an enemy he could not defeat, fleeing would still be a simple matter.


    Kaleesh knew this, and now, he worried that Arran faced unnecessary danger by choosing to remain with the Wolfsblood Army. Yet to Arran, the very fact that Kaleesh worried about this meant he was a friend worth having.


    "I do not plan on leaving," Arran said. "Not until I depart the Imperium, at least."


    "Are you certain?" Kaleesh asked. "It would be wiser¡ª"


    "I''m certain," Arran interrupted him. "Now, enough of this foolishness. We should hurry and make our way back to the army."


    "That we should," Kaleesh replied, a thoughtful look on his face. "As much as I trust Sassun, most of the troops were prisoners, and not all of them innocent. If we delay any longer, we might not like what we find when we return."

 Chapter 416: A Simple Task

    "Are they still following us?" Kaleesh turned his head to glance at the trees that lined the road behind them. Though no people could be seen, his eyes held a hint of wariness.


    "They''re still there," Arran confirmed. "But I don''t expect them to do anything. They''re just Rangers, after all."


    Several days had passed since they left the city, with the road to the Wolfsblood Army''s leading them through seemingly endless farmlands that held more sheep than people.


    But sparsely populated though the area was, Arran and Kaleesh had not gone unnoticed. Barely an hour after they left the city''s outskirts behind, Arran had Sensed a pair of Rangers following some distance behind, furtively moving through the trees like wolves stalking prey.


    Of course, that comparison only held true on the surface. In reality, the Rangers were more like sheep stalking wolves, with only the laws of Sacrifice protecting them from their quarry.


    That flimsy protection was all the Rangers needed, however. Easy as it would be for Arran to defeat them, he would not risk attacking the Rangers without cause ¡ª not where others might learn of the attack, at least.


    "I suppose they''re harmless," Kaleesh said, though there was a trace of displeasure in his voice. "Still, I''d like to know who sent them."


    "I could capture them," Arran said. "Even if we can''t kill them, perhaps they can be persuaded to talk."


    Kaleesh briefly hesitated before shaking his head. "Even if you get them to talk, there''s no way to know if they''re telling the truth. Besides, the camp should be less than an hour away. If they continue to spy on us there, we''ll have cause to act."


    Arran gave a short nod. "We''ll see what they do." While he was hardly an expert on the laws of Sacrifice, he understood that spying on any of the armies'' camps was considered an act of aggression. If the Rangers crossed that line, the situation would naturally change.


    A half-hour passed quietly, and it wasn''t long before Arran saw buildings appear in the distance ¡ª enough to pass for a small town, rather than the camp he had expected to see.


    Yet he remembered almost immediately that the camp Kaleesh had chosen lay just a few miles from the nearest town. This should be the town, then, which meant the camp would be nearby.


    "Let''s take a look," Kaleesh said. "It can''t hurt to know who our neighbors are."


    Arran naturally had no objections to this, and as they neared the small town, he looked around with some interest.


    It was immediately obvious that this was no common town. While there were many common shops and houses among the buildings, he spotted over a dozen inns and taverns in just a few short minutes ¡ª enough to accommodate hundreds of travelers.


    Yet plentiful as the inns and taverns were, they currently stood mostly empty, with only a handful of locals drinking at one of them.


    "It seems Sassun is a stricter commander than I am," Kaleesh mused. "I''d have expected to find at least some of the troops here."


    "It might not be strictness on his part." Arran rubbed his chin, a thoughtful look in his eyes. "We''re in Sacrifice, after all, and I can''t imagine the prices here being lower than elsewhere."


    As realization set in, Kaleesh muttered a curse. "The damn church is too greedy. I handed Sassun enough coin to last several months."


    Arran gave the captain a wry smile. "Barely enough for a week or two, in other words."


    Though Kaleesh''s expression turned ugly at Arran''s words, he did not argue the point. Instead, he remained silent for several seconds before finally shaking his head in disgust. "I''ve seen enough. Let''s go."


    Arran did not argue, though he did not share Kaleesh''s annoyance, either. While the prices in Sacrifice were undeniably extortionate, his void ring held enough pure shadowmetal coins to supply the army for years if not decades.


    More importantly, he had other matters to worry about.


    Although he had some idea of how he could strengthen his new bloodlines, he had yet to put his theory to the test. And although he had some confidence that his instincts were correct, a shred of doubt still remained in his mind.


    Yet just as they moved to leave, Arran''s thoughts were interrupted by an anxious voice.


    "Master Kaleesh!"


    As Arran turned to look, he saw that the voice belonged to an elderly man who was hurrying over at a pace that seemed to be well beyond what his frail body could handle. White-haired and dressed in a set of ill-fitting clothes that might once have been called fine, he had the look of a nobleman who''d lost his fortune long ago.


    "Master Kaleesh!" the man called out again, his face red from the exertion as he came to a halt. He faced the two with some doubt in his eyes, apparently uncertain which of them he''d called out to.


    Kaleesh remained silent for a moment, giving the man an examining look. Finally, he said, "Yes?"


    At once, the old man''s lips curled up in an ingratiating smile as he faced Kaleesh. "I apologize for disturbing you," he said, his breath still heavy from the short run, "but Master Sassun told me you would arrive soon, and I have an urgent matter to discuss with you."


    "Sassun told you about me?" Kaleesh frowned. "What sort of matter is it you wish to discuss?"


    Having won Kaleesh''s attention, the old man took a moment to catch his breath. Then, in a calmer voice, he said, "I understand that you and your men intend to travel into the Desolation soon. It is my hope that I can help in providing you with supplies."


    "You''re a merchant?" Kaleesh asked, his voice flat as he looked at the man with barely veiled skepticism.


    "Not exactly," the old man replied, slightly shaking his head. "Ultimately, everything sold in Sacrifice is controlled by the church. But I am well-connected, and I can help you acquire supplies at a price well below what you would otherwise pay."


    "What''s in it for you?" The captain made no effort whatsoever to hide the suspicion in his tone.


    "A small fee," the man replied, not the least bit deterred by Kaleesh''s curt manner. "All I require is a small bit of gold. In return, I will save you a great deal of shadowmetal. Naturally, I can also help with other matters. Should you need information, I can provide that as well. Whether it''s maps or details about the other armies, I can find what you need."


    Kaleesh narrowed his eyes as he studied the man. Then, somewhat to Arran''s surprise, he gave a nod. "I''ll give you a chance," he said. "Two Rangers have followed us since we left the city. If you can find out who sent them, I may decide to make use of your other services."


    At once, a broad smile appeared on the man''s wrinkled face. "Certainly!" he said in an excited tone. "I will get to work at once. My name is Baqi. Once I have the information you need, I will find you at once. Now, I need to¡­"


    Arran and Kaleesh did not learn what it was the man needed, as he instantly turned around and walked away, mumbling to himself as he headed for one of the taverns.


    "He seems an unreliable sort." Arran gave Kaleesh a questioning look. "Why did you ask for his help?"


    "He might be a madman," Kaleesh said with a shrug, "or perhaps a particularly inept crook. But whatever he is, the Imperium''s lordlings would not send someone like that. It can''t hurt to see if he''s of use to us."


    "If you say so." Though Arran had little hope that the old man would prove useful, there was no harm in giving him a chance. At worst ¡ª and most likely ¡ª he would fail to find any useful information.


    "I do," Kaleesh replied. "But we should head off. I''m curious to see how the army has fared in our absence."


    There was a trace of anxiousness in the captain''s voice as he spoke, and Arran understood his friend??s worries all too well.


    While Sassun was a capable enough commander, he had neither Kaleesh''s authority nor Arran''s strength. If any of the Rangers in the army had made trouble, Sassun would have had to rely on others to put an end to it.


    Still, there was no point in adding fuel to the captain''s worries. And so, instead of voicing his own concerns, Arran merely nodded and said, "I''m sure Sassun has kept them in check. Especially with Arjun helping him."


    As the Wolfsblood Army''s camp lay only a few miles from the small town, it wasn''t long before they saw the camp''s gate appear in the distance.


    At once, Arran breathed a sigh of relief. Although the camp''s walls were shabbier than he''d expected and the gate looked like it would struggle to stop a wild boar, he instantly recognized Arjun leading the small group of soldiers who guarded the gate.


    If nothing else, at the very least that meant the army had not disbanded.


    Arjun gave them an excited wave as they approached. "You''ve returned!" he called out, a wide smile on his face. "We were beginning to worry you''d abandoned us."


    Though his face held a grin, the relieved look in his eyes suggested that he spoke only partly in jest. They had been gone far longer than expected, after all.


    "Good to see you," Kaleesh said as he approached the Ranger. "Any trouble while I was gone?"


    "Nothing too serious," Arjun replied. "There was a bit of a scuffle, but Barric took care of it. Come, let me show you around."


    As he guided them through the gate, Kaleesh shot him a questioning look. "A scuffle? Who were involved?"


    "Domar and Ifras," Arjun said, "though neither was willing to speak much about it."


    At the mention of Domar''s name, Kaleesh''s expression darkened. "Domar was making trouble?"


    Although Domar was young, he was perhaps the most talented among the Wolfsblood Army''s Rangers. But for all his talent, he was also a constant source of disagreement and complaints.


    If the young Ranger had started trouble once more, Arran suspected Kaleesh would kick him out of the army, talented or not.


    Yet to his surprise, Arjun shook his head. "This time, it was Ifras who began it. Though I can''t say what they were bickering about, this time it wasn''t Domar''s fault." He shrugged, then added, "Either way, the beating Barric gave them seems to have done them some good. I haven''t heard a complaint from either in days."


    Though it looked as if Kaleesh was about to ask another question, the captain fell silent when he laid eyes on the camp. He did not speak for several moments, until finally, he said in a soft voice, "I paid ten pure shadowmetal coins for this?"


    His expression held outrage and shock in equal measure, and as Arran looked at the camp, he knew exactly what Kaleesh was thinking.


    The most charitable thing that could be said about the camp was that it was, in fact, a camp. There were several spacious training fields, a number of large barracks, a dozen small cottages to house the commanders, and a number of other buildings.


    Yet a single glance was enough to see that all of it was in a state of utter disrepair. One of the barracks was missing a roof and several of the others looked like they might collapse from sheer misery at any moment. And while the cottages looked to be in slightly better shape, they still more resembled beggars'' sheds than they did commanders'' houses.


    As for the training fields¡­ Arran shook his head in disgust the moment he laid eyes on them. Though they were not lacking in space, most looked like freshly plowed farmlands that had just weathered a terrible storm, with at least a foot of mud covering the ground wherever he looked.


    Seeing their dumbfounded expressions, Arjun gave a wry smile. "Sassun managed to find several new cooks," he said. "So at least the food is good."


    "This is¡­" Kaleesh began, but a moment later, he shook his head and sighed in resignation. "I suppose it can''t be helped. We''ll only be here for a few weeks. If nothing else, we''ll be well-prepared for the hardsh.i.p.s of the Desolation."


    "It could be worse," Arjun said. "The first time I stayed in Sacrifice, we had to stay in tents."


    Arran refrained from pointing out that even tents might be a step up from the dilapidated buildings he saw before him, as tents would at least not collapse on top of their inhabitants.


    "Come," Arjun continued, "I''ll show you to the others. They''ll be glad to see that you''ve both returned." At those last words, he cast a short glance at Arran, as if he''d been worried that Arran in particular might have joined another group.


    They spent the next hour greeting the Wolfsblood Army''s soldiers and Rangers, sharing drinks with the troops while they loudly joked about the dismal state of the camp.


    Arran quickly discovered that Barric had not held back in dealing with Domar and Ifras, as both Rangers still sported heavily bruised faces. Ifras in particular looked miserable, with a broken nose and two black eyes, but Domar wasn''t in a much better state.


    When Arran asked Barric about this, the giant Ranger gave a booming laugh. "They forgot that talent isn''t strength," he said. "I merely offered a reminder. Of course, should they forget again, I would be happy to help them remember."


    Arran could only smile wryly. From the fearful looks the two young Rangers gave Barric, he did not think they would forget the lesson any time soon.


    Sassun, meanwhile, was in a rare good mood. Although he''d handled his task without issue, only a blind man would fail to see how glad he was to be rid of it.


    Finally, as the troops returned to their training, Sassun took Arran and Kaleesh aside. "I''ll show you to your quarters," he said. "We''ve saved the best two cottages for you, but¡­" He shrugged helplessly, the gesture making it clear that they shouldn''t expect much.


    Kaleesh laughed. "It''s only right that we should suffer with the rest of you. But tell me, we met an old man in the nearby town¡­"


    At once, Sassun sighed. "You''ve met Old Baqi, then. He''s been pestering us ever since we arrived. Word is that he does the same with every group that stays here. I''ll do my best to keep him away from you, but I can''t promise anything. Even walls don''t seem to stop that man."


    Kaleesh shook his head. "There''s no need to stop him. The next time he comes, send him straight to me."


    A frown crossed Sassun''s face, but he knew better than to argue with Kaleesh. "Very well. The next time he visits, he''s your problem."


    "Good," the captain replied with a nod. "Now, Arran, I suppose you''re anxious to get back to your training?"


    Arran couldn''t help but laugh. "Good guess."


    "Before you go, have you seen any more signs of those two Rangers?"


    Arran gave a shake of his head. "They disappeared soon after we left the town. If I had to guess, I''d say they''re still there."


    Kaleesh frowned, his expression thoughtful. "Good," he finally said. "Perhaps that old man will be of use after all. But enough about that. Sassun, take Arran to his quarters. After that, we can start work on preparing the army for the Desolation. I mean to leave no later than three weeks from now."


    A few minutes later, Arran found himself in a small cottage that appeared marginally better than the others in the camp. Though it was small and slightly rickety, the interior was clean and the walls showed no sign of collapsing any time soon.


    Arran sat down on a creaky chair that stood next to the small desk at the side of the room, then produced the small wooden box he''d taken from the Sanctum.


    Within, he knew, were twelve pills that contained a staggering amount of Natural Essence. If his plan worked and he succeeded in using Natural Essence to strengthen bloodlines separately, those pills should be just enough to improve one or two of the five bloodlines he''d received.


    After a moment''s thought, he put the box aside. Before he could use the pills, he first needed to be certain that he had the control he needed. And although he''d already practiced controlling the Natural Essence within his body while he was in the Sanctum, a single day''s work was far from enough.


    He took a deep breath, taking a few moments to prepare himself for the effort ahead. He''d already experimented with controlling Natural Essence like he did Shadow Essence, after all, and he knew just how draining it was.


    Then, he closed his eyes.


    In an instant, he became fully aware of the Essence within his body, both the Shadow Essence and the Natural Essence. He briefly took in the patterns the two types of Essence formed within his body, following their constant movement, then immediately began to control them.


    Like before, the Shadow Essence was easiest to control. He could manipulate it with barely a thought, the patterns it formed changing instantly at the slightest command.


    By comparison, the Natural Essence was far more difficult to manipulate. While it was also within his control, to consciously command it felt much like trying to hold a pen with his feet. While it was far from impossible, doing so nevertheless felt strange and unnatural, and his attempts were clumsy at best.


    Fortunately, he''d already devised a method to deal with this in the Sanctum ¡ª to form patterns with Shadow Essence, and then copy those with Natural Essence. In doing so, he could improve his control, and gradually master the Natural Essence that pervaded his body.


    Thus, with the road before him clear, he set to work, endlessly forming and destroying patterns of Shadow Essence, each time copying them with Natural Essence to the best of his ability.


    It was difficult work that allowed no outside distractions, and as Arran fully focused his mind on the endless patterns, he had little idea of how much time passed.


    Several times, he became too tired to continue, the constant mental effort too much to sustain. When that happened, he paused to eat and sleep, continuing again the moment he awoke.


    And so, amid this constant effort, Arran''s control gradually improved.


    Then, one night, he suddenly opened his eyes.


    "This should be enough."


    Although he was still far from reaching perfection, he recognized that he had reached a point where any further progress would require more time and effort than he could spare. Whatever steps he might still make with another few days or weeks of work were too small to make a difference.


    More importantly, he felt that his control had grown far enough to achieve his immediate task ¡ª to direct the Natural Essence within his body to strengthen only the bloodlines of his choosing.


    What remained should be a simple task.


    All he had to do now was direct a sufficient amount of Natural Essence to the bloodline he wanted to strengthen first. With that, he would be able to finally turn it into something truly worth being called a greater bloodline.


    Naturally, Arran had already picked the first bloodline he would strengthen ¡ª the Hungerer''s bloodline. After all, strengthening the Hungerer''s bloodline would allow him to draw in more Natural Essence, which in turn would help him strengthen the others.


    With his path already chosen, he decided there was no point in delaying the matter. Without hesitation, he reached for the small wooden box and took out one of the twelve pills.


    Marble-sized and dull-green, the pill in his hand more resembled an overgrown bean than it did a priceless treasure. Yet to Arran''s Sense, it blazed like a bonfire, the Natural Essence it contained plentiful enough that it was impossible to say how much of it there actually was.


    Arran''s eyes held a trace of unease as he looked at the pill. Simple though his task should be, he had yet to actually discover whether it was possible.


    Of course, he had already tried to use the unbound Natural Essence within his body to strengthen the Hungerer''s bloodline, but he''d quickly discovered that there was simply too little of it to make a difference.


    After all, all but a fraction of the Natural Essence he had was already part of his body, strengthening his muscles, his bones, and the Blood Ruin, rather than freely floating around inside him.


    The Natural Essence within the pill, on the other hand, remained completely unbound. And now, all he had to do was direct it to strengthen the Hungerer''s bloodline.


    A simple task, if his theory was correct.


    He did not consume the pill in his hand immediately. Instead, he first focused his attention on the Blood Ruin, slowly forcing its endless consumption to come to a near-complete halt.


    Though he had no true control over it, to direct its consumption was an ability he''d had even when he first received the Dragon''s Ruin.


    Back then, he''d used that sliver of control to consume the Blood magic that was threatening his life, inadvertently fusing the two bloodlines into the Blood Ruin.


    This time, however, his goal was a different one ¡ª to prevent the Blood Ruin from wasting the treasure he was about to consume. And that was an even simpler matter.


    Several minutes passed before Arran was finally satisfied that he''d suppressed the Blood Ruin as much as he could. Then, after a final glance at the pill, he threw it in his mouth and swallowed it.


    Almost immediately, he realized he''d underestimated the pill.


    He''d expected to find a rich fount of Natural Essence, but instead, what he found was an overwhelming avalanche, so vast that the sheer sensation of it briefly left him dumbfounded.


    The single pill, he realized with some awe, contained every bit as much Natural Essence as he''d gain from several months of eating dragon meat. Even if he allowed the Blood Ruin to consume it, he had no doubt that it would allow his strength to make a noticeable step forward.


    Still, he suppressed his awe a moment later, pushing the question of how the church could produce such things from his mind. Right now, his goal wasn''t to simply increase his strength, nor was it to delve into the church''s secrets.


    Rather, his goal was to strengthen the Hungerer''s bloodline. And for that, he needed his full concentration.


    Arran struggled to gain control over the torrent of Natural Essence that raged through his body. While he''d spent the previous days improving his control of Natural Essence, everything he''d previously controlled was a mere trickle compared to the ocean of energy he now faced.


    Yet it was too late to turn back. He had already consumed the pill, and now, his only choice was to either persist or have it be wasted. Naturally, he was unwilling to do the latter.


    With no choice but to continue, Arran slowly worked to subdue the flood of Essence he had consumed, circulating it through his body again and again.


    For some time, that was all he could manage ¡ª to endlessly circulate the Natural Essence as he fought to control it.


    Yet as the hours passed, his previous practice finally began to assert itself. While truly controlling the torrent was still beyond his power, he found that by subtly manipulating it, he was able to split off thinner streams.


    And those, he could control.


    Upon discovering this, Arran did not act immediately. Instead, he took some time to grow accustomed to the dual task of both guiding the thick flow of Essence through his body and controlling the thinner streams. Then, when he was finally confident that he could do both at the same time, he let out a deep sigh of relief.


    While the first step had proved far more difficult than he had anticipated, things should be easier from this point onward. Now that he controlled the Essence, all that remained was to direct it to the Hungerer''s bloodline.


    Arran took a moment to focus his mind, then immediately set to work. This close to success, he could no longer bring himself to wait.


    With a single thought, he separated a thin strand of Natural Essence from the vast torrent, then promptly directed it to those places within his body where he''d seen changes when he first received the Hungerer''s bloodline.


    Yet the excitement on his face lasted only a few minutes before fading away. After that, a look of utter defeat took its place.


    Arran had believed that he could strengthen the bloodline by drowning it in Natural Essence. It was a simple method, not much different from the way in which common Body Refiners could strengthen their muscles by continuously flooding them with Natural Essence.


    But bloodlines weren''t muscles, and what Arran had expected didn''t happen. Instead of gradually absorbing the Essence, the bloodline seemed wholly untouched by the Essence he directed toward it.


    It was like trying to fill a straw basket with water. No matter how hard he tried, not the least bit of Natural Essence was absorbed by the bloodline.


    He could not help but let out a self-deprecating laugh.


    Of course it didn''t work. He still didn''t even fully understand what bloodlines even were. With that the case, how could strengthening them possibly be that simple?


    With a sigh, Arran reluctantly allowed the Blood Ruin to consume the Natural Essence that remained in his body. There was no point in continuing to try. Now that he knew the path he''d chosen was flawed, any further effort would naturally be wasted.


    A wry smile crossed his face when he felt the strength spreading through his body as the Blood Ruin did its work. At any other time, he would have rejoiced at the sensation ¡ª even if the step forward wasn''t overly large, he''d long reached the point where even the slightest bit of progress was hard to come by.


    But now, all he could feel was disappointment. After all, compared to the potential of the Hungerer''s bloodline, any single increase in his strength would be insignificant.


    Despite his disappointment, Arran did not allow himself to sulk for more than a few moments. While he''d unexpectedly run into a dead end, that didn''t mean there were no other paths available.


    Nor, for that matter, did it mean that there weren''t other things that demanded his attention.


    He let out a final sigh as he stood up and stretched his weary body. Although he didn''t know exactly how much time had passed since he started his seclusion, he guessed that it would at least be several weeks.


    By now, the army should already be preparing for the journey into the Desolation.


    Suppressing the lingering feeling of disappointment, Arran changed into a fresh set of clothes, then quickly headed out of the cottage to find Kaleesh. Before anything else, he would have to find out how much time there was left until their departure.


    He found Kaleesh some minutes later, instructing a large group of soldiers as they practiced their swordsmanship. From the exasperated look on the captain''s face, Arran guessed that these soldiers were among the less talented ones in the army.


    "Not like that!" the captain shouted, eyes wide with anger as one of the soldiers clumsily swung his sword. "You need to maintain your def¡ª" He stopped mid-sentence when he saw Arran approach, the anger disappearing from his face in an instant. "You''ve finally emerged!" He gave Arran an appraising look, then asked uncertainly, "Did you succeed?"


    Arran shook his head. "I failed, and quite miserably at that. How long has it been?"


    Kaleesh frowned before answering, "Just over two weeks. If you need it, there''s still some time¡­"


    Again, Arran shook his head. "Even a decade wouldn''t make a difference. Not with what I was trying to do." He sighed, then asked, "Any news?"


    "Quite a bit of it, actually," Kaleesh replied. "For a start, Old Baqi managed to find out who those Rangers were." With a slight grimace, he continued, "The news isn''t good. They''re with a lordling named Shir. His father was one of Kadun''s closest allies, and he came to Sacrifice with four Knights under his command." The captain gave a mirthless smile, then added, "Though one of those Knights recently disappeared."


    Arran swallowed a curse. "I suppose we already know what happened to that one. But he has three more Knights?"


    "That he does," Kaleesh replied. "Moreover, from what I''ve heard, he''s not the type to easily let go of grudges."


    "Given our recent luck, that goes without saying." Arran sighed. "What about Nisra? Any word from her?"


    "None," Kaleesh said. "Though she arrived in Sacrifice a week ago, she has yet to send word. I suspect Shir''s reputation may have something to do with that."


    Arran raised an eyebrow. "That bad?" Though he didn''t know much about Nisra, she didn''t strike him as the type to be easily intimidated.


    "Worse," Kaleesh replied. "This is his second journey to the Desolation. On the first, his men slaughtered two entire armies from the Lords'' Alliance. At least, that''s what the rumors say. There were no witnesses to tell the true story."


    "Sounds like a pleasant character." Arran rubbed his chin, then asked, "Any good news?"


    Kaleesh shrugged. "The cooks Sassun found are quite skilled. So at least we''ll get to enjoy a few good meals before we¡ª"


    "Wait!" In an instant, Arran''s eyes went wide with surprise. "Of course! I''m an idiot!"


    "Perhaps," Kaleesh said, "though I don''t know if I''d go that far. But I take it there''s a reason for this sudden insight of yours?"


    "You''ll find out soon enough." A joyful grin formed on Arran''s face as he spoke. "And this time, I should be back in a day or two."

 Chapter 417: Breakthrough

    Kaleesh watched in bemus.e.m.e.nt as Arran hurried back to the cottage. From the confounded look in the captain''s eyes, it almost seemed like he believed his friend had finally gone mad from training too much.


    Arran did not notice Kaleesh''s puzzled stare, however. While the weeks of wasted effort hadn''t quite driven him mad, his failure to strengthen the bloodlines had caused him no small amount of frustration. Now that he had found a new path forward, he naturally had little thought for anything else.


    Still, as he entered the cottage and once more sat down on the creaky wooden chair, he did not act immediately. Instead, he took a brief moment to calm his nerves and consider what he was about to attempt.


    His initial excitement passed quickly, and as it did, he could not help but feel some anxiousness. This time, the cost of failure might be more than just wasted time.


    The idea he had was simple enough. Rather than trying to strengthen the bloodlines, he would instead allow the Blood Ruin to consume them.


    That''s how the Blood Ruin had come into existence ¡ª the Dragon''s Ruin had consumed the Blood magic that was threatening Arran''s life, and in doing so, it had absorbed its power.


    If that feat could be repeated, there would be no more reason to worry about strengthening the bloodlines. Rather than relying on their own meager strength, they would instead share the seemingly endless power of the Blood Ruin.


    But simple though the idea might be, that did not mean it was safe.


    At best, failure would mean losing a bloodline. That would be an inconvenience, though not a disaster. Arran was certain that Lady Merem would replace the Hungerer''s bloodline if he lost it, even if that would involve some awkward questions.


    But there was another, more serious danger ¡ª that the attempt might damage his body.


    While they were weak, the Imperium''s bloodlines had nevertheless already taken root within Arran''s body. Thus, to let them be devoured was little different from allowing part of himself to be destroyed.


    If such a thing went wrong, it might well cause lasting injuries or even cripple him.


    Moreover, as much as Arran wanted the plan to work, he knew there was ample reason to doubt whether it would.


    When the Blood Ruin had attacked the corrupted Hungerer''s bloodline, the latter had been destroyed without a trace, not the slightest trace of its power remaining.


    That might be because the corrupted bloodline was too far gone, more poison than power, with the remainder too insignificant to have an effect on the Blood Ruin. In that case, the outcome might still be different for the other bloodlines.


    But it was also possible that the fusion of the Dragon''s Ruin and the Blood magic had been a stroke of luck ¡ª something that could not be repeated even if he tried a thousand times. If that was the case, the consequences of trying to duplicate the feat were hard to predict.


    Nevertheless, Arran was not deterred. Even if he had plenty of reason for doubt, he still believed that his plan would work.


    This wasn''t a belief born of rational consideration. Rather, it was something instinctive, a confidence that seemed to come straight from the Blood Ruin itself.


    Unlike the Imperium''s bloodlines, the Blood Ruin was truly part of him, as integral to his body as the limbs he was born with ¡ª more so, perhaps, as his limbs were something he could lose without dying. And as he imagined using it to consume the bloodlines, the idea of doing so seemed no less natural than walking or breathing.


    Whether that intuition was correct remained to be seen, but there was no point in pondering the matter any further. The question could only be answered in one way, and that was by actually making the attempt.


    Arran clenched his teeth in determination, then pushed aside his lingering doubts, closing his eyes as he focused his mind on the task ahead.


    It was time to take a chance.


    With a single thought, Arran took command of the Blood Ruin, the action as quick and natural as consciously controlling his breath. Even if there rarely was a need for it, it was something that required no effort whatsoever.


    Then, without hesitation, he attacked the Hungerer''s bloodline.


    If the battle between the Dragon''s Ruin and the Blood magic had been like a fight between two fierce predators, the confrontation between the Blood Ruin and the Hungerer''s bloodline was wholly different. Rather than a battle, it more resembled a pack of hungry wolves chasing down a crippled rabbit.


    In a matter of moments, much of the Hungerer''s bloodline had already disappeared, its power ruthlessly devoured by the Blood Ruin. In terms of strength, there simply was no comparing the two.


    But quick though the victory was, it was anything but painless.


    The instant the Blood Ruin began to consume the competing bloodline, Arran was filled with a sensation of incomparable agony. It was as if liquid metal had been poured into his veins, scouring every fiber of his body.


    This pain passed almost as quickly as it had come, but even so, it was enough to drive Arran to the brink of unconsciousness. And even after it passed, a blank look remained in his eyes, with even the memory of the torment too much for him to handle.


    He sat like that for a good quarter-hour, motionless and pale-faced, his mind devoid of thought. Yet as the color slowly returned to his cheeks, a faint smile finally emerged on his face.


    "It worked," he said softly, some wonder in his voice. "It actually worked."


    Although he was still in a half-dazed state, he could already tell that his gamble had paid off. The Hungerer''s bloodline had been merged into the Blood Ruin.


    Where the Hungerer''s bloodline had previously been so weak as to be useless, merging it into the Blood Ruin instantly increased its strength several times over ¡ª enough that Arran could already feel a gentle stream of Essence from his surroundings steadily flowing into his body.


    This flow of Essence was gentle, but the amount of power it contained was by no means small.


    At a guess, Arran thought that a month of absorbing Natural Essence like this could easily match the church''s pill he''d consumed earlier, or several months of eating dragon meat.


    This realization caused him some shock. With a source of power like that, he could double his strength in just a year or two. And with a few decades, it would be hard to even imagine what he could accomplish.


    Though the breakthrough caused him no small amount of excitement, he knew that this was just the first step.


    There were four more bloodlines waiting to be consumed, after all.


    Still, while part of Arran was eager to continue ¡ª even if he now knew the agony it would cause him ¡ª he did not move on to the next bloodline immediately.


    Brief though the shock of absorbing the Hungerer''s bloodline had been brief, its sheer intensity had left him reeling with shock, and even now his mind remained half-dazed and his body weakened.


    Before he faced another such force, he first needed to steady himself.


    Over an hour passed as he sat in silence, eyes closed while he slowly calmed his nerves and let his body recover.


    The effort was only partly successful. Though Arran''s mind was quick to stabilize itself, weakness continued to linger within his body even after an hour of rest, as if the blow from absorbing the bloodline had strained every fiber of his being.


    Had the situation been different, he might have chosen to take a few weeks'' rest. Yet as it was, he had no time to spare ¡ª not with the Wolfsblood Army''s journey into the Desolation fast approaching.


    He hesitated briefly, then took one of the church''s pills from the small wooden box and threw it in his mouth.


    The amount of Natural Essence in the pill was vast, but the Blood Ruin made quick work of it, rapidly using the energy to strengthen Arran''s weakened body. A single breath''s time was all it took to remove most of the weakness he''d felt before.


    To his surprise, however, the weakness he felt did not disappear completely. Though much of it was gone, a trace still remained ¡ª enough that it caused Arran to frown in wonder.


    Each of these pills contained enough Natural Essence to equal several months of normal consumption. If even that wasn''t sufficient, wouldn''t he have needed months to recover without the pills?


    Arran considered taking another pill, but quickly decided against it. With four more bloodlines to be consumed, it was best to save the rest of the pills until after he finished.


    He took a deep breath, then closed his eyes once more. The Hungerer''s bloodline had already been absorbed, and now, he would absorb the Master''s bloodline.


    A tremble went through his body as he seized control of the Blood Ruin and directed it to attack the second bloodline.


    Then, the pain struck.


    Although he''d been prepared, there was no resisting the sudden surge of utter agony. But once again, his suffering lasted only an instant ¡ª even if that was nearly enough to make him fall unconscious.


    When the pain passed and Arran''s mind began to clear, he knew that his second attempt had also succeeded. The Master''s bloodline was gone from his body, and the Blood Ruin now carried its power.


    This time, the change was subtle. The only indication that something had changed at all was that his control of the Shadow Essence in his body had slightly improved.


    This caused Arran some surprise. His control of Shadow Essence had long reached a point where further improvements were hard to come by, and even this small step forward might normally have taken months of practice.


    Still, had that been the extent of it, he might have been disappointed.


    Yet the true power of the Master''s bloodline wasn''t to make him a slightly stronger mage. Rather, it was to let him control Essence that wasn''t his own, allowing him to resist other mages'' attacks.


    Now that the Blood Ruin had absorbed the Master''s bloodline, that power should be his. As for his improved control of the magical Essence within his body ¡ª that should only be a fortunate side effect.


    Arran had no chance to rejoice, however, because as his mind cleared further he became aware of something else ¡ª a feeling of weakness that pervaded his body.


    The same thing had happened after he absorbed the Hungerer''s bloodline, but this time, it was far worse than it had been before. Where he''d previously merely felt weak and exhausted, it now felt as if he''d fallen ill with some terrible disease.


    Despite this, no panic appeared on his face. Instead, his expression briefly turned thoughtful, after which he slowly nodded in understanding.


    "So that''s how it is."


    He recognized almost immediately what the problem was. It wasn''t damage from absorbing the bloodline ¡ª painful though the ordeal had been, there were no signs of any harm.


    Rather, he now understood, the problem came from the Blood Ruin.


    In absorbing the bloodlines, it had gained two potent new abilities, both of which would require no small amount of power. And that power naturally had to come from somewhere.


    Arran had already suspected that the Blood Ruin''s power was no different from his own. The bloodline was truly part of him, and he''d never found any sign that it had a hidden reservoir of energy that it could draw upon.


    Now, that suspicion turned to certainty.


    The Blood Ruin''s strength was simply his own strength. And just like using his arms required energy from his body, the same held true for using the Blood Ruin''s abilities.


    When its only powers were those of the Dragon Ruin and the Blood magic, that hadn''t been a problem. But now that two new powers had been added, it seemed he had reached the limit of what his body could bear.


    Fortunately, he already had the solution to this problem.


    He already knew that he could suppress the Blood Ruin''s consumption of Natural Essence, and with the two bloodlines now part of the Blood Ruin, the same should hold true for their powers.


    Which meant all he had to do was suppress them.


    To Arran''s relief, this proved every bit as simple as he''d hoped. He managed to suppress the bloodlines'' powers almost immediately, and after half a day of training, he could already suppress and awaken them at will.


    He was pleased but unsurprised to find that his guess had been correct ¡ª as long as he kept some of the Blood Ruin''s powers suppressed, the feeling of weakness disappeared.


    "Two bloodlines," he muttered to himself. "Three, if I push myself. But I can''t handle more than that. Not yet."


    The result didn''t disappoint him in the least. While he might not be able to use all the bloodlines'' powers at once, he had still gained the ability to choose which ones to use.


    And best of all, now that he''d discovered this, there was nothing stopping him from absorbing the remaining three bloodlines.


    The first Arran chose was the Sage''s bloodline. He''d known he wanted it from the moment he heard of its existence, and now that he finally had the chance to fully awaken its powers, he naturally wasted no time in doing so.


    The bloodline did not disappoint.


    After Arran merged it with the Blood Ruin, he found that it granted him an incomparable focus and clarity. Although it did not increase his insights directly ¡ª as he''d secretly hoped ¡ª its value for training was obvious at a glance.


    With focus like this, both expanding his insights and practicing his magic should be far smoother. And just as importantly, it would also help him in understanding the oath seals that still lay within his body.


    Nevertheless, Arran did not explore this new power''s full potential after he absorbed it. There would be time for that later. Right now, two more bloodlines remained to be consumed.


    The second he chose was the Guardian''s bloodline.


    This wasn''t a bloodline he''d chosen himself, but even so, he found himself more than pleased with its power after he awakened it. While it wouldn''t leave him impervious to harm altogether, the defense was strong enough that common Blightspawn should struggle to injure him even if he did not defend himself.


    With the journey ahead, such a defense would be of no small value.


    And lastly, there was the Titan''s bloodline. This was another of the bloodlines Arran had received from Roshan, and when he felt its potency, he could not help but shake his head in astonishment.


    Awakening the Titan''s power in the Blood Ruin caused his physical strength to double in an instant. That would have been a shocking result for anyone, but Arran''s strength already far outstripped that of others. Adding this ability, there would be few who could contend with him.


    Arran could not stop himself from grinning in delight at the day''s progress.


    The bloodlines'' powers had initially disappointed him, but now that he''d absorbed them into the Blood Ruin, they easily exceeded even his wildest expectations.


    The Hungerer''s and Sage''s powers alone were enough to cause him to tremble with excitement. One would aid his future strength, while the other would help him hone his techniques and insights. Between the two, his progress over the next few years should be nothing short of astonishing.


    And then, there were the other three powers. The Master''s power to protect him from magic, the Guardian''s power to protect him from his enemies'' weapons, and the Titan''s power to grant him unrivaled strength.


    No matter what enemies he faced, whether they be Knights, mages, or Blightspawn, these powers would greatly increase his chance of victory.


    Each group of powers by itself would be cause for celebration, and together, their potential was nothing short of astonishing. In a single day, both Arran''s strength and his future potential had increased many times over.


    There was only one drawback, and that was that he couldn''t use all of the bloodlines'' powers at once.


    Including its origins, the Blood Ruin now contained the powers of seven different bloodlines. Arran could only barely sustain three of those at a time. Beyond that, the burden was too great for his foundation to carry.


    That wasn''t a problem, exactly, but it meant he would have to make choices in his future battles.


    For example, while the focus and clarity from the Sage''s power might be useful in battle, that benefit wasn''t worth forgoing the strength from the Titan''s power.


    That was also why Arran had chosen not to absorb the lesser bloodline he''d received when he became a citizen of the Imperium.


    While it would doubtless be far more potent as part of the Blood Ruin ¡ª possibly letting him go without sleep for years on end ¡ª that was of little use if it stopped him from using another power.


    Still, at the moment, Arran wasn''t too concerned about the matter.


    Even if he couldn''t use all the Blood Ruin''s new powers at once, simply having different abilities to choose from was already a large step forward.


    And as fruitful as the day had been, there were more benefits to be had. Ten of Roshan''s pills still remained, after all, and there was little point in having them collect dust.


    After a moment''s thought, Arran stored four of the pills inside his void ring. Then, he placed the remaining six pills on the table before him.


    A small smile crossed his lips when he looked at the marble-sized treasures.


    With the bloodlines he''d received, it was easy to forget just how powerful these pills were. In truth, however, their value was only slightly lower than that of the bloodlines.


    Just these six pills represented over a year''s worth of progress. And that was with the Blood Ruin, which already gave Arran a giant advantage over others. For a normal Body Refiner, it would not be an exaggeration to say that even a single such pill could rival years of effort.


    And potent though the pills might be, using them was a simple matter.


    Arran consumed the six pills over the course of two hours, with the Blood Ruin effortlessly taking in their power. Unlike absorbing the bloodlines, this caused no pain or discomfort ¡ª only the sensation of his body rapidly growing stronger.


    When the last shred of Essence from the final pill was absorbed, a satisfied look remained on Arran''s face.


    The pills had strengthened him considerably, and after testing it, he found that he could now comfortably sustain awakening three of the bloodlines'' powers.


    He could not help but grin as he considered what a single day''s effort had brought him. Between the pills and the bloodlines, his overall strength had once more surged forward, the effect every bit as formidable as setting his first step into Enlightenment.


    With the kind of power he now possessed, common Knights should no longer be the deadly threat they had been before. He would no longer be at a disadvantage in a fair battle against a single Knight, and if luck was on his side, he might even hold the advantage.


    Of course, that was only true for common Knights.


    Imperial Knights and Paladins were a different matter. Having caught a glimpse of the true power of the Imperium''s bloodlines and alchemical treasures, Arran was all but certain that the Imperium''s elite warriors would be even stronger than he''d originally thought.


    After a brief moment of concern, Arran pushed the thought aside.


    While he expected to face the church''s Paladins eventually ¡ª his agreement with Lady Merem had all but guaranteed that ¡ª there was no point in worrying about them just yet.


    Instead, what he should focus on was the Blight. The Wolfsblood Army would march into the Desolation in less than a week, and if he allowed himself to be distracted by distant enemies, he might well die to the ones he encountered before that.


    He stood up from the desk and stretched his body, grinning as he felt his much-strengthened muscles move. Then, he exited the small cottage. Before anything else, he would naturally take the opportunity to shock Kaleesh with his progress.


    However, as soon as he stepped outside, a look of surprise appeared on his face.


    The area outside the cottage was overgrown with weeds and shrubs, which had looked to be in robust health just a day earlier. But now, they seemed weak and wilted ¡ª not so much that it would draw attention, but enough that Arran immediately noticed the change.


    His surprise lasted only a moment. Almost at once, he recognized what was responsible for the pitiful state of the surrounding vegetation ¡ª the Hungerer''s bloodline.


    After he''d absorbed it into the Blood Ruin, the Natural Essence it could gather had increased many times over. But this Essence came from his surroundings, and from the look of it, that included not just the earth beneath him, but also the plants and trees that stood upon it.


    A frustrated sigh escaped Arran''s lips when he realized this. If the effect was this strong, he couldn''t just use it anywhere. Not only would doing so draw attention, it would also quickly deplete the Natural Essence in an area.


    Yet his frustration faded as quickly as it had come. Then, as he noticed Kaleesh in the distance, his earlier grin returned.


    The captain was lazily directing a group of soldiers as they loaded various supplies onto a large collection of carts and wagons, but as he saw Arran approach, his bored expression instantly turned to one of interest.


    "From that smug grin of yours," Kaleesh said as Arran came to a halt before him, "I take it you succeeded?"


    "You don''t know the half of it," Arran replied, unable to keep his grin from growing even wider.


    Kaleesh gave him a flat look. "I suppose there''s no point in questioning that luck of yours," he said with an exaggerated sigh. "Care to show me what fortune has befallen you this time?"


    Arran looked around before giving a small nod. "I suggest we go somewhere more private for that. It''s best we keep it a secret for the time being."


    "It''s that good?" This time, the sigh Kaleesh gave seemed unfeigned. "Sometimes, I wonder what you did to deserve such luck."


    "Good things naturally happen to good people," Arran replied. "So I expect your luck will remain miserable. Now come, let me show you what I''ve gained."

 Chapter 418: Final Preparations

    "There''s a secluded field behind the barracks." Kaleesh gestured toward an area at the edge of the camp. "We should find some quiet there."


    They set off at once, and as they passed the training fields, Arran cast a studious look at the training fields, where hundreds of soldiers were practicing battle formations. "How are the preparations going?"


    Kaleesh hesitated before giving a shrug. "As well as can be expected. The troops have been training day and night these past few weeks, but even so, it will be difficult."


    Arran nodded in understanding. "There''s only so much you can achieve in a few months."


    Several months had passed since Kaleesh recruited several thousands of prisoners in Knight''s Watch, and the captain had spent those months working tirelessly to transform the disorderly group into a proper army.


    He''d done as well as could reasonably be expected. Over the months, the soldiers of the Wolfsblood Army had gained the appearance of disciplined warriors rather than common thugs, and a single glance at the training fields was enough to know that their skills had improved drastically.


    But even so, a gap still remained between them and the lordlings'' armies.


    Where Kaleesh''s soldiers had months of training, the lordlings'' troops had years of experience ¡ª decades, when it came to the Rangers. And unlike the Wolfsblood troops, many of the lordlings'' soldiers had already experienced the dangers of the Desolation.


    Such a gap could not be closed in mere months. The only way to erase it was through the kind of experience that came from years of training or dozens of battles.


    "What about the Rangers?" Arran asked. "Anything new with them?"


    "Domar has been quiet of late," Kaleesh replied. "It seems Barric''s lesson did him some good. As for Ifras¡­" He hesitated before shaking his head in disapproval. "That one tries too hard to win my favor. If I offered him rotten meat for dinner, he would praise how tender it was."


    Arran chuckled. "You can''t blame him for trying to gain an advantage. But what of the others?"


    Kaleesh gave a dismissive shrug. "It''s the same as before. Arjun and Barric are still the strongest among them. The others have shown some improvement, but nothing spectacular."


    As the captain detailed the troops'' progress of the past weeks, they reached a small field behind the barracks. Secluded and surrounded by trees, it seemed to be a quiet place.


    At least, it would have seemed that way, had the small field not currently held half a dozen soldiers and at least twice as many bottles of wine, many of which were already empty.


    At once, Kaleesh''s eyes went wide with fury. "You worthless donkeys!" he roared. "Who gave you permission to take my wine?!"


    All six of the soldiers went pale in an instant, looks of shock on their faces as they hurriedly stumbled to their feet and lined up in a disorderly row.


    Kaleesh remained silent long enough that the soldiers'' uneasy looks turned to ones of fear. Then, finally, he said in a low tone, "I asked a question."


    After a moment of hesitation, one of the soldiers stepped forward. It was a young woman with dark-red hair ¡ª the same woman who''d complained about the weapons back in Knight''s Watch, Arran recalled.


    "Captain," she began, a tremble in her voice, "we did not know this wine was yours. We thought¡ª"


    "All the wine in the camp is mine," Kaleesh snapped. "Or did you believe supplies were free, soldier?"


    The woman did not reply immediately, though her eyes showed a trace of relief as she realized that they hadn''t stolen wine from Kaleesh''s personal supply.


    "I apologize, captain," she said after some seconds. "With the journey ahead¡­" Her voice trailed off, and she cast an uneasy look at Kaleesh.


    Kaleesh raised an eyebrow. "You thought you would take the opportunity to celebrate while you still could?"


    The soldier nodded silently, a hint of shame now visible in her eyes.


    "And you believed," Kaleesh continued, his voice growing colder, "that this moment of celebration was worth missing one of your last chances to prepare for the dangers you will soon face. One of your last chances to learn the battle formations that will protect not just your own life, but your comrades'' lives as well."


    The young woman''s eyes went wide with shock. "No!" she hurried to say. "We didn''t think¡ª"


    "That much is clear," Kaleesh interrupted her. "You didn''t think. All of you will immediately report to Arjun for punishment. As for you¡­" He cast a thoughtful look at the woman. "Come see me after you finish your punishment. Now leave!"


    The soldiers scrambled to leave, and as they disappeared, the anger fled Kaleesh''s face in an instant. "Idiots," he muttered, "to get caught like that."


    "I can''t say I blame them," Arran said. "Not with months in the Desolation ahead."


    "Of course not." Kaleesh sighed. "In their position, I would have done the same. But this is an army, not a mercenary company. And an army needs discipline. Otherwise, it will fall apart at the first sign of hardship."


    Arran nodded, understanding Kaleesh''s reasoning. "What about the woman? Why did you invite her?"


    "Elena?" The captain laughed. "I plan to have her train with Sassun. Once she gets a little stronger, she''ll make a good commander. She has a good head on her shoulders." He cast a glance in the direction the soldiers had fled, and added, "Usually, at any rate."


    A soft chuckle escaped Arran''s lips. Then, turning his eyes toward the small field, he said, "So are you ready to see my new tricks?"


    Kaleesh gave him a flat look. "This is going to hurt, isn''t it?"


    Arran shrugged. "Probably. Now draw your weapon."


    As the two of them faced off and drew their blades, Arran awakened the Titan''s and Guardian''s powers within the Blood Ruin. While these were not the most valuable powers he''d gained, to an opponent, they would easily be the most impressive ones.


    "I''ll attack first," Arran announced. "And when you block my strike, you won''t be able to hold on to your weapon."


    "You''re that confident?" Kaleesh raised an eyebrow. "Even with me knowing what you''re planning?"


    Arran grinned. "You''ll see soon enough. Now ready yourself."


    Kaleesh took a step back, grabbing the hilt of his sword with both hands. Now that he knew what Arran intended, he naturally did not plan to allow it.


    Arran waited as Kaleesh readied himself. Then, he stepped forward, his sword striking as he moved.


    It was a basic blow, so simple that even the greenest of novices would see it coming. Kaleesh was no novice, however, and he effortlessly struck an expert parry ¡ª one intended to deflect Arran''s strike rather than face its full might.


    At least, that was what should have happened.


    But instead, even with Kaleesh deflecting all but the slightest fraction of Arran''s strength, the captain''s weapon was ripped from his hands.


    Kaleesh''s expression instantly turned to one of shock. "Son of a¡ª" He turned to look at his sword, which now lay three dozen paces away. "How did you do that?!"


    "The Titan''s bloodline," Arran said, unable to keep himself from grinning. "I''ve managed to strengthen it a little."


    Kaleesh frowned as he went to pick up his sword. When he returned a moment later, however, his expression had turned ponderous. "What about the Guardian''s bloodline?"


    The reason for his interest was obvious. Kaleesh had also received the Guardian''s bloodline, and he''d been nearly as disappointed as Arran with its power. Now that he had the chance, he was obviously eager to see the bloodline''s true potential.


    "I''ll show you," Arran replied. "Attack me, and don''t hold back."


    Kaleesh gave a questioning look. "How will that help show the Guardian''s bloodline?"


    "Just trust me."


    Kaleesh sighed. "Very well." He attacked even before finishing the last word, striking a swift blow to Arran''s left side. From the look of it, he was unwilling to suffer another pitiful defeat.


    Yet even as he struck, shock once more filled his face. Because although Arran moved to block the attack, he did not use his blade. Instead, he used his hand.


    "You¡ª!"


    Horror was written across the captain''s face as the blade connected, but it turned to astonishment when he saw that the only injury Arran had suffered was a tiny cut, only barely deep enough to cause a single drop of blood to roll down the blade.


    "That''s¡­" Kaleesh stared at the blade, a dumbfounded expression in his eyes and his mouth half-open. "That''s impossible."


    Arran gave a wide grin in response. "The Guardian''s bloodline turned out to be more useful than I thought."


    ??If I¡ª" Kaleesh halted mid-sentence, as if he was at a loss for words. Then, a sudden sharpness in his eyes, he asked, "Can I learn to do the same?"


    At this, Arran slowly shook his head. "You can''t," he began. "Not yet, at least. What I did was¡­"


    Arran quickly detailed what he''d done to strengthen his bloodlines, and soon, a forlorn look appeared on Kaleesh''s face. When Arran finally finished his explanation, the captain let out a deep sigh.


    "So it''s impossible, then."


    "That''s not what I said," Arran cut him off. "You have no way of doing it right now, that much is true. But once you join the Imperial Knights and they give you the Ruiner''s bloodline, I suspect this will be among the first things they teach you."


    Understanding dawned in Kaleesh''s eyes. "You think this is what Lady Merem meant when she talked about controlling bloodlines?"


    Arran did not answer immediately. Instead, he glanced at his hand, where the small cut Kaleesh''s blade had left was already beginning to heal. Finally, he shook his head.


    "What I did ¡ª I think it''s just a first step. The Imperial Knights should have techniques that go beyond that."


    Though Arran knew little of the Imperial Knights'' secrets, he was certain that he was right about this. While he had learned to awaken and suppress his bloodlines'' powers, that was still a long ways off from the mastery of which Lady Merem had spoken.


    "I suppose they would." Kaleesh let out a sigh. "When I returned to the Imperium, I actually thought I had some strength."


    Arran gave a shrug. "In the Borderlands, you did. But I may have something to improve your spirits." With a small gesture, he produced two pills from his void ring. "Roshan gave me these pills. For you, they should be of no small benefit."


    To Arran''s surprise, Kaleesh instantly shook his head. "I can''t accept those. They should still have use for you."


    "They do," Arran said. "But they will help you far more. Besides, Roshan will give me more of them in the future."


    Kaleesh hesitated, but only for a moment. "Be that as it may, I still can''t accept them. You need your strength."


    "I can''t protect all of you in the Desolation." Arran held up the two pills in front of him, then continued, "After you take these, you should barely have the strength to protect yourself from a Reaver."


    Surprise flashed across Kaleesh''s face. "They''re that powerful?"


    "For you, they are. For me, they would only make a small difference."


    That was the reason Arran had saved four of the twelve pills Roshan had given him ¡ª although each represented a month or two of consuming Natural Essence, he''d already reached the point where that would not make a substantial difference.


    Yet for Kaleesh, the situation was different. For him, each pill would rival not months but years of arduous training ¡ª enough that it would considerably improve his chances in the Desolation.


    Though Kaleesh still seemed reluctant, he finally gave a short nod and accepted the pills. "Do I just eat them?"


    Arran thought for a moment, then shook his head. "Dissolve them in a bottle of wine and take one sip a day. If you just swallow them, absorbing the Essence will take you weeks of effort."


    Kaleesh glanced at the spot where the soldiers had been drinking earlier. "I suppose I''ll need to guard my wine more carefully in the future."


    "I would suggest so," Arran replied. "The church is generous, but not so much that they''ll give me enough pills to supply the entire army."


    "If only we could be so lucky." Kaleesh chuckled, but a moment later, he furrowed his brow in thought. "How''s your adjustment to the Desolation coming along?"


    "I haven''t quite gotten around to that yet," Arran said. In truth, busy as he had been with absorbing the bloodlines, he''d all but forgotten about the matter.


    Kaleesh stroked his chin. "I figured as much. The army will be ready to depart just under a week from now. Will that be enough time for you?"


    "It should be," Arran replied. Now that he had the power of the Sage''s bloodline, he suspected that even a day or two should be plenty. As for a week ¡ª that was definitely more than he needed.


    "Good," Kaleesh said, appearing more than a little relieved. "Then I suggest you get to training, and I''ll get back to work. Old Baqi said the bulk of our supplies should arrive over the next few days."


    Arran raised an eyebrow in surprise. "You let the old man handle the supplies?" Trusting Baqi to gather information was one thing, but letting him provide supplies was something different altogether.


    "He hasn''t let me down so far." Kaleesh shrugged, then added, "And he''s found supplies for half the price that others charge."


    As they headed back to the training fields, it was hard not to notice how Kaleesh''s eyes kept returning to the two pills in his hand. Army to command or not, it seemed that today, his attention would be on things other than supplies.


    At this, Arran could not help but grin.


    Ever since Knight''s Watch, Kaleesh had worked tirelessly on strengthening the army, achieving something that most would have considered impossible. In just a few months time, he''d managed to turn a chaotic group of prisoners and mercenaries into a proper army.


    Yet all that effort had left Kaleesh with little time to focus on his own training. While Arran''s strength increased by the day, the captain''s strength had fallen ever further behind.


    The two pills weren''t enough to close that ever-growing gap, of course, but they would easily make up for the time Kaleesh had spent building the army.


    The way Arran saw it, that was a reward well-earned.


    As Kaleesh headed off to start work on the pills, Arran turned his attention to the Rangers and soldiers who were training on the fields. Most of them were drilling battle formations ¡ª the intricate positions and movements that allowed groups of soldiers to wield power far beyond the sum of their individual strength.


    Arran understood the importance of this type of training, but he did not join the soldiers in their drills. His strength lay elsewhere, as did his importance to the Wolfsblood Army.


    Instead, he looked around until he saw a large group of soldiers sparring against each other. He was unsurprised to find Barric at the center of the group, testing his might against half a dozen common soldiers.


    "Barric!" Arran called out. "Stop bullying the troops and try your hand against a real opponent, you overgrown bastard!"


    At once, the giant Ranger looked up. "Finally! I was beginning to think you''d locked yourself away forever!"


    The soldiers who''d been sparring against Barric immediately stepped aside, their eyes already filled with expectation for the spectacle ahead.


    While Arran was undoubtedly the strongest fighter in the Wolfsblood Army, Barric was among the strongest of the Rangers. For the soldiers, seeing the two of them fight each other was a rare treat.


    "I must warn you, I''ve made some progress these past few weeks." Barric gripped the hilt of his sword as he gave Arran an appraising look. "So you might not win as easily as you expect."


    A small smile crossed Arran''s lips. "As it happens, I''ve made some progress as well."


    They sparred for a good-quarter hour, and Arran quickly learned that Barric hadn''t lied about his progress. While the large Ranger''s strength was impressive as always, his technique had improved drastically, with hints of insight now pervading his movements. Another few months, and he might be ready to set his first step into Enlightenment.


    But impressive though his progress was, it wasn''t enough to make him a match for Arran.


    After a quarter-hour of fighting, Barric suddenly stepped back. He wiped the sweat from his brow, then gave Arran a suspicious look. "You''re holding back."


    "I am." Arran made no attempt to hide it. Strong as Barric might be, there was no comparing the two of them. If he didn''t hold back, it would barely take him a second to defeat the giant Ranger.


    Moreover, only part of Arran''s attention had been focused on the fight. The rest of his attention, he used to study the effects of the Desolation, with the awakened Sage''s bloodline helping him adjust far quicker than he''d managed before.


    Barric groaned in mock annoyance. "You should hold back some more. You''re making me look bad in front of the troops."


    Although Arran couldn''t help but chuckle, he did as Barric asked. His goal wasn''t to defeat his opponent, after all, but to adjust to the Desolation and help Barric hone his skills.


    They continued for another hour, until finally, Barric lowered his weapon. Red-faced and covered in sweat, he looked like he could collapse at any moment.


    "That''s enough for me." Barric took a moment to catch his breath before glancing at the soldiers who had gathered to watch the fight. "Someone fetch Arjun. It''s only right that he also gets to suffer." Turning back to Arran, he asked, "You have time for a few more matches, right?"


    Arran laughed. "I have nothing else to do before we leave."


    "Good." Barric gave a contented nod. "Then I might challenge you again, once I recover. Our little match has been most instructive." There was a thoughtful look in his eyes, as if he''d gained some new insights during the fight.


    In the days that followed, Arran spent most of his time in the training fields, sparring against any of the Rangers and soldiers in the Wolfsblood Army who wanted to test their skills.


    Sometimes he fought only one, and sometimes as many as half a dozen at once, but none of his opponents posed a serious challenge. Arran''s step into Enlightenment alone was enough to create an insurmountable gap between him and the others, and that gap had only grown larger after he absorbed the Imperium''s bloodlines.


    Oddly, he found that even when he suppressed the bloodlines, some of their strength still seemed to linger, as if the memory of the bloodlines'' remained within his body.


    This caused Arran some pause, but he had no explanation for the effect. Nor, for that matter, did he have the time to properly examine it.


    Far more useful was what he learned about his allies during these days.


    Although Arran had trained with the Wolfsblood Army before, he''d never taken the time to truly learn about his allies'' strengths and abilities. This wasn''t an intentional omission, exactly. Rather, he''d simply been too busy with his own training to pay much attention to others.


    Yet now that he finally got a better idea of how the Rangers compared to each other, it soon became clear that four among them stood out from the rest.


    The first of these was Barric. Whether it be in terms of physical strength or skill and technique, none of the other Rangers had any hope of rivaling the giant Ranger.


    This wasn''t much of a surprise, of course.


    Imposing though Barric looked, what truly set him apart from most others was his passion for battle. It was rare to find him anywhere but on the training fields, and Arran had yet to witness him pass up even a single opportunity for a sparring match.


    The second-strongest among the Rangers, Arjun, was equally unsurprising.


    The middle-aged Ranger might not be as enthusiastic in his training as Barric, but he made up for that with his unfailing diligence and attention to detail. Where Barric might spend an evening challenging every Ranger in the army, Arjun would stoically train the whole day long, practicing his techniques and sword strokes to perfection.


    It was an unassuming path, but no less effective for that. And if it caused others to underestimate Arjun''s prowess in battle, that was a mistake they would quickly come to regret.


    More surprising was the third-strongest among the Rangers ¡ª Ifras.


    Arran had already sparred against him in Knight''s Watch, but now, he discovered that the young Ranger''s true skill exceeded what he''d previously seen.


    While Ifras couldn''t match Barric or Arjun in strength or experience, his techniques had a refinement to them that none of the other Rangers could match ¡ª a kind of refinement that could only be gained through instruction from skilled teachers.


    But then, it was no secret that Ifras picked his teachers carefully. He''d openly said he''d joined the Wolfsblood Army for a chance to learn from Arran, after all.


    Finally, last among the four strongest Rangers of the Wolfsblood Army was Domar.


    Domar was easily the most talented of all the Rangers the army held, with potential that might even exceed Arran''s own. Yet where Barric, Arjun, and Ifras each had their own unique path, Domar seemed to lack a path altogether.


    He picked up skills and techniques with ease, learning at a pace so rapid that others could not help but feel jealous. But fast as he might learn, his skills never seemed to truly become his own. Instead, all the different techniques he learned remained disjointed, without a foundation to unify them.


    Nevertheless, sheer talent was enough to bring him to the forefront of the Rangers. While his lack of a path would eventually become an obstacle to his progress, that moment had yet to arrive.


    As for the other Rangers in the army, none of them made much of an impression on Arran.


    Though they were all skilled fighters in their own right ¡ª as all Rangers were ¡ª they had yet to reach a level of skill that would set them apart from others. And while some showed signs of greater potential, that potential had yet to blossom into actual ability.


    Yet instructive though all of this was, after three days of sparring against his allies Arran was beginning to feel some impatience for the journey ahead.


    He''d already done everything he could to increase his chances in the Desolation. He had set a step into Enlightenment, had gained and absorbed several potent bloodlines, and had fully adjusted to the suppression of the Desolation.


    All that remained was to put his power to the test. And for that, he needed enemies rather than sparring partners.


    He''d already slain two Knights in the past month, but neither battle had seen him make full use of his true strength. In the first confrontation, he''d relied on trickery rather than skill, and in the second, it was luck more than ability that had defeated his opponent.


    At present, however, he was confident that he could face both Knights and Warlocks without relying on luck. Now, the only thing left was to find out whether his confidence was justified.


    But Arran''s growing impatience had little effect on the army''s preparations. Though the number of carts carrying supplies increased with each passing day and Kaleesh became increasingly agitated, there was little he could do but train and wait.


    Several more days passed like this ¡ª enough that they should have departed for the Desolation already. Yet their supplies were slow in coming, and although Old Baqi repeatedly assured them that the last of the supplies should arrive any day now, they remained stuck in the run-down camp.


    It was on one of these seemingly endless days that Sassun suddenly came running while Arran was out on the training fields.


    "The captain needs you," Sassun said. "Right now."


    Arran raised an eyebrow. "What''s the matter?"


    The commander shook his head. "He wouldn''t tell me the details, but we have visitors. Two Knights, from what I could see."


    The mention of Knights was enough to set Arran running immediately. While it was unlikely that they would be attacked in their own camp, he''d witnessed too much of the Imperium to put his faith in the supposed safety of Sacrifice.


    He burst into Kaleesh''s cottage some moments later, hand on his sword and ready for battle. He''d already Sensed that Sassun had been right ¡ª two Knights were inside the cottage.


    Yet when Arran saw the people inside, he came to a sudden halt. Aside from Kaleesh, there were two Knights, one of whom he recognized. But there was also a young woman ¡ª the Knights'' mistress.


    "Nisra."


    "Arran." The young woman gave a friendly smile. "So kind of you to join us."


    Arran gave her an appraising look. "I was beginning to think you''d had a change of heart."


    "I''m afraid that isn''t too far from the truth," she replied with a sigh. "You''ve made an unfortunate enemy ¡ª someone even I would not lightly provoke. The attack you suffered in the city¡ª"


    "You know about that?" Arran interrupted her.


    "I have my sources," she said. "Sources which have also informed me about the instigator of the attack."


    "Shir," Arran said. "We already know."


    Surprise flashed across her face, but she recovered in an instant. "How did you find out?"


    "We have our sources," Kaleesh interjected. "But Lady Nisra, you have yet to tell me your purpose in coming here. From your earlier words, I take it our proposed cooperation is off the table?"


    Nisra nodded. "It is, for now. If you know that Shir was behind the attack, then you are doubtless aware of his reputation. The man has little sense, but he more than makes up for that in viciousness. He would not hesitate to attack me if I publicly allied myself with you." She let out a frustrated sigh. "I could easily crush him, of course, but in defeating him I would invite a great deal of trouble."


    "What sort of trouble?" Arran asked.


    "Shir might be a vicious imbecile," she replied, "but he wields significant influence within the Martial Alliance. If I were to put my foot down and crush him for the bug he is, I would earn many enemies ¡ª both for myself and for Mother."


    Kaleesh frowned, some frustration in his eyes. "So you have no intention of working with us. Is there a reason you needed to bring that news in person?"


    "There is," Nisra said. She gestured toward one of the Knights ¡ª a tall man, nearly as large as Barric ¡ª and he took out a roll of paper which he laid out on the table. A map, Arran realized.


    "This," Nisra continued, "is a map of the southern Desolation. And this¡ª" she pointed toward a small mark on the map "¡ªis where Shir intends to attack you. A valley just over a week''s travel from Sacrifice."


    Kaleesh raised an eyebrow. "I won''t question how you discovered this, but I cannot help but wonder why Shir would expect to find us in that specific valley. The Desolation is a large place."


    "Large, but predictable." Nisra pointed at the map, and went on, "The areas marked in red often see Warlocks. For an army like yours, with only a single Knight, it would be unwise to venture far into these areas."


    Kaleesh spent several moments gazing at the map, and when he finally raised his eyes again, there was a hint of frustration in his eyes. "These areas shouldn''t be too difficult to avoid. Why would he think we''d travel southwest?"


    This time, some surprise could be seen on Nisra''s face. "You don''t know?" She shook her head in disbelief. "Had I not come here today¡­ No matter. Further to the southwest, beyond the valley where Shir awaits, lie the ruins of an ancient city that was destroyed by the Blight. It is a common destination for new Knights who wish to bind their weapons, as well as a place where many treasures still remain undiscovered."


    Kaleesh narrowed his eyes. "Treasures?"


    "Starmetal weapons, shadowmetal coins, and many other valuables." Nisra shrugged, then added, "Most who go there return empty-handed, but those without strong backing have few better options available. With luck, they might return with a fortune ¡ª and not necessarily a small one."


    As Arran stared at the map, a single thought emerged in his mind. They had to visit this ancient city no matter the cost. Not because of the treasures it held, but because of the other thing Nisra had said ¡ª that Knights used it to bind their weapons.


    Still, he could not help but feel some doubt. "Even if what you say is true," he began, "why would you warn us about Shir''s plans?"


    "Because I hope that you will defeat him," Nisra replied. "If I were to do so, it would be seen as an act of war. But if you defeated him, it would merely be a terrible humiliation ¡ª and doubly so if he lost a Knight or two."


    "So you want us to act as your mercenaries?" Kaleesh raised an eyebrow.


    Nisra shook her head in response. "Though I would like to see Shir receive a much-needed lesson, no real conflict exists between me and him. I am merely offering you a warning."


    Several moments passed in silence as Kaleesh considered her words. Then, he asked, "If we defeat him, won''t that earn us the enemies you are so anxious to avoid?"


    Again, Nisra shook her head. "If an army like yours defeats him, the shame of it will be enough to keep him from pursuing the matter any further. Of course, that''s assuming you don''t cross any boundaries ¡ª if you lash out in anger, the consequences will be dire." She turned to Arran. "You now hold the status of a Knight, which means you cannot kill common soldiers or Rangers without cause."


    Arran frowned. "What about Shir himself? Can I kill him, at least?"


    At this, Nisra''s eyes widened in shock. "Absolutely not! If he were to die¡­" She shook her head, as if the very thought of it was outrageous. "Under no circ.u.mstances should he come to harm. Should he die, you will instantly unite the Martial Alliance against you. You can defeat his army, but Shir himself cannot be touched."


    A mirthless smile on his face, Kaleesh asked, "I don''t suppose the same courtesy will be extended to us?"


    "It won''t," Nisra answered curtly. "So I suggest you avoid being defeated. But now, I must leave. Even this brief visit might raise suspicion, and I do not wish to become embroiled in this conflict of yours."


    Kaleesh gave her a small nod. "Then we thank you for the warning."


    After they said their goodbyes and Nisra departed, Arran turned to Kaleesh.


    "Think she was telling the truth?" he asked, unable to suppress the lingering doubt he felt.


    Kaleesh sighed deeply. "I know she was." He walked to a bag that lay in a corner of the room, then took out a large piece of paper which he rolled out on the table.


    It was another map, almost identical to the one Nisra had left behind, if perhaps not quite as detailed. And on this map, a thin line was drawn that led straight through the area Nisra had marked on her map ¡ª with another mark in the same position.


    "I got this map from Old Baqi," Kaleesh explained. "The route, I set out myself." He gave a wry smile, then added, "I hadn''t thought myself quite as predictable."


    "But what about the mark?" Arran asked. "How did you know Shir would choose that location to attack us?"


    "It''s one of the most likely places for an ambush," Kaleesh said. A grin appeared on his face as he spoke, and he continued, "But if the target knows what''s coming, it''s also one of the worst."


    Arran nodded slowly. Though he didn''t know what had brought his friend to this conclusion, he understood that Kaleesh would not say such a thing without reason. "I take it that means you intend for us to fight him?"


    "It''s either that or wait for him to attack when we don''t expect it." Kaleesh shrugged. "There''s only one problem¡­"


    "Which is?"


    Kaleesh looked at Arran uncertainly. "Shir still has three Knights. They shouldn''t be together when we face his army, but for us to have a chance of victory, someone will need to defeat them."


    "Three Knights?" This time, it was Arran who grinned. "I don''t think that will be a problem."

 Chapter 419: Into Harms Way (1)

    "We''re still ten barrels of water short." Arjun gestured toward the long column of carts that stood waiting in the early morning light. While the middle-aged Ranger''s calm was usually difficult to break, today, his anxiousness was impossible to miss.


    "Those arrived last night," Sassun said. In contrast to Arjun, he still maintained a stoic facade, with the only sign that he was equally anxious the unusually dour expression on his face. "The problem are the arrows. We still need¡ª"


    "The last batch of arrows was delivered yesterday," Kaleesh interrupted him. "The supplies are all here, and if anything is still missing, we''ll just have to go without it."


    Neither Arjun nor Sassun seemed content with Kaleesh''s words. As soon as he finished speaking, anxious looks shot across their faces.


    "But what about the salted meat¡ª"


    "What of the bandages¡ª"


    "Enough!" Kaleesh cut them off. "We are done preparing. As soon as the troops finish forming up, we march. The both of you, go make sure the others don''t dally. I mean for us to reach the Desolation by midday."


    Arjun and Sassun both nodded ¡ª if somewhat reluctantly ¡ª and as they hurried off, Kaleesh gave a deep sigh. "If those two had their way, we''d be stuck here for at least another month. More than that, probably."


    "It''s a big responsibility." Arran eyed the thousands of soldiers who were slowly grouping up on the training fields a few hundred paces away. "Though you don''t seem too worried."


    Unlike Arjun and Sassun, the captain''s composure hadn''t suffered in the slightest. If anything, it seemed like he was relieved that their journey into the Desolation was finally at hand.


    "The time for fretting is over." Kaleesh sighed as he glanced at the army. "When we make camp tonight, it will be in the Desolation. I can''t afford to be distracted by worries there."


    "There is no time for worries in battle," Arran agreed. That every moment in the Desolation would be as dangerous as any battle was something they both had long since come to understand.


    Though they hadn''t encountered any Blightspawn during their journey from Knight''s Watch to Sacrifice, the situation west of Sacrifice would be different. There, bands of Blightspawn roamed the lands. And the further west they went, the more frequent those would become.


    As they stood watching the soldiers, Arran noticed a figure approaching in the distance. "We have company."


    Kaleesh frowned as he looked over. "I hadn''t expected that Old Baqi would come to see us off."


    Arran watched with some interest as Baqi approached. Though Kaleesh had made ample use of Baqi''s services, Arran had only seen the old man once, with the encounter barely lasting a minute.


    "Master Kaleesh!" Baqi called out, giving the captain a polite bow. Turning to Arran, he gave another bow, slightly deeper than the first. "Lord Arran."


    Though Arran wasn''t a Lord, he had long since learned that Knights in the Imperium were often addressed as Lords by those wishing to flatter them. He gave a friendly nod, then said, "Master Baqi, I hear you have been of great help in supplying the army."


    "I have been compensated well for my efforts," the old man responded, a beaming smile on his face. "Compensated very well indeed."


    "And you''ve earned every coin," Kaleesh said. "But what brings you here today?"


    The old man looked around furtively. "I have something else to offer you," he said in a low voice. "Something that will be invaluable in your travels."


    "Oh?" Kaleesh raised an eyebrow. "And what might that be?"


    Baqi cast a wary look at the soldiers in the distance. "Not where others can see. We need a quiet place for this."


    Though Arran and Kaleesh shared a puzzled glance, their curiosity won out over their misgivings. "Very well," Kaleesh said. "There''s a secluded spot nearby."


    When they''d left the troops'' eyes some moments later, Arran gave the old man a studious look. "So what is it you have to offer us?"


    "A great treasure," Baqi replied. He carefully reached into the bag that hung from his shoulder and produced a small shadowmetal box. Then, a nervous tremble in his hands, he opened the box and revealed its contents ¡ª several dozens of small pills.


    At once, Arran''s eyes went wide with surprise. The moment Baqi opened the box, he could tell that the pills inside contained a startling amount of Natural Essence. It wasn''t quite as much as the power in Roshan''s pills, but even so, each of these pills was a priceless treasure.


    And there were dozens of them.


    A triumphant look appeared on the old man''s face when he saw Arran''s surprised expression. "These pills strengthen the body," he said, "and they will help heal even the most grievous of wounds. Having these pills will save many lives on your journey."


    Kaleesh shot Arran a questioning look, to which Arran responded with a small nod. As far as he could tell, Baqi wasn''t lying.


    Kaleesh stroked his chin as he gave Baqi a wary look. "Where did you get these pills?"


    The old man hesitated briefly, his expression quickly turning tense. Finally, in a careful voice, he said, "They were misplaced by the church some years ago, and I happened to be the one to find them."


    Though the words were chosen carefully, their meaning was clear. The pills had been stolen from the church. Which meant that they were most dangerous treasures to possess.


    Kaleesh remained silent for several moments. From his expression, it was clear that he had more than a few misgivings about the offer. Finally, he asked, "How do we know they''re real? They could be filled with poison, for all I know. We certainly have plenty of enemies."


    A nervous look crossed Baqi''s face. "You have my word that they are real," he hurriedly said. "I would not dare betray¡ª"


    "I can test them," Arran interrupted. "Give me two, and we''ll see if you''re speaking the truth."


    Although the pills might well be poisoned, that posed little danger to Arran. The Blood Ruin would make quick work of even the most potent poisons.


    "Please!" Baqi anxiously said, almost shoving the small box toward Arran. "Test them, and you will see that the pills are what I say!"


    Arran calmly picked out two of the pills, then spent a few moments studying them. They were smaller than the pills he''d received from Roshan ¡ª peas rather than marbles ¡ª but they had the same dull-green appearance, and a similar aura of power, albeit a weaker one.


    When he was satisfied that the two pills he''d picked were no different from the others in the box, he put them in his mouth and swallowed them.


    The effect was immediate. A wave of Natural Essence spread through his body as he ingested the pills, nourishing both his body and the Blood Ruin. Although the effect was weaker than that of Roshan''s pills, there wasn''t a trace of anything harmful.


    Arran allowed the Blood Ruin to consume the Natural Essence before giving a slow nod. "He''s speaking the truth."


    A small smile crossed Kaleesh''s face. Turning his eyes from Arran to Baqi, he said, "You understand that we must be careful. But since the pills are real, I''ll offer you two pure shadowmetal coins for them."


    It seemed a reasonable offer, if hardly a generous one. Though Arran knew little of the prices of pills in Sacrifice, he guessed that the true value of such pills was at least ten times as high. Yet these particular pills were stolen ¡ª and from the church, at that.


    Baqi shook his head before Kaleesh could even finish his words. "No shadowmetal," he said. "It''s impossible to spend without the church learning of it. Every coin inevitably finds its way to their coffers."


    Kaleesh raised an eyebrow. "Even if I had enough gold to pay for this, I doubt you could carry it."


    Again, Baqi shook his head. "Not gold. All I ask is a promise. When you return from the Desolation¡­" He paused, his eyes tense as his gaze darted between Kaleesh and Arran. "I want you to sell me a Shadowblade."


    "A Shadowblade?" Some disbelief in his eyes, Kaleesh shook his head. "You overestimate the value of your pills. They are precious, but not so much that they''re worth a Shadowblade."


    "All I ask in exchange for the pills is a promise," the old man replied. "If you bring a Shadowblade from the Desolation, I ask that you consider my offer before selling it to the church. That is all I want ¡ª the promise that you will take my offer into consideration."


    Though Kaleesh still appeared hesitant, he finally gave a short nod. "Then we take your deal."


    "Perfect!" Baqi smiled broadly as he handed over the box of pills. "I promise that when the time comes, my offer will not disappoint." He gave a deep bow, and continued, "But I will no longer impose on you. I wish you good fortune on your travels."


    As Baqi departed, Arran gave Kaleesh a sideways glance. "He didn''t seem nearly as feeble-minded today as when we first met him."


    "That''s because he isn''t," Kaleesh said with a sigh. "Baqi is a thief and a smuggler. The foolish old man you met was merely an act. He dropped the pretense when he was certain I wouldn''t betray him to the church."


    "I already got the thief part," Arran said. "Though I''m surprised you''d trust a thief to supply the army."


    Kaleesh shrugged. "His prices are good, and the church has no laws against buying suspiciously cheap supplies." Narrowing his eyes, he handed the box of pills to Arran. "Still, it''s best we keep these out of sight until we reach the Desolation."


    With a small gesture, Arran stored the box in his void ring. "When we make camp tonight, we can dissolve a handful of these pills in wine. One pill to the bottle, and a single gulp should help a soldier survive injuries that might otherwise kill him."


    In truth, Arran had saved two of Roshan''s pills for that very purpose. Potent as those were, a single pill dissolved in a barrel of ale or wine could save the lives of hundreds. But it seemed he had no need to sacrifice his own pills.


    "They will be useful, then," Kaleesh said, a pensive look in his eyes. Yet after a moment, he shook his head. "But enough of this. Arjun and Sassun should have the troops about ready to move."


    The captain''s guess proved overly optimistic. Another half-hour passed before the last preparations were finally completed, and had Kaleesh not intervened with a few well-placed shouts and threats, it might easily have taken twice as long.


    Still, when the Wolfsblood Army finally stood ready to depart, Arran could not help but be impressed by the sight of it.


    Over three thousand soldiers stood in orderly ranks, separated into groups of several hundreds each, all headed by a single Ranger. And although the soldiers all carried swords at their sides, those in most of these groups also carried either spears or bows.


    There were smaller groups, as well. These groups, of which there were over twenty, comprised about a dozen soldiers each, with Rangers leading only a few of them. Yet despite their smaller numbers, Arran saw at a glance that these small groups contained some of the most experienced soldiers in the army.


    "Scouts?" he guessed.


    "Correct," Kaleesh said. "I''ll need more eyes than just yours to keep the army safe. I was caught off-guard by Blightspawn once, and I don''t mean to let that happen again."


    Arran could only nod in agreement. As bad as their first confrontation with the Blightspawn had been, in the Desolation, getting caught by surprise would carry a far higher cost. And while his strength had increased much since that first battle, guarding an entire army was still beyond him.


    Just then, a young soldier came running toward them. "Lord Captain!" he blurted out, striking a quick bow without so much as stopping to take a breath. "Commander Sassun reports the army stands ready to move at your command!"


    "Tell him we''ll join him in a moment." As Kaleesh finished his words, the young soldier struck another bow, then immediately ran off again, moving with an urgency that seemed more suited for battle than for a morning that had been filled with waiting and little else.


    Arran suppressed a grin. "No speech before we leave, Lord Captain?"


    "The troops came up with the name." Kaleesh forced a sigh, though his eyes betrayed some satisfaction with the title. "And no, there will not be a speech. The soldiers will soon risk their lives in the Desolation. There is no need to make them suffer beyond that."


    "I''m sure the troops will be most grateful for your mercy," Arran said. "But we should get moving. If we linger any longer, I''m afraid the church might charge us for another day''s use of the camp."


    Arran spoke in jest, but his words caused a worried frown to appear on Kaleesh''s face. "I don''t think they would go that far," the captain said, a hint of doubt in his voice. "But we should hurry all the same."


    With Kaleesh''s newfound sense of urgency, it wasn''t long before the Wolfsblood Army set into motion, the column of soldiers slowly moving across the roads of Sacrifice like a giant snake that had just awoken from a long sleep.


    Though Arran had traveled with the army before, he hadn''t yet done so in Sacrifice, and now, he was surprised to see many of the Darian commoners along the roads wave at them, with some even cheering as they passed.


    "It seems they like us." He looked at the bystanders with some curiosity. Although not all Darians had met him with hostility, the Imperium had done little to make him feel welcome in the past. Yet now that they were finally heading into the Desolation, it appeared that the locals had finally taken a liking to them.


    "The way they see it, we''ll soon become heroes," Barric said. The giant Ranger had joined Arran and Kaleesh at the head of the column, along with several of the other Rangers in the army. "Or martyrs, if we''re less fortunate. But either way, we''re risking our lives to defend their homes." A wide grin appeared on his face, and he added, "When we return, you should visit the city with me. See how the women of Sacrifice welcome heroes."


    Kaleesh gave Barric a sideways glance. "I suggest you focus on safely returning, first. I don''t know how they welcome heroes, but I doubt you''d get much enjoyment out of a martyr''s welcome."


    "I''ve faced Blightspawn before," the giant Ranger said with a dismissive shrug, "and they haven''t killed me yet."


    "No wonder," Kaleesh replied flatly. "The way you look, the creatures probably mistook you for one of their own."


    Several hours passed as the army slowly made its way past the fields and farmlands of Sacrifice, with the Desolation drawing ever-closer. Though they had originally entered through the eastern tunnels, their camp had been close to the southern edge of Sacrifice, and it wasn''t long before they reached the small town around the fortress that guarded the tunnels into the Desolation.


    As they passed through the town, they were once more welcomed with waves and cheers from the locals, with the attention bringing proud smiles to the faces of even the most stoic soldiers. Most of them had lived as outcasts in the Imperium ¡ª prisoners, outsiders, and mercenaries ¡ª but in this brief moment, they were heroes rather than rejects.


    "I hope they enjoy it while it lasts," Kaleesh said in a dour voice. "It will be a long time before we see friendly faces again."


    The captain''s dark tone caused Arran a brief pang of annoyance. Like the soldiers, he couldn''t help but be affected by the Darians'' cheers of admiration, and Kaleesh''s cold reaction seemed jarringly bitter ¡ª malicious, almost.


    Yet after a moment''s thought, he realized there was something off about the locals'' cheers. It was as if they were playing a part, the enthusiasm in their voices never quite reaching their eyes. Moreover, with how many armies must pass through this town, to cheer and wave whenever one came along hardly seemed natural.


    "Think the church orders them to do it?" he asked in a low voice, careful not to let the others overhear.


    "Almost certainly," Kaleesh replied. "Give the soldiers some encouragement before they go and risk their lives." He shrugged. "I suppose there''s no harm in it. If nothing else, the troops seem to like it."


    While Arran had no counter to that, he nevertheless felt some relief when they finally entered the tunnels. Now that he knew the likely reason for the locals'' cheers, there was something about the whole thing that made him deeply uneasy.


    It wasn''t that the church would resort to trickery to give passing troops a final bit of courage. Even if the cheers were fake, they were no less well-deserved for that. Any soldier who passed here would be risking his life to stop a ruthless horde of monsters that threatened the lives of all within the Imperium.


    But while the soldiers might be heroes, the lordlings who commanded them seemed more concerned with their own glory and power, using the Desolation merely as a means to gain the amulets that would buy them bloodlines.


    Worse, they fought each other as much as they fought the Blight. Even now, Shir lay in wait in the Desolation, his troops a weapon he meant to wield against the Wolfsblood Army rather than the Blightspawn.


    Arran sighed, then pushed the thought from his mind. Whatever his opinion on the Imperium, it didn''t matter. He was, after all, still a mage ¡ª and thus an enemy to the Darians.


    It was shortly after midday when they emerged from the tunnels and entered the fortress that protected the starmetal gates. Much like the eastern fortress, this one was guarded by a large number of troops and four different Paladins. Yet while they''d been received with contempt in the eastern fortress, the welcome they received here was a warmer one.


    They were greeted by a Paladin as soon as they stepped outside, a middle-aged man who spoke in a cordial tone despite his stern expression. "I suggest you and your troops stop here for a quick rest and a meal before continuing," he said to Kaleesh. "Few Blightspawn travel close to Sacrifice, but it''s not unheard of to see them. Best to enjoy the safety of our walls while you still can."


    "Then we''ll accept your hospitality," Kaleesh replied. "And while we eat, perhaps you can share some of your knowledge about the region with me?"


    The Paladin accepted the offer ¡ª somewhat to Arran''s surprise ¡ª and as the troops set up camp and ate their midday meals, he gave a short but succinct description of the enemies they could expect to face on the road ahead.


    "You''re unlikely to encounter Blightspawn within a day''s travel of Sacrifice," he explained, "and any groups you find should be small and weak ¡ª a few dozen at most, led by one or two Reavers. About three days to the southwest, you might encounter larger packs ¡ª hundreds, more if you''re unlucky. Still, with an army like yours¡ª" he cast a look at Arran "¡ªthat shouldn''t be too big of a problem."


    "What about Warlocks?" Arran asked. "What are our chances of meeting those?"


    The Paladin rubbed his chin. "We do our best in hunting those down wherever we can find them," he said, "but some manage to escape our eyes. Within a week''s travel of Sacrifice, you''re unlikely to see any Warlocks. Beyond that, if you''re traveling southwest, I''d say you''re as likely as not to encounter them."


    Arran nodded thoughtfully, but the Paladin continued, "If you know what''s good for you, you''ll try your best to avoid them. Even in the Desolation, Warlocks are not to be trifled with. A single Knight has a chance against one, but any more than that, and your allies will pay a heavy price even if you escape." He hesitated, then added, "If you want my advice, I''d say you''re better off traveling south. Fewer Warlocks that way."


    "We will take your advice into consideration," Kaleesh said, frowning slightly. "And we thank you for the warning."


    A half-hour later, as the army readied itself to move once more, Arran gave Kaleesh a circ.u.mspect look. "He was trying to steer us away from Shir, wasn''t he?"


    "I think that''s a safe assumption," Kaleesh replied with a small nod. "Which means that the church knows about the situation, and that they''re trying to protect us from harm ¡ª or you, rather." He gave a dramatic sigh. "If only they''d known that we''re not the ones in need of a warning."


    A dark grin flashed across Arran''s face. "It''s a good thing they didn''t warn Shir. We promised to find Baqi a Shadowblade, and I''d like to have some spares." He absently touched the hilt of his weapon. "Besides, I really need to test the full strength of these new bloodlines."


    Kaleesh scratched his chin. "We were greeted with contempt when we first arrived in Sacrifice. Now that we''re leaving, we''re being treated like old friends. I can''t help but wonder what reception we''ll get once we return."


    Though the captain spoke in a lighthearted tone, his eyes betrayed a hint of unease. And for good reason ¡ª if all went as planned, when they returned to Sacrifice, they would no longer be just a band of outsiders. Instead, they would have defeated the army of a Darian lordling with three Knights at his command.


    By then, others would no longer dare to underestimate them, which meant that hiding their true strength would become a far more difficult task.


    "We could follow the Paladin''s advice," Arran said reluctantly, "and travel south instead of southwest." Eager though he was to test himself against Shir''s Knights, he knew that revealing part of his strength would bring danger ¡ª and not just for himself.


    "We could," Kaleesh replied. "But we won''t. Even if we avoid Shir, another will come to challenge us. And the next time, we might not have the luxury of a warning." He shook his head. "We will take this opportunity to send a message, and we will make it one the other lordlings won''t soon forget."


    Arran nodded. "Then we''d best get moving. It looks like the others are ready."


    "So they are," Kaleesh said, his expression satisfied as he looked at the assembled soldiers. This time, it had taken them less than a quarter-hour to form up into groups. "If this continues, people might start mistaking us for an actual army."


    He cast another lingering look at the soldiers, then finally stepped forward.


    "Wolfsblood Army!" he called out. "We march!"