The Amulet (NaNoWriMo 2014)

Chapter Two



Several weeks had passed since that day that Ander first transformed himself and met the creature called Brennevara. His studies had continued in much the same after as they had before, though he now spent time at least twice a week in the woods with her, when he had breaks. She showed him things that he couldn’t have imagined existing, took him to the rarest plants and taught him how to harvest them for use in spells and potions without harming them, and gave him a place to rest and get away from stress when he was in need. Slowly he learned more about her as well. She had lived in the woods for a long time, before the Ivory Academy existed, and had seen many things. Unlike most of her lesser sister dryads she told him that she was not bound to one specific tree but was connected to all trees in the world. She had settled in these particular woodlands because the mages of the Academy left the forest untouched and alone, and thus she had privacy. She ensured that when the mages made trips to the nearby village for supplies they went unmolested by wild animals, and that poachers who threatened the trees and animals were thwarted time and time again.



Ander also realized that, much like him, Brennevara had spent much time alone and was glad for his company. They would spend the warm afternoons laying in the grass together, talking about life, or running together in the woods. At first she was a little bit reserved around Ander, but after two or three visits Brennevara became more relaxed and showed to him a playful, affectionate side. She liked to surprise him when he came to visit, jumping onto him when he didn’t expect it, tickling him into a play submission, and teasing and joking with him to make him laugh. She would also sit quietly with him, either side by side or with his head in her lap, neither saying anything as they just enjoyed each one another’s presence.



If his time out of the Academy had become so pleasant, his time spent within the walls had not fared so fortunately. After that day with the Totem Animal spell his fellow classmates had begun to view Ander with a mixture of distrust, fear, and suspicion. Where as before the bulk of the students had just never really made any sort of connections with him and a minority targeted him for mild ridicule, now they almost all avoided him with a sense of fear, not meeting his eyes, not speaking to him even to give a morning greeting at breakfast, and those that had mocked him before gave him looks that promised retaliation though for what he didn’t know. Perhaps it was just the simple reaction of someone seeing what they viewed as a threat; either run, or eliminate it. But despite this he felt safe due to the watchful gaze of the Masters, and in the woods he knew no one could catch or follow him if he and Brennevara didn’t want it. That didn’t stop them from ‘bumping’ into him to knock his papers into the mud after a rainstorm, ‘stumbling’ into him so he tripped and then ‘accidentally’ kicking him when they ‘tripped’ too, or other such easily excusable actions. Ander normally would have mentioned it to the Masters but something within him whispered at him to not to, to just endure their actions because they meant nothing in the long run. Perhaps it was just his non-confrontational nature, perhaps it was some other sense, but whatever the source his lips remained closed on the matter... except to Brennevara when he needed her to poultice a cut or bruise, or was particularly blue in spirit.



His nightmares continued to torment his nights as well. Keeping in mind the Headmaster’s words, when the next one struck a night after he first took the wolf’s form and awoke him shouting gibberish again he tried to remember everything he could about it, even wrote a few details down as he felt them fading like smoke. Then when the morning rose he went to Headmaster Avery for counsel. The dream was much the same as it had been before, but it was comforting to speak with the older wizard about it. As his studies had progressed much the same there was nothing to speak of this being a manifestation of a particular arcane talent, but the Headmaster told him that these things could take time. In the meanwhile every week when some students and two Masters would to go the village for supplies and for a weekend leave he would ask them to listen for word of something happening, a fire or a bandit raid or something of that nature. Just anything that would help explain what he saw in his sleep. At least the Masters told him that they asked, and had heard nothing. Thankfully the tonic the Headmaster gave him directions on how to prepare helped him have a few dreamless rests.



The season had just begun to pick up that initial nip of autumn, with cool, brisk mornings that gave way to perfect afternoons for walking in the forests. Brennevara’s hair had subtly shifted to hues of gold and red with the coming of the season, and when Ander had asked she told him that it would turn completely white come winter. Due to the increasing hostility from his classmates Ander had been spending most of his time studying and practicing under the watchful eyes of the Masters. This resulted in him already being ready for his third year evaluations, which if he passed would graduate him into the fourth term classes. It wasn’t uncommon for some students to be more apt than others which is why they had the evaluations in the first place. But it had been a long while since someone as young as Ander had a chance to step into the fourth term. The previous had held incredible magical talents, which Ander himself lacked as a whole in most areas. He’d just studied hard.



At least, that’s what the other students said. Extra study, extra teaching, favoritism, that’s all it was. But Ander knew better. Magic was getting easier and easier for him. It was like every spells he learned in turn unlocked more understanding, more magic within him. Even his evocation spells were improving, albeit very slowly by comparison to his strengths. All he had to do was prove that he could master a handful more spells in front of a group of masters, including Headmaster Avery, and he could progress.



And the stress was intense!



Ander had spent all this morning and the bulk of the afternoon – this being a day off from classes for all the students – in study. First he’d put himself through intense magical theory in the library, then asked one of the masters for help with one of the spells. Now his mind was just too weary to think any more. He sat outside in the gardens beside the calming, bubbling fountain. Usually the sound of the trickling water would sooth his mind and spirit, and the sunlight dancing upon the waters enchant him. But this time he found himself unable to relax or be calm. He knew he wouldn’t even have a weekend away to help take his mind off of things as while he had been on the list to go to the village somehow his name had been removed, scratched out as if he’d voluntarily elected to stay at the Academy for more study and another already elected to go in his place. He’d spoken with the Master who was in charge of the trip this time and was told that he was sorry for the mix-up, but given than someone else has already been notified that they would be going it wouldn’t be fair to tell them otherwise. His own name would be first on the list next week.



So here Ander sat, even as the group with their wagon departed through the gate with their friends calling out to them have fun, and requests to pick up this and that for them. He’d honestly been looking forward to this trip all week so to say he was disappointed would be an understatement. But he could understand that part of the fault was his. If he had noticed the change sooner he might have been able to correct it without trouble. And it was only another week. If he was fortunate instead of the trip being a stress reliever perhaps it would be in celebration!



Though that should have been a comforting thought, his stomach gave a twist, and suddenly the Ivory Academy’s spacious gardens and courtyard felt enclosed, tight. He bowed his head for a moment trying to shake this strange sensation that was growing upon him, like despite the shining sun dark clouds were gathering.



Maybe… this is another of the dreams, only I’m awake? He wondered if he should go to Headmaster Avery for help. Then another thought interjected itself into his mind. The woods… Brennevara…. I can find peace there. It’s a day of no classes. I can stay there as long as I want, today, and no one will care. Get to the woods!



Standing, Ander dusted off his robes, deep blue today, and turned to head towards the gate with head bowed and not looking at anyone. His steps were quick, focused and clearly with a goal in mind. He felt eyes on him as he stood at the edge of the gate, and turned to see Headmaster Avery watching him from his left. The older man stood beside the wall, hands folded in the sleeves of his robes as his eyes met the student’s, both their expressions unreadable though Ander thought he saw something of understanding in the man’s gaze. Just a subtle nod, and then the Headmaster turned and moved back towards the Academy compound. Ander in turn left and headed into the woods.



From the moment his foot crossed the invisible threshold that separated the forest from the Academy grounds, he felt as it a massive weight had lifted from around his neck. A smile found his face and with barely a thought he took up his wolf form and bolted off into the forest. The past was so well-known by this point that he barely had to think about it, which way to turn or how far to go. In a matter of minutes he saw a flash out of the corner of his amber eyes, and then there was Brennevara, pacing him stride for stride, jumping from tree to tree before finally tumbling down to land upon his back in a clearing. The impact knocked Ander to the ground, where they rolled together in the slowly drying grass. Mid-tumble he returned to his natural form, and as usual they came to a stop with the mage apprentice flat on his back and the dryad sitting on his stomach looking down at him.



“What brings you out today, Ander?” Brennevara asked when they had both caught their breath. “I thought you said today was your weekend to head to the village. I was watching for you on the way before I sensed you enter from another place.” Ander sighed, fingers rubbing lightly over the grass.



“My name was crossed off the list,” he confessed. “I didn’t catch it until this morning, and by that time someone else had been told they could go in my place.”



“That isn’t fair! I know you were looking forward to this trip.” Ander shrugged, trying to act casual about it.



“There’s always next weekend, which I’ve been promised.” By the look the dryad gave him, she saw through his nonchalance. But then she smiled, playfully poking him in the chest.



“Well, perhaps then before you have to return I could show you someplace new.”



“New? I thought you’d about showed me every sight the forest had to offer.” Ander propped himself up on his elbows, curiosity driving away any disappointment. She smiled at him, agilely rolling to her feet and at his request pulling him to his.



“Lets run, my Eltanesh, and try to keep up!” She darted away, laughing, and with a grin of his own once more the black wolf raced alongside her.



Brennevara led Ander deeper into the woods than she’d ever done before, to the places where the trees were thickest and he could feel an ancient power pulsing beneath his paws, thrumming through his chest and head like a drumbeat. It both intimidated him, and thrilled him. Down a steep incline he bounded, steps as sure as if it were flat ground. Then across a rushing branch of the river, stone to stone, then weaving through trees wider around than two masters linking their arms in a circle. Through all this Brennevara danced before him, flicking just within his sight long enough to keep him on course, laughing and teasing him with her there and gone steps. Deep inside the wolf Ander found himself laughing loudly, pushing himself faster and faster with each stride.



Then the dryad vanished from his sight, at the same time as he slid to a stop in a small clearing. For a moment Ander could only pant, tongue hanging our. Then a noise made his canine ears twitch, and he looked to see a sight that although his face couldn’t show it sent a bolt of wonder through him.



An ancient, twisting tree stood center court in the clearing, smaller than the others standing around it like an honor guard. It grew upon a little island in the center of a spring fed by a steam from the river. The entire clearing was set a bit lower than the rest of the forest, giving the impression of this place being separated out from the rest, a hidden cove that only a few gained admission to.



And now he was one of them.



Ander returned to his human form with a look of awe on his face, and like when he first met Brennevara the mage sank to his knees in respect, sitting in the grass that here was still soft and a little more green. With barely a rustle of sound, Brennevara appeared, seating herself with legs to one side next to him.



“What – what is this place?” Ander said softly, as if he feared to speak too loudly and break whatever ancient enchantment lay on the clearing.



“This place is old, ancient even by my standards. It is a place of my kind, a place of fae and magic from before humans and even elves knew the word.” She put an arm around him, and he briefly glanced at her before looking back at the tree. “There are places like this all over the world, places where power flows through the earth, air, and water. The elves long ago once knew how to tap into these places, and that is what made their magic so mighty. I know that you cannot do the same, as that ability was lost with the elves of old, but at the very least you and I can be here, and appreciate it together.” Ander smiled at her then, putting an arm around her to give her a squeeze.



‘Thank you, Brennevara, for bringing me here. This place is amazing!”



“You’re welcome, Ander. Remain here as long as you want.”



“Wait, aren’t you staying here too?” She paused before answering, her gaze distant.



“This place reminds me of… painful memories. Things I do not like remembering. Lost sisters.” Although he would have liked her to stay, Ander nodded in understanding.



“You don’t have to tell me anymore, Bren. I understand.” She smiled at him.



“Bren… I’ve never had a nickname before. I like it. Thank you, Ander.” She stood. “Whenever you are ready to leave, just step outside the clearing. I will know and find you to guide you back.” With that she gave a tiny hop and seemed to streak into the trees towering above, vanishing as if she‘d never been there.



For a long moment Ander sat there, watching where she had vanished to and wondering at this woman who had become his most valued and cherished friend, who was not even human yet understood him like no other before, even the Headmaster. Then he sat watching the tree for a long moment before standing and approaching its pool. The waters were so clear and pristine that he could see straight down to the pebbly bottom, watch the shiny, colorful fish swimming by. Birds sang their sweet songs overhead, though he couldn’t see them no matter how hard he searched for them, and the subtle scent of flowers floated on the autumn breeze, mingling with the overtones of crisp, dying leaves and the chill of impending yet distant winter. His eyes traveled up the ancient tree, tracing the curves of the wood, the branches that seemed to wrap around itself and signs of the weathering and ages it had endured. Scars from hailstones and broken limbs abounded, but not one was a mark made by human hands. And that in and of itself seemed more than right. Tucked here and there within the folds of the bark were tiny purple and white flowers, late-blooming ones that he faintly recalled having seen before though he didn’t know where exactly. A large part of him wanted to cross the pool of water, to stand beside such a massive tree and touch it, feel its great age and strength, but even as the thought crossed his mind, he dismissed it. Such an act just wouldn’t feel right.



Here in this place he began to feel the peace and serenity that he’d been seeking, and once more he sat down, then reclined next to the pool as the sun’s warm rays sought him out and the rippling of the water lulled him. Before Ander realized what was happening, he had drifted off into a gentle sleep.

******



“Ander! Ander!”



The voice at first was unfamiliar, disorientating. Ander had been caught up within the dream again, only this time he became aware of being carried along, tangled up in the muffling, near-suffocating cloak and feeling utterly terrified, so at first as he began to awaken the young man fought, striking out at the air and giving wordless cries of fear until he finally got his eyes to open and see.



High above the sky was dark – he’d been asleep all afternoon. The sky was overcast, or so it seemed, as what stars he may have spied through the canopy were obscured. Brennevara knelt over him, shaking his shoulder. Her expression was full of concern.



“Bren?” Ander slowly sat up as she moved back, rubbing his head in some bafflement. “Is everything okay? What’s wrong?”



“Don’t you smell it on the air, Ander Eltanesh?” she asked in reply, her whole body tense like a drawn bowstring. “Can’t you hear it?” Ander blinked, the went still to listen. He strained his ears, breathing deeply to take in the scents of the forest. He blinked in surprise when he realized first off not something he heard, but something he didn’t hear; night animals. Owl and mouse, cricket and frog, all were utterly silent.



Then he caught a faint scent on the breeze. It was familiar to him, from somewhere. The odor blended with the last remaining vestiges of his dream until he put the pieces together, and that with the silence alarmed him.



“Fire? That smells like smoke! Bren, what’s happening? Is there a forest fire?” Her eyes, dark in the early night, were so sad when she looked at him that his heart clenched in his chest, instinct telling him what she was about to say even before she said the words.



“Ander… the Academy… it burns!”



“No… no, no!” Shaking his head in denial, Ander scrambled to his feel and rushed to leave the peaceful clearing, ascending the rise in such haste that he slipped and scraped his hands and knees until he reached the top, then ran his hardest through trees and bushes that before had seemed to open up before him but now reached out to snare and catch at his robes to delay him, holding him back as one holds back the distraught from seeing unpleasant sights. The dryad quickly came up to pace him.



“Ander, stop! There is nothing you can do!”



“I have to go back! The Academy – it’s my home! I have to try and help!” Brennevara hesitated, then nodded.



“Take up your wolfen mantle, and I will guide you.” Not hesitating, Ander whispered the very familiar spell and raced off on padded paws, following his friend through the night. Now, in this form, the scent of smoke and flame was even more apparent and his keen canine ears detected the crackling sound that had driven all other animals into hiding. The starts he realized weren’t hidden by clouds, but by plumes of smoke rising into the sky that thickened the closer they drew.



At last, Ander stood as a wolf at the edge of the clearing that housed the Ivory Academy, and he realized with a breaking heart what Brennevara had meant by there being nothing he could do.



The vaunted school for magic was burned next to nothing.



Changing back into his own body, Ander crossed the footbridge and entered through the broken, burnt gates. The white stone was blackened from flame, the grasses and gardens charred embers. Glass that had broken out from the heat glimmered in the light from a few remaining fires burning in the wreckage, casting a red glow over the entire compound. Somewhere wood cracked and gave way with a loud groaning crash that made the youth stumble back in shock, and his foot bumped into something. Looking down, Ander’s eyes widened in horror, and his hand flew up to his mouth as he gasped, staggering away as fast as he could: it was the body of one of the students.



Looking around, he realized he could see students and masters dead everywhere! Bodies lay strewn in the grass as if they had tried to flee the fires only to have fallen. Some were reaching towards the gate, trying to find safety, while others were in crumpled heaps against walls. Most of the Masters, he realized, were closer to the buildings than the students; they had been trying to protect their charges, get them out. Some were so badly burned that he could hardly tell whether they had been male or female, let along Master or apprentice.



With a groan, Ander sank to his knees, tears streaming down his face even as he clenched against the bile rising in his throat, trying not to gasp in sobs lest he choke on the acidic air.



“…A-Ander….”



The pained call made Ander jerk with a soft cry, peering around through teary eyes to try and find who called. He jumped to his feet and looked to either side, then saw a tiny tremble of movement from one of the fallen. He hurried over and felt his heart lurch again at seeing the body of Headmaster Avery lying in the burned courtyard. He dropped to his knees beside his master and mentor, gently drawing the dying man – for with how severe his burns were there was little doubt as to that fact – into his arms.



“H-Headmaster…”



“Ander… I – I am so g-glad you survived….” Headmaster Avery coughed roughly, wetly.



“Please, don’t talk,” Ander begged, grasping at the faintest hope even against all rational thought. “I – I’ll get you to a friend of mine! She’s a healer, she can save you!” Surely Bren could do that! But the Headmaster just coughed.



“W-won’t do you any good, my boy…. *cough cough!* I know…. I know that my fate is sealed.”



“No….”



“Ander, you – you’ve got to listen to me. *cough cough cough!*” It was painful to hear and feel the man’s coughing and convulsing. “In – in my study, in my floor of the tower… there’s a chest on the bookshelf…” With hands shaking from pain, Headmaster Avery reached into his robes and pulled a chain off of his neck – miracle it had survived the heat of the flames! Attached to the end of it was a key. “It – it’s a small one. G-go get it. Open it. What - *cough cough!* - what’s inside… belongs to you. Go! Hurry!” For a moment Ander remained still, stunned by the request – the man was dying, yet all he seemed to care about what this silly chest! – then he nodded, carefully laying the Headmaster down and taking the chain with the key to put around his own neck before approaching the Masters’ Tower. It too had suffered the sting of fire, though it looked mostly extinguished as best Ander could see. The roof appeared partially collapsed making him have to hope that he would be able to fulfill the Headmaster’s request at all! The door fell clean off its hinges as he pushed on it, hitting the ground with a loud bang and making him jump.



Stepping within, he flinched as he saw another pair of bodies on the floor. It looked like one master had fallen trying to protect another. Carefully Ander stepped past them and onto the stone stairs. He was grateful that they were stone and not wood, or this endeavor might be hopeless instead of just dangerous. Slowly he rose up step by step, ducking his head and pressing against the wall with every low groan of the wood above. On each floor he had to carefully walk down the halls that he had only been down a small handful of times, shocked by how much the flames had turned the familiar into the foreign with broken walls, fallen doors, and holes in the floor. After the second floor, where he was forced to climb over a fallen beam that had caught a master and pinned him, he didn’t see any more bodies (which his stomach was thankful for). On the fourth floor Ander had a close, heart-pounding call as the floor abruptly gave way beneath his feet and left him dangling from his arms as he cried out and struggled to pull himself back up before he fell.



Somehow, solely through the grace of the heavens he thought, he finally ascended the last step to the Headmaster’s floor. Here the fire had been particularly fierce, smashing through the ceiling to now admit the smoke-hazed moonlight, turning tapestries and furniture to ashes, and making the floorboards creak with each step. The front room was hardly recognizable as the place where he had spent the most of the first few years of his remembered enrollment. The sight alone brought fresh tears to his eyes as he moved with the gentlest steps across the floor to the Headmaster’s office. The door remained on its hinges this time, though it gave him a struggle to push it open as debris from the broken ceiling had fallen in the way then cut his arms as he staggered through when it abruptly yielded.



Some flames still burned in this room, taking a few last nips at the wood before it would die. Bookshelves were toppled and their contents scattered, no longer usable, and nearly all the furniture in the room was broken beyond hope of repair. A billow of smoke made Ander break down coughing for a few moments, doubling him over as he struggled to get air and bringing another round of tears to his eyes. Pressing the back of his fist to his mouth and using the other hand to shield his face from the heat, he peered around in an attempt to find the little chest Headmaster Avery had spoken of. But everything was so chaotic! Nothing appeared as it had previously, and it was very disorientating to the youth.



Calm down, Ander! he scolded himself, forcing himself to stand still in the middle of the room, closing his eyes and bowing his head in concentration. You may only have been in here a handful of times, but you know this building. You know this room! Concentrate! Focus! Remember how it looked before; the chest can’t have gone too far. He pushed aside the added thought of ‘unless it fell through a hole’ and mentally put the room back into order. He remembered the first time he had seen the chest in question, when he was still too young to take up any arcane study itself. It had sat high on the freestanding bookshelf just to the left of the Headmaster’s desk, all silver inlaid dark wood with a little keyhole.



Opening his eyes, Ander peered once more around. There was the bookshelf in question, but where was the chest? Floor creaking with each step, he carefully moved towards the broken piece of furniture with its spilled contents blackened and torn, and carefully began sifting through. The increased groaning of the ceiling above made Ander work faster and faster, throwing the tomes aside as he frantically searched, wanting to be far away before anything more collapsed. Ah! There! The chest lay tipped on its side, scorched by the flames but surprisingly having survived intact. Quickly he drew it into his lap, removed the chain from around his neck, inserted the key into the lock, and turned it. As if it had been attached to a spring, the lid popped open of its own accord, revealing a very beautiful amulet lying on black velvet.



The craftsmanship of the amulet left no doubt that it had been formed by a master of the art, if not by magic! A delicate chain with no clasp allowed the amulet to hang freely, links finer in size than a grain of rice and seemingly made of three different types of metal threads braided together, then formed into their final shape. In this poor lighting he could only guess but thought that the threads were silver, gold, and some other material that far outshone the others. The pendant part was round, perhaps the size of his palm and surprisingly thick in make, about a quarter inch he’d guess, but felt far lighter than its mass might have indicated. The bulk of its construction was a solid amethyst stone, the most pure specimen of its type that he had ever seen, rich in color as a king’s cloak and swirled with bands of all hues from near-black to lavender. This stone was wrapped in delicate silver filigree so intricate that his eyes watered from trying to trace its path. And as he picked it up Ander realized that it felt warm in his hands. Not warm as if from the flames that had tried to destroy its resting place, but warm like the touch of a friend’s hand, like a warm blanket in the winter.



Warm like home.



A loud snapping of wood barely gave him time to snap back to reality and throw himself into a headlong dive away from where he’d knelt as a support beam finally had endured enough and given way. Coughing badly as new smoke and ash billowed all around and feeling the flames flare at him in fury that he dared snatch away their prize, Ander staggered towards the door and out it, rushing down the stairs and halls back towards the ground as fast as he stumbling legs could carry him. The top floor caved in utterly just as he broke back into the cool night air that by comparison to inside the tower made him shiver. For a moment the youth paused to look back, panting for breath and wincing from the sting of a myriad scrapes and bruises and minor burns, before running back to the Headmaster’s side.



“I’ve got it, Headmaster.” Ander quickly knelt and showed his mentor the amulet he held. “I’ve got the amulet.” Headmaster Avery coughed, the sound wet and pained even more now.



“G-good lad. Put it on; it is yours by – by right.” Ander hesitated at that. He was just an orphan boy, who technically didn’t even own the robes he wore. This – this was a fine amulet. “Well? Go – go ahead!” Ander’s head jerked a nod and he obediently slipped the chain around his neck. The amulet fell to hang in the center of his chest, level with his heart. Headmaster Avery smiled the smile of one who has long toiled at a task, and finally saw it completed. “Good lad,” he said again, a shaking hand touching Ander’s knee.



“H-headmaster?”



“That amulet… belonged to your father.” That simple statement blindsided Ander with its content. His… his father?? “When you came into my care, that amulet came with you. I was told that when you – you had come of age *cough cough* that I was to see you got it.” The old man gave a weak smile. “I had hoped… to wait until you were a little older yet. But – but perhaps that was just the wishes of an – an old man.” His voice gave way to another violent fit of coughing, and this time Ander saw blood stain his already battered and burned hands.



“Headmaster!”



“Y-You’re much more than this Academy c – could ever make of you, Ander. *cough!* I – I don’t know exactly what… but I know this is true. Go. Go find out who… who you are. Go find your place.” He paused for another bout, but they were weaker now, as were his movements as he lay back in the grass. “Just – just perhaps… think on us…. Kindly…. And always…use your magic…well…..” Headmaster Avery gave one final sighing, shuddering breath, his eyes closed, and he was still.



“…Headmaster? Headmaster Avery?” Not wanting to believe it, Ander gently shook the man who had been like a father to him, then again with more force. “Headmaster! Headmaster!!” Tears blurred his vision, and Ander bowed his head, sobbing bitterly for what he had now lost forever.



“Ander!” came Brennevara’s voice on the winds after how long he didn’t know. “Ander Eltanesh! You must flee this place!” Ander slowly raised his head and peered around, rubbing at his tears and leaving streaks of grime, soot, and blood behind. He spied his friend standing at the gate, gesturing for him to hurry. “This place – it is not safe anymore! It is a bad place right now! You must flee!”



“But – there might be…”



“There is only death here now, Ander. Come! We must go!” Realizing against his own hopes that she was probably – likely – correct, Ander forced himself to stand and to go to her, letting her put an arm around his shoulders as she led him away from the ruins of the Ivory Academy and into the cool of the woods once again. She didn’t say anything to him as they walked, and to Ander it seemed that even the forest’s trees and animals mourned with him, offering their silence in respect to his sorrow and loss. How long she led him he couldn’t think on, struggling to put one foot before the other until finally his legs could go no further and he collapsed in a clearing, grief claiming him in its iron teeth and shaking him like a rag with sobs and cries of heartache. Brennevara draped herself across his back in a sheltering, comforting embrace, not speaking but rather letting him express his suffering until he had nothing more to offer and his exhausted body and spirit sought the healing peace of sleep.

Chapter Four



The setting sun found Ander sitting in the shelter of a small copse of trees that Bren had led him to. He hadn’t spoken a word since his disastrous meeting with his fellow students and the Masters, and with a keen understanding the dryad didn’t press for him to either speak or to do anything other than sit there while she prepared a campsite. In watching her actions Ander found something to distract him from his thoughts for a while; it was rather fascinating. How to survive in the wilds had been a small part of his training for it had always been assumed that even a wizard needed to know a few basics as he would have to go out into the world eventually. In those classes, they had gathered kindling and wood, dug out a fire pit, lined and ringed it with rocks, and then used flint and tinder to light it (though occasionally a cocky student would try to use a tiny fire spark spell instead). Although Bren did made the pit, she didn’t dig it; rather she pressed her hands to the earth and it just hollowed out for her. She lined it with stones, speaking in a strange language as she did so, then stepped up to the trees and touched them, speaking still. Leaves rustled, braches creaked softly, and a few branches and limbs simply broke away to fall onto the ground nearby to her, trunks shuddering off some bark like a dog shaking off water. By this point, as she bowed to the trees and gathered the wood, his eyes were wide in amazement.



“How – Did they just – what - ?” Bren chuckled softly.



“I asked the trees if they would offer their wood to us. Some are young, and need all that they have, and some are too angry at humans, who come with their axes and cut them down at random. But there are always a few who are kind, and wise, willing to share for us, as long as we do not needlessly take from them.” She settled the kindling down and began to arrange the fire. “While I do not need this I know that you will for the nights are growing cold.”



“What I really need is a direction to go.” Ander crossed his legs and propped his elbows up on his knees, head on a fist. “The Ivory Academy was the only place I’ve ever known, and now it’s gone! Even if they manage somehow to rebuild it you heard them back there. They think I did it!” Bren was quiet for a little bit as she laid down the logs and branches, then took a deep, sighing breath.



“Ander, what is it you want to do?”



“Huh?”



“You speak the truth: you cannot go back to your Academy. There is no one to tell you what to do next. So, you have to decide for yourself. What is it you want to do?” Ander thought about that for a moment, then his hands closed into fists.



“What I want is to know who destroyed my home, and why! The Headmaster and the others, they’ve never harmed anyone with their magic that I know of. They hardly ever left the Academy at all! So why destroy it?” Bren nodded.



“Then that is what you should do. While I have no clues that could help you, I do know of a larger city some three or four days walk from here. There are many people, and it is the closest to the Ivory Academy next to the village you just came from. There is a possibility that someone there may have a clue, or can point you in the direction of one.”



“That’s a wonderful idea, Bren! How do you know this city exists, though?” The gold dryad smiled at him mischievously.



“While I cannot enter a city, or any place of strong civilization, if there is a single tree that grows, flower that blooms, even a lone blade of grass breaking the cobblestones, then I know of its existence for in that it touches nature.” Ander laughed, the first one he’d uttered since the tragedy, feeling his heart lighten.



“Well, I’m glad one of us knew about it.” He sighed and his face lost that moment of simple pleasure, thinking briefly on his new future. His new, very uncertain future. As if reading his mind, Bren came to sits next to him as the pile of wood was completed.



“Your soul is not made for fear, Ander Eltanesh!” she gently scolded. “Nor for sorrow, nor for pain. You have a soul of joy and laughter within you. I know that right now things feel very dark for you, but in this darkness you will not stand alone. I am going with you.”



“You – you are?” Ander’s eyes widened as he looked in wonder at his friend, then the smile found him again as he embraced her. “Thank you, Bren! Thank you so much! You have no idea how much better you just made me feel by saying you’re going to come with me.” He felt her silently laugh as she hugged him back.



“I would not be willing to let you go into this alone, Ander.” She gave him a squeeze, then gestured towards the pile of wood. “But unless you no longer believe the night air will be an issue for you, perhaps you had best see about the fire?” Ander chuckled and nodded in agreement, turning towards the logs and holding up his hand, murmuring the right words to the simple spell that caused a spark to leap from his palm and onto the branches, soon turning them into a warm, comforting fire.



Dinner was simple once again, more things that Bren gathered up for him, then Ander lay down in the grass and fell asleep with her watchful eyes keeping guard over him.

Chapter Six



They awoke with the dawn, unthreatened all the night, and after a quick breakfast of dried meats from their rations and natural foods supplied by Bren headed out. For an entire day they traveled without trouble or encountering anyone towards the chasm where Sir Ryalos said the village was. The night was equally calm and peaceful, for Bren and the elven knight at least, and they were in high spirits while they traveled.



Ander’s steps as they walked were slow and heavy. While he was thrilled beyond measure at having a solid direction to travel, both figuratively and literally, his body felt bone tired. Last night had been a constant plague of nightmares each time awakening him in a sweat with a racing heart. It wasn’t the cabin burning anymore, no. Now he saw terrible dark shadows that darted and lunged around him, tearing at his body and ripping it piece by piece. Much to his relief he didn’t think he had cried out and sleeping within the tent had preventing anyone else from witnessing his thrashing, but the toll it exacted on his endurance was very apparent.



“Ander, are you unwell?” Sir Ryalos finally questioned when he was forced to catch the wizard apprentice’s arm as he nearly stumbled and fell.



“I… no, I am not ill… just very tired,” he finally admitted, eyes closing against the ache burning in them. Bren looked over at him with concern in her eyes, as she knew about his troubles sleeping. Sir Ryalos frowned, then steered Ander to a large rock on the side of the road and forced him to sit down.



“Why tired? I have seen men fight in wars that show the same fatigue that you do, but our travel and camp has been peaceful.” Ander at first thought about denying the accusations but realized as he looked at the knight that there would be no subterfuge or misdirection. He sighed, running a hand through his hair and bowing his head.



“It’s nothing, really. Kind of childish actually. Sometimes – alright, frequently – I have nightmares. I’ve always had them, off and on, but within the past six months or so they’ve gotten… stronger. Headmaster Avery said that they might be some kind of manifestations of my magic, but… we never had the chance to find out what kind of magic it represented.” Sir Ryalos was silent for a moment, then Ander felt him put a hand on his shoulder. He lifted his gaze to find a surprisingly understanding smile there.



“My little brother was one of the Queen’s advisors, and also powerful in magic. He told me that because he had an affinity for elemental magic, specifically the elements of the wind and storm, he always felt like there was a charge in the air around him. He could rub his hands together and shock me in jest. And he was always agitated and uncomfortable when the sky rumbled and flashed. So you’d be surprised how much I understand what you speak of.” Ander blinked in surprise, then found a smile on his face.



“Thank you, Sir Ryalos.”



“You’re welcome. Do we need to take an early lunch rest?”



“No, no I can keep going.” Ander pulled himself to his feet as Bren stood from where she’d knelt in the grass.



“Sir Ryalos, do you know anything about the village I sense ahead.” The knight peered in the direction they were heading with a curious expression on his face.



“No. Then again I have not traveled towards the elven refuse from this direction. It is possible it has always been there.”



“Well then, how does a properly cooked meal sound?” asked Ander, seeming like he’d regained some energy at the proposition. The knight nodded in agreement, and they continued on their way.



They arrived at the outskirts of the village close to the noon hour, where Bren vanished from their side with a murmur to Ander that she would be keeping an eye on them from the outskirts. So to all appearances it was just an elven knight and a human youth that entered the small community.



It was a simple farming and trading town, laying barely fifteen minutes from a road and having by all appearances fertile lands. There looked to be a pub, perhaps one that had a few rooms for travelers, and a bed and breakfast and town hall, but that was about it. The rest of the buildings were a general good store and homes, many at the farms themselves. The pair entered with little fuss, and made a stop at the general goods store to stock up on some supplies before heading towards the pub for a meal. But when they reached the center of the village they got something of a shock.



There was a small crowd gathered there, shouting and calling out to a man standing on a hastily-erected stage. They shouted things such as ‘kill him!’ and ‘monster!’ amongst other things. The man on the stage appeared to be something of an official in town, as he wore chain armor and carried a sword, perhaps a watch or militia captain? Beside him sat a large cage of strong iron bars. A figure moved within the cage, though from their distance and the narrow width between the bars the two couldn’t make out any details.



“What do you suppose is going on?” wondered Ander.



“One way to find out, my companion.” As they drew up to the edge of the crowd, Sir Ryalos gently touched the shoulder of the woman standing on the fringe. “Excuse me, but what is going on here?” She pointed at the cage.



“That – that thing in there – it’s an inhuman monster!” she cried, her face at once fearful and furious. “It’s murdered five people!”



“Murdered?!” gasped Ander, looking upon the cage and its shadowed occupant with horror.



“Horribly so,” the man seemingly with her spoke up. “Made Captain Harrison sick, it did. And he was a soldier for the king until his leg got hurt.”



“And he was found guilty of the crimes?” questioned Sir Ryalos.



“He was caught at the scene! How much more evidence do we need?” the man ground his teeth in agitation.



“Then his punishment?”



“What do you think? Death.” Ander gulped at the thought, the deaths of those at the Academy still too close for comfort for him to consider another’s life ending. “The problem is, we don’t know how to do it.”



“How? Run him through with a blade, cut off his head, poison or fire. Any of those will kill a person.” Sir Ryalos crossed his arms in confusion.



“He’s not a person,” the first woman whispered in a shaky tone, and the two traveling companions looked at one another in surprise.



“What do you mean?” asked Ander with a slight stammer in his voice.



“He’s a demon!” The woman wrung her hands together in worry.



“A demon?” Ander echoed, looking at the cage, adding in a murmur almost to himself, “It doesn’t look as big as the pictures in the library tomes, but perhaps it’s a large imp?”



“Do you know about demons?” asked the man, looking the youth over.



“A – a little. I mean, I read about them in the library at the Ivory Academy –“



“The Ivory Academy!” The man’s outburst had those closest turning to see what was going on. “You’re a wizard then?”



“A wizard?” someone else took up the cry before Ander could correct them. “It’s a wizard!”



“A wizard will know how to deal with the demon!” another called, and before he knew what was happening he was separated from Sir Ryalos and pushed through the crowd and up onto the stage. Captain Harrison was a big man by comparison with salt and pepper hair, a face marked by his seeming forty-plus years of age and some scars of combat. His piercing brown eyes looked the apprentice over with a critical gaze, sizing him up.



“Eh heh,” chuckled Ander a bit nervously. “Hello, Captain.”



“Are you really a wizard?” Captain Harrison muttered.



“Yes, well…” Here Ander dropped his voice. “An apprentice Wizard.”



“Hrmph! Well, apprentice or not, see what you know.” He nodded at the cage, and with a nod of his own Ander approached. At first he didn’t see much between the bars of the cage, but then the occupant within moved towards him a couple of paces, into the light.



At first Ander thought he was looking at a grandly-dressed human. He saw a deep navy blue nobleman’s tunic with an embroidered collar, the buttons down the front winking silver at him. The waist of it hung looser than looked intended, indicating that once there had been a belt in place. Ebon black pants tucked into calf-high leather boots in the same shade, the hard soles of which made soft clicking sounds as they struck the wooden stage through the floor bars. His hands were bare, showing neither glove nor jewelry as he gripped the bars. He caught a glimpse of pale blond, nearly white hair hanging loose down the front of his shoulders before the man’s face came into view, and Ander’s eyes widened. His face was angular and might have been considered exotically handsome, with bright blue eyes that were more sharply angled than he’d ever seen someone’s eyes be, reflecting some pain. A patch of blood marred the neat grooming of his hair, and in the dim light of the cage, as their eyes caught one another’s there was a reddish gleam from within the prisoner’s. Ander drew back with a small gasp, retreating a step or two in his alarm.



“Did you see?”



“It must be a demon to alarm a wizard!”



“We need to kill it!”



Ander shook his head, clearing his mind of his shock and refocusing himself on the task at hand. Through all this, the prisoner just watched him with a blank expression, not showing anger nor arrogance nor sorrow. If anything he looked like he wanted the fiasco to be over with. But as the youth made himself look into the prisoner’s eyes again, he saw more than just physical discomfort from his injury there. He saw a silent denial of the accusations, one that he had probably tried to voice before but had gone ignored for so long he no longer bothered.



Can – can it be that he didn’t do it? Ander wondered to himself, eyes wide.



“Well,” Captain Harrison prompted, “do you know of a way to kill this demon?” At the question there was a flash of anger in the prisoner’s eyes, though his face didn’t reflect it.



“I – one moment.” Ander rummaged about in his pouch for a few specific leaves and a pinch of a dried herb, mixing them in his palm and packing it into a small, tight ball. Then, murmuring an arcane phrase, he threw it at the cage. The prisoner within backed up sharply as a shower of white sparks burst against the top and bars of the cage. “Ah! Captain, you cannot kill this man.”



“What?!” Captain Harrison gasped, as did many in the crowd. “You – you mean there’s no way to slay this monster?”



“No, Captain. I mean this man did not commit the crime you accuse him of!” More gasps followed the declaration. Ander pointed at the places where his spell had detonated. “White! White lights show innocence of such bloodshed. Your murders were not committed by this one. You would be slaying an innocent!” For a moment all were silent in the wake of that, then the people began shouting in outrage and denial. Ander moved to stand in front of the cage, as if protecting the accused, as Sir Ryalos pushed his way to the front.



“Ander,” the knight hissed, “are you certain?” The elf eyed the man in the care. “He… there’s something about him that unsettles me.”



“That doesn’t make him a murderer automatically.” The knight nodded, then abruptly and with easy grace jumped up onto the stage beside Ander, turning to the crowd and drawing his blade.



“You heard him! If he says this man is innocent, then he is innocent. Release him this instant!” At the captain’s continued hesitation, Sir Ryalos turned with a cry and his sword flashed, cutting through the lock with a bright spark of metal on metal. The door swung wide. Quickly, before anyone else could move, Ander stepped to the door of the cage.



“Trust me,” he whispered to the man inside. “I know you’re innocent. Just stay close.” Slowly the man emerged into the sunlight, flinching as his eyes had been adjusted to the shadow. He was more roughed-up than Ander had initially thought, though most of the blood was dried, and some of it looked like smears rather than from himself.



“If he’s innocent,” one man in the crowd shouted, “then who’s the killer?”



“They’re still on the loose!” The woman’s voice sounded in the beginnings of panic.



“We’ll find who did it!” Ander blinked as the words came out of his mouth before he even thought to speak them.



“What?” hissed Sir Ryalos. “We were heading somewhere, remember Ander?”



“I know, but we can’t just leave them to the mercy of a murderer, if he’s still here.” Captain Harrison approached, not having heard the whispered exchange.



“You’ll find the killers?” He sounded skeptical. Ander nodded, projecting a confidence he didn’t feel.



“Yes. And he’ll help us.” He gestured towards the fiend-blood man. “What better way to prove his innocence, after all, than bringing in the real villain?” Captain Harrison paused a long moment, looking at Ander hard, then his eyes tracked towards Sir Ryalos.



“Sir Knight,” he said, “I like to think myself a good judge of character, though I admit if I am incorrect about the demon then I might have to rethink that. In any event, I feel that you are a person who would hold to his honor even –“ Here his eyes darted momentarily to Ander. “- against the desires of companions.” Sir Ryalos nodded in agreement. “Then if you take this… man… into your personal custody, and vow to see justice done should he try to escape or is a part of the murders in any way, you, wizard, will have your chance to find out who did this.” Once more the knight nodded, drawing his sword and holding it point up before his face as he looked at the human.



“I give you my solemn vow, Captain, that should we be proven wrong, in any way, or should he try to leave my custody, I will slay him myself or perish in the attempt.” Ander gulped. He hadn’t expected things to get that severe. But now that he had taken this path he couldn’t back down from it. Ander nodded his agreement to the arrangement, then lightly elbowed the man beside him.



“Oh! Um, yes, most certainly! I swear I will be perfectly behaved.” His voice was smooth and charming, the kind that was tuned to woo ladies and defuse aggression against its user. He even accompanied his statement with a bow at the waist to the Captain. “I am just very pleased that this gross error of justice was so nicely averted. But if I may ask, we could be dealing with a dangerous individual. May I have my weapons back?”



“No!” was the Captain’s instantly replied. The man held his arms wide imploringly.



“But my good captain, would you have me be a hindrance to my new friends, making them have to worry about protecting me when they should be focused on the real killers?”



“He has a valid point, Captain,” added Ander. “If he does use them against our interests, we can see that it is stopped.” Captain Harrison sighed, then nodded.



“Oh, very well.” He gestured to one of the men in leather armor standing nearby to the stage. “Get his blades and armor from headquarters.” The man saluted and hurried off. Ander turned to the uneasily milling crowd.



“I promise you, we will find the one who did this!” They murmured, clearly not appeased by this turn of events, but slowly began filtering away. “Captain Harrison, thank you for being reasonable. Can you tell us about what happened, and what clues you have? Anything that might help.”



“Not a damn thing much, that’s what I have,” was the snapped reply. Belatedly Ander realized he might have offered the man an unintended insult by seeking to find the killers, making it look like these outsiders could do what the local justice system could not, and he held up his hands placating in front of himself.



“I apologize, Captain. I didn’t mean to insinuate that you or your men have done anything wrong.” The captain huffed a breath, looking about at the scattering people.



“All of the victims were found outside their homes, dead of several long cuts to the chest and stomach. It looked to be done with a slashing weapon like a sword.”



“Well then the killer cannot have been I!” gasped the accused. “My weapon has no slashing edge!” Captain Harrison grumbled again, as she assigned minuteman returned with the acccused’s weapon belt and leather armored vest. Sir Ryalos reached out before their owner could and took hold of the weapon belt. He sheathed his own sword, then drew the slender weapon from its scabbard. Indeed, the rapier he held possessed no edge to it at all, just a stabbing point.



“While this alone isn’t enough to clear your name,” the knight pointed out, “it is a mark in your favor.” He returned it and the belt to the man, who had already donned the armor and now gratefully cinched it around his waist.



“Aaah, thank you so much.” He patted the ornate hilt. “I’m so accustomed to wearing it, that I felt practically naked without it.” Captain Harrison glared at the man, then looked to Ander with a tired expression.



“Other than all of them were killed in the same way, and that there were no signs of their attacker or a motivation, there seems to be nothing to connect the murders aside from the fact that we haven’t had such an incident in over a decade, and now all of the sudden five in under a week and a half!”



“Where and when was the most recent.” Ander was beginning to think that Sir Ryalos had some dealings with such before, as he was asking all the right questions and in a very knowledgeable manner.



“The Thompson farmstead,” was the answer, given in solemn tones. “The wife died couple years back, and now her husband’s gone too. Left their fourteen-year-old in charge of his little brother and sister. Neighbors are helping out what they can, but it’s still hard on them.”



“Do you think they’ll speak with us about what happened?”



“Sorry, Sir Knight, but I don’t think they can tell you much. They didn’t see anything.” The beginnings of an idea were starting to grow in Ander’s mind, and he went silent, face thoughtful. “What are you thinking, wizard? Can you use some sort of magic to find out what happened?”



“Maybe… “ Ander pulled himself out of his thoughts. ”We need to see the crime scene. Can we go there, Captain?”



“I could show them, officer,” the former prisoner offered helpfully, though his glibness only got him a scowl.



“Follow me.”



Captain Harrison led Ander, Sir Ryalos, and their new charge out into the fields and farmlands, to a small homestead boasting only a couple of moderate fields. The house itself was two stories tall and maintained, though humble, the kind of place that let onlookers know that this wasn’t just a house, it was a home. Three people, a young man just a little younger than Ander himself and two children who couldn’t be older than six or seven, worked in a field, harvesting. A couple of older men worked in a second field. Although they were all toiling hard, it was pretty evident that the hearts of the younger workers weren’t truly in their task. Captain Harrison pointed towards the far side of the house.



“That’s where he was found, day before yesterday.” The motion caught the eye of the older youth, and with a quiet word to the others he set down his sickle and jogged over towards them.



“Captain Harrison,” he greeted kindly, though his eyes showed a weariness. He nodded in greeting to the pair he didn’t know… then scowled darkly at the fiend-blood. “What the hell is he – it – doing here, Captain?! Are you just trying to rip my siblings and I apart even more? Or is this someone’s idea of ‘punishing’ that monster by making him face the scene of the crime?” Captain Harrison cleared his throat.



“According to the wizard’s magic, he’s actually innocent of the crime.”



“What?!” The youth’s siblings and the two other men were looking in their direction by this point.



“Y-yes,” Ander confirmed with only a small stutter. “My spell claims he’s innocent, and what’s more he’s going to help us catch the real murderer.” Now the youth rounded on him, glaring down at the apprentice as he was actually a little taller and broader in stature. “But I need to see the most recent crime scene, please.” Ander swallowed heavily. “I… I am sorry, for what’s happened to your family, and to the others who have lost loved ones. I know how much that hurts.”



“You know nothing!” the youth snapped, before turning on his heel and stalking back to his siblings. Sir Ryalos’ hand tensed into a fist, but Ander just touched the elf’s arm and shook his head, and without any further interruption they went around the side of the house.



The grass there was still stained with blood, a few tiny scraps of fabric clinging limply to the ground. For a moment both Ander and Sir Ryalos were stunned by the horror of the scene, though the captain appeared saddened. Their new ally turned his head away. After a moment to compose himself, Ander stepped forward and with only the slightest of pauses into the center of the scene. Once he seemed satisfied with his location, he knelt and by all appearances was studying the grass, running his fingertips over it and muttering to himself. But in truth, it was to another he spoke.



“Bren, can you hear me?”



“I can, Ander. The place you stand in… the grass aches. The blood that has soaked into the ground taints it, the salt within burns the blades.”



“This is a farm, and I know that’s technically civilization, but it’s also further out from town. Can you get here? The children haven’t seen anything, but there are farm animals. They might have.”



“I understand.” He felt a small breeze rustle past him, warm like her friendship, then it was gone.



“Well, wizard?” prompted Captain Harrison.



“Please, just a few moments more.” While Ander used his ‘magic’ on the scene, Sir Ryalos turned to his charge.



“First off, how are you named? I need something I can call you.” The grandly-dressed man gracefully moved back a step to bow at the waist to the knight.



“While I have been called many things – some more polite than others, I assure – the name I prefer to be called is Tiphaine Dialos.” Sir Ryalos frowned at Tiphaine’s suave tone, not impressed in the slightest.



“Very well, Tiphaine, what were you doing here when the captain and his men found you?” Tiphaine sighed dramatically, putting a hand to his heart and sadness reflected in his blue eyes.



“I was just entering town from the road over there, when I heard a strange noise. It sounded like a growling or snarling noise, then cloth tearing. It was very early in the morning, with no one out and about yet, so I got curious and went off-road and to this part of the house to look. See, there’s my boot print in the ground there.” He pointed to a place perhaps a pace from a water pump. A bucket rested on its side next to the spot. “It seemed someone dropped the bucket. I was actually bending to pick it up when I heard a rustling, like something moving away very quickly, I looked up, and there was a man laying on the ground. There was a lot of blood, and I rushed over to see if there was anything I could do but…” Here Tiphaine went a little pale, and he just shook his head. “While I was kneeling there in shock, the young man from out there came around the corner and saw me, and then everything went black.” He rubbed his head where the blood smear was. “Next thing I know, I’m awakening in irons, disarmed and stripped of my armor, being accused of murder.” Ander’s sudden gasp interrupted their conversation, as he crouched seemingly frozen in place.



“Ander? Ander, what’s wrong?” Sir Ryalos was quick to his side and shook his shoulder, but Ander didn’t respond at the moment.



“What are you saying?” he whispered so softly that even the elf’s keen hearing barely caught it, and he didn’t hear the reply at all.



“The animals in the barn saw nothing, but they heard the attack. They say some beast hunted the man like a wolf hunts the wounded deer. They were terrified, though it did not seem interested in them.” Ander heard her shudder, felt the terror in her voice. “The tree, the one to your side…” As she spoke the wizard turned to look at it, standing perhaps ten feet from the place of death, leaves softly rustling as she spoke and making it seem as it Ander could hear it as well. “It weeps with sadness for what has happened. The man planted it as a child, made certain it had water in times of drought and protection in the harsh winter. It wants me to call out to it, awaken its branches and roots, call it up from the earth and send it after the monster that killed its friend.” Ander bowed his head and trembled, shaken to his core by his emotional response to the thoughts. How well he could understand! He only whispered a single word:



“Where?”



“The beast fled into the wilds. The tree has shown me what it saw, and I know our foe – ruthwolf!”



“A ruthwolf?!” Ander’s head popped up, his voice a little louder than intended in his shock. Sir Ryalos’ eyes widened.



“You must be mistaken!”



“Um, pardon me,” Tiphaine interrupted, “but what’s a ‘ruthwolf?’” Captain Harrison seemed just as confused. Ander stood, turning to face them and almost seeming transformed in the moment. No longer the stumbling student, now even the knight might have believed he was a fully graduated wizard.



“A ruthwolf is a shape changer. At moments it will run as an ordinary-looking wolf, even hiding within packs of the beasts as added disguise. But unlike ordinary wolves is cannot be satisfied by the flesh of deer and other animals. Only human flesh, specifically human entrails and human blood, will satisfy its hunger. When they need to slake this hunger, they will stalk their prey, kill them, and eat until they are satisfied. To make this kill they adopt a more upright body structure, hunched over like the apes of the jungle, able to rise up to a height of nearly six feet and an average arm reach of seven feet. Their claws are closer to daggers in length and sharpness, well made for the task of killing. Tell me, Captain Harrison, you said that the death wounds were slashes across abdomen and chest, correct?”



“Y-yes.” Ander closed his eyes.



“I venture to guess the internal organs in the abdomen were badly lacerated, to a point where it would be hard to tell pieces were missing, and the wounds on the chest deep enough to break ribs, primarily over the aorta, causing severe bleed out.” Mutely, Captain Harrison just nodded, and Ander looked at them all.



“Given the sheer amount of victims, this is likely a female ruthwolf… and heavy with young. She is eating because she needs the food to nurse her unborn offspring.”



“Then she must be found and dealt with before the pups are born, or there will be no chance of stopping them!” Sir Ryalos gasped. “Can you find her den, Ander?” Ander nodded. “Then we go at once!”



“Wait! Wait!” The captain looked overwhelmed by all this. “How did you tell that this – this creature is the killer? How will you kill it, even if you can find it?”



“Although they are strong,” Sir Ryalos answered as Ander came back to his side, “they are mortal and can die like any other mortal. Run him through with a blade, cut off his head, poison or fire.” With that, and a gesture from Sir Ryalos to Tiphaine to follow, the three struck out across the grasslands with the knight adding, “When the deed is done, we shall bring you back proof!” It was a tribute to both the shocking nature of the news and the pair’s show of utter confidence that the captain didn’t object to any of this.



After walking for about ten minutes in silence, Tiphaine peered to his side to look at his new allies.



“So… tell me, did you just make all of that up?” He looked hopeful that this was the case.



“No,” Ander replied, and as he spoke the word the persona vanished, leaving the simple apprentice in its place once more. “Bren told me what it was, and I knew the rest from the books in the Academy’s library.”



“Bren? Who’s Bren?” Tiphaine grinned, showing his slightly fang-like canines. “Sounds like a charming individual.” Suddenly the fiend-blood gasped in shock, as Ander sensed a presence to his other side and knew without looking that Bren walked next to him. “Where’d she come from?!” Bren fixed him with an intense gaze.



“I am Brennevara, and I am the one who told Ander what the tree witnessed concerning the murder.” She pointed ahead of them. “Grass and wind, leaf and flower whisper to me of a dark den, a place of unnatural creatures. It is not far! Come!” She took off, running as swift as a deer, and the three men followed her.



The dryad led them to a small mound of stones, some half-buried in the ground, others laying flat. It had perhaps been a stone structure at one point, maybe a small house or roadside inn, but age and neglect had long since sealed its fate. Beside the last remnants of a stone wall Bren stopped and crouched down, and they took the hint to do likewise.



“In there?” Sir Ryalos asked in a whisper. Bren nodded, and Ander pointed to something near what looked to be a gap between some of the rock.



It looked to be part of a shirt, stained in blood.



“I’ll investigate.” Sir Ryalos drew his sword with a hiss of steel, lifted his shield, and slowly approached. From their hiding place Ander, Bren, and Tiphaine watched, bodies tense like coiled springs. The elven knight took carefully measured steps, keeping his shield between himself and the opening.



Suddenly there was a noise, an explosion of dirt, a blur, and Sir Ryalos staggered, stumbling back as something crashed into his shield with a snarl then rebounded to the side in a cloud of dust. When the obscurement cleared the ruthwolf stood before them, crouched low and growling. It was a monstrous creature, black fur seemingly eternally stained crimson on its paws and mouth, teeth standing out in stark ivory contrast. It’s matted pelt was shaggy, thick at the back of the neck like a mane. From nose to tail it had to be six feet long, and its blood-red eyes gleamed with a malevolent intelligence that left no doubt that this was more than a mere wolf.



Sir Ryalos rushed forward, sword leading and a battle cry on his lips. His blade sliced the air in a perfect arc, but the ruthwolf side-stepped like it was a novice’s blow then clipped the defending shield with a paw, making the elf stumble. Alarmed Ander quickly searched his mind for a spell, any spell, which could help in this instance. The proper words left his lips, and illusion wrapped around the knight. A haze like from intense heat enshrouded him in its wavering air. Bren reached her fingers into the soil, and vines leapt up to wrap around the beast’s limbs, but its strength was easily enough to snap and break free of them without struggle. Realizing that they would need all the help they could get, Ander looked around for Tiphaine… and found he had vanished!



“Tiphaine?!” he shouted. Sir Ryalos looked around, then bit out something in his own language that was likely a curse and reasserted his attention on his foe. Beast and knight traded blows back and forth for a tense few moments, blade scoring minor cuts here and there while tooth and claw tore at the armor to get to the flesh beneath. At this point Ander was heartily wishing he was less like himself and more like James and the other ‘explosive’ wizard apprentices. He felt near-helpless, unable to do more to assist than making illusory duplicates of Sir Ryalos for the ruthwolf to snap at, or conjuring loud noises to startle it into stumbling mid-attack. At the very least Bren was able to create a bed of thorns under the combatants that pierced its paws but weren’t sharp enough to penetrate through the knight’s armored boots.



Ander eyed the conflict, moving to another chuck of rubble for cover, then blinked as his eyes played a trick on him. For a second, he thought that a spurt of blood sprang from the ruthwolf’s hip, far from where Sir Ryalos’ blade had fallen. Perhaps it had suffered a superficial wound that had just now opened? No, there was another sudden, unexplainable injury, this one in the soft place behind the foreleg and making the beast wobble, opening its defenses for the knight to land a solid blow. Eyes darting back and forth, watching the interplay of injuries, Ander began to see a rhythm. The he quietly cursed at himself for his foolishness, and enchanted his eyes. When he opened them after finishing the spell and saw the battlefield anew, said eyes widened in amazement! Two swift blows of the gleaming sword struck in rapid succession, and with the final one in the neck the beast fell prone in the dirt, breathing its last. For several heartbeats, the three remained more or less motionless save for the rapid pace of their breathing and the shaking of battle-weary limbs. Then Sir Ryalos gave a loud, angry shout.



“Where did he go, that cowardly liar!” He cast about with fury on his elven face, searching. “Even if he wasn’t the murderer, he ran away and left us to fight!”



“No he didn’t.” Ander rose from where he’d been casting from and approached, as Bren retracted the thorns so his feet clad in softer boots wouldn’t be hurt.



“What?” Ander didn’t answer Sir Ryalos, rather walked up to nothing and looked up.



“How did you do that?” Sir Ryalos and Bren blinked in surprise, then the knight gaped in full shock as the air wavered and the half-fiend appeared, standing before Ander.



“How did you know I was there?” Tiphaine asked.



“I saw the piercing wounds on the ruthwolf,” was the answer. “I realized they weren’t being made by myself, or Bren, or Sir Ryalos, which meant it had to be you.” The apprentice gestured towards the knight. “You were timing your strikes to take advantage of it attacking him, or using your attacks to open up opportunities for Sir Ryalos. Once I knew that for certain, I used a spell to let me see what was unseen.” Tiphaine grinned, shrugging and in the process displaying his blood-adorned rapier.



“I unfortunately cannot withstand direct conflict like our good comrade here.” He gestured to Sir Ryalos. “A man like I must use every trick in his arsenal to survive combat. I do apologize for not giving you fair warning ahead of time, but I wasn’t really given a chance. As to exactly how I did it… lets just say that although I can’t cast spells like you can, Ander I believe I heard you named, I do have some arcane power that I can utilize.” He bowed at the waist again. “Yes, I confess that the blood of fiends runs through my veins, and has gifted me with abilities. But I have never used them to kill anyone who didn’t threaten me first, or that didn’t deserve it by the bounties – lawful bounties I might add – that were upon them.” He smiled a charming smile. “Hey, I have to make money somehow, right?”



“I think that can best be discussed later,” Bren spoke up from where she was examining the ruthwolf’s body. She turned to look at them, her face set with dread. “She’s already whelped her pups.” Sir Ryalos looked at the ruin, then moved to stand before the entrance she came from.



“They will die slowly, starving, without her.” Little more needed to be said; they all understood the implication. Without further word, the knight crouched down and moved into the den, while Tiphaine led Bren and Ander a bit away from he place.



“C’mon. No need to cluster around there, eh?” When they had gone perhaps a dozen feet he sat down, pulled a cloth from his pocket, and began wiping his rapier clean. Ander dropped into the grass, trying not to think about what was happening behind him. Even Bren seemed rather stoic, at least to him.



Sir Ryalos returned some five minutes later, something held in a blood-marred hand; a piece of cloth with a shiny brass button. It also had clumps of fur stuck in it.



“I found this in the den,” he explained. “I have a feeling that it will match the clothing of the last victim. And look here; there’s teeth marks on the button itself.”



“Plus if he still doesn’t believe you,” Tiphaine pointed out, “we could always drag him here to see the creature for himself.” Indeed, in death their aberrant forms were apparent, leaving no doubt as to their identity. Ander shuddered and stood.



“We should go.” The walk back was made with much less haste than the journey out, each one worn from the conflict and what they had been forced by necessity to do. Having seen the crime scene, Ander thought that he would’ve felt less sympathy for any creature that could do that to another, and he didn’t regret their having to slay the adult in the slightest. But the knowledge that they’d had to also kill her newborns… well, that bothered him somewhere, deep down. It seemed to bother Sir Ryalos as well, as he was quiet and his expression distant. As they saw the edge of the farmsteads approaching, Bren touched Ander’s shoulder, smiled at him, and then vanished from sight.



“Hmn…” was all Tiphaine commented about that, though Ander could see his curiosity was pricked.



Captain Harrison was awaiting them at the edge of town, pretty much where they had left him, and when he saw the trio returning and showing clear signs of combat moved out to meet them. Before he could answer any questions Sir Ryalos held out the scrap of fabric, and the captain’s eyes darkened.



“Taken from the den,” he said softly, “perhaps twenty minutes walk in the direction we have returned from. Your killer lays outside for the scavengers to take. Ander was correct: it was a ruthwolf.” Captain Harris sighed, nodded, took the scrap of cloth, and without further word walked away.



“Hmph!” grumbled Tiphaine, crossing his arms in some annoyance. “At the very least he could offer an apology!”



“His town has suffered a terrible tragedy,” Sir Ryalos countered. “They had thought that justice would be served when they caught you, but found that now to be false. The pain that was just starting to dim is reopened. They have right and reason to be terse.”



“So you say.” Tiphaine cracked his knuckles, his expression showing he wasn’t about to let the situation depress him, regardless of his previous ‘annoyance.’ “Well, then, I believe our business is concluded, my friends. Pleasant journeys!” And with that the fiend-blooded man simply vanished from sight. Sir Ryalos jerked around a split second too late to catch him, his gauntlet closing on empty air.



“Arg! Ander, can you see him?” Ander murmured the sight spell, but shook his head a moment later.



“He’s nowhere in sight. If he did turn invisible, likely he used some sort of swift-moving spell, something of that nature, to put distance between us.” The apprentice looked at the knight curiously. “We proved he was innocent of the murders. Why are you so upset that he’s gone?”



“He may be innocent of these crimes, but that doesn’t mean he was of others. I wanted to keep him in my sights until I could be certain he wouldn’t bring harm upon any others.” The elven knight scowled, then sighed, shoulders losing their tension. “Ah well, nothing for it now. He’s slipped away clean. Come, Ander, we should depart as well. We still have a day before we reach the vale.”



“Ander, before you depart, please tell the tree that his fallen friend is avenged. I have told it already, but it wants to hear it from you also.” Ander nodded, then excused himself from the knight’s company for a moment before approaching the beautiful tree. Standing beneath its limbs, he could almost feel what Brennevara had been speaking of, the great tree’s ache and mourning in the creaking of the wood and the rustle of leaves. He reached out and put a hand on the trunk, letting his skin fully contact every rough edge and crease.



“His killer has been slain,” he said softly, “and it was thanks to you speaking to my friend. I know that wherever your friend is now, he’s smiling on you. Thank you.” Perhaps it was just his imagination that the tree’s soft groan at that point was a solemn ‘you’re welcome,’ but it made him smile nonetheless, and he met back up with Sir Ryalos. They left town without any further fuss, Brennevara rejoining them when they were well enough away.



That eve they made camp beside a trickling stream, beneath the bows of a weeping willow. None seemed to be in the mood for much conversation, as both knight and youth were lost in their own thoughts and the dryad seemed content to let them puzzle though whatever said thoughts were until they had been concluded. Camp was set up with little more words spoken other than the occasional request and ‘thank you,’ and Sir Ryalos proved he was an elf of many talents, taking a fallen branch, some string and a hook from his pack, and fishing up dinner for himself and Ander (Bren politely waved aside the offer, though she did not deny them the meal after giving a small thanks to the river for providing it and the fishes for offering their life). When Ander voiced some curiosity at her behavior, as he had thought she would’ve protested fishing, she told him with a smile that while she herself needed no meat to survive, she was well aware that others did, and was it not the natural order for predator to consume prey?



It was during the meal that the willow tree she rested in gave a sudden, rustling shudder, some of the thickly-draping braches moved like serpents, and there was a startled yelp of fear from a person outside the camp.



“I sensed we were being followed,” Bren spoke up from her branch, looking amused while Ander had jumped in surprise and Sir Ryalos grasped for his weapon. “As if anyone could follow us when the very grass warned me of such. Fear not; they are securely held. Shall I bring the intruder to you, or would you like to wait until after the meal?”



“Go ahead and bring them in,” Sir Ryalos answered, though he resumed eating. “Only polite, seeing as they wandered so close.” Ander bit back a smile at the casual tone and sparkle in the elf’s eyes that showed he also favored how she had handled the situation. The tree rustled again, and a few moments later their uninvited guest was carried – upside-down by the ankles – into the shelter of the willow.



“Tiphaine!” gasped Ander, easily recognizing the fiend-blood despite the fact that his face was turning a fine shade of red at the moment from his positioning.



“Eh heh, well, not quite the entrance I was envisioning, but I suppose this is at least functional.” Tiphaine flashed the group a charming smile, as if this was perfectly natural a situation to be in. “Lovely night isn’t it?”



“What are you doing here?” Sir Ryalos gave him a hard look. “After you vanished on us, we thought you would’ve gotten as far from us as you could.”



“Well, I admit I considered it, but – Say, is there any possibility you could have this fine tree friend of yours put me down, Bren? Or at least turn me upright? All the blood rushing to my head is making it throb something fearsome.” Bren scowled, but the branches did turn him around so he could stand properly.



“You do not have permission to call me Bren,” she informed him, to which he bowed his head in understanding.



“My apologies, Lady Brennevara. Ahem, as I was saying, I did consider having our paths part, never to meet again, but I realized rather quickly that I had a question to ask, and never got an answer. One for you, my wizard friend.”



“A question for me?” The scoundrel nodded, expression oddly serious.



“We hadn’t met before today. You had not seen the crime scene, the bodies, you hadn’t even asked how the victims were killed. Flames and blood, you probably couldn’t even see me properly from outside the cage. Yet you knew I was innocent.” His eyes met Ander’s across the camp. “I wanted to thank you for it, for your spell, and for taking the time to use it, and ask what about it exactly declared my words were true.”



“That is a good point, Ander,” agreed Sir Ryalos. “I too an a little curious. I have never heard of such a spell before.” Ander smiled, returning to his dinner and taking a small bite before he answered.



“You mean this spell?” He pulled out a speck of metal shaving and cast it again, causing the sparkles to burst in camp, only this time they were blue. “Nothing more than a fancy light display.”



“Wh-what?!” gasped Tiphaine. “You – you mean all that about them being white and that showing I was innocent -!”



“Was fake.” Ander smiled at his companions. “I would have to agree with you, Sir Ryalos. If there is such a spell out there to tell a person’s guilt or innocence, I haven’t heard of it either. And even if there were I probably couldn’t cast it yet. I am just an apprentice. Not even fourth term, though I was near to take my evaluation.” Tiphaine’s mouth hung open like the fish in the stream.



“You… you told them it meant my innocence… but it meant nothing?” He sounded like he couldn’t believe it. “Why??”



“I don’t know how to explain it, but when I was up on that stage beside your cage, and I looked at you, I just… knew that you were innocent. I felt that you didn’t do what they thought you had, even if you had committed other crimes, and that no matter what you said they weren’t going to believe you. I… I couldn’t let an innocent man die for something he didn’t do.” The camp was quiet for a few heartbeats, then Tiphaine bowed his head.



“Well Ander,” Sir Ryalos finally spoke, “let me say that I for one was completely fooled, normally something I greatly dislike both happening to me and coming from my companions. But in this case it was warranted and turned out well. And secondly –“ Here the elf smiled, his expression reassuring the youth that there were no ill feelings for the ruse played. “-I applaud you, both for following what you felt was right, and for how masterfully you handled the situation. I honestly would have believed you a fully-trained wizard from the manner you spoke and held yourself.” Ander sighed, leaning back against the truck behind him.



“I really have no idea where all of that came from. I just opened my mouth, and my brain ran with it.”



“You did well.” The knight’s praise, and the look of approval from Bren, made Ander’s heart warm and he smiled back at them.



“Let me go with you.”



Tiphaine’s sudden words reminded the trio that he was still standing there, wrapped up in three of the willow’s branches. He raised his head as he looked at them, repeating his request.



“Let me go with you, please. I know that you have no reason to trust me. I won’t lie and say that all the bounties I’ve taken over the years were entirely noble – while they were all legal, some of the men who put them out probably have a bounty or two of their own on their heads – nor that I haven’t stolen or swindled someone when the need was great enough, but I- No one’s ever done that for me. Stuck their neck out to help me. I owe you for that, Ander. Let me repay my debt, at least.” Ander shifted.



“You don’t owe me anything, Tiphaine.”



“Yes I do. I may be half-human, but I’m also half-fiend, which means I have their compulsion to do certain things. One of which being that if I feel I’m in debt to someone, I have to repay it.” He affixed them with his eyes to let them know he was serious. Ander looked at the others, seeking their opinion.



“His blade work is strong,” Bren pointed out bidding the tree to release him. "He could be useful should we come upon any other conflicts.” Sir Ryalos approached the bound man.



“I have no problems with you traveling with us, because I believe that you’re serious about repaying your debts and I trust Ander's intuition. But let me warn you!” Quicker than any could react he had a gauntleted fist holding the man’s throat, hindering his airflow. “Hinder our mission, put either of them in harm’s way, or betray us for a better opportunity, and I swear I will cut you down like a dog.”



“Sounds… fair….my elven… friend,” Tiphaine got out, smirking despite struggling to breathe.



“Sir Ryalos, you’re choking him!” gasped Ander, to which the knight released him to cough and gasp back in air before turning back to his bedroll and meal.



“Well,” Tiphaine panted as he regained his breath and fully straightened, smoothing some of his hair that had escaped its tie, “would you believe that was a fair better greeting than some I’ve received?” With that cheeky comment he moved over to take a seat, plucking up a piece of fish being kept warm near the fire and taking a few quick bites. “Mmm! Delicious! My thanks.” Perhaps it was his witty nature, or his seeming ability to brush off anything and everything, but something about Tiphaine had Ander smiling. “So, my new companions…where are we going?”



“You’ll see when we get there,” retorted Sir Ryalos. The fiend-blood just shrugged, and proceeded to enjoy his dinner, which in truth was the second half of the knight’s. Ander just gave Bren a slightly amused yet wary smile that she returned in kind.



He had a feeling that things had just gotten interesting.

Chapter Eight



Ander awoke laying in a soft bed beneath a wood ceiling. For a few moments he was confused, both as to where he was and what was going on, but then Bren’s face appeared above him and brought him back into focus.



“Ah, you’re awake!” she exclaimed softly, gently stroking his cheek and brushing some hair out of his eyes.



“Bren! What – what happened? Where am I?” Slowly Ander turned his head, to see that he lay in a bed in what appeared to be a small chamber with a door opposite him, a table next to the bed with a cloth half in a bowl, and a chair at the bedside. It reminded him of the hospice rooms in the Academy only these were more rustic in design, wood instead of stone. By the feel of the blanket over him he was only clad in his pants and the amulet. His robes lay draped over the back of the chair.



“You collapsed after the battle,” she informed him, taking a seat in the chair. “The elves had us bring you here, to their healing house, where you’ve been resting since. It’s been about five hours. The healer who examined you said that you exhausted all your magical stores in the battle and that’s what caused you to faint.”



“Are you alright? And Sir Ryalos and Tiphaine? Where they hurt?”



“I am unharmed, and they only took minor wounds from the battle, bruises and small cuts. I will say I believe you frightened Sir Ryalos fairly badly when you collapsed into his arms.” Hearing that they were well made Ander relax.



“I’m sorry I worried him, worried all of you, but I’m glad they’re alright.” He laid back against the pillow as she filled a cup with water for him. “Wait! We’re in the city? And you’re here too?” The dryad giggled.



“This is an elven city, if you could even call it that. Such a place lives in harmony with nature to a degree that I am comfortable with. The tree we used to enter the city is even more aware, ancient and powerful. I had no idea such a tree existed anymore.” She helped him sit up to drink, then when he was satisfied settled him back. “I will find Sir Ryalos and Tiphaine and tell them you have awoken. And for what it is worth, I believe our misunderstanding the knight’s actions has had a good effect; While they are not friends, some of the animosity between Sir Ryalos and Tiphaine has dissipated.” At that Ander had to grin.



“Can’t believe how quickly Tiphaine rushed off to help him like that. Pretty nice to see.” Bren nodded, smiling, then set the cup down and left the room to return a few moments later with the others.



“Well, glad to see you back in the land of the living!” Tiphaine teased, making Ander chuckle as he slowly began getting up. “Are you sure you’re up to that already?”



“I’ve slept – unwittingly or not – more than enough for now.” It would seem his body belied his words as when he tried to stand, Ander wobbled and probably would have fallen if not for Sir Ryalos taking a quick step forward and catching him. “Ah, thank you… and I’m sorry that we rushed onto the battlefield and ruined your idea.” The knight had the decency to look aside sheepishly for a moment before returning his gaze to the youth.



“You couldn’t have known. I didn’t know myself I would do that until I was over the horde, seeing them again….” He shook his head as if to clear the thoughts there.



“So those were the same as the ones that attacked your empire’s capital?” asked the youth as he was eased back down to sit on the bed, and handed his robes by Bren with a soft explanation of his tunic being mended and cleaned.



“Yes,” the knight confirmed. “Those were the same creatures that made me swallow my pride and my calling to defend my homeland and run like a coward all those years ago.” His hand closed in a fist and banged upon the wall, teeth gritted. Ander slipped his robes on and stood, tying the cord around his waist as he always used to do.



“And they’re here now.”



“Likely whoever sent them all those centuries ago has found out about my friend here and was trying to kill him, as well as destroy any elves they were fortunate enough to slay in the process.” Sir Ryalos looked Ander over. “If you’re up to it, he is waiting to test your amulet and then he’ll see about your questions concerning the Ivory Academy.”



“I’m strong enough, I think.” Ander stood, and this time only wobbled a little before regaining his balance. Nodding in approval, Sir Ryalos led them out of the healing house and along the streets back towards the massive tree. Without the battle distracting him, Ander got a good look around and instantly felt that he liked the community. It had the population and area of a proper city, but the feeling of a small town where everyone knew everyone. Many people smiled at them, or to be more precise at Sir Ryalos, as they passed and it seemed the elven knight had a lot of friends here; many called out greetings to him by name. The knight himself as well seemed more relaxed, like he was home in a way. Ander had to wonder if he had a house here, maybe family that had escaped, and considered asking him if he got the chance.



The tree was grand indeed, as wide as one of the towers at the Academy and by comparison about five storied tall. At least that was Ander’s guess as they passed five turns of the walkway on their way up. There were even rooms he saw, right in the trunk; one on each floor with a curtain for a door. But for all his looking he saw no signs of the wood having been worked or carved in the slightest, and when they got higher up he realized not only that but the fact that there were leaves, still growing leaves, on the branches! When one drifted down past his face he couldn’t help but reach out to pluck it from the air, feeling its drying texture in his hand and confirming that yes this was a living tree. Sir Ryalos chuckled when he caught Ander’s wondering expression.



“These are my people, Ander. They would never harm a living tree, especially one that was brought from our homeland as a sapling. As Bren does, so to do our druids speak to the tree, asking of it accommodations for us.” He reached out to touch the trunk as they walked. “Seeing this tree is like looking at home again.” The sorrow in his voice was unmistakable.



Finally reaching the top floor, Sir Ryalos pushed aside the curtain to be greeted by a call from within.



“Ah, Ryalos!” An elf with cinnamon-brown hair hanging loose just past his shoulders and dressed in deep green robes with long sleeves that hung almost past his fingertips moved forward to clasp the knight in a mutually-returned brotherly embrace. “Always good to see you back here, my dear friend, though I thought after I told you about the Ivory Academy that I wouldn’t see you for at least another couple of weeks!” Sir Ryalos patted the elf’s back in turn, then stepped back and gestured at the others.



“Well, Thazdymar, my trip was a little diverted though in the end it proved to be a blessing. Sad as this news is, the Ivory Academy is no more.” The knight gestured towards Ander, waving him forward. “This is Ander, one of the handful of survivors of an attack that slew many of the teachers and students.” Thazdymar approached Ander and took both the youth’s hands in his in condolences.



“My lad, I am so sorry to hear about the Ivory Academy. I’d often thought about visiting it to see its vaunted library, but never dragged myself the distance to it. Something that I will regret for the rest of my days.” Looking at his face Ander felt the wisdom and age in his gaze and the faint lines radiating from his amber eyes, as well as the sincerity in his sympathies. The sheer force of it brought a sheen of tears to Ander’s eyes that he had to blink away.



“You might be able to yet, sir,” he felt he had to reply. “There were two Masters who survived, as well as some students. They’re probably going to restore the Academy.”



“And yet here you are, with your interesting collection of friends including one of mine who wouldn’t have returned to me unless…Ah yes, there it is!” He gently touched the bulge of the amulet under Ander’s robes. “So, you wear one of the amulets?” Ander nodded and pulled it out to be seen.



“The Headmaster said that it belonged to me because it belonged to my father.”



“Truth enough in that statement, for any out of the bloodline who tried to take it for themselves would find out the hard way that it was a bad idea!” He laughed at his joke, and Ander found himself smiling. “I would suppose if your father felt his death was eminent, he could have locked it away for a time when you came of age to take possession of it, simply by placing it around your neck when you were young once, then removing it. You would then be the proper owner, and he, being a prior bearer, could have still handled it long enough to lock it away as you say it was.” The elf stepped away and over to a shelf, where he pulled down something covered by a cloth. He set this large item down on a table a faint distance away and uncovered it to reveal what looked like an elegant but clearly masculine crown made of silver and gold intertwined together and adorned with gemstones. Upon seeing it Sir Ryalos actually took a knee for the space of three heartbeats.



“This,” spoke Thazdymar in a tone of utmost respect, “is the crown of our King, which I at his command spirited away in preparation for the day of his return. It retains some of the old magic of our people, and responds to the Amulets that he had his beloved Queen enchanted prior to the loss of our empire. When the True Amulet comes within close proximity of the crown, the gems in the crown will glow, as will the amulet.” The older elf gestured for Ander to approach the crown. Ander gulped, gently slid the chain off from around his neck, and began walking towards the table while Thazdymar turned to the others. “Now, mind you, there are still four other amulets somewhere in the world, and after all this time I have stopped getting my hopes up. Oh, I know that one out there is real, but until either the last one is in my hand or I see the crown light up like a star I’ll just bide my time.”



“Um…”



“Would you believe,” he continued, also to Sir Ryalos, “I’ve even had to track down false amulets? Fakes made by humans who probably saw one of the ten and were inspired to make duplicates of their own? Of course, nowhere near our level of craftsmanship, but plenty enough to fool casual observers, such as those the ten were meant to fool.”



“Uh… Thazdymar…”



“Yes, Ander?” Only now did the rambling scholar realize the looks of awe and amazement on the faces of Sir Ryalos, Bren, and Tiphaine, as well as the bright light casting their shadows on the wall behind them. Slowly he turned around his own eyes widened as he saw Ander standing next to the crown, amulet hanging by its chain in one hand while the other was raised to shield his eyes from the radiant white glow coming from both like a pair of stars had been dropped into the room. “By… by all that is beautiful and holy in this world… can… can it be?” Sir Ryalos dropped to his knees.



“It – It’s the Queen’s Amulet!” the knight gasped. “The True Amulet, which I’ve searched over two decades for!” Thazdymar slowly sank into a chair as Ander stepped back from the table a couple of paces, the light dimming out to a soft shining.



“Gods above be praised, I’ve lived to see the day of its returning!” Tears were wet in both elves’ eyes. Ander just stood there, looking at the shimmering amulet in his grasp with a sense of wonder filling him… wonder, and sudden, fierce determination. He slipped it back around his neck, letting it lay outside of his robe – and vowing to himself that he would never hide it beneath again – before turning to the two elves.



“I’ll take it back to your empire’s capital,” he said firmly. “I’ll use it to help your people, however I can, even if it’s just wearing it for the journey.”



“Are you sure, Ander?” asked Bren. Tiphaine nodded in agreement of the question.



“She has a point; technically this isn’t your fight.”



“Yes it is,” he countered. “I’m the only one that can carry the amulet. And even if I could just hand it over… I couldn’t simply turn and walk away from all this. They’ve suffered enough. Fate or the gods or whatever you’d like to believe put me in this place because this is my task to do, and I won’t shake that responsibility. ‘When a great task is placed before you, regardless of how dangerous or frightening it may be, you must pursue it because it was given specifically to you for a reason – because you’re the only one who can.’” Ander smiled a touch sadly. “Headmaster Avery told me that once. He’s never steered me wrong before.” Thazdymar slowly stood.



“I wish I had been able to meet such a wise human, Ander. And I think my old friend agrees with me whole-heartedly when I say thank you, for doing this for us. You could’ve said as the half-blood stated, that this wasn’t your fight and walked away. Even though we dearly want the amulet to restore our homeland, none of us would’ve struck you down to obtain it. That would taint the memory of those who made it in the first place.” Tiphaine chuckled.



“Well, then, it seems our travels don’t end here just yet!” Ander blinked in surprise.



“Our?”



“Hah! You think I’m going to sit this out? This is just like all those bard’s songs you hear in taverns. Besides, I have a feeling you’ll need me.”



“Need you?” echoed Sir Ryalos as he finally found his feet again.



“Most certain! After all, when it comes to fiends, and you said yourself that those were the same beasties that attacked your capital, who better to ask than a fiend-blood?” The knight sighed in deep resignation.



“You have a valid point. One I loathe, but a point.” Bren just gave Ander a look, and without words he knew that she wouldn’t be leaving his side either. That got a smile, as Sir Ryalos approached Ander and clapped both hands on the youth’s shoulders.



“Ander, I can’t even begin to express what this means to me. So many of us gave our lives to ensure that this journey would one day be undertaken. Now to know that their deaths will not be in vain… “ The knight shook his head, speechless. Ander smiled.



“Then we’ll see your home restored, together.” The knight smiled and nodded.



“We will head out at first light,” he announced.



“Then you all had best prepare today, and then rest well,” the sage commented as he covered the crown up again. “For I suspect your journey has just begun to get difficult.”

Chapter Ten



Ander had nightmares the next two nights of their journey, awakening shouting warnings in elven. Tiphaine kindly put him to sleep again after each one which seemed to be the only thing that kept the apprentice from being dead on his feet the day after. But how he knew elven or why it seemed to be only while he was asleep remained a mystery.



Sir Ryalos maintained his nighttime vigil after his rest period was done each night. He would pace the perimeter of the camp, searching for signs of trouble or pursuit. But he also began to notice that it seems he wasn’t alone in his efforts. He would occasionally hear strange, soft noises while he rested, like the rustle of clothing or whisper of a footstep, and began finding stray boot prints typically right along the inside edge of Bren’s warding line. The size and shape of the prints only matched one member of the party: Tiphaine. That he, of any of them, would be maintaining watch as well was strange. When they traveled the fiend-blood also seemed uneasy. He maintained a jovial façade that perhaps fooled Bren and Ander, but not the knight in the slightest. He saw the darting eyes, the tenseness in the body, the hand lingering near his weapon’s hilt, and new what the signs meant.



Tiphaine was on guard against something.



Sir Ryalos chose to keep his own counsel about this realization, not desiring to burden the clearly already stressed Ander or Bren, who was focused wholly on the apprentice’s well being. The third night after Ander had first spoken elven in the others’ presence, after everyone was sleeping, Sir Ryalos reclined in his bedroll and feigned rest. He'd had just about enough of this cat-and-mouse game the scoundrel and he were playing, and decided to put an end to it once and for all. But first he had to catch the man in the act. He let himself merely doze and was rewarded for his diligence perhaps an hour later when Tiphaine’s stirred in his blankets, arose as silently as smoke – fully armored already, as if he’d slept in it – slid on his boots, and began his perimeter. Sir Ryalos waited for ten paces, tracking the man through silted eyes, then stood as well, just as silent while out of his armor, and swiftly approached. Sir Ryalos caught Tiphaine just on the boarder staring out into the darkness, one hand on his weapon and expression serious.



“Could you not sleep?” The knight’s question made Tiphaine jump in surprise, and he turned with a smile on his face, expression sheepish and somewhat reminiscent, to Sir Ryalos’ well-trained eyes, as that of a child caught doing something he shouldn’t by a parent.



“Ah, heh, Sir Ryalos, you startled me, eh heh.” He rubbed the back of his head and then gestured to one side dismissively. “Yes, sleep seems to be avoiding me tonight. I thought that if I perhaps walked around a bit I would tire myself out.”



“And was this the case last night?” Tiphaine twitched in surprise.



“W-what do you mean?” His stutter was almost imperceptible, but there.



“What I mean is I have caught you walking about camp, every night, for the past three. Like you’re looking for something or someone.” The knight stepped very close to Tiphaine, standing so close that their noses nearly touched. “And I want to know why!”



“Why? Why what?” Sir Ryalos took a step forward, forcing Tiphaine to step back or be knocked over.



“Why you’ve been on guard since Ander began having these different nightmares of his and crying out in my people’s tongue. Why you look all around when we travel, and then take up a watch at night even though it leaves you exhausted the next morning. That’s what!” Tiphaine put up his hands defensively.



“Maybe all this talk about his dreams and what happened with he horde we faced just has me worried about getting ambushed. Nothing more than that.”



“You say ‘maybe,’ which is an indication of a half-truth, if not an outright lie. If you were telling me the truth just now, you could have said ‘I’m watching for pursuit,’ or ‘I fear spies following us.’ ‘Maybe’ would have had no place in the statement. I think you know something!” Although his voice had never risen to anything above a whisper, the intensity was such that he might have well been shouting. Tiphaine’s hell-fire laced eyes widened in the dim light that was nearly nothing to them, then his eyes darted to the left.



“What was that?”



“Oh no, you’re not going to distract me –“ Sir Ryalos’ words were cut off abruptly as Tiphaine did something that startled him to no end: the fiend-blooded man put a hand over the knight’s mouth to silence him.



“Shh!” For several long moments, the pair were silent (one not entirely of his own volition) though when the knight saw the intensity in Tiphaine’s eyes and took in the tense, battle-ready stance Sir Ryalos relaxed enough that he was released and braced as well senses searching for whatever had alerted the scoundrel.



The answer came in a rush, the pair pushing apart from one another as a dagger made of what looked like deep shadows split the air between them. Their defensive actions caused Tiphaine to step across Bren’s ward circle which set off a loud ringing alarm that instantly had the others awake and jerking to their feet as ten creatures slid into the dimness of the firelight’s edge. They were toweringly tall, over nine feet easy, humanoid in shape and proportion though made of condensed shadow it seemed; their edges kept flickering like smoke. Their faces had long, bestial faces with eyes that burned red, teeth gleaming white in mouths opened in snarls. One raised his hand, and another blade of shadow formed, ready to throw.



“Beware!” Sir Ryalos shouted, turning back in a dash for his weapon and armor, though he knew he wouldn’t have time to don it. “Beware! We’re under attack!” He got to his sword but couldn’t draw it before the first of the things rushed the camp.



Ander gasped as Bren, quick on the draw, pulled him to his feet before dropping to a knee and burying her fingers in the dirt. Thick clouds billowed overhead and rumbled softly, the precursor for a storm. Of Tiphaine Ander couldn’t see much into the shadows other than faint movement and sounds of battle.



“We need more light!” he gasped to himself, gesturing quickly. Ten balls of white-yellow light formed above his head before shooting out in a ring, illuminating much further than the campfire could and revealing not just the five Sir Ryalos had seen but another seven after that! The creatures – fiends, that’s all that they could be – shrieked in outrage at the loss of their concealment then renewed their attack.

Three rushed Sir Ryalos, trying to take advantage of his lowered defenses and lack of armor and weapon to slash at him with claws of shadow. He managed to avoid one but the other two struck home and left long gashes.

One rushed Bren, and another at Ander. The apprentice jumped back, avoiding both swings more on reflex than anything, but Bren didn’t move as she was struck hard and deep enough that it was surprising she withstood the attack at all!

The remaining five surrounded Tiphaine, keeping the man dancing to avoid the onslaught, purely defensive with no opening to counterattack. Or so it seemed at least as in an impressive maneuver Tiphaine jumped straight up and kicked one of the reaching claws away to break their rhythm. Pressing the advantage while he had it, the man lunged and his blade dug deep into fiendish flesh.

Bren’s spell completed, sending lightning cracking down with killing force. The one Tiphaine had stabbed was struck directly and he vanished with a screech of agony. The one threatening Ander and one of the three targeting Sir Ryalos were struck as well, but did not fall. Still the sky growled with more bolts to follow.

Taking advantage of the lightning’s cover, Sir Ryalos snatched up his sword and began lashing at the fiends surrounding him, trying to get clear to Ander and Bren, but these were smarter than the ones in the horde, and they knew better than to allow it. Instead they pressed him further and further away. Once more Ander cursed his seeming lack of destructive magic that would be such a help at the moment. Quickly his mind raced through everything he knew of magic search for an answer… and found it in an unlikely place. Holding up his hand the youth shouted out the words, a command and call all wrapped into one.

And it was answered by a rumbling in the earth, followed by a cracking as four hulking giants easily ten feet tall climbed their way out. Made of stone and granite, they clenched fists the size of a man’s torso and took steps that shook the ground.



“Elementals!” Ander shouted, his voice almost booming in command of them, “Defend my friends! Destroy my enemies!” As one the elementals separated, going towards each of the companions and striking at the fiends that threatened them. Already weakened by the lightning blow, the one menacing Ander only got one more blow on the apprentice that cut open his back and threw him to the ground before stone fists ended its existence. Soon Sir Ryalos was only dealing with two, and the one that was readying to end Bren found itself pushed back several feet, with the elemental between them ready to bring more blows home. Lethal lightning bolts continued to pound into the ground and the fiends. Tiphaine jumped and twisted about, landing a thousand blows home for every three swings they took at him, and although many landed on target between him and his assigned elemental guardian the fiends were dispatched. The ones facing Sir Ryalos, while the biggest three of the bunch, were thus able to be attacked by all of them at once, and destroyed or at least sent back to the hells.



For a few long moments, the companions gasps for breath. Then Bren pulled her fingers free of the earth and fell over onto her side with a groan.



“Bren!” Momentarily ignoring his own injuries, Ander rushed to her side and lifted her into his arms. Though her lids trembled, she managed to open her eyes and smile at him.



“D-do not worry, Ander. I will be fine. I just need...to rest” She stroked his cheek, then promptly fell asleep in his arms. Ander carefully laid her on his bedroll and covered her up with a blanket, then moved over to stir the embers from the fire into a proper blaze again. One of the elementals rumbled, and Ander jerked his head in their direction, remembering himself.



“Oh! Yes, you’ve served well. Return to your realm.” With a final groaning, rock-on-rock sound they soaked back into the ground, vanishing as if they had never been. Tiphaine dropped to sit down heavily.



“Phew! That was vicious!” He winced, flinching at some of his wounds. “Nicely cast, Ander! We needed that help.” Ander smiled, though it was strained.



“Th-thanks. Though to be honest… I’ve never had that spell really… work before. And definitely not so well as to get four to answer my call at once!”



“Well,” Sir Ryalos spoke up, “whatever the fluke that allowed the casting, well done. But before anything else is said while we see to wounds as best we can I think there is something that needs to be addressed.” With a snap of his wrist, his sword was pointed at the seated Tiphaine, who jerked in surprise.



“What tha –“



“You were on watch against something. Was it them?”



“Oh watch?” echoed Ander, looking between the two.



“I’ve caught Tiphaine the past three days taking watch at camp, which he’d never done before then,” explained the knight, his eyes never leaving the fiend-blood. “And right before the attack, he was looking in he direction they came from. I contend that he knew about them, before they attacked us!” Ander gasped and looked to Tiphaine.



“Tiphaine, is this true? Did you know that we would be attacked?” The half-blood looked between them, his eyes gleaming crimson in the wake of the conflict and the firelight’s reflection, then sighed and bowed his head.



“No, I didn’t know they would attack, but I had a feeling it was a high possibility.” Ander gaped in shock, while Sir Ryalos looked as stoic as ever.



“H-how?!” Tiphaine gave Ander a small smile, his expression showing none of the cockiness that he usually displayed.



“Your dreams were the tip-off that I would be right, eventually. The shadows, the flashes of deep purple wings, all of it.” He settled himself more comfortable, one knee raised and an arm draped over it, the other hand supporting him as he leaned back slightly. “I didn’t want them to, mind you, but I thought they would anyhow. Heh, I suppose I’ve been too lax of late. Let myself get too comfortable.” He waved a hand casually towards Sir Ryalos. “Don’t fret any, O Knightly One. This has nothing to do with you. They weren’t here for Ander or that Amulet. They were here for me.”



“What?”



“Just that. I know that type of fiend in particular, who they serve… and she’s been after me for some time now. Nearing a decade, I’d say. Lets just say I was once a part of her forces here on the mortal plain, but decided I’d rather do my own thing and departed. It wasn’t such a mutual decision. I’ve dodged her all this time, keeping a low profile, but if I had to guess one of the fiends at the chasm caught sight of me and told her. While I’ve put magic on myself to keep from being tracked, the same doesn’t go for all of you. Such divinations are simple things.”



“Why didn’t you warn us?!” growled Sir Ryalos, driving the tip of his sword into the ground in anger.



“Because I thought after four years of silence she might have given up on finding me!” Tiphaine jumped to his feet, hands in fists and glaring. “I’ve entered towns before, stayed a while, even found a few ladies to have some fun with. She could have tracked me easily enough, but there was nothing! Now I join up with you, and she finds me again. So pardon me if I slipped!” For a tense moment both men were silent, then Ander spoke up.



“I believe you, Tiphaine.”



“What?” The gasp was from both men.



“I believe you when you say that you’re being hunted, that this wasn’t intentional on your part. In fact if you weren’t up, and alarmed Sir Ryalos into being awake and up, we all would’ve been caught laying down resting and then who knows what would have happen?” He settled back near the fire, prodding it with a long stick. “But why didn’t you want to tell us before, when you first started getting nervous?”



“Heh, well, I was actually enjoying not thinking about it, getting to just live my life, that I suppose I’d hoped I was just imagining things.”



“Do you think they’ll be back?” asked Sir Ryalos, finally taking a seat and beginning to tend to his wounds.



“Since they failed? Most certainly. In greater numbers and with more cunning, if I know anything.” The knight sighed.



“Then we’d best start keeping a proper watch, and be prepared for when it comes.”



Little more was said as they bandaged wounds, cleaned and checked weaponry, and settled to bed under the knight’s watchful gaze.

Chapter Twelve



Tiphaine looked around the chamber that he and Lithital stepped into when they left the gateway. It was just as regal and opulent as any king’s domain, just as he remembered it. Lavish rugs of exotic (and in some cases extinct) animals, gold and jewels adorning everything in sight, and of course a massive window looking out into the burning expanse of her hellish territory, complete with the screaming souls of the damned and all of her minions. Moving to the window and peering out carelessly, as she moved further into the room away from the closing gate, he noted that it seemed as if her allies were gathering.



“Preparing for a war?” he asked, ignoring the fresh blood on the wall not ten feet from him.



“You could say that.” She turned towards him with a sensual movement; that they were mother and son meant little in the hells. “It’s what I brought you here for, my son. I need a general who knows the mortal realms, and amongst all those loyal to me there is none greater than you in that respect!” Tiphaine smirked, acknowledging the compliment and even preening a bit at it. “So, come along, and let us begin!”



“No.” The single spoken syllable stopped Lithital dead in her tracks. Slowly, she turned towards him where he now leaned against one side of the window.



“What. Did. You. Say?” When she spoke in that tone only the most courageous or fool-hardy would give her such an insolent smirk as Tiphaine did.



“Didn’t realize you’d gone hard of hearing. I said ‘No.’ I’m not going with you, I’m not going to help you.”



“You insolent little flea!” she roared, rounding fully on him with fists clenched and fire literally in her eyes. “I should go back to the mortal realm and drag your companions down here to be torture for eternity for your breaking our agreement!” Tiphaine chuckled.



“Ah, but mother –“ He spoke the word mockingly. “ – I only used your own lessons! My word were ‘I will go with you.’” He gestured around at the room. “And so I have. Deal done.” Lithital roared with enough fury to shake the walls, grabbed Tiphaine by the throat, and slung him into a candle stand. It broke under the impact, not only scorching him with the tongues of hellfire but adding another bruise to his rapidly-growing collection. The demoness continued to rail at him, shouting the worst curses she could think up in the hellish tongue and alternately casting spells at him or hurling whatever came to hand, forcing Tiphaine to roll and duck and dodge as best he was able until he got close enough for a counterattack, rapier slicing the air and deep into her arm. For a moment, they were face to face, her fetid breath sickening him despite his grin, the smile of the doomed making a last stand of pure defiance. “One of us will die here, and you know what that means for you. It’ll be eternal!”



“You haven’t the strength!” she shouted back, flinging him into a tumble that he turned into a smooth somersault, letting him control his momentum away from the roaring fireplace she’d been aiming for.



A sudden bolt of lightning startled the both of them as it cracked through the scorching air and into Lithital’s back, making her arc with a scream. She spun around and Tiphaine looked in shock to see Ander, gasping and rubbing his throat with one hand, standing where the portal had just winked out with out hand stretched towards the demoness.



“Him alone… maybe…” the youth rasped, voice roughed up by the choking and the air no mortal was meant to breathe, “but two of us…” He didn’t say more, as instead he summoned a current of icy air that floated before him like a guardian, instantly hurling shards of frozen death towards Lithital.



“Ander, what are you doing here?!” shouted Tiphaine in horror as he dashed around to flank his mother. “This is hell!”



“Not… letting you… face her alone….” Tiphaine’s expression registered a mix of awe and confusion, as if he couldn’t quite wrap his mind around what that statement meant, then the moment passed as Lithital roared, lashing out at them with everything she had. Her wings buffeted at the air, sending scorching winds at them, she hammered Tiphaine with magic to keep him back while she advanced towards Ander. But his icy protector stood in the way, taking blow after blow while delivering chill ones of its own. It didn’t last long, but it gave Ander the breathing room to continue his own spells, ones aimed at shielding Tiphaine from damage and making him faster and stronger, playing to both of their strengths. This it was when Tiphaine managed to get past her spells and land a blow on her it was with much greater force that she had expected, driving his rapier clean through her back and out her front even as the icy elemental exploded in his death throes, lancing her with shards as big as short swords! She roared but was far from defeated, twisting to gash Tiphaine’s chest with her talons and grabbing Ander around the waist, lifting him up and actually biting him on the shoulder and making him scream in pain as both her teeth and fire ripped his flesh. The scoundrel came darting back in, one hand clutching at his wound, to stab straight through the wrist of the hand holding the apprentice up and forcing her to drop him, then into her hip making her wobble. Lithital shrieked in rage, so furious she was beyond anything resembling rational thought and kicked Ander across the room into a bookshelf of obsidian hard enough to crack it, then rounded on Tiphaine and knocked him down, pinning him with a foot on his chest, pressing down hard on the gouges she’d put there until he screamed.



“You so want to defy me?” she snarled in his face. “Then die!” She reared back to deliver the killing blow, there was a flash of silver, and then everything went still. Ander pushed himself up, looking towards the pair but unable to see anything beyond Lithital’s bulk over Tiphaine. Then, Lithital staggered back, hands reaching up towards her throat where a beautiful dagger was now lodged, a matched partner for Tiphaine’s rapier.



“Always…” he paned out as she stumbled, falling to her back even as he pulled himself up to a knee then stood, “…have a final trick to play. Lesson number one.” Lithital shuddered as her son went to her side, and with a clean thrust pierced whatever blackened lump served for her heart. With a final rattling breath, her eyes closed and she was still.



“Tiphaine!” Ander called, finally with his voice normal as he pulled himself slowly up and the man pulled both dagger and rapier free of the corpse. Then the apprentice drew back in alarm as a bolt of white fire shot from her to him, his back arced, and he groaned as if in pain before it vanished and he sank to a knee.



“Aaah, I never get used to that!” grunted Tiphaine as Ander got to his side.



“What happened? Are you alright?” Tiphaine nodded in reply, slowly taking his feet.



“It’s what I do. When I kill someone who can cast magic I steal their knowledge of it, their abilities. Everything you’ve seen me do – vanishing, jumping from place to place, all of it – is just magic I’ve taken from others.” He grinned. “Without it, I don’t have a magic-inclined bone in my body! But what are you doing here?”



“It’s like I said: I – I couldn’t let you face her alone. Not and live with myself later.” Tiphaine’s eyes studied Ander for a long moment, then widened in shock. “What is it?” Ander looked around, fearing another attack.



“We should go, get back to the others,” Tiphaine said in reply.



“But how?” To this Tiphaine just grinned, and held up his hand. With ease a gate of fire and darkness, just like Lithital had summoned, appeared.



“Lets go!” Trusting in his comrade, Ander followed him back through, and into bright sunlight and chill mountain air! He gasped in shock, as did Tiphaine, both of them coughing from the sudden pureness entering their lungs and dazzled in the light to cries of surprise from Bren and Sir Ryalos. When Ander could see again, it was a split second before the dryad had him in an embrace which he whole-heartedly returned, and he saw the knight laying on the ground, out from under the rocks with the armor on his legs removed and in one case part of his pants cut away. By the marks and blood, both legs had been badly broken, but it seemed the dryad had been healing them before the pair had returned.



“By… by the gods above!” gasped Sir Ryalos, still in some pain but apparently able to manage it. “I… I thought you both were lost to us!” Ander caught some anger in his eyes, and suddenly feeling the weight of the Amulet around his neck again where he’d almost forgotten it. Somehow, perhaps during the fight or when he’d been forced out of his wolf form, it had gotten tucked back under his robes and out of sight; he pulled it out again where he liked it being.



“I’m sorry, Sir Ryalos,” the apprentice apologized. “I… I just couldn’t let Tiphaine face her without help.” The knight frowned for a moment more, then his expression softened.



“Loyalty to others heedless of the personal cost is a great virtue, Ander. While a part of me shudders at the thought that my people’s only hope could have been lost forever, a larger part of me is proud of you for the deed. Well done.” Ander couldn’t hold back the smile that the words brought, or the swell of warmth and pride that filled him for the first time since Headmaster Avery had died. Bren returned to kneel at the fallen knight’s side and resume her mending of his legs, causing him to wince every now and then though he bit back any cries. Ander sat nearby, watching worriedly, until the elf chuckled. “Don’t fret about me, Ander. Yes, it hurts as any broken bone does, but it is far from a mortal or even a crippling wound.”



“I suppose Ander just is the sort to hate seeing anyone suffer, no matter who they are,” Tiphaine commented, then chuckled at Ander’s blush. “Not my intention – I was being sincere – but in any event, Sir Ryalos, Ander’s little jaunt into hell provided us with something extraordinary!”



“Oh? What?” the knight questioned. Tiphaine’s eyes sparkled with cunning delight.



“As I have told Ander, when I slay someone who has the capacity for magic, beast or man, I gain that capacity myself. This is how we were able to return, incidentally. But I also gain a portion of that being’s recent memories. Whatever was foremost on their thoughts for about twenty-four hours before they perished, I know, as well as many relevant thoughts.” The fiend-blood looked right at Ander, expression serious. “Ander, I know who destroyed the Ivory Academy, how, and why.” Ander’s eyes shot wide!



“Wh-what?!”



“It was destroyed to get the Amulet, though they failed at that,” Tiphaine spoke somberly, “because the ones who destroyed it knew that it, or another like it, would be the key to undoing what they’ve been striving for, for centuries. The same ‘people’ who tried to kill Thazdymar, since they couldn’t get the Amulet and realized he’d be the only one who could identify the right one. The same ‘people’ who started this all, by attacking your homeland, Sir Ryalos.” Tiphaine sighed. “Lithital’s kind… fiends.” There was a moment of stunned silence at the revelation, then Bren spoke.



“So… because the elven empire was attacked, and the Queen made these amulets that were scattered, and one made it’s way to the Ivory Academy, the school was destroyed and its Masters and students killed, to try and stop what we are doing now?” Tiphaine nodded.



“Exactly. That’s what she meant by I’d ‘see you soon enough.’ If I had worked for her, she was going to put me and several units of her personal army in your way, making me fight against you.” His expression turned into a fierce grin. “But I now know more about what we’re up against. I know her battle plans, and even though she was just a general, she knew a lot about what forces are where in this capital of yours. I can examine them for a weak spot to exploit in our favor!” Sir Ryalos grinned broadly as Bren sat back from her tending his wounds. He shifted his legs, then murmured a thanks to her before standing and making his way over to Tiphaine. For a moment they stood inches apart, then the knight held out a hand.



“I admit, when you joined up with us it was only Ander’s word that made me permit it,” he confessed. “I think you’re brash, selfish, reckless, and dishonorable… but you were willing to give yourself up, to spare us. It seems I may have misjudged you.” Tiphaine grasped the offered gauntlet.



“Well, only a little, my knightly companion. Most of those adjectives would fit me just fine, and a few more besides!” The fiend-blood laughed, and Sir Ryalos chuckled with him.



“Then shall we get off of this mountain? I for one do not desire to sleep atop stone again if we can all help it!” In full agreement, the four continued on their trail.