Chapter 1

“Dash… Dash…. Dash!” The familiar voice of my pesky ‘apprentice’ kept intruding on the pleasant mid-afternoon snooze I’d worked so hard to achieve, calling my name. I ignored it, the gentle rocking of the wagon beneath me lulling me back to that perfectly comfortable place between awake and asleep, my mind filled with warm and fuzzy half-dreams.

*THWAK*

I yelped and jolted fully awake. The back of my head throbbed slightly, and I tenderly probed it with a finger, glad to find only a small bump. However, the throbbing only highlighted the bigger issue; the throbbing amplified the hangover-induced headache I’d gone to sleep to escape.

I could feel my apprentice’s eyes on me, and I snapped my head up only to discover Kan’on had already hidden his expression behind a veneer of innocence and ignorance. Cheeky bugger.

He leaned against the side of the wagon, his sword propped up between his legs and leaning against his chest. His long black hair spilled over his shoulder down to his chest in a messy braid which starkly contrasted with his neat and tidy pastel blue and green combat robes. His serene expression was enough to convince someone less familiar with the man of his innocence.

However, the opened bag of hard-shelled nuts at his side was all the evidence I needed.

“I was just resting my eyes, you know. No reason to throw stuff at me. That’s no way to treat your Master.”

“I’m not sure what you’re talking about. I’d never treat my esteemed teacher in such a way.” Kan’on always talked a good game, but there was always a tell, and sure enough I spotted the smug glint to his eyes before he managed to hide it again.

“Since you were just ‘resting your eyes’, you probably already know that the caravan guard captain is coming up from behind, checking on everybody,” Kan’on said, his tone toeing the bleeding edge of sincerity and sarcasm.

I heard a soft snort from the driver’s seat and looked up to see Jass studiously ignoring us, intently focused on the difficult task of driving the wagon along the perfectly straight and flat forest road, amongst all the other wagons doing the same thing. Jass had already proven himself to be a neutral party though, if not an outright ally against the guard captain and Kan’on.

“You have about 30 seconds before he gets here,” Kan’on continued.

“Of course I knew he was making his rounds,” I said as I frantically searched the wagon bed for a canteen or waterskin to rinse out my mouth.

Coming up empty, I grabbed my nearby backpack and reached through the opening, but instead of grabbing something in the pack, I tweaked the Flow and let my hand slide into a different space, my ‘cubby’ as I liked to call it, a place out of sync with the world, which had interesting properties. It was one of my better tricks.

I only had to search for a second to find one of the waterskins I’d stashed there. Taking a big gulp, and another, I swished some water around in my mouth before spitting over the rail onto the road. I focused on the Flow and drew a rune in the air with my finger, the slightly glowing figure hanging there as I completed the basic healing cantrip with a bit of invested willpower and intent.

I stuck my face into the rune and felt a refreshing wave travel down my neck and body, leaving behind a diffuse warmth that spread out to my fingers and toes. Just in time, I heard the clomping of horse hooves approaching and peeked over the rail to see Clyde Courtenay sidling up.

The man was outfitted in a set of overly polished plate armor, expensive in its own right. What made my eye twitch was that everything, from his greaves to his pauldrons and chest plate, was covered in gold gilding and silver trim. Etchings of powerful creatures, filled with gold leaf of course, filled out the rest of the space, leaving not a single piece of his armor untouched. It caused me actual physical pain to look at that hideously gaudy monstrosity.

The armor wasn’t the man’s only means of compensating for his insecurities. His attitude mirrored that of an actual noble, just without the land, money, looks, or charm to back it up. The Courtenay family’s roots stretched back many hundreds of years, their wealth and influence known far and wide. Clyde had none of it, the unwanted bastard. They even bestowed him with the name Clyde, a cloddish name by noble standards. I couldn’t help but snort at the absurdity of the man.

“Dash, by the Deep Gods, I can smell the alcohol from here.” Clyde leaned over and inspected me, looking for any sign of the drink I’d enjoyed earlier in the day. “You’re a cursed mess! Your hair is a rat’s nest. Your clothes are older and rattier than the deep father of time. I can’t even imagine the condition of that weapon you keep wrapped up,” he said while gesturing at my nearby sword. “Just as well. I can’t stand a man who can’t keep a weapon conditioned.”

“I prefer the term ‘comfortable’, not ratty, thank you very much. My hair is ‘stylish’ too, for someone my age.”

“Don’t get mouthy. I haven’t forgotten the alcohol. I don’t know how many times I’ve searched you, but I’ll find it eventually, and if I find you drunk on duty again, on my house’s name I’ll throw you out on your ass so fast that the deep ones themselves wouldn’t be able to keep up. The only reason I keep you on at all is because your partner here makes up for everything you lack, and then some. You better stay alert, I fully expect an attack along this stretch of road, and you better carry your weight.” Without waiting for my reply, Clyde urged his horse on and rode further up the line.

“’On my name…’”, I mimicked with an exaggerated nasally voice. “That man’s family would disown him if he tried to use their name to so much as buy a beer in a back-alley tavern.” I saw Kan’on smirk, no doubt enjoying my haranguing by Clyde, and I rolled my eyes.

“I know I say this a lot, but what you do… it’s impossible,” Kan’on said. “I know for a fact that there were no waterskins in that backpack. And that healing rune you made… with how sloppy and hasty it was, not to mention incomplete, it should have collapsed and done nothing but sparkle. The magic just shouldn’t work, and I’m a fairly powerful magician in my own right, I would know.”

“There is no magic, only tricks… and the Flow. And it’s not impossible, it’s just vanishingly rare. It’s not something that can be taught, only learned. Your actual Master, that old monster, should have told you that before you left.”

“The Flow. As if anybody but you knows what that’s supposed to be. I’ve been trying to see the Flow for months now and I’m not any closer now than I was when I first found you. They used to call you Grandmaster too, back before… you know,” he trailed off. There was a genuinely uncomfortable expression on his face for an instant before it smoothed over.

I looked around suspiciously, checking for spies that Clyde might have set on me, and used my robe to hide my reach for the cubby, grabbing one of many flasks I kept there. Uncorking it, I took a long pull, letting the alcohol burn its way down my throat. With a satisfied sigh, I focused my attention back to my ‘apprentice’.

Kan’on the Swordmaster, heir apparent to his school. He fought better with the sword than I did. His magic was more overtly powerful than mine too. The issue was that he approached every problem too conventionally. He lacked subtlety and nuance. I blamed his chosen school for that.

Skyreach Pinnacle was an ancient school, rooted in tradition. More like anchored by it, if you asked me. Their rigid adherence to their teachings held them back. Despite that, they were very strong… and dangerous.

“The Flow… it’s part of the old ways. And by old, I mean the deep ways, back when men and the other races were still stumbling around in the woods, whacking each other with clubs and being eaten by the beasts emerging from the Labyrinth. It’s energy, but it’s energy with a purpose and it connects everything. It has currents and they’re affected by the will of the men and beasts within it. To touch on the Flow is to touch on the very fabric of the world.” Even though I was forced into this relationship by my inability to make Kan’on go away, I may as well teach some history. The deep ones only knew that he’d never learn to see the Flow, he wasn’t capable of paying the price.

I paused to take another surreptitious swig from my flask. Talking about the Flow brought forth painful memories, visions of my big mistake. I grimaced and took another swig for good measure before reaching into my robe and twisting the Flow to open up the tricky space to the cubby to deposit the flask.

“As for the title of Grandmaster… well people like to throw around meaningless titles, but if you know enough stuff that nobody else knows, they’re bound to assume things. Knowledge is a kind of power, after all.” I left it at that, unwilling to dig more at that old wound.

“To arms! To arms!” Shouts rang out from further up the line of wagons. I could hear the faint sounds of a fight coming from further up. I grabbed my wrapped-up sword and got to my feet, looking at the wall of trees that bordered the road.

“I guess Clyde was right. Well, even a moron like him will be right every now and then,” I said. “You have any idea what’s attacking?”

“I heard from Jass that this area is crawling with Ilfids.”

“Bugs then eh. The only good bug is a dead bug.”

“That’s racist.”

“If they weren’t savage murderers that take slaves and eat them, I wouldn’t want to kill them.”

“That’s fair, though I have to point out that there are Ilfid enclaves that are perfectly civilized, just not around here.”

Kan’on jumped down from the wagon and walked toward the tree line, stationing himself between the forest and the wagon. I had no problem letting him handle the the brunt of an attack, if it came to their little corner of the caravan. Ilfid were as much a threat to him as your run of the mill house cat.

I picked up my sword, still in its dull grey wrappings, and stood on the driver seat next to Jass. “Don’t worry, Jass. You just stay put and keep that spear handy just in case.” He just nodded, apparently an old hand at this sort of thing.

From my vantage point standing on the wagon, I saw caravan guards up and down the line popping out of the woodwork, taking up positions and readying themselves for the inevitable rush of enemies. Ilfids weren’t known for their intricate battle tactics, after all.

Soon enough, Ilfids poured from the edge of the forest only to be cut down by Kan’on. Hodge-podge armor covered their earth colored chitinous bodies. Each had between four and six arms, some even carrying multiple weapons. Long antenna sprouted from their heads, topping multifaceted eyes and wicked pincers. These weren’t even their warrior caste, just jumped-up workers.

I shook my head at the sight. Kan’on took the fight far too seriously, going so far as projecting battle aura. The power of his battle aura alone was enough to knock most of the bugs out of the fight, let alone the finely honed techniques he put on display. The guy needed to loosen up.

I kept watch up and down my section of the caravan line. The sounds of battle from my surroundings filtering to me as a cacophonous melody, carried by the Flow. Few things were as beautiful as the Flow during a battle, or as sad. Death shouldn’t be so attractive, so ripe with potential power.

An Ilfid slipped through Kan’on’s impeccable defense. I grunted in annoyance; the asshole had done it on purpose. He wouldn’t allow me to skim by without contributing. I watched the Ilfid run toward the next wagon up in line from my own, gaging the timing of its arrival.

I crouched, augmenting my strength with a small portion of power, and leapt up and out. Soaring sedately into the air, I let my arc continue until the apex, where I reached out and touched the Flow, imparting intent and willpower, along with a smidge of my own power. The currents of the Flow connecting me to the next wagon driver grabbed me and carried me the rest of the 30-foot jump and I landed lightly on my toes.

I drew an abbreviated rune in the air, connected it to the Flow with my intent and willpower to make up the difference in empowerment, and swung the still-wrapped tip of my sword through it just as the Ilfid reached the edge of the wagon.

The tip of my sword tapped the Ilfid worker on the head and it was flattened to the ground, as if a giant invisible hand had reached out and smashed it. Bug juice spilled over the ground as its broken body crunched under the titanic force.

I smirked. A fitting end for a bug. Looking down on it, I mentally kicked myself. I had just been lambasting Kan’on for overachieving and here I was empowering runes on the fly like I was trying to impress a girl in the village green. I turned away, disgusted that I had fallen to the same level as my ‘apprentice.’

Kan’on still flashed in and out of view, his sword a shining blur of death and destruction. The man pissed me off so much. The blue and green pastels of his outfit in this light painted a beautiful image as he flashed around, paired with his pretty face and hair, dashing around dashingly… it was enough to make me sick.

A wave in the Flow caught my attention; there was something more interesting than the Ilfid worker fodder making its way through the forest. It was big. Grinning, I jumped down from my perch and walked toward the forest. Something interesting indeed.

A giant bug emerged from the woods, easily twice as tall as a man, both arms as thick as a log. It let out a piercing screech that sent defenders up and down the line to their knees, grasping their heads in pain.

Yes, an Ilfid Brute was far more interesting. They had finally sent one of their true warrior caste. I reached into my cubby and took out a flask, draining what remained of the strong liquor.