The noonday sun promises adventure. The camp at Lakeview bustles with the sort of diverse energy Ariel has only dreamed of. A lake in the background and a white castle in the fore. A group of weathered adventurers sit under an oak drinking and swapping stories of killing orcs, swords and daggers at their sides, hair ranging from short and clipped to long and grey. A pair of ogres sit around a fire stirring an enormous pot of horse stew. Messengers in blue uniforms, deliverypeople carrying boxes and dragging crates, government officials looking officious, workers equipped with everything from brooms to halters, tread to and from the castle and town. Carriages bring in the latest convoys of students, graduated under necessity, brought under duress, but eager under pressure. It's all so much she could burst with excitement and clap her hands, though she won't do that because she promised she'd be mature here. And Ariel promised to always keeps her promises.

She waves at a couple guards standing in front of a big tent ladened with red and green ribbons. They nod back, acknowledging her presence. “Excuse me, sir.” she asks of one of the teachers in a blue sash. “Will the introduction be starting soon?”

“Within the hour.” he tells her. “Are you looking forward to this?”

Ariel voice cracks with excitement as she answers in the affirmative. Further along she steps off the road to make way for another convoy, this time of supplies for the camp: raw iron and wood, boxes of nails, bales of straw. Rumour has it that the King Himself stayed here in this very castle for a night while inspecting the camp. She wonders what his room looked like. “Hey.” Did he stay true to his vows and take only a small one? “Hey, are you there? I'm talking to you.” A hand waves in front of her face, breaking her concentration. She looks over and sees a tall man with a heavy dark beard and several knives in his belt. “You look like you need help.”

Ariel smiles. “That's not necessary. I'm just looking around.”

“Another new arrival, huh? In that case, we can give you a tour.” He nods to a handful of mercenaries behind them chatting about adventures and profit and whose sword is biggest.

“Oh, really, I'm fine just looking around myself.”

“No, no. I insist. A pretty girl like you shouldn't be unaccompanied in such a wild place as Lakeview.” He grins under his matted beard. It's more of a leer, actually. Several of his companions guffaw.

“Another one, Ridgeway?” says one of them.

Ariel takes a step back as he takes a step forward. He puts a rough hand on her arm.

“Like I said, don't worry about it. This place is more dangerous than it looks. See those guards there?” He points at a cluster of five guards around a plain white tent. She nods. “Well they're all dressed like regular old guards, underpaid and bored. But those swords at their waists? Those aren't regular-issue swords. They've got those curved guards engraved with those little bridge arches, right?” She nods, impressed at his eyesight. “That's imperial right there. They're escorting a high-priority government official. Non-military or they'd be in better uniforms.”

“Wow, you know an awful lot about swords.” She stretches, or gives the appearance of stretching. In reality she's just shaking his hand off her arm.

He chuckles. “Swords are my specialty, miss?”

“Er, Ariel.” She's not comfortable about giving him her name, but there isn't any recourse here. Not after that information about the swords.

“Well, miss Ariel, I'm Ridgeway. It's lovely to make your acquaintance.” He shakes her hand. Ariel is distinctly aware that she is losing ground. If this were a chess match, he would have the initiative and be pressing her for an advantage. “You're far too pretty to be alone. Why don't you come over with my companions and we can talk some more?” His companions are talking to each other, but obviously stealing glances over at them.

“That's very kind Mr. Ridgeway, but I must be going. Maybe some other time. No, really. It's um, important. I need to report to my teacher.” She dodges his outstretched arm and scuttles away as quickly as possible without looking too rude.

“We'll talk later.” he calls out after her. When she's at a safe distance, she stops and catches her breath. There was no time to mount a counterattack; she was stuck against him, and her only recourse was to run. No wonder she's so bad at chess, but at least here she can run off the board. It's distinctly unsettling having to lie, so she decides to search out Garsun to make it as small a lie as possible. She finds him at the campsite puffing on a pipe and blowing smoke at the clouds.

“How are you now, Ary?” He smiles at her. A warm welcoming smile, not like Ridgeway's greasy leer.

“Ok, I guess. The camp is huger than I ever expected.” She hesitates. “What do you think of the mercenaries?”

“What do you mean?”

“Have you noticed they're just a little bit, um, rude?”

“Rude how?” Garsun frowns and puts down his pipe.

“Well, I was talking to this one who kept wanting to show me around and introduce me to his friends.”

“And?”

“Well, I came here instead. He seemed a little, you know, strange. Maybe aggressive. I wasn't entirely comfortable.”

“You worry too much, Ary.” Garsun picks his pipe back up. “These mercenaries are no gentlemen, but he sounds like he was only trying to be helpful. So long as you're in public view, you're safe here.”

“Yes, I suppose you're right.” mutters Ariel. The courtyard bell rings. Once, twice, thrice.

“Three bells. That must be for you.” says Garsun turning his eyes back up to the clouds as if to indicate that the conversation is at an end. She hurries off again. “Oh, and Ariel?” She turns back to see him fixing her with a stern gaze. “You're going to do great out there. Don't worry.”

Ariel is one of the first to arrive, but the courtyard soon fills with others. It's surprising just how many students there are. Former students, that is. Some look like confident adults while others give the distinct impression that they should still be at home with their parents, and Ariel feels more of a kinship with the former. She looks down her row. Twelve people, and there are at least ten rows, so one hundred and twenty? That's almost as many as Pataway Village, and more than she's ever seen gathered in a single place. “What do you think we're going to do first?” she asks a boy in red standing next to her.

He shakes his head. “Weren't you paying attention? It's the aptitude test, obviously.” Ariel does not press him further.

A small stage has been erected in at the front of the courtyard, and presently a man in white steps up onto it. “Attention, please.” The murmur of voices becomes subdued but does not die down. “I said quiet!” he yells. “That's better. You're all away from your homes trading the familiar for the dangerous, and that is commendable. You come to serve the nation, and for that I bow to you.” He inclines his grey head slightly. “But none of you have earned distinction yet. Not a single one of you has risen to that level. Starting now, you are all at the bottom. All just youth here to make the King proud. Some of you will serve better than others. Some of you may not serve at all. But your presence is enough to confirm your loyalty. For the king!” There is a pause while he stares expectantly at them. Finally a few people respond 'For the king!' until more realise what they should be doing and the courtyard is full of voices calling it out. Ariel, thankfully, is one of the first.

Another figure now steps onto the stage. Whereas the man in white is slight and stooped, each stride this man takes exudes strength, as though he could be ambushed at any moment by orcs and not so much as flinch. His impeccable uniform is military: a blue tunic, shod boots, and a sword at his waist. No plate armour, much less mail, but it is a little hot out. Nonetheless, his moustache and beard guard his face as if ready to leap into battle at the merest provocation. “I am Captain Loswel. And with the help of Mister Ranim Harki of Logistics and Organisation here,” Ranim bows slightly, “we will be performing an aptitude test to see where you fall in terms of usefulness. While I have no doubt you're all eager and capable to get out and fight off orcs, we're interested in seeing what you're suited for and what benefits you bring to a team. In the army we call teamwork 'basics' because it is the base on which everything we do rests. Without teamwork, even the most powerful mage is a liability, even the strongest fighter a hindrance. We want our groups to be well balanced, so this test will take into account everything you've learned and more. So,” He claps his hands together. “the best way to find out is by doing. Group up by specialty. My assistants will show you were to stand.” Loswell turns and steps off the stage without checking to see if everyone has understood and is following instructions. He doesn't strike Ariel as the sort to brook lethargy.

Assistants take their places, calling out for magical specialties. Ariel soon finds herself in a group of a dozen. “Our group seems the smallest.” she mentions to the girl next to her.

“Support is always a small group.” she laments. “Vigour on the other hand is most popular wherever you go.” She nods at a nearby group of at least fifty, mostly boys.

“Is there a wilds group?” asks another.

“No. Who would even teach wilds? Especially when there's vigour.”

“Is vigour really that special?” asks Ariel.

“It's far stronger than wilds, which is why nobody does wilds anymore. Wasn't it most popular at your school?”

“It was at mine.” says another.

“Mine too. I think it's mostly just the guys who love it because they think it makes them more manly. That just leaves us girls to manage life and keep them standing. And one guy too.” she acknowledges. The lone guy in the group grins sheepishly.

Ariel gulps nervously. This is the part she had dreaded. Her peers and how they would react to finding out where she was from. There was something in the way they all chatted and laughed with each other, a sort of freedom she both yearned for and shied from. “Don't worry.” said the first girl. “If you're not familiar with this I can help you out. My name's Annya, by the way. From Three Peaks.” She extends a hand.

“Ariel.” says Ariel, taking it and feeling grown up for the first time since arriving. “What's the likelihood we end up in a group together?”

“Probably none.” says Annya. “They'll want to spread the life mages out so as many groups as possible have one. I'm guessing it'll be four to a group – that's the normal amount.”

“Right.”

“This way please,” Other groups are being led away, colour toward the training fields, conjuration toward the lake. Vigour seems to be headed for the woods behind the castle. And life, Ariel and Annya's group, is headed – “into the castle we go.” Ariel's heart quickens. She's never been in a castle before and looks in every direction to take it all in. The walls that seemed so white from afar are greyer up close and grainy, probably granite. They don't enter through the main gates but a side door with no knob that opens inward at a tap from the assistant.

“What do you think is inside?” Ariel whispers to Annya.

“Probably just a lot of empty rooms.” she whispers back. “It's where we'll be staying, after all.” Ariel's heart soars. The hallways, no, there are no hallways in a castle but only corridors, are dark. Unlit torches sit in brackets, but the man leading them needs no light. He takes them up a flight of stairs, then another, then through a four-way intersection, then through a door, this time with a knob. Ariel looks around, trying to peek into other rooms, but all the doors are closed. Then the assistant ushers her inside and closes the door behind them.

This room at least is lit by windows. It lies empty except for a single pot of soil the size of a cauldron. Out of it, a massive shrub spreads. Not tall, but wide with long wispy branches and thin sharp leaves, almost needles. A woman with short grey hair and green guild robes stands next to it. “Is this everyone for the life group?” she asks with a brusque air. The assistant nods and she shrugs. “Alright then, we may as well begin. My name is Ogostinia of the life branch of the Mage Guild. You may in time join our ranks, but for now I'm interested in how you interact with this test. There will no doubt be more teams than life mages, so finding you the ideal partners is our aim. This test will be practical, not written; hence the lack of pens. And it isn't a test of your skill so much as your aptitude; hence the name.” She doesn't pause to see if anyone got the joke. Was it even a joke to her? Her feet are set and her arms crossed. She doesn't seem like the sort who can laugh. “Teams that rely on life mages rely on synergy more than anything.” She pats the plant. “This here is a sensory plant. Carefully germinated for just this sort of test. Its heightened pathways will allow you to sense what it senses and interact with it on an elementary level; it's a model for what being in a group will entail. Right then. Who wants to go first?”

If Ariel is confused, she's in good company. Pleading looks fly in all directions. Annya is staring at the ground. Ariel has never heard of a 'sensory shrub before', to say nothing of interacting with one, but it's an odd enough looking plant that surely anything could be possible. “Nobody?” says Ogostinia flatly. “We may have time, but it's finite. I'll have to pick someone at random then.”

“I'll go.” says Ariel. After all the excitement and suspense, she would be disappointed in herself if she left it up to someone else's whim.

“Excellent. Our first volunteer. Come here, please, and put a hand on the plant's trunk.” Ariel walks up to the plant. This is her chance to set herself apart from the group in a positive light. Just remember who you are. You're a prodigy. They went to school; you had a hand-picked tutor. They have no idea what you're capable of. Standing in front of everyone with her hand on a slimy shrub, she isn't sure if she should believe herself. “Now remember this if you can't hear me once we begin. The sensory plant has remarkable restorative properties. When it's injured, it can regenerate itself. You will need to facilitate that regeneration as best you can and protect it from as much harm as possible. Understand?” Ogostinia looks at Ariel pointedly and she nods. “A bit lower with the hand. Get it right at the base where it comes out of the ground for best results.” She adjusts her hand. “Good, now feel your magic. That plant has a magic of its own. A magic that lies in sunlight and shadow, in sap and roots. Notice its branches? They're already straining toward the windows. Every bit of that plant is attuned to itself and only itself, but you can enter that attunement. You can make it an extension of yourself.”

Ariel and focuses until the magic rises mistily, drifting over the sockets of her mind, clouding her vision. She feels her hand sticking slightly to the shrub, the bottom now resting on wet dirt. This is stupid. She's stupid. Why did she go first? If she wasn't so stupid, she would have waited for someone else to show her how it's done. “You aren't focusing.” says Ogostinia. She too has a hand on a branch. “Don't just think about yourself. Think about what you're touching. There you go.” And just like that, Ariel can feel it. As her magic pulses, the plant pulses back. She flows from her mind into the plant, running simultaneously up and down the trunk, spreading out into the roots as they delve deep into edges of the pot, and up into the branches, spreading like spilt water on a table, like a river entering a dry delta. But the channels are the vessels of the plant and the water the sap. It really is connected so simply. Standing in that room with her hand on a plant, Ariel finally understands her childhood water magic lessons.

“Now that she can feel it,” says Ogostinia, addressing the others, “she should be able to feel this as well.” She raps her knuckles on a branch. It reverberates through the plant and by extension, Ariel's mind. She can feel the knocking as though she's rested her head on her desk and Garsun has rapped on it to get her attention. “Now for something a little more intense.” Ariel nearly loses her focuses as Ogostinia reaches into her robes and withdraws a pocket knife. She takes hold of a small acral branch with one hand and with the other slices it off with a single tug against the blade. Sap drips from the wound. Ariel can feel a scream echoing in her head, a wailing disaster as one vein of water ceases to flow. She's been wounded, crippled, hacked, mutilated, carved. Her body has been scored, its limb sliced off. “Calm yourself.” says Ogostinia, her voice no longer brisk but gentle in her ear. “Breathe. You are uninjured.” Ariel breathes heavily, then looks down. Her arms are intact. Her hand still rests at the base of the plant. Her body is intact. The plant feels no pain, and neither does she; it's just a trick, an illusion, a fabrication of her mind. It felt the branch sever and, lacking sensation from the plant, created fake pain of its own. Ariel suppresses the urge to wonder if that means all pain can be considered fake. That's not important now. She takes another deep breath and there it is. Sap hardens around the wound, blocking off the channel. The plant knows what to do. The cells of the plant expand, feeding off the magic in her system, shunting it through its trunk, down its branches, and to the stump. The hardening cap of sap sloughs off and falls to the ground as a fresh branch sprouts. Tiny sharp leaves form at its end.

“Something a little more intense.” says Ogostinia. She beckons to the assistant who walks over with a candle. A quick puff and he sets it alight. Ogostinia takes the candle and holds the flame up the plant. “Repel it.” she whispers in Ariel's ear. Again Ariel feels the intensity of the heat, but this time she is in control. There is no pain, no panic, only an awareness of heat that extends beyond her skin and eyes. “Repel it.” Magic again flows out to the leaves withering under the heat, and they bolster, filling with water.

“Excellent.” says Ogostinia, blowing out the candle. “You may stop now.” She reaches out for Ariel's hand, but Ariel removes it from the sensory plant first. Ogostinia raises her grey eyebrows slightly. “Take a moment to regain your sense of being.” she says. She stoops down, retrieves the severed branch from the ground, and holds it up to the new one. “A little smaller than the original, and somewhat stunted, but a very fair first effort. Needless to say fixing up a friend will be somewhat more challenging, but you aren't a doctor. I'm not here to teach you how to mend plants, much less people, though I can in the future if you are so inclined. The plant responds to many forms of mental stimuli and how it responds tells me about where your specialties lie. It's no doubt less glamourous than whatever the colour mages are doing, blowing things up I imagine, but that is the cost of support magic. We are subtle instead of crude and necessary instead of appreciated.” She gives a rare pause for that to sink in. “What's your name?”

“Ariel.”

“Well, Ariel, thank you for a fascinating first test.” Ariel remembers that Ogistinia had her own hand on the plant for most of the test. She must have felt nearly everything Ariel did. “Your base is water, isn't it?”

“No, ma'm, my base is luminous.”

Ogostinia gives her a sharp look. “But you have some water training?”

“A little, but it never took.”

“I wouldn't be so sure of that. But nevermind, let's have our next volunteer.”

Soon another of the group has her hand on the plant while Ogostinia cuts and burns it. “How was it?” Annya whispers as they watch.

“I dunno. Not bad, but strange. You'll see what I mean.” The test felt like ages to Ariel, but as she watches each person do the same thing with the same results, she realises the whole process can't be more than a minute or two. She's still breathing a little heavily from the ordeal, but watching the others go, she can't understand how. It all looks so casual and easy, but at least she isn't the only breathing hard at the end. Annya breezes through it without a problem; her new branch is somehow larger than the original. One girl bursts into tears when she finishes unable to regenerate the branch. Ogostinia gives her a brisk pat on the back and sends her away for the next testee.

As they're finishing, Ogostinia approaches Ariel and takes her aside. “This has no bearing on the on your results,” she says, “but you heard me throughout the test, didn't you? When I told you to breath and to repel the fire?”

“Yes, ma'm.”

“Well done. You were the only one.” For the first time, Ogostinia smiles. Ariel isn't sure whether to ask her to explain or take the compliment, but Ogostinia walks away before she can come to a decision.

Lunch is a hasty affair served in an expansive dining hall inside the castle. Ariel doesn't even notice what she's eating; some sort of vegetable soup with bread. Like everyone else, she's impatient to see what the teams will be. “I hope I'm with Broga.” confides Annya.

“Who?”

“Oh, he's one of our school's top fighters. And he always goes out of his way to keep me safe. It would be nice to have someone reliable like him.” Annya gives a happy little smile.

After lunch, they're taken back to the courtyard. “Tonight we'll conduct some little war games between teams.” Captain Loswel tells them. “For now, you'll be put into a tentative team. These teams may change if we feel they aren't working or could be working better, but they are teams you will compete with.”

Ariel gives looks to Annya for support. “War games already?”

“What do you think we're here for, Ariel? The orcs keep getting closer. My convoy had to fight off a raiding party yesterday in the countryside.”

“That nearby?”

“It's like they know we don't have enough troops to cover all of Arvendale, and they're getting bolder. Have you ever fought orcs?”

“I haven't. Not yet.” Any excitement she felt earlier in the day vanishes as Ariel considers what she is doing out here. She's always shied away from fight, even as a child when the other children called her a hag and threw stones at her. But at least Garsun always believed in her. “How big are they?”

“Not as big as the stories make them out to be. Bigger than a person, but not smart. Being a little scared is good, but don't be terrified. Without magic, their only strength is numbers.” There's a large part of Ariel that knows she won't be hurt, that has never been seriously injured before and can't imagine it happening to anyone, much less her. Death is what happens to unremarkable people in stories whose names nobody remembers or third-hand news reports from the borderlands. She has so much power, so much potential. That's what people keep telling her, and for a time she believed. But now she's beginning to doubt herself. What if she only turns out to be ordinary? What if her magic is no more vibrant, no more exclamatory than anyone else's? Then she would be just as susceptible to death as everyone else.

“So what did you think of the test? It was strange, wasn't it?”

“It was so strange.” muses Annya. “I didn't even know you could bond with a plant like that.”

“I know, right? Do you think you could do that with a person?”

“Probably not. I'm sure natural warding would be enough to block it out, otherwise we'd have learned about it in school. Speaking of school, where did yo–”

Do you think you did well?” asks Ariel before Annya can bring up schooling again. “I'm worried I scored poorly. Going first was a mistake, wasn't it?”

“I thought it was brave of you. Anyway, they weren't measuring our performance, just our aptitude.”

“That's what they say, but of course they're measuring performance. I'll bet you if anyone had failed the test and be unable to bond with the sensory plant, she'd be sent home straight away.”

“Yeah, or accidentally kill it. Maybe set the whole thing on fire.”

“Setting it on fire would be so disastrous it would be impressive.” laughs Ariel.

“Yeah, it would certainly mean you made some bad choices as a child. You clearly should have started with colour magic.” agrees Annya. “But it looks like our teams are ready.” The assistant has come again to drop off a piece of paper, real paper not parchment, at the table. Everyone in the life group scrambles to get a look. “Looks like everyone in the life group made it,” Annya drops her voice, “even the girl who cried. And here I am. Team Eight.”

“Team Twenty-Four.” says Ariel. “I guess we have to meet our teams to find out who we're with.”

“Well, good luck, Ariel. I hope we'll meet again soon.” Seeing others with bags of clothing and equipment, Ariel hurries back to her tent to retrieve her own supplies. Garsun is already packing.

“All ready to go?” she asks.

“Just about, Ary. How is your new team?”

“I don't know yet. I need to grab my things and meet them.” She looks around. All the other students are back in the castle by now. It's just her, Garsun, and a few mercenaries wandering around. Thankfully, she doesn't see Ridgeway.

“Over there.” Garsun points at the bags and Ariel scoops them up. “Are you leaving now?”

Ariel smiles then drops her bags to throw her arms around his wide torso, planting a kiss on his grey cheek. They still smell of pleasant old pipe smoke. “I'll miss you, Garsun.”

Garsun's belly shakes as he laughs. “I'll miss you too, Ary. Just remember: it's fine to be a little shy, but you're with your own kind now, not us crusty old ogres. You'll thrive here. That's what I'll tell your parents. Alright, release me from your prison. You need to get going.” Ariel does, but as she runs off with her bags, she keeps turning back to see the proud old man beaming and waving one last time.

Back at the castle, Ariel realises she doesn't know where to go. Everyone else seems to, however, and she tags along through the dark castle corridors, peering into rooms, tramping up and down flights of stairs. Excitement soon turns to anxiety, then to fear as she finds herself lost and unsure. However big the castle looked on the outside, it's far larger within just on account of corridors. Up, down, left, right; every turn reveals a dark stone passage leading to yet more dark stone passages. It is only when she finds herself in front of a group of rooms each numbered from thirteen to sixteen that she realises each team has been assigned a room based on its number.

After considerable backtracking and checking numbers, the rooms are in bunches of four, she finally finds it. Twenty-One, Twenty-Two, Twenty-Three. There it is. Twenty-Four. The door is ajar and Ariel puts her elbow against the lacquered wood, bracing herself. Whatever happens, she has a team now. When she awoke this morning, it was all she could think of, the excitement making it nearly impossible to eat breakfast. Now she's weary and wary. Hopefully her team will be: competent? strong? welcoming? Maybe just friendly like Annya. Ariel pushes the door open.

Rolled up blankets and bags have been dropped in two corners. There are only two chairs in which two girls are seated, facing each other. The one on the right is short but sits tall, her midnight hair shorn close to her ears, arms and legs crossed, eyes fixed on her opposition. The one on the left has her hands in her lap, straw hair falling past her shoulders encasing a placating smile that turns to the intrusion with faint relief. “Are you our third?” she asks brightly, jumping to her feet. “I'm Salaya. Best colour mage in Three Peaks.”

“Ariel. Life and luminous.” She offers her hand to Salaya who shakes it eagerly.

“Life and luminous.” The other girl slowly scans Ariel as she stands. Her heavy eyelids and low voice give the impression of boredom or disdain. “What are your credentials?”

“Er, sorry?” says Ariel. “What do you mean by that?”

“Credentials. You have credentials, surely? Where are you from? Where did you train? What have you accomplished?”

“Trained? I guess I trained at home in Pataway Village with Mage Garsun.”

“Er, ok. I'm Eje Muse.” Ariel waits for more. “You know, House Muse. Muse Academy. Wow, you really are from nowhere.”

“That was unnecessarily rude.” says Salaya.

“Right, right, sorry.” Eje smacks herself lightly across the face. “I'm sure you wouldn't have been put on our team if you weren't impressive.” She gives Ariel a reassuring smile. “We're resplendent.” Ariel is fairly sure this is a compliment, so she stays quiet. “Anyway, I'm a dusk mage. Top of my class at Muse Academy, the finest in the world.” Salaya shifts slightly on her feet.

“So you were homeschooled?” asks Salaya. “What was that like? Didn't you, you know get lonely or bored?”

“Not really.” says Ariel. “There was always more to learn, more to practice. I had to show improvement before each meal, then I'd have some free time. And then there were other kids in the village I could play with. But I learned a lot at my own pace, which was very important for my growth. That's what Garsun said.”

“Who?”

“Mage Garsun, my teacher.”

“Oh right.” Ariel is beginning to get the distinct impression that the other two aren't taking her seriously.

“Is it true you just learn rules in school?” Ariel asks.

“What do you mean?”

“Garsun said that big schools just teach rules, the bigger the school, the more rules. But they don't teach you how to apply those rules or how they can be broken. The palace is so worried about keeping mages in line that they force school instructors to only follow a narrow curriculum to prevent free thought. So mages from schools are knowledgeable but lack creativity.”

“That's weird.” says Eje.

“Yeah, we were given a lot of free reign and encouraged to come up with our own solutions to problems.” says Salaya. “On one of our tests we had to collectively stop a damn from bursting and flooding a downstream village.”

“If you can't come up with your own solutions, you'll never pass.” agrees Eje. “Otherwise you may as well have specialised in metallurgy and air.”

Ariel laughs, but Salaya frowns. “You can't specialise in those two anyway. They aren't connected.”

“What? Of course they are.”

“No, they aren't. Air is connected to water and dusk. You should know that.”

“Air is connected to metal. Trust me, Salaya. They're the two most useless branches; of course they're connected.” Eje turns to Ariel. “I'm sure Garsun taught you that, right? Air is a branch of metal.”

“Actually, now that I think about it, I'm not sure it is.” says Ariel.

“What? Both of you are crazy.”

“No, you are.”

“I am not.”

“Look, I can prove it.” Salaya rummages through one of her bags in the corner, pulling out books and papers, again no parchment, and dropping them into neat piles. “Here it is.” She extracts a single sheet of paper from a bundle wrapped in string and smooths it out on the ground like a map to treasure.

Eje looks the paper over, unimpressed. “You even underlined the base disciplines. And used a ruler for the lines. Cute.”

“Yeah, sure, laugh at me.” says Ariel. “But you can see air is not connected to metal, dusk is. You should know that.”

“Alright, fine. I guess I didn't bring my old school notes with me in case of a disagreement over magic disciplines.”

“What's demonic?” asks Ariel, looking over the diagram. “I never learned about that one.”

“It's some lunatic's fancy.” says Eje.

“Well, it's more speculative than anything.” says Salaya. “Hence why I put a question mark by it. We're not sure it's real but we know something is there proceeding lightning and some people think it's a form of demonic magic.” Eje rolls her eyes.

A knock interrupts them. Ranim Harki stands in the open door, still in white. He nods as the girls give a polite bow to him. “I hope you're getting settled in.” he says. “Is this the team with the Muse?” He looks around and his eyes settle on Eje. “Ah, yes. Eje Muse. I don't normally visit teams, but I was a bit curious about you. I have no doubt you'll perform to the high standard set by your family. Your brother was ever so talented when I worked with him. Still is, from what I hear. But I digress.” His voice speeds up, becomes more mechanical. “You have approximately an hour before the dinner bell. Unpack and get settled in. Don't eat too heavily: your first challenge will follow. You're on team, let's see, Twenty-Four, so you'll meet at marker eight on the training field. No weapons. How your team performs will determine your priority for your first mission selection. Any questions?” He turns to go.

“What do you mean by missions, sir?” asks Ariel.

Ranim turns back, looking momentarily dismayed. “Weren't you briefed? Oh well, you must excuse us. Too many people, too much excitement! I'm afraid the fault lies on us and I apologise for the disorganisation. Well it's quite simple. You'll have a chance to pick which missions to take, and be appropriately rewarded for completing them. It saves us the trouble of having to assign everyone missions, guess at who would excel where, and keep track of it all. Successfully completing a mission will earn you merits which will in turn allow access to higher level missions that take you further from the camp into greater danger, but also offer more appealing rewards. Does that explain everything?” Ranim doesn't wait for an answer but smiles, bows slightly, and walks away, closing the door behind him.

“That was a mistake.” says Eje. “We haven't started yet and we're already fading.”

“What do you mean?” asks Ariel.

“Ranim Harki is somewhat famous for his, shall we say, poor temperament. He didn't come down here to explain the rules to a new recruit. Oh don't fret. It probably won't make a difference in the end, but in the future it's best to stay on his good side. Didn't you get an introduction?”

“Er, no.” says Ariel, feeling more hopeless by the second.

“Hm. Maybe they don't give them out in Pataway Village.”

“You're being rude again, Eje.” says Salaya. “Don't worry. Ranim has too much work to remember this. He only came by to see if the venerated 'Eje Muse' looked anything like her brother. Eje's just trying to distract us from how famous and popular she is.” Eje makes a rude gesture.

A pale slice of moon is all that can be seen in the darkening sky, the clouds having been chased off long ago. Beyond the training field with ruts and gouges already dug into it lies a forest of mostly pine and fir. A single wooden sign with a crude '8' painted on it marks the area where teams Twenty-Four and Seventeen stand. Eje kicks at the box of supplies they've been allotted. “Wooden swords, staffs. We'll be stickfighting, I guess.”

“Is it just these two teams?” asks Salaya, examining her stick sword.

“There should be three teams.” says Ariel, having read the notice upon first entering the training field. “The last team should be -”

“team Four. Hello, losers.” Team Four has arrived. “I'm Brant, team captain.” Headed by someone named Brant. “Are we really up against the bottom of the standings?”

“What standings?” asks team Seventeen's captain.

Brant snorts. “The standings, idiot. You got tested, and given a team based on how well you performed. We're rank four currently. Anything past rank twelve is a desperation pass. That means you should have failed, but because they're desperate for bodies, you got through.”

Ariel looks over at Eje and Salaya who are also puzzling over this. How could she be on a weak team. She's a prodigy, gifted. Was her test really so poor? “Is that true?” she hisses to them.

“I don't think so.” says Eje, but she doesn't look confident. Brant and the other team captain are still arguing while their teams look on awkwardly. “By the way, who's our captain?”

“Let's worry about that later.” says Salaya.

“Alright everyone, gather around and take one of these.” Another government worker, this time in a soldier's standardised blue uniform. He passes around a bag of trinkets. Ariel takes one. It's a sort of necklace with dull green stone set in a bronze ring. “Everyone needs to wear a negation amulet for the duration on pain of expulsion. Yes, you too, Brant. This is only a game. We don't want anyone seriously injured.” Ariel puts the string around her neck and immediately feels stifled. It's like wearing earmuffs, but it isn't her hearing that's suppressed. She looks around, takes a deep breath of evening air, even sniffs the back of her hand. Nothing has changed. But she can't shake the feeling. It's in her ears, in her head, whispering like a voice on the wind, murmuring like a brook over stones, buzzing like wasps around a pear.

“Get ahold of yourself.” Eje grabs Ariel by the shoulders and shakes her. “You're fine, right?”

“Yes, yes, I'm fine.” says Ariel. Her feet are moving. She looks around. Everyone is walking, following the soldier. Ariel tries to focus, but instead of rushing, it only trickles from her head down her neck, barely dampening her body with magic.

“You have worn a negation amulet before, right?”

“Of course.” she lies, pretending she knew all along.

“So,” says the soldier, leading them into the forest, “this will be a simple retrieval mission. There's a team of mercenaries, four of the finest from Bladesbury, we've got holding a statuette of the Bishop. They aren't keen on losing to a bunch of novices either. The winning team will be the one that gets that statuette and brings it back here. They'll get bonus merit and early choice of missions.” He stops in a small clearing where a circle has been scratched into the ground and a single torch burns orange in the middle of it. Ariel can hear running water in the distance. “This is where I'll be. The mercenaries are waiting for you just a couple hundred paces north, by the river.”

“Let's go before the other teams figure out which way north is.” says Brant. Team Four disappears into the foliage.

“How rude. Let's go this way.” Salaya leads them around, giving team Four a wide berth. “We can let them run in first and get blasted. I hope Brant gets his stupid smirk wiped clean off.”

“Don't worry about him and what he's saying.” says Eje. Twigs and dry leaves crinkle underfoot, offsetting the ever-increasing sound of water. “If you can make your opponents doubt themselves, you've got a nice advantage before the match begins. That's all he's trying to do.”

Salaya nearly trips over a protruding root. Ariel has always liked the woods, especially the stoic pines, unchanging during the seasons. “Swish your foot around before you commit to a step.” she says, eager to show off her somewhat limited knowledge of woodsmanship. “That way you'll be able to feel any obstructions.”

“Keep your voice down. We'll have to figure out a plan as we go. Ariel, you support, right? What can you do with luminous?”

“Not too much, to be honest. I just have the base level spells.”

“Good enough. Protect Eje when she goes in. I'll try to sneak around the side and suppress them.”

“Do you mean the mercenaries or the other teams?”

“Both, of course.”

Salaya beckons them into a thicket. They peer out through the branches, their heads poking out behind rough pine trunks. A small fire flickers downriver where three men and a woman in tracking gear sit, talking low.

“I don't see a statuette. Do you?” Nobody does.

“So what now? Should we wait?” They all agree to wait for the other teams to act first and take the brunt of the counterassault, and the minutes tick by. Salaya pulls up grass for a cushion to sit on. Eje stretches her arms and legs, and Ariel gets lost watching the river flow. It's barely a river, just wide enough to be unjumpable, but she's never seen such a smooth river. The land is flat and there are no rocks. Under the night sky, with stars popping out here and there and the glow of the campfire, it's like she's watching a sheet of silk shimmering by. Garsun always told her to draw on magic like a water reservoir, not a fire. Fire burns out quickly, but water is unquenchable.

“How long is this going to be?” wonders Eje. She gets no response. Ariel shakes herself back to the present, the realisation that all three teams are sitting somewhere in the woods, waiting for someone else to make the first move overtaking her. She isn't the only one to notice.

One of the mercenaries stands up strolls along the river's edge, stretching his arms over his feathered cap carelessly. He walks back and forth, the length of his impromptu camp a few times, whistling. Ariel recongises the tune. It's a children's bedtime lullaby. Eje has frozen in mid-stretch, one leg over her shoulder, her body a bundle of taught sinew and trembling energy. The mercenary calls out. “Hey, quit hiding in the trees, kids. You think we're blind and deaf? We've been watching you since you got here, and now we're taking bets to see who's going to have the stones to come out first and who's pissing their pants.”

The trees rustle and stir. Salaya makes to stand up, but Eje puts a hand on her shoulder. “Don't respond. Never act when they want you to act.”

“Let someone else go first.” agrees Ariel.

“And I want to see if Brant is just cunning, or if his ego dictates his actions.” As if to answer, a shadow steps out of the treeline, head high, hair flying in the wind. Ariel is sure it's Brant: nobody else here has a chest so broad. He struts out, rooster-like up the camp; the only thing missing are tailfeathers. He nods to the capped mercenary, hands and wooden sword low. The mercenary only grins back, fire illuminating a mouthful of broken, chipped teeth. Brant starts to ask him something then hits him in the face with a sucker punch that reverberates over the water. His wooden sword whooshes through the air. The signal has been sounded. Brant's group rush out of the trees, as does team Seventeen, unwilling to be pants-pissers. The capped mercenary laughs and sidesteps the sword blow, hands still at his sides. Water rises from the river, splattering the combatants and leaving a hissing pile of smoke where the campfire was. Ariel can see only the outline of bodies colliding with an occasional puff of light.

“Come on. Let's go.” Eje leads them in an opportunistic creep around the camp, trying to get in without being spotted. A flash of light blinds them for a moment, then someone grapples her. Ariel hurriedly calls up magic, but it isn't coalescing into anything. Something is insulating her mind from the sorcerous flow running past it like a piece of cloth against the rain. She pulls as hard as she can and strains a little through; no time to get a feel for the magic she has, she just throws it out and hopes it will work. The net she conjures glows and sputters like the campfire, but is able to restrain the assailant for at least a few seconds. When he at last breaks free, Eje has already shifted away, shadows blending into the night.

Crimson light illuminates Salaya's head, but she is only able to blow a stream of sparks out. Eje's small frame is still darting around the melee. She lashes out, knocking people left and right, but gets caught up in the brawl and Ariel loses track of her.

Nothing Ariel has done since beginning her training at six could have prepared her for this. Indeed, nothing that has happened to her since her arrival at Lakeview could have told her to prepare for this. Voices yell, bodies crash and fall only to jump up and crash again or stay down. Sticks flail against each other and bodies, or are dropped on the ground. The spells that are cast strike weakly, barely able to overcome the negation amulets that their casters wear. The only thing on her mind is that with proper weapons and magic this would be a slaughter, but a slaughter of which side? The mercenaries appear more organised. Their silhouettes stand back to back in pairs, shrugging off blows and knocking the attackers down with limbs and sticks extended by magic. Ariel tries to net one, but the ropes shrug off him. When he breaks formation to advance on her, Salaya blasts him in the legs and he falls. Someone else trips over his body and falls on top of him. Ariel hopes they're both alright.

“She's got it!” Comes a cry. A small quick figure darts in between two larger ones. It skips over the tent and snatches something small and oblong up. As the larger figures pounce, Ariel takes a chance and throws her arms around it. To her surprise, the shielding holds at some fifteen paces, and it slips through. The figure looks up and Ariel can vaguely make out Eje's face. A shock of lightning issues up from someone on the ground, and her eyes widen in shock. Her hand flies out to steady herself, and the statuette slips from her grasp. Half a dozen people yell and grab at it, but only a single large figure has the speed and dexterity to snatch it up and leap away. An errant burst of electricity reveals Brant's face grimacing in concentration. Nothing can slow him down now that his vigour is up. He's dodging left and right, now sprinting, and only Salaya stands between him and the trees and safety. Salaya's hands glow blue but Brant lowers his head and aims straight for her. Salaya doesn't wait to see if it's a bluff; she yelps like a frightened puppy and dodges out of the way. Brant breaks through and disappears into the trees, half a dozen people in pursuit. By the time Ariel has made it back to the circle, lungs gasping and burning, he's already standing in it, laughing. The mercenaries are slinking off grumbling and the soldier is taking back the amulets with so little interest he doesn't even remember to write down the winning team until Brant tells him twice.

“What was that?” pants Eje. Ariel wants to answer, but she isn't sure if her heart will pop out of her mouth or her legs will collapse under her weight.

“It was a simple matter.” Brant is explaining loudly to everyone. “Just wait for a sucker to overcommit and grab the statuette, then take it and sprint. Well, barely even a sprint, really. I was saving my vigour in case someone tried to overtake me, but I guess that wasn't necessary. It's about speed, but also patience.” He sees Salaya doubled over, hands on her knees. “Good attempt at stopping me there, but even an ogre wouldn't have been enough at that point.” Ariel has never wanted to punch anyone so badly in her life, but it would probably be poor sportsmanship. If only she had been able to trip him up earlier. “And the lightning was on point, Amiel. Great work there. That's why we're high rated so early. Four now, but after this, we'll be first soon. Trust me.” He looks around at his team.

“Good running, Brant.” team Four is the first to walk back to camp, and the loudest. team Seventeen follows them, heads low. The soldier follows them with the torch, leaving team Twenty-Four in the darkness to catch their breath.

“Come on.” says Ariel eventually, leading them back toward the castle. “I think we did well considering how uncertain we all were.”

“I almost had it.” fumes Eje. “I just needed more support. I couldn't fucking dodge them all myself. What were you doing there, Ariel? Did you fall asleep?”

“I did my best.” says Ariel, defending herself. “I would have held them all back if I could, but I could only manage one at a time.” It hurts to feel like she was the reason they lost. And is especially hurts to feel Eje target her. All the things she was told earlier in the day about teamwork and synergy and skill are coming back to her now. She didn't remember any of that during the fight.

“And what was that back there, Salaya? You could have stopped him, but you screamed and ran away.” Salaya says nothing. “Did you fall in love with Brant and his stupid laugh or what?”

“No I didn't.” insists Salaya. “I just got...a little scared, ok?”

“Scared?” Eje kneads her eyes with her knuckles. “You got scared and we haven't even been in a real fight. The 'Best Colour Mage from Three Peaks', huh?”

“I've been in real fights before. It's just...” her voice trails off and she pulls up her left sleeve, examining her arm in what little moonlight there is.

“Don't be such a plodder next time.” says Eje.

“I'm not, you spoiled bitch.” snaps Salaya. “Don't call me that again.” She grabs and twists on her bare arm.

“Are you ok?” asks Ariel. The strange thing is, she feels a sense of relief at seeing the blame shift from her to Salaya. There's something unnerving about Eje when she gets angry, a coldness that looks down on them as though they have nothing to offer. As though the more Ariel wants to be successful and help the team, the less seriously Eje will take her. She wonders if it's too late to catch up with Garsun.

“Fine, fine. I'm sorry, alright? I just want to go to bed.”