The dawn broke pale and yellow, like a bruise, framed by thin, pale fingers of morning clouds.

The horses were finished. The poor creatures snorted, breathing heavily and frothing at the mouth. Their riders were faring only marginally better. Kanick was slumped in his saddle, struggling to keep awake even as he glanced nervously over his shoulder at the road, although he could barely see half a mile until the road bent around the valley behind.

Bera, despite his youth, was even worse. The bottom half of the sleeve of his robe was brown with dried blood, save for a black, wet focal point where the demon had slashed him. The wound had already bled through the bandages.

It was simply not clotting, and Kanick had other worries about it.

"I think we have lost them," Kanick announced, hoping it was true. The apprentice didn't stir. "Bera!" He called and the boy's head jerked up. "I think we've lost them."

"Who- Who were they?" Bera's voice was faint and broken. There was fear in it.

"They were mages, loyal to Palregon," Kanick thought about that for a moment. "No, rather Mages recruited to The Sons of the Prince or some other similar group. His aims found sympathy with some mages. The man himself is gone, but the notion of a Mage-King still appeals to some."

Bera nodded and his eyes unfocussed as he slumped further into the saddle while Kanick looked at the road behind. Still no sign of pursuit.

"Come, let me look at that wound."

They dismounted, and Bera nearly collapsed as his feet hit the ground. Kanick walked over, rolled up his apprentice's sleeve and carefully unbound the wound.

It was as he feared. Under the mass of dried blood, the wound was seeping. Not only blood, but yellow puss all leaking from three red, wet mouths. The skin surrounding the wounds was of an angry complexion and the whole forearm was swollen.

Tentatively Kanick felt the limb and although his gloved hands couldn't discern much from the wound, the apprentice winced in pain and twisted his arm away with a cry. "The wound is already beginning to fester," Kanick told him and Bera's face blanched.

"Will I...?"

"I am no healer, but I have seen many such wounds. I make Dorran to be a day's ride and we can get more help there. For now, I may have a spell." Kanick dove into his satchel and took out a rune for cleansing. He slapped it over the wound and activated the mark, already feeling the weariness the spell would bring.

He activated the rune and Bera's wound erupted into purple sparks. Simultaneously Bera screamed, clutching the wounded limb and crumpled to the floor, whimpering. After a moment the boy's frenzied, gasping breath slowed and became more deliberate. Kanick helped him off the road and dressed the wound.

"The spell was one of cleansing, it should help. We can be in Dorran by evening." He hoped the cleansing spell could counteract whatever was acting in the wound.

By the time evening descended upon them Kanick had tied Bera's horse to his and was leading both man and beast through the gate of Dorran. The town was similar to Merryton in both size and layout, though the Aaton road ran right through it, instead of by, making the High Street of the town unusually wide and dominated by inns for travellers.

Wearily Kanick dismounted. He left Bera on his horse, barely conscious. Hold on, he thought as he approached the group of guards at the gate.

"What's wrong with him?" Their captain nodded towards Bera.

"We were waylaid on the road, just south of the scar. We're bound for Woodbend on business for the Order. There was a demon, one of Palregon's creations, and a group of rogue mages in league with it." He offered as much information as he could. Bera groaned and he knew this rapidly becoming a question of life and death for his apprentice.

The captain looked concerned and was clearly wondering whether to let them past. "I saw those things in the war, I'm not happy to hear this report."

"Please, my apprentice is badly injured and I fear his life may lie in the balance," Kanick was beyond caring for what his apprentice might overhear. "Is there any help in Dorran?"

The captain grimaced, "We have no mages here, only in the keep-"

"That will do," Kanick answered hurriedly.

The guard directed them to the main keep, off the highstreet and up the main hill. "Tell them Regnalt has given you passage into the castle, and that if you're delayed, I'll have their bollocks."

"Thank you," Kanick said, his mind now a little more at ease that the guard was sympathetic. "Where did you fight?" He asked as he mounted the horse again.

"I was in Sentinel Wood, when the war ended. We had all prepared ourselves to die like all the others but then two mages walked through the forest and ended the war." He looked off down the road. "Speed be with you, Master Mage," he said and nodded for his troop to open the gate.

Kanick rode as quickly as he dared in the sparse evening traffic, knowing every moment could be crucial now. The main keep was a stout square tower that dominated the heart of the town, separated from a central square by a deep trench, in which the product of a week's rain now lay stagnant.

The guards at the keep were less helpful, though Kanick passed on the Captain's orders and they were admitted under the supervision of one of Regnalt's men.

A chamberlain met them in the great hall as Kanick helped his apprentice across the rich, blue carpet bordered with gold.

"Please," Kanick breathed, struggling with the effort of holding a groaning Bera. "Fetch your mage, tell him we have one wounded." The chamberlain looked disapprovingly at the spots of red falling onto the carpet but made no comment as he went to fetch the mage.

Moments later a young woman, her black hair tied in a bun, came through the door the chamberlain had left through. She was about twenty years Kanick's junior, though her triangular shaped face and sharp features carried the lined expression of anxiety. She wore loose-fitting green robes, bordered with black embroidered flowers at the hem and her chest bore the sigil of a red star on a silver shield; the symbol of Aaton.

The court mage ignored Kanick and went straight to Bera, wordlessly examining his wound. She tutted upon seeing the blood sodden bandages and Kanick felt absurdly self-conscious that he was being criticised.

For the first time she acknowledged the old wiry mage holding up her new charge. "What happened?"

"We were attacked near the Scar. One of Palregon's demons, bestial in form and mind, but it managed to slash my apprentice's arm."

She nodded as though Kanick was confirming what she already suspected. "We must get him to the infirmary. It's not far." She took Bera under his other shoulder and together they began to half walk, half drag the apprentice towards a stout wooden door.

"I am Kanick," Kanick introduced himself, "My apprentice is Bera."

"Xixi," The court mage replied.

Progress felt achingly slow, as they manoeuvred Bera down a spiral staircase and then to thick wooden door at the end of the hallway. The infirmary was a large room with beds arranged in rows. Each bed was attended by a large wooden set of shelves which formed a barrier between neighbouring beds and held stoppered clay flasks and ampoules.

"Here," indicated Xixi and they gently placed him on the nearest bed.

She immediately began to get to work, cutting apart his robe and the bandages underneath. She grabbed two of the flasks from the nearest shelf and began to apply the oils within. There was a small table next to the bed, with a lamp, which she then lit, while pulling out a set of knives and needles from a leather pouch.

"You should leave," she told Kanick.

He nearly protested, that he could stay and help but then he remembered he was no healer, and he wouldn't be able to trace new marks for her.

"Tell me, will he lose the limb?" Kanick wouldn't be able to face the boy if so.

"He may lose his life," she replied matter of factly. Kanick sucked in air between his teeth. "But if he doesn't," she added, "he should keep the limb. The wound is mostly clean, it is the rest of him that is poisoned. Now go, I must work. The Chamberlain can prepare a room in my quarters, if you wish."

"Thank you," Kanick breathed, grateful, as he left the court mage to her work.

He walked, lost in thought, back towards the great hall. He kept analysing the moment over and over again, wondering if he should have been more aggressive against the creature, should he have thrown his sword, tried to distract the demon earlier? He should have anticipated the danger of the scar and kept going, he should have asked Xhou to draw up marks to better combat such a creature. He should have prepared his apprentice better!

If Bera recovered, Kanick resolved to double his efforts for the apprentice's education.

Such was the extent of Kanick's daydreaming that he nearly walked directly into the Chamberlain on his way through the hall.

"My lord, Chamberlain," Kanick addressed him. "Xixi has asked that rooms be prepared for me in her quarters."

The short bald man looked up to him with distaste.

"Edold," he called over to where two servants were vigorously scrubbing at the carpet. The larger of the two looked up and approached them. "Please show the Mage to Xixi's quarters and have a suite prepared." He turned back to Kanick. "My lordship requests the honour of your presence at breakfast. I personally find it very discourteous that you did not seek his permission before requisitioning his court mage." The Chamberlain sniffed dismissively. "Breakfast is served at the ninth hour, I bid you good evening."

"This way, lord," mumbled Edold and directed him to another staircase at the back of the hall. They ascended three floors, ignoring three or four doors on their way before Edold stopped at the top of the staircase. "This is the Court Mage's apartments. The guest suit is the first door on the left," Edold mumbled.

Kanick thanked him and entered finding himself in a long corridor. He took the first door. The room beyond was sparsely furnished, though clean, with a large feather bed and a desk for writing, either notes or runes. There were strips of paper - albeit not of the quality of mage-made paper - and ink, which reminded him of his saddlebag still attached to his horse.

Wearily, and with reluctance, Kanick dragged himself back down the stairs and asked Edold, who was still scrubbing the floor, where the stable could be found. He discovered that the keep was in fact a courtyard, with stables directly inside. None of the guards or servants challenged him on his way, and Kanick assumed word of his arrival had now spread throughout the retainers.

Upon his arrival back in the room, laden with saddlebags containing their swords and armour, he found someone had set a timed candle burning. He dumped the saddlebags and walked to the room's only window.

Looking out, he could see the rooves of the town below, chimneys through thatched rooves billowing smoke. Even though the rain had held off, it had left an unseasonal chill still in the air. His room faced the hills, clustered along the horizon, where they had fought the demon less than a day ago.

With a worried sigh Kanick pulled himself away from the window. He sat at the desk and deliberately, carefully, removed his leather gloves, gasping at the stiff pain and the rawness that had never left. The skin underneath looked as though it had been melted, thick and veined with raised scars.

He took out a sheet of paper, his heart beating nervously in his chest. Kanick told himself to calm down, that there was only him in the room. He picked up the quill, between thumb and forefinger, and tried to bend his hand to hold it properly. The stiff fingers wouldn't respond beyond a twitch. Taking his left hand, he forced the digits into the required position.

Pain shot up his wrist and into his back as he gasped, and tears pooled in his eyes. He managed to dip the quill into the inkpot embedded within the desk, his fingers protesting violently against the movement of every minute sinew in his arm. Still, despite the pain, there was ink on the quill and paper in front of him.

He touched quill-tip to paper, the rune he had in mind was a simple one to make a fire; it didn't take much direction for magic to do that anyway. Kanick traced the first line and the quill fell right through his too-loose fingers.

"Piss," Kanick cursed and kicked at the desk. As he twisted, his hand cramped and pain lanced across his chest. "Consign it!" He yelled again, clutching at the angry appendage as he fell from the stool onto the hard floor.

He rolled, grabbing at his hand with the other and trying to soften it open by digging his numb thumb into the offending palm. It was like trying to soften a boulder and unyielding pain washed through him. Kanick managed to get onto his stomach and flatten his palm against the cool stone, which provided some relief.

He lay like that, breathing heavily for a few moments, pressing his hand further into the stone, tears now flowing freely down his face and not simply from the pain.

Instead, shame flowed over him. How was he supposed to teach an apprentice if he couldn't even draw the simplest of marks? For the first time he felt sad for his apprentice. Perhaps Kanick could temper the boy's headstrong nature and teach him wisdom, but in terms of magic there was very little he could do. As he got up and undressed for bed, it was hard to shake the feeling of failure.

I should never have left, he thought to himself glumly and decided to compound his self-pity by admonishing himself for the lack of progress towards Woodbend and their true mission. It was with these dual failures, of his apprentice and his old friend, rattling around his head that he managed to finally sleep.