The following morning was an early one. Thal was out of bed, washed, dressed and had begun eating breakfast all while the world was dark outside his window. “Sunrise” Hunter had said. He did not want to be late to his first quest. Before leaving he decided to check on his pack for a fourth time. He seemed to have enough necessities and was happy with the apprentice robes he was wearing. He moved to leave his room and paused in the doorway.

The ring.

Ardently, he took it from the drawer, put it on. At last feeling ready, he got on his way. Despite the early departure Thal’s mother was awake and waiting by the door, ready to say goodbye. Thal hugged Tharmisa, checked for the fifth time that he had everything he needed and set of for the North Gate of the city. The sun had begun peeking over the city walls before he arrived, where he found the adventurers all saddling up horses. I don’t suppose they would notice just a little tardiness.

The group looked just like they had in the tavern; the half-orc in her iron cuirass with the chiselled, stern muscles, the red-headed man in his faded blue coat with a repeating crossbow in a casing attached to his saddles, the Okatani fellow with the robe-like garb and the peculiar halberd-like weapon, the goliath from the frozen north with his less-then-white hide armour and the Vanaran ape-man with his orange fur and vest and trousers of many pouches. The Vanaran was the first to greet him.

“You’re late” he said as he held out his hand.

Thal moved to shake the man’s hand.

“Not your hand. Your bags.”

“Oh, right. Of course” Thal uttered quickly, hoping the others wouldn’t notice.

The Vanaran snatched the pack out Thal’s hand, and rather than strap it to the horse’s saddle proceeded to feel the weight of the pack. Abruptly he opened it and peered inside.

“You come late, you don’t dress for travelling and you pack mostly books” the Vanaran stated, turning his head towards the young atmer, “I think you really are a wizard.”

Thal smiled, taking it as a compliment.

Hoping that was a compliment.

“My name is Namu, I’m from Vanara. It’s nice to meet you, wizard.”

“I’m Thal, I’m an atmer. It’s nice to meet you, too.”

Namu said nothing but his dark eyes lowered slightly and started shifting; he was trying to spot Thal’s gills.

“See” Thal said, turning his head and pulling down his collar, showing off the five gill-slits starting below his ear and running down the side of his neck.

“So you are. So you are…” trailed the Vanaran.

Namu proceeded to help Thal load his pack onto what he figured was his horse; a black gelding with grey-dappled flanks. Thal didn’t know much about horses, but this one seemed a little old. He was appreciative for Namu’s help; Thal hadn’t travelled in quite some time and couldn’t remember exactly how properly to fit the pack to the saddle. After everything was ready Namu walked to his own horse and mounted it. His assuredness in doing so caused Thal to worry about his own riding ability.

How’s my favourite mage doing?”

Thal turned his head to see a smiling Hunter walking towards him.

“I see you’re all ready to go. Good, good.”

Thal just nodded, still nervous. What do I say?

“So today’s the big day. We’re not expecting to see the escapees until at least tomorrow, given their head start. We know they left the city from this gate and we know they were last seen moving North-East. So we’re going to ride out in that direction and try to find their tracks. We’ve mapped out a few places we think they would have likely stopped or sheltered on their way, so we’re going to be stopping by and searching those as well. That all sound good?”

“Yep” replied Thal, processing the information while conjecturing how exactly adventurers spoke to one another.

“That’s what I like to hear” smiled Hunter, before heading back to his own horse; a bay, not as tall as Thal’s, but with wider shoulders. Younger, too.

Thal looked dejectedly at the empty saddle in front of him.

It’s been - what? - three years since I last mounted one of these things.

He waited a little until he didn’t think anyone was watching, jammed his left foot in the stirrup closest and pulled himself up onto the saddle, holding tightly onto the reigns. The gelding shuffled about a little, adjusted to the weight of its new rider and then settled down.

I suppose experienced is a better word than old.

The half-orc rode to the front of the group. “Move out!” she called, just like Thal had always imagined they did in the military.

At her command the group all rode towards the gate and out into the country. The land was beautiful outside of the castle gates at that time of year; the verdant-green rolling hills were speckled thinly with oaks and willows, while the still rising-sun gave an orange hue to everything. But Thal was more focused on the horse than on the scenery. He was at the back of the group and hoped none would turn around and notice his rustiness in the saddle.

The city of Berrus is a bastion, a safe zone, an island in a sea of monsters and criminals. To venture beyond the gates unprotected is to sign off on one’s own death. The plains and the woods are filled to the brim with evil-hearted men and fearsome, violent creatures. Just last week I ventured foolishly into the wilds to go walking, and was set upon by a ravenous beast, a creature my own height with sharp, terrible fangs bared in its drooling mouth. “I’m sorry” told the beast’s owner to I, “he’s usually ever so good with strangers”. Balderdash! The thing was hungry for my blood! Next time I will not leave my wand in my desk, and I will not be so merciful.

A letter to the Governor’s Office regarding the keeping of dogs on leashes outside of city walls - Hobse Mugwich

The fear of falling down from his horse faded - mostly - as the morning went uneventfully by. The group kept a good pace and covered a lot of ground. Not in the direction Thal would have expected – they shied away from any of the main roads leading to Berrus and before long were headed along narrow paths into woodland – but Thal supposed that was exactly the sort of route a group on the run would take. None of the party spoke much.

I wonder if they’re always this quiet. Maybe they’re just sleepy.

Thal also noted that whenever the half-orc gave orders – which seemed to be every time she spoke – the others just referred to her as “Boss”. She would tell Hunter to ride ahead and scout; “Yes Boss.” She would ask the Vanaran to examine some marks in the road; “Yes Boss.” Thal decided he would refer to her as Boss as well, though he couldn’t help but wonder what her real name was.

After a few hours of riding the group stopped in a small clearing to eat a light breakfast. Being a more reasonable hour of the day, the adventurers seemed to have woken up fully and some light conversation started. The goliath and the Vanaran were having an exchange about which of their cultures made the greatest breakfast food. Namu insisted that jungle-fruits roasted with spices were simply the greatest way by which anyone could start their day. While the goliath, whose name Thal discovered to be Toka, was adamant that nothing could be greater than walrus-meat, prepared in the style of his tribe. That style turned out to be “boiled.” Everyone seemed to have an opinion, except Boss. She sat away from the group, silent and mechanically eating her breakfast. Thal watched her as she finished her meal, stood up and walked over to them.

“Party’s over, we’re wasting daylight. Saddle up and get moving.”

“Yes Boss” they replied unanimously, Thal included. The party soon set off on their horses and the conversation turned to wine.

“You drink wine, Thal?” Hunter asked.

“I, uh. Yeah.” Well said, Cthalamus.

“What do you think? Is Okatani wine the best, as Sun says? Or Vanaran fruit-wine?”

“I’ve never tried either, I’m afraid. But I heard Okatani wine is amazing.”

“You see?” said Sun “The reputation speaks for itself.”

“I see. But the wizard has never tried the wine. So why would we listen to him?” asked Namu.

The Vanaran had a peculiar way of speaking, Thal noted.

Very quick-spoken, but why does he never use contractions?

“What about Aequor?” asked Hunter. “Where the Atmere come from? They make any good wine there?”

Thal had the perfect response, he’d been asked that question before.

“You can’t make wine from fish. Or at least nobody’s been brave enough to try yet.”

A chuckle arose from members of the group as Thal resisted the urge to physically pat himself on the back.

The next question was Sun’s; “Are there any real Atmere foods you’d recommend? I’ve never been to Aequor myself.”

“Honestly, neither have I. Born in Aren lands and raised in Berrus. The only Atmere food I could suggest would be my mother’s cooking. Which is excellent, by the way.”

Thal couldn’t be sure, but he thought Hunter and Boss shared a look the moment those words reached them.

“But you speak Atmere, right?” Hunter asked. “You said so back at the inn.”

“Oh yeah, I was raised in an Atmere village. You know, those ones you find up and down the coast.”

Right up until it was burned down.

Thal felt his left index finger slowly trace the engravings of waves on his father’s ring. Hunter quite swiftly changed the subject, by goading Namu into talking about fruit-wine some more.

Mid-afternoon came, as it always does eventually, and that meant lunch. Firstly a suitable clearing by the road had to be chanced upon. Next the horses were unsaddled and given feed-bags. Then rations were handed out and the party sat down to eat. Thal found himself sat cross-legged on the grass, between Hunter and Sun, feasting on bread and dried fruit.

“So you’re the wizard,” Sun began, “Boss is obviously a fighter, and Toka has that bow of his, and those spears. Can you guess everybody else’s roles?”

“Well mine should be obvious” interjected Hunter.

Sun laughed, “You hold the irreplaceable position of ‘crossbow-owner.’ What do you think Namu does?” he asked, directing his attention back to Thal.

“He’s a tracker, right? He’s the one who will track the escapees.”

“Exactly right” smiled Sun.

“I am also the sneaky one” said Namu, who had been standing right behind Thal.

The young atmer almost dropped his bread roll while springing up, as Sun and Hunter fell about laughing.

“I had warned them that no good comes from surprising a wizard. Thankfully you are not as ready to make things explode as other wizards are.”

Should I have been?

“And what do you think I am?” Sun asked, while Thal sat back down. Thal looked to his side, where his peculiar not-a-spear, not-a-halberd weapon lay.

“You’re a fighter?” Hunter made a sardonic sort of chuckle, to which Sun made an expression of faux-incredulousness.

“I’ve been in a fight or two, as you well know. But that’s not my role.”

“Healer?” was Thal’s next guess.

“What gave me away?”

If we were chasing down a group of escaped criminals, miles from the nearest town and without a healer I’d be headed straight home.

Thal didn’t share that thought, however.

“Just a hunch” was his more astute response. “Which deity do you follow?”

“Bul-khan.”

Who?

Thal had no idea what his new companion just said. Sun must have seen the confusion on Thal’s face, or more likely was used to having to explain himself every time he was asked that question.

"He’s an Okatan deity. Don’t worry, nobody here knows who he is. But rest assured, anything short of decapitation I can have you back on your feet.”

Comforting.

“Saddle up. We leave in five” Boss called. Her language, Thal decided, was orders. And they were carried to the letter.

Save for that short lunch-break, the party did not stop riding until the sun was starting to set. Thal had camped outside before, but never in a group such as this, so he was unsure what the procedure was. First they rode a short distance away from the path, until they reached a spot far enough away that they couldn’t be seen from the road. Once they found a suitable location, everyone went about their different jobs. Sun, seemingly the most animal-friendly of the group, took everyone’s horses, tethered them and fed them. Toka; despite his zeal for boiling food, was apparently the cook of the group. He took a large iron pot that hung from his saddle and started cutting up vegetables that appeared from his packs. Hunter grabbed his crossbow and set off to find “something meaty” and Boss took her axe and shield to secure their surroundings. Thal wasn’t entirely sure what “securing” entailed, but his heart went out to anything Boss found in the surrounding scrub that she didn’t want there.

That left Namu and Thal. Namu explained – in brief terms - that it was normally his job to look for any edible herbs or fruits, and that Thal should accompany him and look for firewood. On their walk, the Vanaran started some idle conversation, mostly about Atmere. They were questions Thal had answered many times in his life, but he was eager to make another friend in the group.

“Can Atmere really breathe underwater?” Was the first of the Vanaran’s inquiries.

“Yep, you remember my gills?” replied Thal, pulling his collar down to fully reveal the slits in his neck once more, “They’re not just for looking pretty.”

The Vanaran leaned in for a closer inspection, though he deigned not to comment on them, only asked another question.

“Is it also true then, that the Atmere speak with fish?”

“Excuse me?”

“As I am speaking with you.”

“No. We don’t.”

Thal had answered that particular misguided question before, and had learnt short answers were usually the best. There was a pause, as Namu seemed to contemplate this information. A silence came about.

What is he thinking about so deeply?

“What about dolphins?” Thal nearly tripped.

The conversation carried on like this for some time; Namu leading them through the woods and asking increasingly unusual questions, and Thal answering as politely as he could while gathering firewood. As the sun continued to set, the forest grew darker around them. The Vanaran grumbled something about not being able to see anything in the low light.

“I can help with that!” Thal proclaimed a little too excitedly, he realised, upon seeing his first opportunity to be of use.

He drew his wand and spoke the words “Bol Lsych” while performing the simple accompanying flourish. From the end of his wand came a small ball of pale light. It hovered steadily in front of the pair, illuminating the ground around them as they walked. Namu just nodded his approval. It wasn’t a powerful or even complicated spell, but it served its purpose. Thal once more resisted the urge to congratulate himself.

Upon returning to the clearing, the pair found themselves entering what was now a real campsite; fed and tethered horses, unloaded equipment and unrolled sleeping bags. In the centre a spot had been cleared and tree branches had been used to suspend up Toka’s pot, which was now filled with water. Thal rushed over and placed the wood he had collected under the pot. He then drew his wand, made a swift motion along with a simple utterance and a spark shot out and landed neatly upon the firewood, where it grew quickly into a modest fire.

“Now…” said Hunter, also entering the camp “anybody else hungry as I am?”

His crossbow was slung over his right shoulder and in his left hand he was holding four rabbit’s carcasses by their ears.

Hunter the hunter.

“You came back here from the west. From the road. I thought we agreed you would steer clear of the paths. Why do we camp away from the road if you give away our position so freely?”

Thal would have described Boss’ voice as a snarl, but that might strike a little too close-to-home for a half-orc.

“You won’t be complaining when we add a bit of flesh to the pot.”

The calm of Hunter’s demeanour seemed out-of-place in the face of a seething Boss. The two quietly argued while Toka set about skinning and cooking the rabbits and preparing the various greens Namu had collected. Altogether it made for a fulfilling meal, though none spoke as Boss glowered and Hunter tried his best to seem nonchalant. Over dinner, Namu explained their watch system to Thal. Each night on the road, teams of two people would stay awake and keep look-out, for as long as they judged a third of a night to be. It was decided that Thal would go first with Toka, who always took the first shift. Apparently once the goliath went to sleep the measures required to awake him were formidable. Apparently the necessary volume rendered camping away from the road pointless. Thal agreed to take first watch with Toka, hoping to make another friend.

By day the trees hide a thousand eyes. By night they grow ears.

Vanaran Proverb - Unknown

The horses were fed and the adventurers were slumbering. The sun set and forgotten, the forest was dark and cold and silent. Save for the warm crackling of the campfire, nothing stirred in the woods. Thal stirred, a little. He enjoyed silence better than most, but it had been at least an hour and Toka had not uttered a word. He had not moved either, not even raised a hand to scratch or shifted in his position seated on the ground in front of the fire.

The man could have been carved from stone. Or he could have died and I haven’t noticed yet.

Toka must have sensed his companion’s unease, as he was the first to speak.

“Is everything alright, young mage?”

“Everything’s fine, thank you.”

Silence followed. The goliath took one long intake of breath, then slowly exhaled as he returned to his statuesque motionlessness. Thal racked his brain for a topic of conversation, his eyes moving around the campsite for some inspiration. Eyes landed on the goliath’s wrist, where his sleeve had been pulled back.

He has tattoos! Everyone loves to talk about their own tattoos.

“What’s that on your wrist, Toka? They don’t look like the tattoos most Altoman folk get.”

Truthfully tattoos were a genuine rarity in the empire. At least in the older territories. The short amount Thal had read on goliaths did not mention tattoos either.

“These are not tattoos.” The goliath spoke deliberately as he drew back the sleeve of his furs, revealing intricate combinations of both wide and narrow curving lines colliding, merging and separating as they wove across his skin. “These are runes. It is an ancient magic of my people.”

To Thal’s eyes, it looked almost as if the lines sat within little grooves on the goliath’s skin, like they had been cut in, but that must have been a trick of the light.

“Magic?”

“Yes, magic. Not like yours. There are no bright flashes of lightning and fire. But it is real.”

Thal had read exhaustively about the different pathways through which different peoples had accessed magic. Goliaths had never come up, though he did not doubt the giant of a man sitting next to him.

“Would you mind if I sketched some of those patterns?”

Thal knew his fair share of runes, too. And Toka’s were quite unlike any of them.

“I would prefer it if you did not. These are important. They should not be drawn without good cause.”

“I understand.”

Thal remembered Hobse expressing a remarkably similar sentiment once, a long time ago, though Thal could not recall the subject of the gnome’s solemnity.

“Tell me, Thal, about the magics of the Atmere. I imagine they are quite wonderful.”

“Honestly, I don’t know. I’ve only ever studied classical Draconic magics.”

Wait; the book!

“Toka, would it be alright if I read while we kept watch?”

“Yes. That is why I requested to share first watch with you. Wizards usually read more than they talk.”

Thal laughed, but Toka decidedly did not. I guess he wasn’t joking.

There are a lot of differences between Atmere magic and the traditional style I was first tutored in. In the classical, draconic-derived style of magic, there are maybe thousands of unique spells and for each of the basic ones, there is a more complicated and more powerful spell waiting to be learnt. Mastery of this style thus requires learning, memorising and practicing increasingly specific and increasingly powerful spells. Atmere magic, however, is built around the elements. I remember from my childhood, my father’s ability to command the powers of fire, ice, water, earth and lightning, and to twist those powers into producing amazing results. In Atmere culture new spells are not studied and memorised as in Draconic magic, they are honed and developed personally by each mage. For example; with Draconic magic; a ”fireball” and a “wall of fire” are two entirely separate spells, each needing to be learnt and practiced before the mage can cast either. However for an Atmere mage, both spells would involve casting fire just the same. But the mage would have to meditate on the element, and practice with it before having strong enough control over fire to build a wall with it.

Memoirs of a Wizard – Cthalamus Allaris

With Toka firmly in his statue form, Thal dived eagerly into his Atmere spellbook. There was a preface attached – Thal assumed by the non-Atmere mage who had been studying the book before Hobse procured it – listing information about Atmere mages his mother had already explained to him, and his father before that. The mystery academic detailed how Atmere rarely used wands or staves, as it would be difficult to wield one while underwater. As a result, Atmere most commonly used rings or sometimes amulets. The book’s previous owner also wrote about the societal role of mages in Atmere communities. They most commonly worked in the Atmere Navy, assigned to a vessel and working alongside sailors and soldiers, escorting trade ships or defending Atmere interests. This, Thal also already knew. He remembered the stories his mother told him about his father, about how they met while living on the same ship; he as a mage and she as an alchemist.

There were several other chapters in the beginning that laid out the history and mythology behind Atmere magic, but Thal couldn’t help himself from skipping ahead to the book-proper and reading about some of the basic spells. Each took up a couple of pages in the book. There were illustrations along with the specific details of each one; what exactly it did and how difficult it was to manipulate the elements into those forms. And just like all his other spell-books there was an incantation. However in this book there was no Draconic text like he was accustomed to; here the original spoken components were all written in Atmere. As was the entirety of the rest of the book.

I can hardly remember reading something in Atmere that my mother didn’t write for me.

During his early years Tharmisa would translate most of his children’s stories into Atmere for him to read. Later on she would write out more pedagogic Atmere text – usually something about alchemy – and have Thal read them. As he grew older still she would make him write short essays in Atmere, about whatever he was learning at Caer.

It always seemed like such a pain at the time.

Thal was also happy to rediscover he could cast in his native tongue. The Draconic language always added an extra layer of difficulty to his studies in the past. But speaking in Atmere came as naturally to him as breathing. He flicked through the pages of the spell-book gleefully, wondering which would be his first Atmere spell. His and Toka’s watch ended all too soon, and they awoke Namu and Sun and went to their own bedrolls to sleep themselves.

After just one more chapter.