“I have no idea,” Jack said, breathing heavily. Kel guided him away from the tall stone dome to sit him down against a stalagmite.

“Not in that library of yours, then?” Kel asked, examining the bleeding wound on his shoulder.

“No,” Jack said, wincing as she peeled a blood soaked strip of fabric from the cut.

Kel hummed, apparently pleased by something. “Good thing I'm here to take care of you.”

“Yes,” Jack said, straightening suddenly as he focused on Kel. There was something strange in her tone. “A good thing.”

Kel kept humming as she worked, removing the frayed edges of Jack's shirt from his wound, picking out individual threads that had come loose. When the wound was clear, Kel took her knife to both his sleeves, removing the bloody fabric first. The clean sleeve was repurposed for bandages, and in short order the bleeding was stopped.

“We should get you back to my brother,” Kel decided. “That wound needs to be healed.”

Jack frowned, shaking his head. “I'm not going anywhere until I've had a look at that dome,” he disagreed.

“You want to keel over from blood loss and whatever that thing did to you down here?” Kel asked coolly. “I can't carry you back through the crevice, so that means leaving you here with Skorm knows what else prowling around while I go get Duran.”

“I'm not going to keel over,” Jack said crossly. “I have to inspect this thing; I have no idea what it did to my Will channels.”

Kel raised her eyebrows. “Can you even cast your spells right now? You are aware that troll breeding grounds do sometimes have trolls wandering about them?”

“This is completely beyond anything I've ever heard of,” Jack said hotly. “If you think I'm just going to walk away--”

“The whatever it is isn't going anywhere. It’s been here for a while, and I think it's going to be here for a while yet,” Kel interrupted him. When he opened his mouth to continue arguing she held up her hands to forestall him. “Since it means so much to you, I'll guide you here again, but only if you come with me now,” she said, swallowing hard as she braced herself for something. “And you won't speak a word about this place to anyone.”

Jack glared at the mountain woman, hackles up at the attempt to order him. “I can't get help from my mentor without telling him about what happened. If you won't help me, I'll find my way back here myself.”

“You've walked the paths all of once, and you don't know where you started from after we nursed you back to health,” Kel said flatly. “Badger has defended these lands from the other clans for generations. I'm not going to let some lowlander spread word of our treasure and watch it picked over by vultures.”

“Maze wouldn't tell anyone,” Jack argued. “You can trust him.”

“What about Klessan or Whisper, whoever they are?” Kel fired back. “You think they can keep a cave lined with gems secret for the rest of their lives? Why should I even trust you to keep quiet about it?”

“I'd never do that to Duran,” Jack snapped. “He told me what happened to the Otter clan.”

“You're already going to tell three lowlanders about this place! How many people do you think they'll tell? Three can keep a secret but only if two are dead,” Kel said, repeating her earlier statement in a near hiss.

“Not every 'lowlander' has it out for you and yours,” Jack told the wild woman, half her face bathed in darkness. “I'm helping you get the learning metal, aren't I?”

“And I'm thankful,” Kel told him, cupping the side of his face, her thumb stroking his cheek, “but I'm not going to risk the safety of my clan.”

Jack glared at her one last time, doing his best to ignore her touch, before relenting. “Fine,” he said with a grunt. “I'll figure this out for myself. But you have to let me look at the dome now.”

“For a moment,” Kel agreed, letting out a breath. “Then we need to get you healed.”

Jack turned to the craggy rock that had so interested the faerie without further comment. A good third of the rough rock had been blasted away, revealing a smooth stone surface underneath. Hobbling over to it, Jack grasped at the edge of the remaining rock and gave it a wrench. The blackened stone crumbled away, more pieces flaking off the stone dome to reveal more of its smooth inner layer. The surface of the dome itself was unremarkable, save for where his bloody hand print once lay. The print was gone, but in its place was a copy of the rune branded onto his palm—or perhaps his was the copy, not the crimson mark on the dome, Jack mused.

Careful not to touch the smooth rock, Jack leaned in to inspect the rune, holding his right palm up to illuminate it more clearly. Under the glowing blue light cast, the original seemed to quiver rhythmically. Very carefully, the young Hero conjured a fae light, feeling the threads of his Will tremble at the effort. With better light to see by, Jack lowered his hand—only for the rune to stop quivering. Frowning, he directed the conjuration away and brought his marked hand up again. Under its light, the run began to quiver once more. He repeated the switch, making sure he wasn't merely seeing things. He wasn't—the rune on the dome was quivering under the light cast from his hand.

His frown deepened. Perhaps quivering wasn't the right word. He held up his left hand to his neck, feeling for his pulse. It thumped to a beat—in time with the rune on the dome. His heartbeat. Blood. Blood was the key. But another ill reaction to the dome would surely kill him...

“Alright then,” Jack murmured to himself. “Kel, hobbe blood please.”

“What?” Kel questioned, caught off guard.

“Hobbe blood. A bloody scrap of clothing would be best,” Jack said distractedly. He was looking over the rest of the uncovered stone dome intently, as if searching for something in particular.

A bloody rag was pressed into his hand and he muttered his thanks. Then he reached out and smeared the bloody cloth across the unmarked stone surface above the one visible rune on it.

For a long moment, nothing happened, the smear of blood marring the stone without apparent affect. Jack sighed with disappointment, he had been sure blood was the key. He brightened as a hopeful thought occurred to him; perhaps hobbe blood was merely incomp---

The blood smear flared and cracked like burning magnesium boiling on the surface of the stone. The burst of bright light startled Jack even as it blinded him, and he fell back with a curse.

Kel caught him as he fell, saving him from cracking his head against the ground. She stood behind him, holding him steady as his vision recovered from the bright flash of light. The spots faded from his eyes, but left the cavern seeming darker than before, and in the low visibility he was very aware of Kel's hands on his sides.

“I'm ok,” Jack said, stepping away from the wild woman. He leaned in to examine what was left of the hobble blood.

Blackened and dry, the blood was flaking from the stone dome, leaving not a trace behind. It was a stark contrast to the blood that formed the rune, still looking like it had been shed only moments ago.

“Curiouser and curiouser,” Jack muttered to himself. “Kel, can you--”

“Oh no, mysterious Hero mage type,” Kel cut him off. “You've had your look. It's time to head back to Duran.”

Jack glared at her, annoyed. “I just want to try one--”

“Nope. You already tried one thing on it and look what happened. Next thing you do will like as not blow us up,” she said with unusual cheer.

Jack stood, ready to argue further, only to sway dizzily. Kel stared at him expectantly. “Fine,” he said grudgingly. “Let's get back to Duran.”

X

“Took you long enough,” the mountain man remarked as he stared down at them from his perch atop an overturned mine cart.

“We stopped for an ale,” Jack replied flippantly, eyeing the main chamber of the mine they had first arrived in again.

“Bring me one?” Duran asked, hopping down off his perch.

“Nope. Got this though,” Jack said, raising his arm to display an elongated skull.

Duran leaned in, eyebrows raised in interest. “Where'd you find that? And what is it?”

“Found it attached to the faerie that tried to kill me,” Jack said easily.

Duran sighed, taking in the makeshift bandages covering his friend's right arm. “You couldn't keep him out of trouble?” he asked, turning to Kel.

“I did my best,” she said, laying a hand on Jack's uninjured shoulder. “But he was insistent on exploring.”

Jack snorted, and Duran rolled his eyes. “Discover anything in your explorations?”

The pair of them shared a glance, and Duran felt his interest sharpen.

“You could say that,” Kel said neutrally. “Jack can fill you in.”

“Alright then,” Duran said. He cracked his back, working out several kinks. “Let's go for a walk, shall we Jack?'

Kel leapt up onto the cart Duran had vacated as her brother led Jack down another winding mine tunnel. She hummed to herself, pleased with the way things were turning out. She would soon have her learning weapon, and perhaps just as valuably, a Hero beyond her brother who she could call to her aid.

X

After the excitement of discovering the gem lined cavern, the beaten tunnel path the Heroes now walked was dreadfully dull. Scattered mining implements rusting into the ground and the odd bone were easily avoided under the glow of Jack's fae light.

“...and I've got no idea what the Skorm cursed thing did to me,” Jack concluded his story to Duran. “I can't even ask Maze if he's ever come across anything like it, and this thing is looking more and more like his Will markings the longer I look at it.”

“The Guild Head could probably tell you exactly what it is,” Duran admitted, “but I think Kel has the right of it. If that cavern is even half as rich as you say and word got out, we'd be overrun in days.”

“Maybe,” Jack grumbled. “Doesn't mean I have to like it. If I've done permanent damage to my Will channels...” he trailed off.

Duran grunted in agreement. Losing the ability to channel their Will would be damaging for any Hero, but for someone as skilled as Jack, it would be near crippling, especially at such an early stage of his life as a Hero. “What did this stone dome look like, again?”

“Big and round,” Jack shrugged. “Most of it was still covered by the rock that had formed over it, but it looked like it was set into a pedestal too.”

“Any markings on it?”

“Not before I touched it. Didn't see any others beside this one,” Jack waved his branded hand, “afterwards either.”

“Think it was just your touch, or the blood as well?” Duran asked, scratching his chin.

“Definitely the blood,” Jack said. “The hand print I left on the stone was boiled off save for the design of the rune.”

Duran squinted at the brand on Jack's palm, his friend obligingly holding it up for him. “Almost looks a bit like the inside of the Guild Seal, doesn't it?” he observed.

“I guess,” Jack conceded. “I think it looks more like the Samarkand symbol for balance, myself.”

Duran hmmm'd, chewing his lip. “I can see that too,” he said. “Might have to hunker down in the Guild library for a bit when you get the chance.”

“No fighting with other Apprentices for a tome now, either,” Jack said, eyes lighting up. “I can just kick them out and take a corner to myself.”

“Like you didn't do that already,” Duran said with a chuckle.

Jack shrugged, grinning, but didn't deny it. Other Apprentices had learned early on that intruding on his study wasn't worth the trouble.

The tunnel they walked began to slope, and they were forced to step through a patch of bones that covered the path for several metres.

“Messy,” Jack grimaced.

Duran agreed. “They didn't have a chance. Wouldn't have fancied our chances trapped in a tunnel with rampaging trolls, either.”

“Maybe, maybe not,” jack said, tilting his hand from side to side. “I would have just slipped into my wraith form and walked out. You could have just wrestled the trolls out of the way.”

“'Wraith form'?” Duran asked, amused. “You've finally picked a name for it?”

“Eh. It's as good as any.”

“I still say you should have gone with Klessan's idea and called it your assassin form of glowy death,” the bigger man chuckled.

Jack snorted, expressing his opinion clearly. “I'll call it that when you call your muscle enhancement your macho man mode.”

Duran shook his head. “How about we just agree never to go to Klessan for naming advice?'

Jack laughed, the sound echoing down the dark tunnel. He quietened, and they fell into an easy silence. At length, they came to a fork in the path, and Duran led the way down the left branch. The floor quickly sloped upwards, opening into a small chamber. The roof was not terribly high, and had nothing on the scope of the cave discovered by Jack and Kel, but it was dotted with stalactites and stalagmites. Unlike the formations from the larger cave, however, these were covered in a strange material that glinted and shone under the conjured fae light of the Heroes.

“Living metal,” Duran announced, unnecessarily, with a sweep of his arm.

Jack surveyed the metal formations, doing a rough count. “There can't be more than thirty stalagmites here. How often do you gather the living metal?'

“Usually only once a generation. Sometimes twice, sometimes not at all,” Duran answered. “It always grows back though.”

The mountain clansman approached one of the taller stalagmites, producing a small knife from his belt and Jack followed.

“Do you know how it grows back?” Jack asked curiously. He eyed the stalactites on the roof; they were ordinary rock.

“Couldn't tell you,” Duran said, running his hands over the living metal, feeling for something. “The clan has only ever gathered it, never studied it.”

Apparently finding what he had been looking for, Duran held a finger to the metal stalagmite and brought his knife to bear. Replacing his finger with the knife point, he pressed until it sank an inch, then drew it down to the base of the stalagmite. He repeated the process several times, cutting from tip to base until he was satisfied. He then worked the knife into the cut, jimmying the blade sideways into the metal as if he were going to use it to peel the precious substance away—and then he did. Jack watched as Duran worked the edge he had cut loose form whatever it sat on, and then peeled the living metal away in one smooth motion. The metal bent easily, malleable beyond any metal Jack had ever seen, to reveal a perfectly ordinary stone stalagmite beneath.

“It's just a covering?” Jack asked, puzzled. He squinted up at the stalactites above them. “But there's no trace of it up above.”

“Strange, isn't it?” Duran said. “We've been forging it for generations, still have no idea how it forms.”

“I can't imagine not looking into something like this,” Jack admitted, watching Duran start to work the rest of the metal off.

“That's because you're too damn curious for your own good, Jack,” Duran said, shaking his head with a smile.

“No such thing,” Jack said immediately.

“That brand on your palm says otherwise,” Duran countered.

Jack grimaced, stretching his right arm out, testing the injury. “You'll have to heal me before we make the climb out of here,” he said. “Don't know if I'll make it with my arm like this.”

“My Will is rested,” Duran said by way of agreement. He finished prying the sheaf of living metal from the stalagmite and lifted it off, curling it tightly into a more manageable shape. “Hold my knife, would you? I'm going to go stand in the tunnel and think about life for a few minutes.”

Jack snorted in amusement and accepted the knife, eyeing the remaining stalagmites. He approached a promising formation and got to work.

X

Jack and Duran returned to the main cavern of the mine carrying their prizes. Kel was curled up on the cart they had left her on, apparently asleep. Her eyes snapped open as they approached, hearing them despite what stealth the Guild had taught them.

“Find anything shiny?” Kel asked as she sat up and stretched, arcing her back like a cat.

Jack looked to Duran, not wanting to be caught ogling his friend's sister. The cloth she wore across her chest did little to protect her dignity even in the dim cave, and Jack ignored the voice telling him he could still see her perfectly fine in his peripheral vision. “One or two things,” he answered evenly, keeping his thoughts from his voice. “nothing you'd be interested in though.”

Kel rolled her eyes. “Of course you didn't. It should be around midday now, and I want to feel the sun on my skin. Come on.”

Jack nodded, agreeing with the sentiment. He was not particularly enamoured with the idea of spending any longer in the mines than he had to. “Duran?” he asked, holding out his injured arm.

“Get those bandages off first,” the big man ordered. Kel moved to help, peeling the scraps of Jack's shirt from his arm.

“You need to stop getting yourself wounded,” Duran remarked as the white glow of his healing expression suffused his hands. “We'll go our separate ways and you'll start picking up all sorts of embarrassing scars.”

“Eh,” Jack grunted, finding it hard to worry at the moment. His eyes began to droop, and he leant into Kel for support. He was suddenly unbelievably tired.

“Jack?” a voice asked, sounding concerned. There was a clicking sound, and something slapped his face lightly. “Jack, stay away now,” the voice continued.

“Whozzat,” Jack mumbled, struggling to open his eyes.

“Skrom frak me,” the voice muttered. “He's having a reaction to the healing, I can feel it. This hasn't happened before.”

“Have you healed him too much? Put too much strain on his body?” another familiar voice asked, indistinct.

“I've never had to heal him as much as I have over the last few days. Shit. The cut is healing, so at least his body isn't rejecting it. Maybe that brand is reacting badly to the expression. Shit, shit.”

“Keep him awake, Duran! We can't carry him out of here on our own. We can look after him at the top of the mine, but he needs to get there first.”

An open palm cracked across Jack's cheek, jolting him firmly back to awareness. Drowsiness returned almost immediately, however, and he forced one eye all the way open. “What's going on?” he slurred out.

“You're falling asleep on your feet,” Duran said urgently. “We need to climb up to the exit before you collapse, and I can't carry you up there. Can you quicken yourself?”

“Don't have the Will. Bulk yourself up, idjit,” Jack said, eye already closed again. He leaned fully into Kel, the woman now supporting most of his weight.

There was a brief pause, an embarrassed 'oh', and then Jack stopped fighting the wave of tiredness weighing him down. He fell into a deep sleep, and he did not dream.

X x X

For the second time in recent memory, Jack woke on an animal skin bed in a large tent, alone this time. His entire body was stiff, unbearable so, and he stretched, almost groaning with pleasure as his joints cracked and his muscles stretched. He kicked off the soft hide that covered him, noting that he was clad in his brown trousers and free of all injuries. He examined his right palm, running his fingers over it. The brand was there, but it no longer glowed as it had in the caves, now seeming little more than a tattoo in blue ink. Tentatively, he reached into his Will, and he relaxed when it answered, thrumming just beneath the surface. Unlike when he had tested it after the fight against the rock troll, there was no fragility to it, no thinness; if anything it felt deeper than it had before. Perhaps he was merely feeling the difference more keenly now that he was fully recovered?

The brand also reacted to his Will, giving off a glow that was faintly noticeable even against the sunlight that shone through the tent walls. Jack let his Will fade away, and the brand returned to its inert state, little more than a strange tattoo once more. He clenched his fist, hiding it from sight. He had a Quest of his own to pursue, now.

The sound and bustle of activity intruded upon the tent, and Jack got to his feet. Seeing the pack gifted to him by Maze at the side of the tent, he stepped over to it, cataloguing his body as he went. He was surprisingly ache free. Even the gash the faerie had given him down his arm was healed, no trace of a scar remaining. He rummaged about the enhanced pack, searching for one item in particular. His hand closed around a book, and he sighed in relief. Maze's journal was still safe. The young Hero retrieved a white shirt and donned it, feeling a chill now that he was out from under the warmth of the hide blanket. His iron sword was nowhere to be seen, but a bowl of fruit drew his eye. He was suddenly aware of how ravenously hungry he was. A bunch of grapes was devoured in short order, followed by another. He grabbed an apple from the bowl and began to eat, slipping a second into his pocket.

Jack stepped out of the tent into the hustle of village life. Pale skinned clansmen went about their business, sparing a glance for him but little else as they hurried through a light fall of snow. Fur lined clothing seemed to be the norm, although it was a far cry from what a city dweller might imagine when thinking of hide wearing mountain people. Long cloaks and well made leather boots were the most common, although Jack also saw a woman wearing a long dress, the wrists and collar of which were adorned with soft fur. Regardless of their raiments, all were armed in some manner. Out in the open mountain air, Jack's trousers and shirt quickly proved inadequate and he drew on his Will again, using it to warm himself. He stuck his right hand into his pocket, keeping the glowing brand out of sight.

For the most part, the village was made up of small wooden houses and dirt roads, wooden planks covering the road in places to provide walkways over muddy patches of snow. There were also tent dwellings dotted along the street, paradoxically appearing richer and more comfortable with their greater size and patterns embroidered upon them. Jack walked the streets, taking in the sights and gaining his bearings as he enjoyed his apple. The village lay in the shadow of one of the Pyrepeaks, the mountains looming over them in the distance.

Despite the activity of the village, it was not overly large. It took Jack barely more than half an hour to walk around it and return to the tent he had woken in, finishing his snack in the process. For lack of anything better to do with it, he held onto the core. Looking around, he caught sight of a grizzled elder leaning against a staff, waiting for something. He approached the man, greeting him with a friendly nod.

“Excuse me. I'm looking for Duran or Kel--”

The old man hawked and spat, the sticky glob sailing past Jack's ear. The young Hero jerked back, pinning the man with a disgruntled look.

“Badger's son be at the forge with the chief himself. Badger's daughter be running through the woods who knows where, like as not conspirin' with them Foxes.”

Jack got the feeling the elder didn't much care for either of his friends. “Where's this forge then?”

The elder glared at him in irritation. “Head up the northern path. You'll find it.”

“Right. Thanks,” Jack said, sarcasm mostly masked as he turned away.

Not masked enough apparently, as the elder sent another glob of spit over his shoulder. Jack gave the man a filthy look over his shoulder, but couldn't quite find it in himself to throw a handful of flames at the man's feet. He began to walk north, looking for a path out of the village.

The path was found with little trouble. A narrow wooden arch rose over it, drawing the eye, and it quickly wound out of sight, disappearing behind an outcropping of rocks. Jack made his way along it, shivering as a particularly cold gust of breeze blew down the path, confined to it by the firs that grew on either side. He conjured a handful of flame, the warmth of his Will not quite enough to bear the cold comfortably. As he rounded another twist in the path, it occurred to him that he probably should have asked the ill tempered old man how far the path would take him.

His worry was in vain, however. The path twisted yet again before opening up to a clearing and an impressive view. The clearing was a stone shelf bare of plant life, the edge of the shelf dropping off as if some giant had taken their blade to the earth and rent open a great wound. Beyond the edge was a great valley, formed between two mountains. Glancing back in the direction he had come, Jack could guess that the village he had woken in was perched near the edge of a gentle incline that ran up one side of a mountain, while just out of sight the land they stood on dropped sheerly into the valley he now looked over. Filled with enormous firs and evergreens, Jack could even make out a waterfall at the far end of the valley. Whirls and eddies of snow swirled about in the air, and Jack's breath began to fog.

The ring of steel on steel drew his attention, and he looked to the side of the open clearing. A lonely stone structure stood at one end, an open air forge. A tall ring of stone, a mound of coal burned brightly within it while a bellows stoked the flames. Duran stood at the bellows, working it with one muscle engorged arm while his father hammered a length of glowing metal into the shape he desired.

“Duran,” Jack called, approaching his friend. He let the flame in his hand die out, the warmth put off by the forge more than sufficient.

The mountain man looked up, startled by the intrusion. He grinned when he saw who approached. “Jack,” he said. “I was beginning to think you would sleep until Skorm came home to roost.”

“How long was I out?” Jack asked, nodding a greeting to the Badger. He felt awkward, like he should be treating his friend's father with some manner of respect.

“Four days,” Duran answered, still pumping the bellows.

“What?” Jack demanded.

“You heard me. You dropped before we could even get out of the mine,” Duran said, shaking his head.

“What happened?” Jack questioned, frowning. “You were healing me, but it wasn't a large wound.”

“I've had an idea or two, but I've been waiting to run it by you before committing to any of them,” Duran said.

“It is a serious drawback to your healing expression,” Jack said, troubled. “Could've been worse though.”

“Could have, at that,” Duran agreed. He could think of a few situations he wouldn't want to fall into a sudden and overpowering sleep.

“What are you forging?” Jack asked, gesturing towards the blade on the forge. “Is that...?”

“It's the learning weapon that will be yours,” the Badger said suddenly, not looking up from his work. “You will be the first not of Clan Badger to wield one.”

“...thank you,” Jack said awkwardly. “I appreciate it.”

The Badger cleared his throat harshly. “Don't thank me. Thank my son.”

Jack looked to Duran uncertainly, raising an eyebrow, but the mountain man shook his head.

“We began the process the day we returned,” Duran said, “and the hardest part is done. I've learned much,” he added.

Jack just nodded, not sure if Duran's father knew or approved of his children's plan to forge a learning weapon for Kel. “How long have you had your muscle enhancement active?” he asked instead.

“Most of the day,” Duran said, wiping his forehead with the back of his free hand. “I've been swapping from arm to arm, but it's good practise. I could only manage half a day when we started.”

“Your Will channels are becoming accustomed to the expression,” Jack said. “Just mind you don't neglect the rest of your body, or you'll have a harder time using the expression in full.”

“I'll find something to do that needs it,” Duran said in agreement. “Maybe you could pass out at the bottom of a cave again?”

Jack rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Like I was that heavy.”

Duran took on a serious look. “I wanted to talk to you about that, actually. I don't know if you were raiding the kitchens at the Guild or something, but you--”

Jack threw his apple core at his friend, shaking his head with a smile. Duran backhanded the scrap of food before it could hit him, sending it flying out over the ledge and out of sight. The mountain man gave him a challenging smirk. Very deliberately, Jack removed the second apple from his pocket. Duran grinned, returning his attention to the forge, and Jack wandered towards the ledge, leaving the two men to their task. A mad urge took him, and he walked to the very edge and sat down, his legs hanging over the sheer drop. From his perch, the trees on the valley floor seemed small, like a child's toys. He began to munch on his apple, considering. Duran was working on his Will expressions—perhaps he should, too.

The young Hero held his left hand out, palm up, and conjured a tongue of flame. It danced lazily in his palm, swaying to and fro in the breeze the flowed around the cliff edge. He concentrated, bending the shape of the flame to his desire.

The fire proved stubborn, however, resisting his attempts to mould it into anything more coherent than an amorphous blob. He shut the out the rest of the world, all his focus concentrated on the fire in his palm and the Will in his veins. Minutes passed, and slowly, very slowly, the flame began to shape his desire, and a rough figure of a man took form.

Well. It had two stick-like arms, two stick legs, and what could charitably be called a head, but it was a man nonetheless.

The muscles in his arm began to tire, and Jack reluctantly allowed the fire to fade away. He shook his arm out, glancing around. Duran and his father still worked the forge, only they had switched tasks, Duran hammering metal while the Badger worked the bellows.

Jack brought his right arm up and conjured another flame, ignoring the rune branded to his palm as it began to glow. A small ribbon of flame sparked to life, twirling without end. The notion caught his eye; it was almost mesmerising. His mind became unfocused and blank, like he was floating on a cloud. He swirled his fingers in small circular motions, the twirling of the flame increasing in speed. He began to close his fist, and the tongue of flame started to fold in half. Either end of the strand of fire touched, and the twirling stopped. Instead, the flame began to flow in a circuit, like a river of fire in miniature.

The Hero splayed his fingers wide, and the circuit remained. It spun slightly faster, but otherwise remained unchanged. Jack frowned, feeling the expression of Will fighting to conform to the nature of the shape he had imposed upon it. He cut the trickle of Will he fed it, watching as its fuel dried up and it sputtered out. He stared at the rune on his palm for a long moment, considering.

A single finger of lightning crackled to life in his hand, arcing between pinkie and thumb. Again, he slowly closed his fist, but this time the conjured element stubbornly remained unchanged. He scowled, displeased. He had been conjuring lightning for far longer than he had fire; it followed that he should have greater control. But—perhaps that was it. He splayed his fingers open, trying not to manipulate the expression through base physical movement, but through the eddy and flow of his Will channels.

The finger of lightning seemed to split down the middle, spreading out into a circuit like it was the most natural thing in the world. Of its own accord, it began to spin, faster and faster, until it was but a blur of light in the palm of his hand. Smaller branches of lightning began to arc out to his fingers, in a random, flickering display.

Jack grinned triumphantly, his teeth bared in proud victory. An image sprang to the forefront of his mind, sudden and vivid. It was himself, older and taller, standing on the very prow of a ship as it was buffeted and tossed by waves nearly taller than the vessel itself. He wore a dark longcoat and his face bore the scars of experience. His vessel was not alone; a dozen ships of similar size bore down on it, clearly hostile. Unconcerned, his future self raised one arm and unleashed a storm from his closed fist. Lightning crackled and writhed, enveloping his body and swiftly expanding. A wave of lightning swept forth, passing through his vessel without harm—and then it hit the enemy ships.

Wood exploded violently and sails caught flame despite the spray. Foot long splinters were spat through the air and men threw themselves overboard in an attempt to escape the lightning that darted out to fry their crew mates where they stood.

Jack came back to himself, the handful of lightning still crackling as it spun. It fizzed out with a thought, leaving Jack to stare at the rune branded onto his palm. It might be that the strange marking wasn't a curse, but a boon...

A wailing screech, rising and falling in intensity, shattered the relative calm of the mountain. The pump of the bellows and the ring of the hammer ceased immediately, the Badger and Duran looking back towards the village in tense alertness. The wailing continued without rhythm, the unending rise and fall of it sending flocks of birds into flight all across the mountainside.

“Back to the village son,” the Badger said, picking up a pair of long metal tongs. He buried the glowing length of living metal in the coals of the forge, hiding it from view. “Our strength will be needed.”

Jack fell in step with the two mountain men as they strode back down the path to the village, the wailing still echoing around them. “What is that?” he asked tersely.

“Sentry alarm,” Duran answered. “A warning that the village is in danger.”

“It should not have been used,” the Badger added, frowning. “Word of attack should have been carried quietly, so that we might catch our foes unaware.”

“Maybe there wasn't time,” Duran said, lengthening his strides.

“I ordered hunters to camp all through the valley,” the Badger said. “There should have been.”

The three of them emerged back into the village, finding it a hive of activity. Women were herding children towards a large tent in the centre of the village, while the men armed themselves and gathered in the streets. Thankfully, there was no sign of the enemy yet, leaving them with precious moments still to prepare. The Badger was immediately approached by several men garbed in leather armour, relief, worry, and anticipation on their faces.

“I'm going to fetch my hammer,” Duran said, already stepping away. “Look after—Kel, if you see her.”

Jack's eyes flicked to the Badger where the man was giving directions to his hunters. He gave his friend a nod. “I'll keep an eye on things.”

Duran gave him a thankful nod and left, jogging through the village. The wailing cut off abruptly, and muttering broke out amongst the hunters gathered around the Badger. He held his arms up for silence, and his people fell quiet, watching him expectantly.

“This is a raid of fire, not profit. They mean to end us,” the clan leader said grimly. “They know that a Hero is on his way to rejoin his clan, and think to strike at us before that can happen.”

The Badger hawked and spat, ignoring the angry murmuring of his men.

“More fool them,” he said harshly, beginning to shout. “I want the scalp of each and every goat fucker that dared to crawl out of their shit stained tents to dare strike at the mighty Badger. At the end of this day, I want the keening of their women to echo through the mountains. I want their elders to piss themselves in fear when they think of the fury that the Badger will return upon them. I want their children to pray to the Mountain-Father that we might take them in!” the Badger demanded of his men, his vigour spreading to them. He exhaled heavily, fire in his eyes. “What I want, men of Badger,” he continued quietly, silence falling as every man present strained to hear him, “is for the misbegotten whoresons out there to curse they day they ever considered making enemies of us.”

Jack was startled by the sudden change in Duran's father from taciturn to vitriolic, but soon found his blood rising at the Badger's vehemence. His Will rose with his adrenaline, bubbling just beneath the surface.

The men gathered around the Badger roared and shouted their approval, bashing spears and swords against hide shields. The clan leader began to point and shout at different groups of men, directing them to different parts of the village, the largest of which went to guard the main tent in which the women and children were hidden.

“Jack,” the Badger said, approaching the young man. He eyed the Hero, grimacing. “Thank you for standing with us.”

“Duran is my friend,” Jack said, shrugging. The clan leader had reverted to his normally calm state remarkably quickly.

“I know, and I am...grateful,” the clan leader said, actually looking uncomfortable. “But to rely on the aid of an outsider is to show weakness, and for that outsider to be a lowlander as well...”

“What does it matter where I'm from?” Jack asked, eyebrow raised.

“It matters to the clans,” the Badger retorted. “When tale of this raid spreads to them, the stories must be about the men of the Badger and my son, the Hero, not my son and the lowlander Hero he brought with him for saving his life.”

“You want me to sit by and watch your village burn?” Jack demanded angrily. “While your enemies rape and pillage?”

“Don't be a fool,” the Badger said sharply. “I am thankful for your aid. But you will not stand beside Duran in this fight.”

“You want me to colour myself invisible?” Jack asked, disgruntled. He was beginning to feel like his offer of help was being spurned out of pettiness.

“No—you can do that?” the Badger asked. He shook his head, refocusing on the matter at hand. “No. I want you to go out into the forest and find the men who sounded the alarm to the south. They will need aid.”

“You've got a whole village here to defend, and those men are like as not dead already,” Jack predicted cynically. “Why send a Hero away from the fight for that?”

“My daughter was ranging the forests these past nights,” the Badger said reluctantly. “I will not ask you to look for her, but...”

“You think there's a chance she was at the lookout,” Jack said.

“A father can hope,” the Badger said, “and Durandal trusts you. We shall see if you are worthy of that trust, and mine.”

Shrieks and bellowed war cries signalled the end of the calm before the storm, and Jack had the urge to tell the Badger where he could stick his 'trust', but for the memory of his mother telling him to at least pretend respect for his elders. Memories of his family might be soured by rage and loss, but they were all he had of them.

“Jack!” Duran called, striding towards them. His hammer was slung over one shoulder, and he wore his leather jerkin. He carried Jack's sheathed sword and bracers in his spare hand. He tossed them to his friend, and Jack caught them easily.

“It's Fox,” Duran told his father, slightly out of breath. “A few of them tried to sneak in ahead of the rest.”

Fastening the clasps on his bracers, Jack noted the blood smear already present on Duran's hammer.

“How many?” the Badger asked.

“Three. All dead,” Duran said. He grinned toothily at Jack, battle lust starting to flow. “You've got some catching up to do.”

“It's only fair I give you a head start,” Jack retorted. The Badger might rub him the wrong way, but Duran had long been his friend. “I'll see you afterwards when it's over,” he said, beginning to walk away.

“What, don't think you can keep up if you fought with me?” Duran asked teasingly, but his expression betrayed his surprise.

“Can't make it too hard on you,” Jack said. “Your father is worried about the men who sounded the alarm, too.”

“Be careful out there!” Duran shouted to be heard. “Don't make me tell Whisper about the shit you've been pulling!”

“Hey!” Jack shouted back as he disappeared around a corner. “It's me!”

“That's what I was afraid he'd say,” Duran muttered to himself.

X

The snow touched beauty of the mountain village was a jarring contrast to the shouts of combat and the ring of steel on steel that Jack could hear polluting the normally calm morning air. The village lanes, once dusted lightly with snow, had been churned into muddy slush by the boots of men rushing to the defence of their village.

The young Hero headed south, hoping to find a trail either carved into the forest of left by the Fox clan attackers, that would lead him to the lookout. Given that the Badger had given him little more direction than 'to the south', he hoped it would be so easy.

Three men, clad in the likeness of the other Badger clansmen he had seen, stumbled around a corner onto the lane Jack ran along. Two of the men were supporting the third, blood running heavily down his leg. Howls and yips made by human throats snapped at their feet. A group of seven men appeared soon after, armed and ready to do violence. Each of them wore a piece of fox hide prominently displayed; one of them wore a tail tied to the end of an impressive beard.

The men of Badger put on a burst of desperate speed as they saw him. The Fox clansmen, scenting the end of their chase and eager for blood, kept pace. Jack sheathed his sword and raised his right arm.

A bolt of lightning cracked the air with a boom. It hit the man with the fox tail threaded into his beard in the chest, knocking him from his feet and throwing him down the street where he lay unmoving, smouldering.

The Badger clansmen passed him, leaving his view of his foes clear. A ball of fire bloomed in his left hand, and he hurled it at them.

Most of the Fox clansmen were able to dive out of the way. Two were not, and the fireball exploded at their feet. The screamed as they were consumed, rolling on the ground in a vain attempt to put themselves out.

The remaining four men rushed him, intent on killing him before he could loose another spell. Jack drew his sword and his form blurred forward, glowing even under the light of the sun. He appeared at the back of the man furtherest away, and he cut him down without mercy. He was on the next man before they could comprehend what had happened, his blade piercing the man through.

The last two survivors turned to face him, their guards up. Jack smirked at them, kicking their comrade off his sword roughly. They glared at him with open hatred, and he ignored the brief pang of empathy he felt. They really had no chance of beating him, let alone landing a blow so long as he was smart about slipping into his wraith form. But then, they had no way of knowing its limitations, and his inability to stay in it for longer than several seconds at a time.

Movement caught his eye, and he deliberately kept his gaze on the Fox clansmen. He opened his arms in challenge, mocking his foes. They took a step towards him, and Jack's form flared blue, a ghostly image of himself staring them down. They hesitated, and it cost them their lives. Two of the Badger clansmen they had pursued struck from behind. The Foxes died with garbled screams, and Jack cut his Will expression, letting out a sharp exhale. Holding it while standing still was even harder than holding it whilst moving.

“Thank you,” one of the men he had saved said. He was a swarthy fellow.

“Don't mention it,” Jack said, giving the pair a nod. “Can you tell me where the lookout post is? Where the alarm was sounded.”

“You'll want the southern camp. Path isn't hidden,” the skinnier of the two replied. “We'd help, but...”

Jack looked at the bodies of the men he had killed and shrugged. “I should be able to take care of myself.”

The two men laughed, and went to collect their friend from where they had left him resting out of sight. Jack continued on his way, stepping over corpses and ignoring the smell of burnt flesh. He swiftly reached the edge of the village, and then he was in the forest. There was blood on the ground, but no sign of Fox or Badger clansmen – the fighting had moved deeper into the village.

The forest, normally full of life, had fallen quiet, and the fading sounds of skirmish had Jack on edge. Every other shadow hid an enemy, every strange noise was a foe sneaking up on him.

He found what had to be the path with little trouble; it was small and looked to be only sporadically travelled but for the mass of fresh footprints trampling it. He began to run, a sense of urgency gripping him.

The sight of an armed figure rounding a bend in the trail halted Jack in his tracks. What caught his eye however, was the figure being driven before the man, her arms bound behind her back. Kel's eyes held barely checked fury and blood dripped from a thin cut down her cheek. There was a rent in her fur cloak, and blood stained its edges.

“Hold,” the armed stranger said, laying a sword on Kel's shoulder with a slap. “I have captured your chieftain’s daughter,” he declared, hardly looking at Jack as he did Brown eyes set in a bored face scanned the forest. “Tell his Badger person that if he wants to see her alive again, he will surrender to the Fox clan.”

Jack took stock of the man. His sword was one of quality, and there was a second sheathed at his hip. His armour was of similar quality; a suit of polished leather set with steel studs. Ring mail protected the vulnerable gap at the armpit and a steel gorget protected his neck. Brown hair was fastened into a short ponytail behind his head.

“Well?” the man holding Kel captive asked impatiently. “Go and fetch your chieftain.”

“Who are you?” Jack asked instead. He had a feeling this man was not a simple mercenary.

“I am Duellist, a Hero of Albion,” the man announced proudly. “Now, hurry up will you?”

Jack drew his sword, staring his foe down.

Duellist sighed. “You can't hope to beat a Hero, but if you insist...” he pushed Kel aside roughly, and advanced.

Jack waited for him to near, lunging forward when he was within range. His blade was turned aside with ease, however, and he was forced to spin to the side to avoid being skewered. A flurry of blows followed swiftly, and Jack defended desperately. His sword work had always been near the top of the class, even against peers two years his elder, but this was an opponent skilled beyond any he had faced in proper combat.

There was a rasp of steel, nearly unnoticed in beneath the ring of their blades, and suddenly Duellist's second sword was in play. Jack back-pedalled immediately, but Duellist gave him no respite. He was completely focused on defence now, the few attempts at counter attack turned aside as easily as his first lunge.

There was a discordant clang, and the superior make of Duellist's blades bit into Jack's cheaper iron sword. It was yanked from his hands with a flick, and then the second blade of his foe was angling for his gut.

Jack's body flared blue, and his insubstantial form swept through Duellist and his blades without harm. He dropped back into tangibility facing the Duellist's back – between the man and Kel. He stoked his Will in preparation, his sword lost somewhere in the forest underbrush.

Duellist turned to face Jack, his expression flinty. “Bad form there, little Hero. Bad form indeed.”

“You've taken a Quest to wipe out an entire clan,” Jack said, his tone cool. “Excuse my poor manners.”

“Oh, they won't wipe them all out,” Duellist said dismissively. “I hear the practise is to adopt the women and children into the stronger clan.”

“That makes it all ok then, does it?” Jack asked, gritting his teeth.

“You're taking his rather personally, aren't you?” Duellist observed. He sheathed his blades, but rested both hands on one hilt, ready to draw.

“My friend is a Badger. I don't take it well when someone tries to kill people important to me.”

“Understandable,” Duellist said with a shrug. “I admit, I don't particularly care for my Quest either way. Perhaps we can come to an arrangement or sorts.”

Jack hesitated, thrown by the sudden change of course. “What do you mean?”

“I have heard stories of some rather interesting weapons crafted by the smiths of the Badger clan,” Duellist said. “If one of these weapons were to be made available to me...well, I would have no reason to follow through with my Quest and put every last Badger clansmen to the sword.”

“Filthy lowlander,” Kel spat at the Hero. “You have no right to-”

“Be quiet, mountain peasant,” Duellist snapped.

Jack growled; the rumbling sound from deep within his chest surprising himself and Duellist both.

Duellist massaged his brow, sighing. “Ah. Apologies. Regardless, my offer is in your best interest. Without my aiding them, you will likely be able to defeat the Fox clansmen, and then we can see about forging one of those learning weapons for me.”

Privately, Jack thought Duran capable of handling the attack on his own, but Duellist had been surprised to encounter even one Hero; it was unlikely he suspected the presence of another. Out loud, he asked, “you're just going to abandon your Quest halfway in?”

“Of course not! How would that sound to the Bards?” Duellist asked, affronted. “No, I will allow you to 'defeat' me, and-”

“You'll allow me to defeat you?” Jack asked, his ire rising.

“Your form shows promise, but I am clearly the more skilled of us,” Duellist said disdainfully, “and you have been disarmed. Do the smart thing and take my offer.”

The slow burn of Jack's Will blazed into an inferno, the arrogance of the man before him providing the trigger. Here was a Hero who had come to kill and burn, to destroy a community simply because his greed demanded it. In Jack's mind, Duellist suddenly represented everything a Hero was supposed to stand against, and his fury skyrocketed.

Fire spewed forth from his left hand, setting alight all it touched. Duellist moved with a preternatural speed, slipping under the torrent of flame and darting towards Jack, his sword half drawn to strike. The fire stopped, and electricity arced out to meet him, only to be caught on his sword and parried into a tree where it split the trunk violently.

Duellist was nearly within striking range and Jack resorted to an expression he had last used during the raid on the Guild. Time slowed to a crawl, and Jack breathed deeply.

The lower canopy of the forest was ablaze, tongues of flame dancing impossibly slowly. Splinters from the lightning struck tree still flew through the air, and Duellist's sword was moving back for a blow that would cleave his head from his shoulders if he allowed it to land. He let out his breath and raised his right arm, rune aglow. Simultaneous Will expression was not a feat he had managed while still at the Guild, but this time, he had the control. His Will surged, and obeyed his commands.

A single finger of lightning leapt from his hand, issuing directly from the brand on his palm. Duellist's sword moved to block it, moving with speed even against Jack's slowed perception of time, but it was too slow. Time returned to its normal flow as the miniature bolt of lightning shot through his guard and hit Duellist right in the face. The Hero spasmed violently, falling to the ground with a muffled scream where he continued to shake and tremble. He still gripped his sword, his knuckles white, and his jaw was clenched tight, a muscle in it twitching uncontrollably.

Jack stepped up to the downed man and booted him square in the ribs, earning a muffled shout in response. Leaning down, he drew Duellist's sheathed blade and walked over to Kel, who had risen to her feet. He cut her bonds and the mountain woman tore the ropes from her wrists, rubbing at them to restore circulation.

“Are you ok?” Jack asked, eye the cuts Kel was sporting.

“I'm fine,” Kel said. “He was toying with me.” She spat at the incapacitated Hero and knelt next to him, fiddling with something at his belt. She retrieved a pair of familiar daggers and returned them to their hidden sheaths on her person.

“What the hell did you do to me?” Duellist said with a wheeze.

“I applied a small bolt of lightning to your head,” Jack said, smirking. “It 'allowed' me to defeat you.”

“Skorm take me,” Duellist said, his voice rough. “Didn't feel like a small bolt.”

“I can show you a big one, if you'd like?” Jack offered.

“No, no, I'll be quiet alright,” Duellist forced out hurriedly.

“Are you going to kill him?” Kel asked. She almost sounded eager.

Jack stared at Duellist, suddenly unsure, and the man snorted. When he saw that Jack wasn't rejecting it out of hand, however, he grew alarmed.

“Wait, you don't want to kill me!” Duellist said, his words almost falling over each other.

“Why not?” Kel asked. “You were going to help murder my clan. Seems only fair.”

Duellist seemed to realise how close he was to death. “Look, Hero – what's your name?” he asked nervously of Jack, his use of 'Hero' as a name lacking the contemptuous tone it held earlier.

“Jack,” the young Hero said. “My name is Jack.”

“And your renowned name?” Duellist asked.

“Don't have on yet,” Jack said with a shrug.

“You don't – blooded Avo,” Duellist muttered. “Look kid, you're new to this so I'll give you some advice for free. When you kill a Hero, his friends come looking for you. Fresh as you are, I doubt you know anyone strong enough to give mine second thoughts.”

“Maze is my mentor,” Jack said. Name dropping the Guild Head left a sour taste in his mouth, but none of it showed on his face. “Would he give your friends second thoughts?”

Duellist shifted nervously where he still lay on the ground and changed tracks. “Even if no one would want to risk Maze's wrath, word would still get out. Start killing Heroes this early in your career and no one will want to work with you.”

Jack scratched his chin, considering. He'd never properly thought about working with unknown Heroes; his group of friends at the Guild had always been so tight knit. Seeing that Jack was beginning to sway, Duellist continued.

“You defeated me squarely – even if not entirely fairly,” he said. “For that, I'll pay you what I would have earned had I completed my Quest.”

“How much was the Badger clan worth dead?” Kel asked angrily. She was not happy with the turn the conversation had taken.

“Twenty gold,” Duellist said freely. He had stopped shaking, and the rasp in his voice was fading. “And for you, I'll throw in the details of whatever you want to know about the Fox clan,” he added to Kel, seeking to appease her.

“What's to stop you turning on us the minute we let our guards down?” Jack asked distrustfully.

“I'm a man of my word,” Duellist said, affronted, “and you're a fellow Hero.”

Jack stared at Duellist for a long moment, going over his words and weighing up his options. He glanced at Kel. The mountain woman was fingering her knives, looking like she wouldn't mind carving the downed Hero up – but his offer of information had caught her interest.

“You've got a deal,” Jack said decisively, stepping back from Duellist.

“Oh good,” the Hero said with a sigh of relief. “I was beginning to worry there.” Slowly, he got to his feet, moving stiffly. He sheathed his sword gingerly and flexed his hand with a wince.

“We should return to the village,” Jack said to Kel. “Make sure everything is under control.”

“If Duran is there, the Foxes are already dead,” Kel said with a shrug, “but no point in lingering here.”

“Another Hero?” Duellist asked conversationally as they began to walk back to the village. “It seems the Fox clan was woefully misinformed about you Badgers,” he said to Kel.

“Yes,” she said shortly, “they were.” She slowed her pace, allowing the Heroes to pull ahead a short distance.

“Is it strange that I can almost feel a knife sticking out of my back?” Duellist asked, appearing unbothered by the thought.

“Not at all,” Jack answered shortly, and Duellist forced a smile when he glimpsed sparks dancing between the younger Hero's fingers.

“That was some pretty impressive Will use when I was about to skewer you,” Duellist said, apparently a very talkative person. “It's pretty rare to see an internal expression of that magnitude on an experienced Hero, let alone a recent graduate.”

“...thanks,” Jack said grudgingly. He was proud of his skill with his Will.

“How long have you been out in the world for? Strange that you haven't picked up a Name yet. I figure you graduated, what, last year? The year before?”

“I'm sixteen summers. I've been a Hero for almost two weeks,” Jack admitted. “My friends and I were graduated early after the raid on the Guild.”

Duellist looked at Jack sharply, considering him in a new light. “You...are one scary kid,” the older Hero said, before falling quiet. He didn't speak again until they reached the village.

X

When they reached their destination, they were greeted by the sight of corpses being thrown haphazardly onto several large wagons by Badger clansmen. Each body was adorned by some manner of Fox pelt, leading Jack to believe that he was seeing what was left of the raiding party.

“Jack!” Duran called from amongst a cluster of hunters. He strode from them, a grin on his face. “My count is sixteen. Yours?”

Jack shook his head at his friend. Duran was normally a laid back, calm individual—except when he had just finished a fight, where he did his best to fulfil every mountain man stereotype one could think of. The worst part of it was the way he didn't even seem to realise what he did.

“Five,” Jack said, and Duran's eyes lit up in victory. “Plus this Hero I captured,” he added nonchalantly. A number of the Badger clan milling around turned half an ear to their conversation.

Duran's grin faded, and he scowled, although it was devoid of anger. “Dammit Jack, you can't just go capturing enemy Heroes in a kill count competition,” he complained good naturedly.

Jack shrugged, grinning at his friend. Duran rolled his eyes.

“Who's the Hero then?” the mountain man asked.

“I am Duellist,” the man in question answered for himself.

Duran's eyebrows rose. “Weren't you going to be invited to fight in the Arena? In the group events?” he asked.

“I was invited. I will fight before the crowds there before winter comes.”

“Hear that Jack?” Duran said. “You just beat a Hero who is going to the Arena.”

“Yes, well,” Duellist said, looking vaguely irritated, “perhaps if I had known I was facing a fellow Hero from the start things may have turned out differently.”

“Keladry,” a new voice interrupted. The Badger approached, blood on his leather armour. None of it was his. He had the look of a man with a weight lifted from his shoulders. “I am glad you are well.”

“Father,” Kel answered, nodding to him.

“What of the men stationed at the look out?” the Badger asked, looking between his daughter and Jack.

“Foxes killed them,” Kel answered shortly.

“Good thing they spared you, eh?” another clansman muttered, none too quietly. It was the bearded man who had been present on Jack's first introduction to the Badger clan. He had argued against the excursion to the Deeps.

Kel turned to the man, fixing him with a predator's stare. “I crept behind the Fox clan and sounded the alarm after they passed.”

“Without that warning, we would have been hit unawares,” the Badger said. “Our victory today may have been very different had the women and children not been gotten to safety.”

There was a murmur of agreement and praise from the clansmen listening, and the bearded man scowled, choosing not to make further comment.

“Who is this?” the Badger asked abruptly, gesturing to Duellist.

Jack sent Duran a wary look. Something about the Badger's tone had him on edge. “This is Duellist, a Hero of Albion. I captured him.”

“Fox hired a Hero to help them?” the Badger asked, his tone hard.

“I guess they wanted to be sure,” Duran said, shrugging. “Duellist is a Hero of some renown.”

“He attacked our people. I will see his throat cut for that,” the Badger said, staring at Duellist. His hand drifted to a knife at his belt, and he looked ready to do the deed on the spot.

“Hey, let's not be hasty now,” Duellist said, raising his bound hands. “I surrendered.”

“To the Badger clan,” the Badger said sharply. “And your death will send a message to any other clan who think to send a Hero against us in the future.”

“Actually,” Jack said, stepping between the Badger and Duellist, “he surrendered to me. After I rescued Kel from him.”

“Then he threatened not only my clan, but my daughter as well,” the Badger said, ignoring Jack's unsubtle reminder about rescuing his daughter. “I have the greater claim to him.”

“The other clans aren't the only ones you'd be sending a message to,” Jack said, standing his ground. “What do you think his friends in the Guild will do when they hear of his death at the hands of the Badger clan?”

A hint of a frown appeared on the Badger's face, and his eyes flicked to Duran.

“Duran is good, but he's not that good yet,” Jack said. “Duellist will be fighting in the Arena this winter. His friends are likely equally skilled.”

“Some are even more powerful,” Duellist said helpfully.

The Badger's gaze moved between Duran, Duellist and Jack, desire to strengthen his clan's position warring with common sense.

“I've already offered to tell your daughter what I know about the Fox clan,” Duellist said, looking to sway the Badger's opinion further, “and I didn't kill any of your people.”

“You seem very eager to turn your coat,” the Badger said.

Duellist shrugged. “They didn't offer me nearly enough for a Quest like this. The only reason I took it was because they told me a little something about the marvellous blades the Badger clan makes.”

A storm of angry voices rose from the hunters gathered to watch the discussion, and Duellist looked taken aback at the reaction. Kel spat at the corpse filled wagons, and even Duran appeared angry.

“They told you what?” the Badger demanded, nearly spitting with fury. “Keladry, gather the elders. This Hero is going to tell us everything he knows about the Fox.” The clan leader paused, reigning in his temper. “Hero,” he said to Jack, “I appreciate your aid, but this is between the clans, and you are not one of us.”

Jack blinked, surprised at the sudden dismissal.

“Duran will take you to complete your business with us. He knows what is left to be done,” the Badger said, still staring at Duellist.

Duran pulled at Jack's arm, and he let himself be led away from the scene. If Duellist had been a friend of his, he might be less inclined to leave him with the Badger and his men, but he was an opponent, even if he wasn't an enemy. Badger seemed more interested in what the Hero knew than cutting his throat, and Jack offered the man a shrug. Duellist raised one shoulder in reply, and then he was shuffled away by the Badger as Kel departed for elsewhere and the hunters of the Badger clan fell to muttering darkly to each other.

X x X

Night was falling, and Jack was once again watching Duran work the open air forge. The flame had been tapered down, reduced to mounds of glowing coal. A half moon peered down through a clear sky, shot through with what seemed like millions of stars.

Concealed near the cliff edge on the far side of the village as it was, the Fox raiders had never come near the forge, if they even knew it existed. Duran was adding the final touches to the learning weapon. From what Jack could see, it would be a simple weapon, lacking the engravings of Duran's hammer, but no less well made. Edged on just one side, a groove ran down its centre. The hilt was a basic one, its guard little more than slight protrusions on either side, just enough to keep the wielder's hand from slipping up to the blade.

Duran was making final adjustments to the weapon with a pair of tongs, working the metal in a way Jack was sure was impossible with any normal steel. He seemed intent on having everything just so, regardless if he'd already done it right. He had been fiddling with the shape of the grip for the past half hour, frowning to himself. Jack had long since made himself comfortable, laying on his back with his legs dangling over the cliff edge. He closed his eyes, beginning to doze off.

An indeterminable amount of time later, he heard his name called. He blinked, sitting up and working the stiffness from his back that came from falling asleep on stone. The moon had risen fully, and he guessed it to be close to the witching hour, when Skorm could grant his devotees the greatest measure of his power.

“Jack,” Duran called again. He sounded tired, but still focused.

“I'm up,” Jack said, blinking the sleep from his eyes. “Is it done? The sword?”

“Nearly,” Duran answered, his face illuminated by the glow of the forge. “There's just one piece left to add.”

“What is it?”

“A piece of yourself. You need to put something of you into the weapon to bind it to you,” Duran said.

“Like what?” Jack asked, stepping up to the forge. He inspected the blade; it looked complete, save for a wrapping around the hilt. The blade was nestled amongst the coals, its hilt sticking out over the edge of the forge.

“Anything you care to. I gave a vial of blood to my uncle to take back to my father when he forged my hammer.”

“I just need to bleed on it, then?” Jack questioned.

“Only if you feel you need to,” Duran answered patiently.

Jack considered the weapon, trying to get a feel for it. He didn't feel any particular connection to it, no flash of inspiration telling him what he needed to do. It was just a sword, albeit a well made one forged from precious materials. He enjoyed swordplay, but it wasn't his focus, and likely never would be. He would always look to—ah. Perhaps that was the answer.

The young Hero channelled his Will, a glow suffusing his right hand as the brand on his palm lit up. He grasped the blade by the hilt and drew it from the fire, heedless of its heat. There was a hissing sound, and the grip was uncomfortably hot, but he held it tightly, refusing to let go. His Will flowed and ebbed, siphoned off into the weapon, and Jack could feel it trying to draw more. He delved deeper into his Will, channelling more and more until the blade's thirst was sated. He cut the connection with a sigh and at Duran's direction placed the weapon into a water trough at the base of the forge, flexing his fingers.

The blade was mostly unaltered by the experience, save for a new mark on the grip. The brand on Jack's palm, a curved line with a dot on opposite sides at either end of it, now had a matching mark on the grip where he had held the sword. It glowed a faint blue, much like the brand on his palm did when he channelled his Will.

“Well then,” Duran said. “I'd say you made the right choice there.”

Jack nodded, already feeling more connected to his new weapon. He was struck by a sudden understanding at Duran's reluctance to hand over his hammer to the Bowerstone guards the previous week. “Thank you,” he said to Duran, starting to understand the importance of the weapon. “I'll take care of it.”

“Thanks for saving my life,” Duran said with a laugh. “And I know you will. Now lets see about a wrap for the hilt and a sheath...”

X x X

“Hello? Hello? Is this thing working? Can you hear me Jack?”

Jack snorted and blinked as he woke, kicking the animal hide blanket off. “Whozzat? Klessan?” he asked, talking to the empty tent.

“Hello? Jack? Oh, bother, you probably don't know how to use this damn thing either,” Klessan's voice continued, trailing off into a mutter. She began to speak as one would to a favoured grandparent, hard of hearing. “You need to find your Guild Seal, your Guild. Seal. and push some Will into it.”

Jack rolled off the furs he lay upon, towards his travelling pack, readied the previous night. He reached into the bigger on the inside bag and began to rummage around.

“Ok, when you have your Guild Seal and you've pushed your Will into it like a little ball--”

Jack rolled his eyes at his friend as she continued to 'guide' him. He had tried to walk her through a Will expression once. The way she described things had just about twisted his mind in knots.

“--and then you have to go to the wavy meditation place so you can feel all the little strings coming off the Seal--”

His hand closed over the Seal, and a thrill of power ran along his arm.

“--so after you've done that, you should be in a big open space with only one more little string--”

“For the love of Avo Klessan, stop already,” Jack grumbled channelling his Will through the Seal, allowing it to flow down the connection he could feel running off it.

“Oh, that was quick. Hi Jack!” Klessan said. He had no trouble picturing the cheerful grin on her face.

“Hello Klessan,” Jack said in turn, rubbing sleep from his eyes.

“Stop grumbling at me. You can't have just woken up.”

Jack grunted indecipherably at her, and her laughter echoed down the Guild Seal.

“Lazybones,” she said teasingly. “What have you been up to these last weeks? I heard you and Duran took a Quest together.”

“Yeah, escort and protect. It went well enough,” Jack said, searching for his pants with one hand. Digging through his pack was awkward when he had to keep one hand on the Guild Seal. “We got a pair of nice trophies out of it, and we got paid in gold.”

“Boo,” Klessan said, and Jack could imagine her pout. “I walked a pair of Traders from Bowerstone to a trading town near my village and got silvers for my troubles. Only trophy I got was a lousy hobbe head, too, and every Hero and their pet giraffe has one of those, so good luck showing it off.”

“What is a giraffe?” Jack asked in confusion, before wincing.

“They come from Samarkand, they've got necks as tall as three men and four skinny legs almost as long and they're yellow with brown spots,” Klessan answered, happy to show off her wide knowledge of fauna.

Jack didn't question her further and made no mention of how ridiculous the creature sounded. He and Whisper had done that once, and only once. He still had his doubt about the thing Klessan called a platypus, evidence she had browbeaten them with notwithstanding.

“Right,” he said, and she laughed again.

“Have you made a whole bunch of new Will things yet?” Klessan asked innocently.

“Only a few,” Jack answered, ignoring her baiting. “Really just refining expressions I've already got down. Oh, I can throw fire now though.”

“'Oh, no big deal but I can breathe fire now Klessan',” she said. A noise that sounded suspiciously like a raspberry followed.

“I can't actually—you know, that does sound like a cool idea. I could work the exhale into the expression as fuel, too...” Jack said consideringly.

“Alright, alright,” Klessan said. She was probably rolling her eyes. “Hold your horses before you start thinking of ways to turn yourself into a dragon.”

“Like I'd want to turn myself into a dragon,” Jack said, sniffing disdainfully. “Can you imagine the ego that would give someone?”

“Mmhmm, right,” Klessan said. “I actually have a reason for—uhm--calling you up like this.”

“Yeah?” Jack asked. He had finally retrieved his pants and was working at hopping into them.

“Beyond gracing you with the sound of my voice, I mean.”

“Yes, beyond that.”

“I'm inviting you to come visit! I asked Whisper, but apparently she's busy doing something with her brother,” Klessan said, sounding disappointed. “But you can come, and you can ask Duran as well. This whole Seal talk thing is giving me a headache.”

“Where am I visiting, exactly? And I don't think Duran will be able to trek across the country any time soon, he has some...clan duties he has to attend to.” That those duties likely involved leading a revenge raid against the Fox clan, Jack didn't care to explain while talking through the Seal.

“Of course he does,” Klessan said. “But you can still come, right? I'm sure not all of my friends would abandon me, right?”

Jack sighed at the wheedling tone Klessan's voice had taken. She had used it often at the Guild, usually whenever Jack or Duran had managed to snag a serving of her favoured dessert before her. “Yes, I can still come. No, not all your friends have abandoned you,” he said with put upon suffering.

“Excellent!” Klessan said. “You know that trading town near Shallowshoal Bay? Oxtooth Hold? The one that sprang up around the Cullis Gate,” she said, mentioning a surviving Old Kingdom creation that experienced Heroes used as a lightning rod for teleportation expressions.

“I think I know it,” Jack said. “I can find it on a map, at least. It's the mouth of the Bower river, right?”

“It's a bit north, but inside a days travel. Actually, where are you now?”

“I'm with Duran's clan. Somewhere in the northern-most group of the Pyrepeaks, but I couldn't tell you where exactly.”

“The plainsmen should still be holding their spring muster at Naiad lake. You could find your way there and buy a horse,” Klessan said. “It would make the second half of your journey easier, at least.”

“I don't know the first thing about riding a horse,” Jack said. He shrugged his shirt on and began looking for his shoes. “Horse nomads would probably fleece me anyway.”

“Probably,” Klessan said. “If you can get to Oxtooth Hold in a week, I'll be there to meet you. My family will be there to sell the latest haul.”

“Turning to fishing already? Life of a Hero not for you?” Jack said teasingly. Klessan had mentioned numerous times how glad she was to have something other than the dull life of a fisherwoman ahead of her.

“I will put bait in your trousers,” Klessan said seriously. “Ma is intent on teaching me about my 'heritage' before I become 'lost to all that adventuring nonsense, just like Great Aunt Thelma!'” she finished in a rebellious mutter.

Jack laughed at her tone. “So, Oxtooth Hold, one week?”

“Sounds good! I'll see you there Jack!”

Jack allowed his Will to fade from the connection in his Guild Seal, before eyeing it appraisingly. He knew magic was a function of its design from the way it had reacted to him after first touching it, but he hadn't spared a thought to any practical applications it might have. The connection he could feel and make use of to talk to other Seal holders might also be part of the reason Maze had made sure the first bare skin to touch each Seal was that of their owner.

A discreet cough distracted him from his thoughts. Kel stood at the tent entrance, clad in her usual wolf furs and was watching him with an unusual look in her eye.

“I was talking to my friend, Klessan,” he said, feeling compelled to explain.

Kel glanced around the empty tent. She leaned back slightly, and adopted and even, calm tone. “Do you talk to his Klessan often?”

“Not since I became a Hero,” Jack answered, raising an eyebrow at Kel's behaviour.

“And is Klessan still with us now?” Kel asked, and Jack realised was was purposefully making herself seem non-threatening.

“What? Oh, for--” Jack said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Klessan is a friend from the Guild who graduated with Duran and me. We were talking through our Guild Seals. You couldn't hear her?”

Relief passed over Kel's face. “Oh, good. I was worried you were sky touched. I could only hear you talking to yourself.”

“You couldn't hear us talking?” Jack asked.

Kel shook her head. “Just you, carrying half a conversation by yourself. Alone. With no one else in sight,” she said, smirking.

Jack rolled his yes. “Yes Kel. Thank you Kel.”

“You're welcome,” she said virtuously, before frowning. “Does this mean you're leaving?”

“Today, probably,” Jack said. He suddenly felt uncomfortable under Kel's gaze.

“You don't have to leave, you know,” Kel said after a moment, her voice low. “the clan would be happy to have you here. I would be happy to have you here. And grateful.”

“I'm to meet Klessan near the coast in a week,” Jack said, trying not to linger on just how Kel might show her gratitude.

“You could talk to her now, postpone your meeting,” Kel said. “Stay to celebrate your victory with the clan, at least.”

“I'm not really one for victory celebrations,” Jack said, turning to busy himself with his pack.

There was a long pause before Kel spoke again.

“Badger is to take the fight to Fox as soon as we are able,” she said quietly. “We could use your aid.”

“Duran is more than capable of handling a few enemy clansmen,” Jack said. The more Kel attempted to sway him, the more the open road appealed to him, and he wasn't sure why. “You could always conscript Duellist if you really think you need another Hero.”

Kel sighed, and Jack chanced a glance at her. She looked frustrated, but it was quickly smoothed into an expression of acceptance. “If you're sure,” she said resignedly, coming over to sit beside him. She leaned into him, one arm curling around his side.

Jack put an arm around her in return, his hand coming to rest on her hip. She was pleasantly warm against him, and undeniably a woman. “It's not like you won't see me again,” he said, feeling compelled to reassure her. “I just need to...move forward.”

“Good,” Kel said, still pressed against him. “Maybe then I can find some way to thank you for what you've done for me.”

Jack held his tongue, his imagination showing him exactly how Kel could thank him with vivid clearness. His hand crept lower to her thigh, and Kel made no protest.

“Jack!”

A hollered greeting from outside the tent broke the moment, and Jack almost jumped away from Kel, startled.

“Time to be awake, you lazy sod! Don't make me come in there with a bucket!”

Jack cursed Duran inwardly as his friend hailed the tent, and Kel looked none too pleased with her brother either.

“I'm already awake you oaf! And now the rest of the clan is too!”

“The clan has been awake since the sun rose,” Duran said, ducking into the tent. “Unlike certain people I won't name, we don't believe in wasting daylight. Hello, Kel.” He took in the pair of them, sitting apart from each other on the bed, but made no further comment.

“Why are you so chipper?” Jack asked. He hadn't been the only one amongst his circle of friends to enjoy a good sleep in, rare as they were at the Guild.

Duran grinned down at him. “It's done. I finished it.”

“What?” Jack asked, before his mind caught up and he brightened.

“Your sword is complete,” Duran said, confirming Jack's thoughts. “I finished binding the hilt not ten minutes ago.”

“Can I see it?” Jack asked, leaping to his feet in his excitement.

“No,” Duran said, deadpan. “I think I'll hide it and just tell you about it.”

Jack thumped his friend on the arm, too eager to bother sassing him back.

“Come on,” Duran said, still grinning. “My father has it. Said he wanted to give it to you himself.”

Duran led the way, Jack and Kel following. The young Hero shaded his eyes as he stepped out into the world. A fresh dusting of snow had fallen in the night, reflecting the sunlight back up at him. Blue skies stretched as far as the eye could see, and the Pyrepeaks deeper in the mountain range loomed imposingly, reaching up into the sky like the fingers of some great titan.

The attitude of the clansmen they passed was slightly different today. They smiled and greeted Duran like a favoured son, and where yesterday Jack had been eyed with the caution all lowlanders apparently deserved, now he was afforded a courteous nod of respect. They even passed one of the men Jack had saved from the pursuing group of Fox clan, and they beat a fist to their chest in greeting. Jack raised a hand in response, and that was that.

“People are rather a bit friendlier than they were yesterday,” Jack said to Duran.

“Yesterday you hadn't defended the village from a Hero and rescued the chieftan's daughter,” Duran said, shrugging. “Also, word got out that we killed a rock troll.”

“Pity we couldn't grab something for a trophy,” Jack said.

“You mean something like ruby shards of a troll eye that had to be picked from your face?” Kel asked, mock thoughtful.

“Hey, yeah!” Jack said with a pleased grin. “I'd forgotten about that.”

“You would,” Duran said with a snort. “Could have had some interesting scars as a reminder if I hadn't been there to heal you though.”

“But you were, and I don't,” Jack said, shrugging.

“True,” Duran said, and then they were at their destination.

The three of them entered the central tent of the village, the one that had sheltered the women and children during the raid. It was mostly empty now, any Badger clansmen who might have cause to be there busy with other tasks. The Badger sat at one of the long tables within, a sheathed sword before him.

“Father,” Duran said.

“Please, sit,” Badger said.

Jack and Duran took a seat across from the clan leader, while Kel lounged against the table, staying on her feet.

Jack eyed his blade, taking it in. The hilt had been wrapped tightly with a coarse string of black leather, bound from pommel to guard. The sheath was a simple one; two pieces of hardened brown leather stitched together. It looked to fit the blade perfectly.

“This sword is a learning weapon of the Badger clan,” Badger said at length. “It has been forged with skill by one of our own, and it is a blade worthy of standing with any other learning weapon forged by our forefathers.”

Duran straightened at the pride in his father's voice.

“You are not of the Badger, but you have earned the right to wield this sword, Jack of Oakvale. It was forged for you and only you. It will grow as you grow, learn as you learn and as long as there is breath in your body it will not let you down.”

Jack met the Badger's eyes and refused to look away as he spoke. He listened to the ritualistic words and kept his expression blank at the mention of the town of his birth.

“This weapon is yours now,” Badger finished, taking up the sword and handing it hilt first to Jack. “Use it as you will.”

Jack accepted the blade without hesitation. A thrill of power ran up his arm as his right hand closed over the hilt, and he knew without looking that the the rune branded to his palm was aglow.

“My son's debt to you is paid,” the Badger said with satisfaction. “Do you agree?” he asked sharply.

Jack nodded, looking to Duran. His friend knew he would never expect repayment for saving his life, but the mountain man shrugged, and smiled.

“Good,” Badger said, rising from his seat. “Keladry, a word.”

The two Heroes watched as the Badger and his daughter departed, leaving them alone.

“How does it feel?” Duran asked eagerly.

“Power,” Jack answered immediately. “I feel like I could call down a thunderstorm with this in my hand.”

“The first time I took up my hammer I felt like I could tear down a mountain stone by stone,” Duran said. “Just wait until you use it in battle for the first time.”

“I'll have to track down some bandits on the way to Oxtooth Hold,” Jack said.

“Don't go too rabid on the bandits now, or you'll end up with Bandit Killer or something equally lame as your Name,” Duran said. His tone was joking, but his eyes were serious. “Why make for Oxtooth Hold?”

“Klessan contacted me this morning—did you know we could talk to other Heroes through our Guild Seals?” Jack asked.

“No. Neat trick though. You'll have to show me how.”

“Before I leave,” Jack promised. “Klessan wanted all of us to meet up, but Whisper is busy with her brother and I figured you wouldn't be quite ready to leave your clan.”

“Not with Fox being so aggressive,” Duran agreed. “Shame. Its been strange, not seeing the girls every day these past weeks.”

Jack shrugged and continued. “I'm planning on heading back to the mine owned by Ian Ducal. I should be able to get free passage to Bowerstone at least, and from there I can follow the river to Oxtooth Hold.”

“Oxtooth is the trading town with the Cullis Gate, right? Near Klessan's home village?”

“Right. I'm not sure what she has in mind, but it won't be any trouble to use the Cullis Gate to return to the Guild and pick up a Quest,” Jack said.

“Don't get carried away,” Duran said with a laugh. “You know what Klessan can be like.”

Jack made a face, once again remembering the bet that saw him and two other Apprentices racing naked across the Guild rooftops. “All too well,” he said.

“If you want to make it to the Ducal mine before dusk tomorrow you'll have to leave sooner rather than later,” Duran said, his tone betraying none of the enmity he felt for the mine owners.

“I was planning to see you and leave as soon as I woke, but Kel ambushed me,” Jack admitted.

Duran eyed his friend knowingly. “Did she now? I saw her go into your tent.”

“I wasn't—not with—she's your sister,” Jack said defensively. “She tried to persuade me to stay,” he told his friend. “She was pretty intent on it.”

Duran actually looked concerned for a moment. “Kel..isn't the same sister I remember. She's been filling me in on the things Father didn't want to put to paper. I didn't shout out earlier to protect her virtue. I was more worried about what you might get wrapped up in,” he said, as if pained.

“Something to be worried about?” Jack asked.

Duran shook his head. “Just clan issues. Kel was like as not—ah, nevermind.”

Jack stared at his friend, waiting for a proper answer. His friends knew better than to dangle half a tale before him and expect him to let it lie.

Duran scowled, recognising the look. “It's clan politics, and you shouldn't have to get wrapped up in it. Kel just wanted another Hero firmly on her side of the fence.”

Jack raised his eyebrows, silently asking why Kel felt the need to gather Heroes to her side.

“Clan issues,” Duran said forcefully. “Don't worry about it.” He drummed his fingertips on the table. “If more heads need cracking than I can handle, then I'll tell you more.”

“Whisper and Klessan too,” Jack said. “You know they won't forgive you if you needed help and didn't ask them.”

“Yes, well,” Duran said, looking less than enthused at the idea. “It won't come to that. It's just clan politics.”

“If you say so,” Jack said, letting the matter rest.

“I do say so,” Duran said. He rose from his seat, and Jack followed suit. “Seeing as you were unconscious when we arrived here, we'll have to see about a map for you...”

The pair left the tent, Jack holding his new weapon securely. His time with the Badger clan was nearing its end.

X

Jack stood on the path leading out of the village, facing south. His bigger on the inside travel pack was on his back and his fantastic new sword was at his hip. Duran stood by him, seeing him off. Kel had vanished into the forests again after a short goodbye, apparently not one for lingering farewells. She had given him a gift before disappearing, a phial holding a number of tiny red shards. The shattered remains of the troll eye would fetch a pretty price at any market, not that he cared to sell them, however.

“How long do you think you'll remain here for?” Jack asked, staring down the path he was to travel.

Duran shrugged. “I couldn't say. Could be months.”

“We have to meet up at some point. All of us,” Jack said. “I don't want to be one of those Heroes who lose all contact with their friends until they find themselves on the opposite side of a Quest.”

“We'll make sure we aren't then,” Duran said. “If we haven't all come together by the summer solstice next year, we'll make sure we do before Skormdron's Eve.”

“Deal,” Jack said, clasping Duran's arm in farewell. “I'll hold you to it.”

They shook, and Jack stepped away, beginning his journey once more.

“Try to avoid getting injured,” Duran called out. “If only for the novelty of it!”

Jack made a gesture not commonly used in polite society, and Duran responded in kind. Then the path twisted around a copse of trees, and his journey was truly underway once more.

X

Jack followed the mountain trail for not even an hour before his trip was interrupted. Leaning casually against a large boulder to one side of the path was a familiar figure, eyes closed in thought like it was the most normal place in the world to stop and contemplate life. They pushed themselves off the boulder as Jack came to a stop, brushing dust off rich purple robes.

“Jack,” Maze, leader of the Heroes Guild said by way of greeting. “How have you been enjoying that book I gave you?”