Toric had finally made it to bed around midnight. The time spent with the Emperor had been far more relaxing than he had thought it would be, but he was still exhausted from his recent injury. Collapsing into his bed after shucking his armor he fell asleep the moment his head hit the pillow.

Toric’s eyes opened and he beheld a cavernous room. Standing before him were two men, two elves, two trolls, two dwarves, two magi, and lastly two beings he could not identify.

The Men were complete opposites of each other. One bore a slender rapier and wore leather and chain armor. On his back was a round buckler. He was short, barely a couple of inches over five feet, but had the lithe musculature of a very quick man. The other was a tower of muscle and steel. He was seven feet tall and wore field plate that covered every inch of his body. Resting on its head in front of him was an enormous twin-bladed axe with a three foot long handle.

The Elves both wore leather and wooden armor that gleamed with the sheen of layered enchantments. Bows and quivers crossed their backs. One held an elven spear in his hands, a six foot staff with a leaf-bladed head. The second had twin swords sheathed at his sides, each the size of a gladius and possessed of strangely long handles with odd pommels.

The Trolls were simply massive. They appeared to be twins, with long shaggy hides that bore identical markings in their fur. They stood at nine feet tall and were naked except for belts and loincloths about their hips. From the belts hung identical huge wood and steel mallets at either of their hips. He could not imagine taking a hit from one of the huge hammers, and they had four.

The Dwarves were a surprise. Dwarves were very rarely seen outside of their underground strongholds, but these two seemed to fit the stereotype. Heavily muscled but short, they had on sleeveless armor and armored pants. Their helms left their faces open and long, flowing beards fell across the front of their armor. Hanging on the left of their belts were hammers, both dwarves bore them but they were each unique. On the right side one of the dwarves had a war-hammer much like Toric’s own; the other had a long-hafted single-blade war-axe on his back. Both of the dwarves had heavy shields already strapped to their left arms.

The mages were complete mysteries. Both wore robes that concealed everything about their bodies. They had deep hoods that completely obscured their features in shadow. The only difference between them was one’s robe was black, and the other’s white. They were even the same heights.

The last duo stepped forward and removed their helmets. One was male and the other female and both of them had the same distinctive glowing blue eyes as Toric. The male was wearing blackened leather armor with pieces of black plate affixed over his chest, back, stomach, groin, and down his left sleeve. He had a sword on his right hip, positioned for a left hand draw, which clued Toric into the fact that he was most likely left handed. A steel-banded buckler shield was hung from his back, and the helmet he held was completely solid, without any gaps whatsoever. The female was armored much differently. She had on leather breeches and a vest. Over that was a long leather and chainmail jacket that buckled closed on the front. A belt held three daggers on her left hip and a steel whip rode her right hip. Her helmet was identical though, a solid piece that looked like it was constructed for her head specifically. They stopped in front of Toric and the female spoke.

“We are the Combat Instructors and this is the School. Everyone you see here is dead and was granted entrance into Paradise. When a Veil-Walker comes into the world we and others are called upon to teach them. Anytime you sleep your mind will be drawn here and we will teach you. Veil-Walkers live dangerous lives and as such it behooves them to learn as much as they can as quickly as they can. We will not force you to learn, but we will continue to offer. Would you like us to teach you?”

The tone of her voice was bored, and almost resigned, he thought. It was like she had done this a thousand times and never had anyone say yes, at least not at first. Toric was no fool though; he had already been attacked by a hidden enemy through the manipulation of what should have been perfectly friendly men.

“Yes, please teach me. I have already suffered an attack that could have killed me and my friends.”

The woman and man and all of the instructors looked at him in surprise. Then the male Veil-Walker stepped forward. He was a shadow elf, Toric could see. He looked at Toric closely and asked a question.

“You can see us? You can hear us?”

Toric was confused, but nodded in affirmation.

“Yes, should I not be able to?”

The man pointed behind him at the others.

“How many do you see behind me?”

Toric had no idea what was going on, but answered anyways.

“Ten. Two mages, two humans, two elves, two dwarves, and two trolls.”

The male Veil-Walker looked at Toric closely, and then shook his head in exasperation.

“It has been several centuries since we were last called to train a Veil-Walker. We have been training Walkers for the last eight millennia, and in all of that time there has never been one that could see us the first time we came. Usually it takes months to get through to them. That is not the only oddity; there is also the fact that you see the others, and they have not yet spoken. That means that you are fully here; somehow without even knowing why, your mind turned its full and complete attention to this place from the very moment we called you here. It is unheard of. Tell us your name, age, how you became a Veil-Walker, and heritage please. We need to know to begin your training.”

So Toric went through everything and there were a few startled gasps of surprise from one of the elves, the trolls, one of the magi, and both of the men when he mentioned he was Blood of the Daath. After everything was told the ones that had been startled came forward and each one of them hugged him in turn and greeted him as a brother. The male Walker looked at him closely again and shushed everyone.

“You did not tell us your heritage. There is something about you, something that speaks of great strength. Also, I can tell you are a Fire Elemental Walker. That is odd; there has not been a Walker with Fire before. Ever. We had thought it impossible.”

Toric shrugged and spoke calmly.

“My mother was a dragon.”

Everyone in the cavern went silent and the man that had been speaking nodded.

“Ah, well that certainly clears everything up. Dragons are the only races still existing that were born of fire. There are many of air, earth, and water; but no others remain of fire. Do you have armor?”

Toric nodded yes.

“Good, think hard and imagine yourself wearing it. It will come to you here, as well as any weapons or other tools, and we can begin training you in the best use of them.”

So Toric concentrated and suddenly he felt his armor settle around him, the helm appearing in his hands. He lifted the arming cap, and then the mail coif, buckling them into place under his chin. Then the helm slid onto his head and once his armor was complete an enchantment activated, sealing it all together into one single piece. It truly felt like a second skin and at last he understood why Veil-Walkers had the solid piece helmets. He could see out from the helmet perfectly and his vision was completely unrestricted. He saw the expressions of each of his teachers and realized just how menacing the entire ensemble was. These were hardened warriors and as they looked at him standing there even they felt a tingle of dread race up their spines.

The male Veil-Walker shook of the strange feeling he had felt come over him when the boy put on his helmet and motioned for his counterpart to take over. She was the best they had in evaluating someone before training. Often times the way they responded in trying to combat her steel whip was the best way to gauge their intelligence.

Vanessa strode forward, her whip slipping free of her belt and the heavy steel knife edges clanging as they fell to drag on the stone. She put her own helmet back on and spoke to the young man before starting.

“My name is Vanessa. I am going to evaluate your present condition. You cannot die in this dream state, but you can be hurt. The magi will heal you before you awake and unlike on the mortal plane they can heal you completely. Scars will remain though; the body always remembers when it is hurt. Ready yourself, I will not hold back.”

Toric reached over his shoulder and drew the falchion in his right hand. Watching her whip he reached down and tugged the war-hammer free in his left. His footwork felt natural as he stepped to the right and started to circle toward Vanessa’s left and keep her body between himself and the whip.

Vanessa smiled behind in approval of the tactic behind her helm. She spun on her heel and lashed out with the whip. The bladed whip sliced through the air and struck out for his neck.

Toric dropped to his knee to let the whip uncoil above his head and then chopped his war-hammer up and in a circular motion to try and snare the whip around its head.

Vanessa was far too good to let such a trick catch her and instead flicked her wrist to send a wave down the whip and keep it untangled. Then she pulled it back and her left hand sent a dagger flying toward the vulnerable armpit of his armor.

Toric’s fighting instincts screamed a warning at him and he suddenly had a flash of memory of another dream where a man drove a sword at the same weak place in his armor. He reacted in the same fashion this time, snapping his left arm down to cover the weakness and spinning around in a circle with sword extended to ward off any blows while he was distracted.

The spin worked and Vanessa had to dance backwards out of range of the heavy sword. It was a blind stroke, but still would have done significant damage if it connected. Vanessa had seen something though right before he had acted to stop the thrown knife and initiated his spin. She stopped and held a hand up to Toric.

“Stop for a moment. What was that just now? When I threw the knife at you there was a pause for lack of a better word. It seemed almost like something else intruded into your thoughts.”

“That is a good way to describe it. I do not know the answer. I have these memories of dreams where I am fighting terrible battles. I had thought it was something that Artur had done.”

Vanessa took her helmet off and looked at him.

Toric took his off as well.

Vanessa frowned and turned to the mage wearing the white robes.

“Lariff, get over here. Check his memories and see if it is something Artur added. I wouldn’t think he would do that and not tell us though.”

The mage Toric now knew as Lariff strode over to him and put his hands out on either side of his head. There was a momentary pain and then he lowered his hands, looking at Toric in awe.

“They are not implanted memories. The trauma you endured that stretched your soul and made you a Veil-Walker also triggered your draconic blood. Dragons have ancestral memory, able to recall everything that anyone in their line has experienced. Somehow, and do not ask me how, your mind is retrieving relevant information for you according to your experiences from your blood. This will change how we teach you, and you might want to think about studying your genealogy a bit.”

Vanessa nodded thoughtfully then re-donned her helmet and Toric followed suit. The training continued.