They set off early the next morning. The farmyard was still and deserted. The residents were still too traumatized by the previous night's danger to go about their daily tasks unimpeded. Ahren craned his neck to try and spot Miriam and he was relieved to see her looking out the kitchen window. He waved good bye and they moved off.

The next few days passed by in a refreshing routine. Ahren learned it was better to go in front of Selsena to avoid the clouds of dust her hooves created. The weather, thankfully, was dry. Fighting their way through the mud would have been far more uncomfortable than avoiding dust clouds. They encountered the normal array of travellers, and there was no sign of bandits or Dark Ones. In the afternoons they would seek out a lodging house or a farmer and pay for shelter for the night. The Swarm Claws didn't return and slowly Ahren began to feel at ease.

The rapid succession of events and revelations had taken more out of Ahren than he had realised. He decided to take one step at a time, the enormity that lay before him was too great. And so he enjoyed the journeying as much as he could, teaching Culhen new commands, and practising his archery in the evenings until it got dark. His companions often huddled together and talked about things that had happened in the past and about people he had never heard of. The apprentice gradually lost the desire to put the pieces of the puzzle together. The only thing that was clear was that at some time in the past Falk had journeyed with Uldini, but he had no idea why and for how long. They wouldn't answer any of his questions directly and so he let the matter drop.

He decided to concentrate on the immediate future and looked forward to Three Rivers. The trading town in the north of Hjalgar was the second largest settlement in the country and the travelling craftsmen and merchants who had visited Deepstone in the past would always sing its praises.

Falk announced that they would reach their destination the following morning and during the course of the day Ahren noticed the gradual changes in the surroundings. The farms seemed a little bigger, there were hardly any more small holdings, and here and there they would see a carpenter's workshop or a smithy, buildings you would normally only see in the centre of a village.

Dark clouds began to gather that evening and they quickly sought out accommodation. Firstly, they didn't want to be travelling at dusk, and secondly, the patina that Falk had put on his and Selsena's armour couldn't withstand a heavy fall of rain.

The woman who put them up for the night had been a charcoal burner but had given up that exhausting work. She preferred to take in travellers who hadn't made it as far as the town. It wasn't long before the heavens opened and daylight vanished with frightening speed. Lightning flashed across the sky and Ahren went to the window. A flash of lightning lit up the sky and he thought he recognized a very strange cloud made up of a collection of leather-winged bodies. Then it was dark again. He couldn't be certain of what he had seen, but now there was a niggling doubt.

He closed the shutters and bolted them, giving Falk a meaningful look as he did so. He nodded silently in response and did the same with the other windows. All the while, the woman was happily chatting away, pinching Uldini on the cheek and tousling his hair, which the wizard put up with stoically. Ahren had to suppress a grin and snuggled up to Culhen. An uncomfortable draught blew through the little house and the wolf's pelt was a welcome source of warmth. The old woman offered them a home-made pie and once Ahren had had his fill he forgot about the threatening shadow outside the hut and started imagining how Three Rivers would look.

Ahren was splattered with mud. He stared down at the trading town in disappointment. This was the place he had heard so much about. He didn't know what it looked like in sunshine but now it looked stocky and functional. No banners or pennants, none of the towers or other features he had imagined. Only a grey circle of houses squeezed together behind a palisade. A river stretched through the town and the intersection of two streets in the middle of the settlement presumably constituted the market square. They themselves were standing on a hill that Falk had led them up, several hundred paces off the main road.

He placed a hand on Ahren's shoulder and said in an amused voice, 'you don't look happy, boy. Expected more, am I right?'

Uldini grumbled, 'why the detour? It's not exactly a stunning view and I really want to get out of my dripping things. And your armour is running'. The magus was in a particularly foul mood today and Ahren reckoned the noble youth didn't like getting wet. It had been drizzling constantly since morning and all of them were soaked to the bone.

'The boy is still being trained and I want to show him two things. Anyway, it's better if he gawks from here, so that all and sundry don't see through our disguise straight away', Falk answered calmly.

Ahren gave him a look of displeasure and then tried to look disinterested.

Falk pretended not to notice and then began speaking in the peculiar tone of voice he used whenever he was teaching.

'Whenever you visit a strange town, view it from the outside first if you can. Preferably from a raised position, as we're doing now. First, look at the city gate. Are there a lot of sentries? That means trouble. The same is true if there are no sentries. Then they're all busy inside the city or dead'. He pointed to the wooden arch which represented the southern city gate and where a huddled figure was standing, leaning on a halberd under a heavy oilskin awning, staring out at the depressing day. From where they were standing they couldn't identify the other three gates. 'That's the ideal position. Bored normality', said Falk in a pleased voice. Then he pointed to the only lofty building in the city, a three-storey stone building with a wooden pole above it, whose function Ahren couldn't figure out.

'That's the signal mast. Similar to our alarm bell but visible from far away. The coat of arms of the mayor or the city lord or lady would normally hang there. The emblem isn't there now so he or she isn't in the city. A black flag would signal on outbreak of the Black Death, red would mean the town was on a war footing'.

Uldini cleared his throat loudly and Falk continued. 'I'll explain the rest of the signals later, but I hope you understand now why it's important to check before you enter'.

Ahren nodded. His master had drummed into him how to recognize the behaviour of the different animals and the features of different areas of the forest. It was only logical that the same would apply to the city.

The small group descended the hill and soon they were at the city gate. Ahren put on a particularly bored expression and tried to look as anonymous as possible. The bed stone of the palisade was roughly one pace high and the palisade rose up roughly five paces in front of them.

This was the first time Ahren had seen such fortification, but it looked old and neglected. Some of the posts were askew or broken and there were cracks in the bed stone. The town watch who waved them through with a bored look completed the picture. The haggard looking man was wearing a leather jerkin, which looked as if it had been repaired many times, and a rusty chainguard. His halberd seemed slightly warped and the young man could see several nicks in its blade. Ahren's image of the heroic bailiff had been severely undermined. Then they were through and entered Three Rivers. Ahren realised that his first impression of the city was mistaken. He could see solidly built stone houses, not to mention thatched wooden houses that had a more stable look than any of the ones he had seen in Deepstone, with the exception perhaps of the chapel and the Village Hall of his home village. All the buildings were well maintained and clean. When he looked down he noticed that he was no longer walking on trampled down clay but on large stone slabs, that were dirty and greasy from the rain, but prevented you from sinking into the mud. The few townspeople he saw may have been running around in their normal work clothes, but even to his untrained eyes Ahren could see a difference between the quality and fashioning of their clothes when compared with the clothing in his own village. 'Is everybody here wealthy?' he asked Falk very quietly and tried to hide his excitement.

Uldini snorted and Falk answered hesitatingly. 'They have a certain affluence. Anyone who lives behind the palisade must have enough money for the privilege. Even if they've neglected the defences to a shocking degree'.

Uldini snorted again and said, 'the numbskulls have been practising trade for too long and that's why they've neglected their defences. Neither Kelkor nor the Fen Knights have done anything more than provoke a couple of inconsequential quarrels over the last century and that's made them careless. They've forgotten that the Border Lands are a mere five days hard riding away. And a single dark bear would be able to rip through the toothpicks they call a palisade in no time at all'. The wizard's disgust was palpable, but there was also great sadness in his face.

He's worried about these people, thought Ahren. The magus could be even grumpier than Falk when he wasn't happy about something, but he had also seen Uldini in a happy, almost mischievous spirit – it was difficult to make out this moody person.

The drizzle was setting in and Falk began to walk faster because the rain was washing the ash off the armour plating and it was become shinier with every minute. He pointed to a hostelry with stables and they quickly hurried over and sheltered with the horses. Falk looked down at himself doubtfully and took off the armour until he was down to his leather clothing. Then he took off Selsena's armour and hid it all under a woollen blanket in the Elven horse's stall.

'Take good care of it', he murmured to her and they went into the taproom. While Ahren was taking in the comfortable if simple furnishings, Falk sorted out a room with the happy, wide-eyed innkeeper. Apart from themselves there were a few workers in the room, who were sitting out the bad weather, as well as three daredevil types at one of the corner tables.

Ahren wanted to take a closer look but the ferocious glare from one of the fellows, a coarse-looking man with stubble made him look away quickly. He knew this look from Sven. He'd really rather not meet a grown-up version of the miller's son, who had back up and weapons with him. The young man may only have glanced at him, but the long swords were unmissable.

Uldini squinted over at them too and said quietly, 'let's have everything brought to our room. I smell trouble down here'.

Falk nodded and made the necessary arrangements. They sat together in the early afternoon, having cleaned themselves, warmed up, and eaten a full meal. Falk wanted to head for the marketplace again.

'We need something more hardwearing than the leather jerkins, and a few decent travel utensils. And we need another horse as well as a pack horse. Selsena has been giving me a pain in my head, complaining about all the weight she has to carry'.

'I'm not going with you', Uldini replied. 'I'll try to make contact with some of the Ancients. Maybe they can cast a really big and heavy magic net. A few diversionary tactics would definitely help us'. He made the crystal ball float in the middle of the room and pulled out a piece of chalk.

Falk nodded and gestured at Ahren to come with him. 'It means Uldini will be busy for a while, but his idea is good. I'd be a lot happier if we could walk the length of the Red Posts without having to watch out for Swarm Claws or Fog Cats. There isn't much protection out there'.

'What are the Red Posts, master?' Ahren had never heard of them before.

There had been another enormous row over the route they should travel and Uldini had won out in the end. Falk had seemed strangely relaxed since then although he had lost the argument, as if he had resigned himself to his fate.

'It's a sort of trade route. You'll see it when we get there'.

Ahren shrugged his shoulders. He had learned to accept these cryptic answers.

The drizzle had eased off and now there was a dampness hanging in the air between the houses, which Ahren found uncomfortable. There were many more people scurrying around and the closer they got to the market place, the noisier it became. He could already see the colourful stalls and visitors weaving their way around in a complicated dance as they went about their various tasks. The whole market place was a hubbub of stallholders loudly pitching their wares and haggling with customers.

Ahren couldn't help moving closer to Falk for protection. He found this crying, moving, sweaty smelling mass of people a little frightening somehow.

Falk could sense his apprentice's discomfort and put an arm around his shoulders. 'You'll get used to it. You've only known village life and the wilderness. It's louder in the towns. And this is nothing here. At some stage we're going to have to go to the Sun Bazaar or the Eternal Market. You'll find clever dealers at the entrances selling wax balls for your ears, so you can bear the noise'.

Ahren looked at the old man sceptically, unsure whether he was pulling his leg. Then they were in the market place and Ahren had to have his wits about him to avoid running into people as he looked around curiously. There were the usual vegetable, fruit and meat stalls of which there were many scattered around the marketplace. But he also saw stalls for wares that would at the very most only be sold individually in Deepstone by Master Velem if he had been lucky enough to get one or two. Rare cloths and priceless garments, decorative ironwork and even weapons were laid out on the display cloths for customers to admire.

They were turning a corner around a stall when Ahren stopped suddenly and several people crashed into the back of him. He was too stunned to hear the muttered curses behind him as he stared in amazement at a dwarf, hardly five paces away from him. He was offering sparkling gems, rings and necklaces for sale, all of which were displayed on a black velvet cloth spread out on the stall. The small sturdy creature was surrounded by four ferocious looking guards dressed in uniformed tunics. They all had their hands placed on their short swords, which were hanging from their belts. With the help of their shields they had little trouble directing the stream of people, so that they created an island of tranquility, where two wealthy looking merchants were examining the wares.

Even Falk look surprised. 'That's strange. The dwarves from the Silver Cliff don't usually sell their wares too far away from home. You have to travel the length of Kelkor to get here. He could do business in the Knight Marshes or in the Realm of the Sunplains with the same effort and earn twice as much money. Come with me'.

Falk determinedly pushed his way through the crowd and got to the counter. Ahren followed him and the guards eyed them suspiciously. From the way they changed their body position it was clear to Ahren that they considered the pair of Forest Guardians to be a threat rather than customers, and the young man realized that they were possibly three heartbeats away from open conflict.

The dwarf gave Falk a threatening look from under his bushy eyebrows but then the Forest Guardian said something in a strangely muffled and rumbling language, all the while crossing his arms in front of him, placing his hands on his shoulders and bowing. The merchant grunted in surprise and repeated the gesture and uttered the same words but in an incredibly deep and resonant voice, which gave his words a surprisingly natural fluidity.

The guards relaxed and turned their gaze back to the two merchants who were studying the wares, and also on the people passing by. Ahren breathed a sigh of relief and studied Falk's partner with interest. He had never seen a member of the little people before and his expectations were not disappointed.

The dwarf reached as high as the middle of Falk's torso, yet his shoulders were at least as broad as the old man's. His arms and legs were squat, almost squeezed together but extremely powerful. His straw-blond hair with its complicated plaits giving him an air of wildness fell as a thick mane down his back. His full bushy beard was similarly braided and grew down to his barrel-shaped chest. His clothing was indeed select and worthy of a wealthy merchant, but he also had metal arm and leg armour strapped on, and when he moved, Ahren could hear the rattle of chainmail.

Some soldiers have less protection going into battle, thought Ahren.

His mentor and the dwarf were engaged in a friendly conversation and when the jewellery merchant turned and pointed southwards at something, Ahren saw that he was carrying two vicious looking axes on his back, that couldn't be seen from the front. The two merchants who were still looking at the jewellery noticed them too. One of them immediately became ashen-faced and retreated into the crowd where he disappeared. The dwarf noticed this, said something to Falk and hit him on the chest with his fist, causing his master to stagger.

At first Ahren thought that the merchant was angry because of his lost business, but then he gave a laugh, so deep and loud that Ahren's bones shook. He couldn't help chuckling too and it struck him that he liked dwarves.

Falk finished his conversation and much to Ahren's disbelief, gave the little man a gold thaler. They both repeated the gesture they had made when they had greeted each other, and Falk indicated to his apprentice to follow him.

The old man was silent and contemplative for a while. Ahren continued to look at the displays while Falk, with practised efficiency, strode through the market and bought all the things they needed, telling the stallholders to deliver them to their lodgings. He hardly haggled at all and paid horrendous prices for the purchases.

They finally left the market and went towards the western gate. The palisades and the town watch didn't exactly inspire confidence here either. Ahren realised that the jewellery stall had better defences than the whole city. He pointed this out to Falk, who laughed.

'You're not wrong. But you have to remember, Ker-Korog is a guest of honour of the city, and the armed personnel were lent to him and are, in fact, the bodyguards of the city steward. Three Rivers clearly wants to improve its reputation as a trading city and for that reason sent out invitations to the merchants from the Silver Cliffs and Thousand Halls. Not a bad move if you think of what he told me earlier'.

Whatever it was the dwarf had told him, he clearly didn't want to talk about it in public, and Ahren was clever enough not to ask questions about it for the moment. They went out the gate and Ahren saw a paddock on his left with more than two dozen horses in it.

'Let's see which of them suits you', said Falk.

The next hour proved to be entirely painful for the apprentice. He had only been on a horse twice in his life and that was years ago at an Autumn Festival. He kept falling off or being thrown off and the horse wouldn't listen to him. Falk lowered his expectations dramatically. His apprentice may have been quick to learn and gifted as well, but his horse-riding skills were minimal.

In the end they settled for the most docile horse available, a chestnut mare who still had another one or two summers in her for carrying a rider until she became too old. Ahren was depressed and could see how disappointed his master was. Today he had made two new discoveries: he liked dwarves and he hated horses! Falk quickly bought a pack horse and instructed the dealer to deliver the horses to the lodgings the following break of day. His apprentice's foul humour was written all over his face and so the old Forest Guardian pulled himself together and smiled weakly at the young man. 'You can't be brilliant at everything. That's a lesson you have to learn too. With a lot of practice and hard work we might make you into a passable rider'. Ahren heard the doubt in his voice and scowled. 'And now we'll get a sword for you, what do you think?' his master continued and immediately the young man's mood improved. Then Falk led him back into the streets of the city.

It wasn't long before they reached a two-storey stone building. A heavy dark oak door prevented entry and on it was posted the emblem of the blacksmiths' guild.

'We must be right here. Ker-Korog recommended this blacksmith and when it comes to metalwork, the little people have a gift for it', said Falk.

He hammered on the door and soon it was opened by the largest woman Ahren had ever seen. The women in Hjalgar were mostly considerably smaller than the men and so the apprentice could only stare rudely while Falk explained their request. The blacksmith was a finger's width taller than Falk and had the broad shoulders and strong arms typical of workers in this profession. White-blond hair peeped out from under her veil and her piercing blue eyes twinkled humorously at Ahren as she listened to the old Forest Guardian. Then she moved aside and let the two of them in while she looked the young man up and down critically.

'So you need a sword for the little one, do you?' she asked. 'What do you have in mind?'

Falk hesitated. 'I'd like your advice first before I decide. My knowledge is a bit…rusty'.

Then the blacksmith approached Ahren, who flinched and looked up at her uncertainly. She snorted in amusement and said, 'I'm not going to eat you. Have you never seen anybody from the Ice Islands or the Brazen City, boy?'

He shook his head and his master said, 'he's fresh-faced from the village. It's all new for him'.

The big woman gave an understanding nod and began to measure the length of his arms and the width of his shoulders with a thread.

'Shoulders too small and arms too thin for hammer and axe. Or do you have time to build up a bit of strength?' Her dry analysis cut through Ahren. His training had begun to reap significant rewards and he had almost beaten Holken in arm-wrestling a few weeks earlier. A wave of homesickness came over him as he remembered, and he looked dejectedly in front of him.

In the meantime, Falk answered. 'No, we're heading for a dangerous area and time is not on our side'.

She nodded and made Ahren hop, stand on one leg, turn in every direction, bend and stretch. He thought she might be a little strange in the head, but Falk stood there quietly, leaning against a pillar and looking on serenely. The door to the actual forge was open and it was warm in the room. Ahren was soon sweating but then she indicated to him to stand still.

'Quick, nimble and wiry. You had him climbing a lot, am I right?'

His master gave a satisfied nod.

'A quick blade is best for him. We'll try him out with a rapier'. She went to a shelf which had long, very thin blades.

Falk frowned but said nothing. The smith looked at the thread she had measured Ahren with, then took one of the weapons. It was a thin piece with a three-cornered blade that ended in a basket hilt. The young man took hold of it carefully and the proprietress indicated that he should follow her. The three of them went outside and into a walled inner courtyard with three straw dolls which were obviously used for target practice. There were more further back, made of wood and judging by their scores, those were used for trying out the heavier weapons.

He was told to stab one of the straw dolls and the two adults stood there watching and giving him advice. The weapon felt light and fragile in his hands and bent to an alarming degree when he stabbed. He felt awkward and inept in contrast and the quick steps his watchers demanded of him kept ending up as ineffective little hops.

'That's enough', said Falk finally.

The woman took the weapon from him and went into the house to get another.

The apprentice whispered, 'what sort of a smith is she?'

Falk chuckled, 'she comes from the Brazen City, I know that much. What she's doing here…I've no idea. It must be something serious like a blood feud or something. But let me make this clear, she's not just a smith. Anyone who works at the forge in the Brazen City is also an armourer. We were damn lucky today. No wonder that Ker-Korog recommended her. It wouldn't surprise me if the dwarves agreed to do business with the city because of her. I'll definitely have to talk to Uldini about it later'. He became silent as the woman came outside again, this time with a long, straight, two-edged sword in her hand.

'The classic one. The long sword. Timeless and versatile'.

She handed the weapon over to Ahren, who now had to perform completely different actions, as he hacked at the doll and stabbed it. He felt much more comfortable with the heavier weapon and carried out most of the instructions very well. These exercises took considerably longer and gradually daylight faded.

Finally Ahren heard Falk asking, 'so armourer, are you satisfied? It looks good enough to me'.

The apprentice held his breath and turned around to where they had made themselves comfortable at a small table. Sometime while he had been peppering the straw doll, she had organized goblets and beer and the two were sitting there like two old warriors and were examining him critically.

She answered with a frown. 'Satisfied? No. Good enough for bashing about in the hurly-burly, but in single combat…there's no doubt he's talented, but he's really using only one blade'.

She thought for a moment, then stood up. 'I'll try one more weapon. Keep the long sword here, you can take that if the worst comes to worst'.

She quickly disappeared inside while Ahren looked at Falk in consternation. The old man shrugged his shoulders and sipped at his beer. After a few heartbeats the armourer returned, holding an unusual blade in her hand that Ahren had never seen before. It was slim and light, like a long sword cut in two, but with only one cutting edge, the other edge was blunt. The blade was also slightly curved and ended in a little tip. Ahren was fascinated. Everything about this weapon was slim and fast, yet without the fragility of the rapier.

'Is that a Windblade? He heard Falk asking. I didn't think the Brazen City produced such weapons. Or are the Sunplains and the Eternal Kingdom no longer at war?

She laughed, a surprisingly bright and friendly laugh.

'The war has gone on for so long that it's probably only the Eternal Empress who remembers the reasons for it. No, you're right, but one of the few advantages of my new home is the fact that I can now decide for myself what I want to forge. Call it professional curiosity but I wanted to know if it's possible to manufacture these things in our forges'.

'And?' asked Falk stubbornly.

'It's difficult but possible. It took me ten tries to get this one right. It's a little top-heavy and I could only fold it half the number of times I wanted to. Any merchant in the Eternal Kingdom will be able to offer you a better piece', she answered.

'Well, you're being hard on yourself', said the old man, amused.

She shrugged her shoulders. 'I'm just being honest. We'll see!'

Ahren took the weapon and began the exercises she was showing him. He carried out the steps and the swings almost like a dancer, with economical thrusts and semi circles, using the sword to parry and attack.

His arms and back were beginning to hurt after the hours of training but all his movements felt fluid and gentle now. They stopped only after the sun had completely set.

'There you have it, Master Forest Guardian. He's holding the worst blade of the lot in his hands in terms of quality, but his movements are immeasurably better. That's the one he should take'.

Falk scratched his beard and frowned.

'Then I have to ask you a favour. Can you show him the ground rules so that he can practise them on the journey. I'm only trained in the broadsword, and that breaks bones when it cuts'.

She nodded and Falk continued. 'We need to head off tomorrow. I'll leave him here and you teach him as much as you can. And remember, teach him simple things that he can repeat on his own, without getting into bad habits'. Then he stood up and slapped Ahren on the shoulder. 'Have fun and grasp the opportunity!'

And he was out the door before the apprentice could respond, leaving him with the practice dolls and the gigantic woman from the Ice Islands. He was a little afraid but soon he was too focused on the training to think of anything else. If he had considered Falk to be a hard taskmaster, then the following hours put paid to that. He learnt perhaps a dozen moves, not more, but the armourer made him repeat them with merciless determination until she was convinced that he would be able to perfect them on the road.

'You're only at the beginning', she said during a break, as he drank some water. 'If you learn bad habits now, they will be with you for the rest of your life, so I'm only going to show you the moves where you know immediately if you've made a mistake. Your master will notice any major blunders and correct you'.

Ahren continued the torture of learning the basic moves as the armourer relentlessly hammered into his head all the things he had to be aware of. When the first cock finally crowed, she relented and he rolled together into a ball and fell asleep on the spot.

Ahren woke up late in the morning. He was lying on a soft bedstead under a warm blanket. The armourer, who had introduced herself during the evening as Falagarda, must have lifted him up and put him to bed.

He sat up with a groan and stretched his stiff limbs. He chewed some herbs, an antidote to aching muscles which were in a little bag that he always carried with him. Only Falk, he thought grimly, could manage to turn a simple shopping spree into gruelling torture for him.

There was no sign of Falagarda and a quick glance out the window showed that half the morning was already gone. What was keeping his master? He stood up and found the smith standing in front of the chimney where she was working on an axe. She glanced over her shoulder and called over the clanging of her hammer blows, 'good morning, your master hasn't arrived yet'.

Ahren stood for a moment, puzzled. What if something had happened? He opened his moneybag and took out the solitary penny Uldini had given him in case they became separated.

'What do I owe you?' he asked.

Falagarda gave a dismissive wave. 'Forget about it, boy. You're a quick student and if you practise really hard, you'll be very handy with Windblade, maybe even a master. The blade's been lying around here for years gathering dust'. She thought for a moment. 'Mind you, you can do me one favour. If your travels take you to the Silver Cliff or Thousand Halls, tell the dwarves there that Falagarda Regelsten is interesting in developing a trading relationship that involves more than precious stones'.

Ahren didn't quite know what she was talking about, but he nodded and said, 'that's a promise. And thanks for the training'.

She nodded back.

'Then go look for your master. And good luck on your travels'.

Ahren gave a farewell wave, left the forge, went through the showroom, out the heavy oak door and onto the street outside. The previous day's rainclouds had disappeared and he blinked in the bright sunshine and tried to remember where exactly their guesthouse lay.

The sun offered the necessary orientation and he headed off in what he thought was roughly the right direction, always picking the street or alleyway, which he felt would bring him nearer his destination. He had just entered a narrow alleyway, about two paces in width, and he was pretty sure the guesthouse was at the other end of it, when he noticed three figures loitering with their backs turned to him. The houses were packed close together, so he would either have to turn back or squeeze between the people.

He was hesitantly moving forward when one of them turned around and he recognized the coarse fellow that had intimidated him the day before in the taproom. His opposite number seemed to have recognized him too and pointed in Ahren's direction while whispering something. The other two heads spun around immediately, and the apprentice could see a hard looking man and a ferocious wild-eyed woman with pock marks.

All three made themselves bigger in the alleyway so getting past them was unthinkable. Each of them had at least one hand hidden under their cloaks and Ahren remembered the weapons he had seen them with the day before. The physical threat was almost palpable and Ahren was not so naïve as to go closer. If only he had his bow with him!

There must have been seven paces between them and he was sure that he could have shot two arrows successfully in the narrow street. When he didn't seem to be making any move to do their bidding, the strangers began to move towards him.

Ahren quickly went through his options. The bow was a non-starter, also dagger and sword - he was in the minority and under-trained. He thought for a moment of running away but these three surely knew their way around better and could split up to cut off his escape routes. Calling out for help was useless too - it would all be over by the time anyone came.

Another six paces.

What was left? He thought of his training, which wasn't much use here in the city.

Until he remembered the ribbon tree.

A quick sidelong glance revealed that the stone facades of the houses were rough and the window ledges afforded excellent climbing opportunities. Without giving the idea a second thought, he jumped up and clung on to a projection in the façade of one of the stone walls. He heard a roar behind him as the blackguards realized what he was planning. He quickly pulled himself up, cursing the hours of sword practice he had undertaken the previous night as his muscles protested. He looked up and the next reachable grip was the narrow window ledge on the second floor, roughly one pace above his head. He tensed up his body so that every muscle, from his fingers to his toes, worked as one. Then he pulled his arms downward before pushing his body with full force upwards, just before his attackers could catch him.

His months of climbing practice now stood him in good stead. He found it remarkably easy to grasp the window ledge and to pull himself up again until he was standing on the narrow wooden board that was creaking dangerously under his feet. He risked a quick downward look and saw three angry faces as they began to climb up after him. The coarse fellow had major problems getting a grip, but the other two were making progress almost as quickly as Ahren. He concentrated again on the climb, but the rest of the way was child's play. He only had to reach up and grip, and he'd reach the edge of the roof, and after two heartbeats he was lying on the shingle roof of the house. The smooth slate tiles were dangerously slippery underfoot and the steep angle of the roof ridge made it difficult to stand up. Remaining bent over so that his arms were in contact with the shingle, he clambered over to the other side of the house.

The first pursuer's head was already above the roof edge, and Ahren quickly began his descent. The street was broader and busier here and one or two passers-by craned their heads to peer up at him. He ignored them and slid down as quickly as he could, tearing his hands on the bare stone. The burning pain was a small price to pay for his escape, for as he raced on towards the inn, he could hear loud cursing coming from the roof.

'Ralg, he's running to the others. Grab him!'

The young Forest Guardian sprinted with all the strength he had. Windblade, which he had only casually slung on his back, banged loudly against his body as he ran, sounding like a bell around his neck.

The street he was racing along now ran parallel to the street on which he had evaded the lowlifes. Both of them met up on the street the inn was on, which meant that he and his adversary had roughly the same distance to run. It was like a two-horse race in the dark, at the end of which was the safety of his accommodation where hopefully the others were waiting for him.

For a second, the idea that they might not be there flashed through his head. After all, Falk hadn't come to pick him up. But he tossed aside this thought as he hurtled down the street and rounded the corner. They wouldn't have left without him. At the very least Culhen and Selsena would be waiting for him in the stable, and the idea of having an Elven horse and a half-grown wolf beside him spurred him on.

But there were still a good thirty paces to the entrance of the refuge when the cutthroat, who the others had named Ralg, came around the corner and headed helter-skelter for Ahren. The young man ran on and saw something flash out of the corner of his eye. The fellow had drawn his dagger.

Ahren instinctively reached for his own dagger but it wasn't there. They'd only wanted to go shopping the day before. As he began his final sprint he swore to himself that he would never go anywhere without his short sword again.

Ralg had a coarse figure and was unable to climb but he was a good sprinter and it seemed as though he would catch up with Ahren before he could reach his destination.

Two paces from the entrance to the taproom and he felt a calloused hand on his shoulder. Before the scoundrel could grab him and pull him around, Ahren ducked down and spun to the side. Ralg took the opportunity to position himself between Ahren and the safe haven behind the door. He squatted down into a combat position, the blade under his right forearm so as not to arouse suspicion.

'Got you!' he grumbled in a hoarse voice and Ahren tensed himself up to ready himself for the attack.

Then Falk was there. With speed and determination he came out through the taproom door and was behind Ahren's attacker. Before he had time to notice the impending danger, Falk had smashed his fist against Ralg's temple, and the ruffian began to tumble to the ground with glassy eyes. Falk repeated the action, then caught the man, who had lost consciousness. The scoundrel's dagger clattered to the ground and Ahren saw some strollers scurry away from the scene. Falk leaned the limp body against the wall and began to frisk him with practised hands. He fished some parchment out of the unconscious man's jerkin and skimmed through it with a frown.

'We need to get out of here before the others turn up with reinforcements. Get Uldini and our equipment and I'll meet you in the stable'.

Ahren had a hundred questions but he knew that now was not the time to ask them. He hurried to their room, but the wizard had already packed and was coming towards him, heaving the heavy bundle of equipment behind him.

The young Forest Guardian wanted to say something but Uldini cut him off. 'Don't waste your breath, we've been discovered, that much is clear'.

They both raced down the stairs and towards the stable, leaving open-mouthed guests in the taproom staring after them in disbelief as they thundered past with their heavy equipment.

Falk was already there and saddled Selsena while Culhen kept watch at the entrance. Their new animals were waiting for them and they quickly loaded them with their equipment. Finally Ahren swung himself uncertainly onto the saddle and Falk looked at him in consternation.

'I'll take your reins, we have to get out of here quickly and I don't want to have to keep picking you up or searching for you', he said with determination.

They left the stables and trotted towards the northern gate. Ahren, who felt as if he were a child again, hanging onto the saddle while Falk led him by the reins, asked the question that had been vexing him.

'What happened there exactly?'

'I found this on your friend with the knife', said his master tersely and pressed the crumpled parchment in his hand. He unfolded it clumsily as he hopped up and down in the saddle.

It appeared to be some kind of official document, many lines, often with complicated words. He was somewhat skilled at the art of reading but as he was still unpractised, it took him a while to understand it completely. The top half gave physical descriptions of Uldini, Falk and himself, and underneath it stated that they were imposters who had robbed the merchant guilds of several thousand gold thalers.

'It's an arrest warrant!' gasped Ahren loudly.

Falk turned to him with a scornful look and pulled the parchment out of his hand.

'Why don't you speak up a bit, the town watch didn't hear you', he said sarcastically. Luckily, they had already passed the northern gate and there were no other travellers in the vicinity.

Ahren spoke in a quieter voice, 'but why is there an arrest warrant for us? And who wrote it?'

'"Why" is simple', answered Uldini. 'A Transformer had it issued to make life difficult for us'.

Ahren winced. Transformers were the first beings HE WHO FORMS had created – without the backing of his siblings. According to legend they were grotesque, ever-changing creatures, who couldn't hold onto any appearance for long. Appalled by their fate, they willingly aligned themselves with HIM WHO FORCES. In return for their services, he forced them into whatever physical shape suited him at the time. There were hundreds of horror stories about them. They were far and away the most powerful and fearsome weapons in the Betrayer's arsenal. Ahren was greatly disturbed by the thought that one of their number had brought unwelcome attention onto the travel party.

'The merchant guilds issued the arrest warrants', added Uldini matter-of-factly. 'A clever move if you ask me. Their arrest warrants are less powerful than regional documents but they're valid in all the kingdoms. We'll have reached the Knight Marshes in two days but that won't be much help to us'.

'And now?' asked Falk darkly. 'I suppose we can forget our plan to join up with a group of travelling merchants'.

The wizard nodded. 'I'd forget about that idea. One of the Ancients should have a look among the guilds. If the Transformer is still there, which I very much doubt, that will flush him out. Until then we'd be better continue on our own'.

They travelled the rest of the morning in contemplative silence. Falk handed the reins back to Ahren so that he could learn to direct the horse by himself. With the midday son beating down on them, Ahren asked, 'why does the Adversary want to stop us already? Would it not make more sense to wait until my Naming, when the magic spell is lifted?'

Uldini looked at him out of the corner of his eye before continuing his catnap. Falk answered, 'if you die now, HE WHO FORCES has enough time to wake up, because it took the gods over seven hundred years to replace the last Paladin with you. But it's also true that the longer we take to appoint you, the quicker the Adversary will awaken from his long Sleeping Bane. He can feed off the powers of the thirteenth Paladin, which were released when you were selected, and gain strength from them until they are embedded within you. Your powers are connected to the Pall Pillar, which means that the two of you are bound together. This binding will only be cut when you have been named'.

Now Uldini opened his eyes and looked earnestly at the young man. 'He will wake up more quickly if your power is diverted, and we must prevent this at all costs. The channels between you and the Bane Spell are at their most permeable during equinox, when day and night are equal length. He can suck out a particularly large amount at that time. If we manage to appoint you before the next Spring Festival, we will have a time-scale of two or three years before HE WHO FORCES rises up. If we manage it before this Autumn Festival, we will have perhaps even half a dozen years. If we need more than one year…' His voice trailed off and he didn't finish the sentence. Once again there was quiet as they sat on their saddles, each one lost in their own thoughts.

'Why didn't you collect me this morning?' asked Ahren finally, breaking the silence.

'We noticed the good-for-nothings, who were watching us and were waiting for the right moment to catch one of them and question him or her', answered Falk. You were in safe hands at the armourer's, so we left you there. None of us thought that you'd wander through the city on your own'.

Somehow it didn't surprise Ahren that he was being blamed again. So he changed the subject.

'What did the dwarf say to you yesterday?'

His master sat up straight and addressed his commentary to Uldini as well as Ahren. 'The disputes among the knights have increased and some very extreme views have been surfacing in the recent past. They don't want any elves or dwarves in the kingdom – complete nonsense really. And the trade between King's island and Silver Cliff has almost ground to a halt. It's good that we're only skirting Knight Marshes on our journey'.

'It's no coincidence', mumbled Uldini. 'This much is certain, the agents of the Adversary are trying to foment unrest. A squabbling enemy is an enemy defeated'.

And with that they all fell into a brooding silence.

At dusk they sought out a little wood on the side of the road where they set up camp for the night. Ahren was sore from riding and so he was delighted when Falk ordered him to practise his sword-fighting exercises while he prepared the evening meal.

Uldini was staring into his crystal ball which was floating and emitting a weak light, and he seemed to be speaking to one of the Ancients. Although Falk was not familiar with Windblade, he had a good general idea of the feints and foot positions needed and he didn't tire of pointing out every tiny mistake Ahren made. By the time it was dark, every muscle in Ahren's body was aching and he was only too happy to lie down.

He was asleep in no time at all and woke up the next day after a succession of nightmares in which he was chased by a ragtag of figures with knives and swords, who were constantly changing their forms. He was happy to be free from his dreams until Falk tossed a bundle of practice arrows at his feet and told him to tie them to his horse. Ahren got up with a groan at the realization that this was going to be another long day. They rode silently over the flat farming land that made up the northern border of Hjalgar. They stopped unexpectedly in the late afternoon and turned off the road to find shelter in some heavy woodland.

Falk began to polish up his armour and ordered Ahren to do the same with Selsena's plating. They scrubbed off the grey coating and polished the whitish material until it was sparkling bright, and Uldini changed his clothes. His silk robe disappeared into his rucksack and he put on expensive linen clothing instead, before slipping a tabard over it. The tabard was decorated with a falcon perched on a stone. The rock glowed in the conventional black and gold of the the Knight Marshes.

Falk took from the saddlebag the mysterious bundle that he had always stored in his trunk in their cabin. From it he carefully removed a similar tunic, which he now passed to Ahren. The material was thick and heavy and smelt musty. Ahren slipped the unfamiliar clothing over his head. He wriggled around and tugged at it until it was sitting properly on him. In the meantime Falk had slipped on a heavy gold signet ring on his finger. It was set with an onyx stone and displayed the same crests as on their clothing.

All this was amazing to Ahren, but what happened next really took his breath away. His master actually took out a comb and began to comb his hair and beard in a most fastidious fashion. Ahren burst out laughing at the sight, and not even his master's warning looks could stop him. It was only when Uldini gave him a warning look and shook his head that the young man could contain himself again.

The results of their efforts were impressive. Falk's white armour shimmered in a brightness that was mother-of-pearl, as did Selsena's, and the Elven horse conveyed her happiness in waves to her companions. Falk's broadsword was now hanging between his shoulder blades and his bow was now on Selsena's saddle. The more Falk tidied up his appearance, the more authoritative he appeared. When his master was finally finished, Ahren saw a transformation in front of him. It was still Falk, but he was now every inch the knight. Uldini resembled a liveried retainer. And then the two of them set about working on Ahren. They pulled and prodded, they polished his leathers, they even combed his hair.

He felt deeply uncomfortable and embarrassed, while Culhen sat in front of him, and seemed to be laughing at him with his tongue hanging out. That was, until he was subjected to the same treatment and made to look prim and proper by the two of them. Ahren had to carry his sword open on his back too, with his bow fixed to his saddle.

Finally they were ready and once they had ridden from the shadow of the trees and into the early summer sunshine they presented a breath-taking sight. Falk was riding alone on Selsena, Uldini on the the saddled-up pack horse. His master and the Titejunanwa glistened in the afternoon light and looked for all the world like the dashing figures in a heroic saga. Instead of sitting hunched and humdrum on the saddle, the old man was sitting bolt upright like a knight on his warhorse. Ahren could only stare in wonder and Uldini laughed out loud.

'That's enough, Falk. Judging by the boy's open jaw, it's effective enough to get us over the border easily. Good that you're here again!'

The old Forest Guardian flared into existence again for an instant as Falk answered angrily, 'I'm not here again!'

Then he rode ahead in measured steps and the others followed the would-be knight on the road.

Uldini talked to Ahren all the way to the border, advising him on the role he was to play. He would be Falk's page.

I'm still the apprentice, even in disguise, he thought bitterly.

At last they arrived at a run-down wooden hut, which was Hjalgar's border post. Two border guards, sitting under an awning, squinted at them with tired and bored eyes and waved them through without bothering to get up.

'That was the easy part', mumbled the wizard and nodded his head in the direction they would follow. Wooden posts were stuck into the ground on either side of the road, presenting two undulating lines to a distance of several hundred paces in either direction. These had to be the border stakes. Beyond the border stood a high square stone tower, reaching at least ten paces into the sky. It was crenellated on top and there were at least three crossbowmen watching them in a relaxed yet attentive manner. There were three armoured guards on either side of the road, all equipped with heavy halberds. Swords were hanging from their belts. The crest of the Knight Marshes hung on a large banner from the tower - a golden crown on a black background surrounded by a circle of many dozens of small, golden, square shields.

They were still three paces away when one of the guards – and judging by the plume of feathers on his helmet, he was probably the head guard – shouted out in a booming voice, 'halt in the name of Senius Blueground, king of the Knight Marshes, and name your purpose!'

Uldini responded in a voice equally loud and in an arrogant tone, 'Dorian Falkenstein, knight and Lord of Castle Falkenstein wishes to visit his homeland'.

The words had no sooner been uttered when the guards hopped to attention and their commander said, 'but of course. A thousand apologies that I didn't recognize you immediately. Have a good journey on the roads of Knight Marshes'.

The border guards saluted as they rode by and as soon as they were beyond the row of ironclad men, Ahren heard animated whispering behind him.

Falk maintained his lordly pose but there was a frown on his face.

'I knew it was a bad idea. They recognised the name', he hissed.

'Of course they did. We're in the Knight Marshes, they love their stories. Lots of names might have been forgotten elsewhere, but not here', answered Uldini calmly. 'We've gone through this already. The arrest warrants only have the name Falk, the Forest Guardian. This was the quickest and safest way of getting in. Your name would have surfaced sometime anyway, so at least we controlled when and how'.

'Master?' asked Ahren, who couldn't contain himself any longer. 'Are you really a knight?'

Falk sighed and answered in a weary voice, 'I was a knight once. Then I didn't want to be one anymore'.

At these words a wave of cold rage rolled through Ahren's inside and Selsena gave a loud and shrill neigh.

It must have been Falk's decision that had angered her so much and that was why she had stayed away from him for all those years. 'Not now', said Falk firmly and the feeling of anger ebbed away, to some extent anyway.

'I went to the elves and at some point became a Forest Guardian. The best decision of my life, and even this stubborn woman here will have to admit that it did me some good over the years'.

There was no response from Selsena but Falk smiled and patted her neck while Uldini said to Ahren, 'welcome to the Knight Marshes'.


Ahren had expected a completely different world when they first entered the neighbouring kingdom. There were no kings, armies or heroes in Hjalgar, there were only bailiffs, village councils and city administrators. Which meant that any stories that reached Deepstone and told of the knights of this kingdom were fairy tales and adventure yarns.

After half a day's travelling Ahren's expectations were wearing thin. The trade road was laid with large stone slabs, and now and again they would spot a defiant castle or a moated tower soaring into the sky, but apart from those, it was row after row of farms. There were many border poles with different coats of arms proudly displayed on them, and any farmers that they saw seemed considerably poorer than their counterparts in Deepstone.

When he asked the reason for this, it was Uldini who answered, while Falk clenched his teeth and stared stubbornly straight ahead. 'It's because of all the fiefdoms and their knights and followers. In Hjalgar the farmer tills his field, he gathers the harvest and gives a few coins to the village council, and he keeps the rest for himself. Here twenty or thirty farmers are supporting at least as many liege men and women, also the knights of the fiefdom. And they also have to cough up the tithes that their feudal lord has to give to the king. There's not much left over for themselves'.

Falk was scowling now and was on the point of interrupting but Uldini continued quickly, 'on the other hand, there are hardly any brigands or other riffraff and Dark Ones are extremely rare here. Apart from the skirmishes between the knights, the Knight Marshes is one of the safest places in the world – as long as you obey the laws'.

The old man seemed placated and nodded. Generally speaking his master had been very distant since they had set foot in the Knight Marshes, and it wasn't just in the way he was behaving and moving. He was also less communicative than before. Ahren decided to put off asking further questions.

He looked at the bundle of practice arrows he had had to take with him and wondered how the arrows fitted into the disguise.

The old man saw what he was looking at and grumbled, 'they're for practising, not looking at. See if you can hit that tree trunk over there'.

Ahren looked in surprise and unfastened the bow. He had to spend the rest of the afternoon shooting at different targets while his mare walked on contentedly. Shooting arrows on horseback was a completely new experience, and because Ahren lacked practice and was not a talented rider, he fell from his saddle several times and missed more often than hit the targets. Culhen, on the other hand, enjoyed the game, running playfully after each arrow. He brought most of them back and that evening Ahren calculated that there were only ten fewer arrows than there had been at noon.

They rested in a hostelry and Ahren was sent to the courtyard to do his sword practice while his master looked on and corrected him. This looked like an everyday occurrence to the locals, with the knight training his page, and so they fitted in nicely with their surroundings. Their training method hadn't changed much, except for their clothing, and Falk was even more critical and stricter in his judgments and in his analysis than he had been before.

And so they continued for the next ten days, the little group moving further into the country, steadily following the path towards the northwest. During the day Ahren would train in shooting with bow and arrow from the horse and in the evening he would continue with swordsmanship. There was very little talk and Uldini would often retreat with his crystal ball in the evenings so he could speak to the Ancients alone. One evening Ahren cornered the master wizard in the hallway of the hostelry in which they were spending the night and asked him sheepishly, 'why is Falk so overbearing towards me and why is he so silent? Have I done something wrong?'

Uldini paused for a moment and then answered quietly. 'Your master has returned home after a very long absence and he must come to terms with parts of his past and his personality, which he has suppressed. This is what happens if you run too far from something and for too long a time. It comes back to bite you eventually'. Then he disappeared leaving the perplexed apprentice in his wake. He could never get a straight answer and his blood was beginning to boil. He stomped over to his master's room and found him there, sitting on a stool and studying a map. Falk looked up sternly. Before he had a chance to say anything, Ahren unleashed his frustration and anger at being kept in the dark. 'I spend all my time stumbling behind you, not knowing what's going on, but following every order you give me, and meanwhile you're becoming more and more of a stranger, and I'm beginning to believe less and less of what you are all telling me. Two years ago I became a Forest Guardian's apprentice and now nothing is making any sense anymore'. Ahren had been hoping to sound grown-up and determined, but he knew he sounded like a frightened, wounded boy.

For a moment there was a flash of anger in Falk's eyes, but then his face softened and became friendly, as it always did when his master knew he had pushed his apprentice too far.

He pointed to the other stool and closed the door. Then he sat down again and said, 'you're clearly confused and it's hardly surprising. Let's try to untangle the knots a little. First of all, I've always told you the truth, only it hasn't been all of the truth. Some of it I will tell you now, some of it will remain my secret, until I feel you are ready to hear it. Agreed?'

Ahren nodded in silence. He knew when his master was asking a rhetorical question. And anyway, any morsel of information was better than hearing nothing.

'Right then', the old man began. 'I was born here in the Knight Marshes as the heir to Castle Falkenstein., a small fiefdom that now lies in the heart of the country. My mother was an important…knightess and from when I was knee-high to a grasshopper I was being trained to follow in her footsteps. So I learned how to fight with a broadsword, I learned riding and how to use a lance, everything that went with the territory. It soon became clear that I was a born knight. It finally came to the point where I took over from my mother. I got to know Selsena and we were an unbelievable team, a natural talent on a telepathic horse. Everything went swimmingly and Uldini and I performed many tasks together. We slew monsters and suchlike. We were highly successful. Until Dark Ones slaughtered my family and everyone I loved, while I was trying to perform a task that was imposible to fulfil'. Falk's voice faltered and died away and Ahren was sure he wouldn't say anymore. But then the old man continued in a quiet voice and the pain was evidently still fresh. 'I abdicated my knighthood and wandered around the world. As you already know, Selsena was not happy with my decision. I let myself go completely. Alcohol and disreputable company, gambling and other things I'm not proud of. In the end I had to flee a clan from the Green Sea on account of some ridiculous bet and found myself without money or sustenance in Evergreen again'.

Ahren noted that his master had used the human name for the Elfish forest, but he said nothing, though it showed him how his companion was struggling to relate the story he was telling.

'It was only the fame of my former deeds and the fact that a Titejunanwa had been connected to me that saved me from execution. I was brought before the Elf priestess and you know the story from that point on. After my training as a Forest Guardian I went to Hjalgar to enjoy the peace I had found in the freedom of nature. Then you turned up, and with you, Selsena. She must have been keeping an eye on me the whole time and knew that you were something special. And now the circle has been completed and here I am again, in this armour. I have to bring that which I am now into harmony with that which I was. It's much more difficult than I had anticipated'. Falk looked at the young man. He had obviously come to the end of his explanation. Before Ahren could say anything, the old man muttered, 'now, get out into the courtyard. I'll be damned if you think you're going to get away with not doing your sword practice'.

His apprentice turned away with a smile.

Old or new Falk, there were some things about his master that would never change.

After four days they arrived at a large crossroads where a cobbled trade road from deep in the middle of the Knight Marshes intersected with theirs. Here they found a two-storey guesthouse and a trading post with a warehouse. There were at least forty people bustling around noisily. Ahren saw many merchants with escort parties, at least three different knights, and some wild-looking people with leather hair bands and painted faces. These were talking loudly to the warehouse keeper. Falk made a detour around the crowd and they continued to the inn. Ahren asked quietly, 'what kind of a place is that and who are the painted people?'

'They were Clanmen from the Green Sea', answered Uldini. 'This is where the northern trade route, which we're journeying to Eathinian on, meets up with a smaller trade route, which stretches from the Red Posts to King's Island, stretching across the whole of the Knight Marshes'.

Falk dismounted to purchase provisions and Uldini got them something to drink, for the day was hot and the air was still in the midday sun. Ahren stayed by the horses and watched the various people while tickling Culhen. Falk had purchased a leather collar for the wolf so that people would recognize that the animal was tame, but the wolf would always guarantee that Ahren could be on his own if he so wished. He squatted down beside him and whispered lovingly to his friend, while the wolf lifted his nose to take in all the unfamiliar smells.

Then the young man heard a voice behind him. 'That's a wonderful animal you have there'. He looked up over his shoulder and blinked in the sunshine. The speaker was towering over him, a black silhouette against the light. His deep, warm voice sounded very agreeable. 'Not everyone has such a true friend. Many have to go through life alone'.

Ahren straightened up and turned to get a better look at the stranger. Before him stood a thin man with a long thin beard and deep, sunken eyes ringed with shadow. They seemed to be looking sadly but wisely out into the world. He was wearing a strange red robe, shot through with long, golden stripes. His hands were folded in front of him on his stomach and he had a book under his right arm.

'What's your name, boy?' he asked.

'Ahren', answered the apprentice instinctively.

'That's a good name. Tell me, Ahren, do you sometimes feel lonely?' the man wanted to know.

This was a strange question for everyone was lonely at some time, so he nodded.

'And if I were to tell you that you didn't have to suffer loneliness or fear in your life again, never again?' the thin man pressed on.

The young man gave a sceptical look and his companion gave a warm and sympathetic laugh.

'I know what you're thinking: big words, easier said than done. I would very much like to tell you of the Illuminated Path'. And he tapped the book under his arm.

Before Ahren could answer, Falk and Uldini came out and walked up to them. 'On the saddle with you, page, we need to get a move on', his master snarled brusquely. Falk and Uldini mounted their horses and ignored the stranger completely.

The man bowed slightly and said, 'another time, perhaps', before stepping away.

Ahren got up on his saddle too and they rode off.

'What did that odd fellow want?' asked Falk as soon as they were out of earshot.

Ahren shrugged his shoulders. 'I think he was a priest, but I'm not sure'.

'Be careful at the trading posts. They're full of madmen and charlatans', added Uldini.

That explained why his master had pulled him away from the conversation so coarsely.

They left the crossroads behind them and now they were climbing a small incline. Ahead Ahren now saw a line of red painted stakes in the ground that created an undulating line as far as the horizon. He gasped in amazement for it was a stunning sight. The red stakes were greater than a man's thickness and towered a dozen paces into the sky. The distance from one stake to the next was twenty paces at most and so they created an impression of a threatening wall as you rode alongside them. This effect was even more impressive because of the contrast on either side of the stakes. To his left Ahren saw farms and fields and castles set in undulating grass. To his left, however, the grass had not been cultivated as far as the eye could see. The wind blew across the meadows and hills and the long grass billowed like the waves of a large lake. The landscape was sublime and somehow deeply moving and Ahren found himself stopping and staring at it.

Uldini laughed and said, 'there's no-one who sees the Green Sea that's unmoved. There's a saying in the Eternal Kingdom, "a person has only live once they've seen the two seas, the green one and the blue". And I think that definitely true'.

They rode in a gentle curve along the trade road until it turned sharply just in front of the red stakes and then ran along them in a northwards direction. From the edge of the road Ahren could stretch out his arm and touch the smooth wood with his finger.

'Better not touch it', ordered Falk severely. 'This is the border between the Knight Marshes and the Green Sea. Any crossing over without clansmen escorting you is punishable by death'.

Ahren pulled his finger back quickly, as if the wood was burning hot. 'Why are they so strict?' he asked curiously.

His master answered, 'the way it looks there now, it used to look the same three hundred lengths further east'. He had pointed first at the untamed wilderness and then at the cultivated countryside. 'The knight Marshes was a small coastal region which kept expanding inland. The clans protested and many agreements and promises were made only to be broken again by the knights. But when they had taken control of half the land, that was the straw that broke the camel's back. The clansmen massacred any further settlers, painting their building timbers with their victim's blood, and put up the poles as a warning to never again overstep the boundary to the Green Sea. Of course, there were some more military operations to seize more land but there were no towns that could be laid siege to. Only nomads with fast horses and first-class archers. In the end, the knights realized that they could only lose and so the border was fixed. And because nobody wants to step too close to the red stakes, the border was turned into a trade route. Both sides are always eyeing each other up and there are many armed guards patrolling the route. That's why there are so few assaults'. Falk paused and then said with force, 'keep to the path. Never go between two stakes. You don't know who's watching'.

He pointed at the green hill and Ahren saw a painted head ducking out of sight in knee-high grass. The young man shuddered and guided his horse to the right side of the road to be as far away from the mysterious stakes as possible.

There were small, squat hostels in this section of the trade road, which also served as border garrisons. Ahren saw many armed border guards and also some knights, so the travel party preferred to stay in their room unless Ahren was practising. Falk's ranking as a knight ensured they remained undisturbed and Ahren made steady progress in his training.

They rode alongside the red stakes day in, day out, and Ahren began to grow used to their imposing size. His archery training only took place on the right side of the route now, but soon their days were following a steady routine.

The days passed by and the weather was, but for a few wet days, friendly as the summer reached its highpoint. At home the master craftsmen and women would be setting their Apprenticeship Trials and for the first time Ahren felt something like homesickness. The world seemed enormous to him now, as had been travelling for weeks alongside the vast plains of the Green Sea. He realized that his Deepstone world with all its problems had been very small indeed.

In an effort to distract himself from these thoughts, he threw himself into the target practice Falk set for him, and his archery skills on horseback made a marked improvement, even if his horsemanship still left something to be desired. The ever-growing Culhen revelled in playing fetch and his head was now up as far as Ahren's hips. He was now the size of a fully-grown wolf and Falk expected him to stop growing soon.

One bright summer's day during their fourth week in the shadow of the stakes, Ahren saw a long strip glimmering on the horizon. At first he thought it was just a mirage, but the phenomenon remained constant. Falk saw his apprentice's questioning look and said, 'that's Eathinian, eternally green, an enormous forest that stretches the entire width of the continent. An almost straight length of untouched nature tended to by the elves – from the very beginning'.

Ahren heard the yearning and joyful anticipation in his master's voice and was infected by it. At night he pondered what surprise awaited him in the land of the elves and he became increasingly curious and impatient. Their slow progress towards the forest felt like torture and Ahren reckoned it would be another good week before they reached the home of the forest elves.

One morning Ahren was daydreaming about elves when Falk suddenly shook him by the shoulder. It was a dull day, the low clouds were slowly moving across the sky and the darkness suggested the travellers would soon be soaking wet. The young man sat up in his saddle and gave his master a questioning look. He didn't return his look however but whispered out of the corner of his mouth. 'Don't arouse suspicion but untie your bow from the saddle and open the quiver. We're about to be ambushed'.

The apprentice was about to crane his neck to see the danger, but Falk hissed sharply without moving his head, 'leave that, or do you want us all to die?'

Ahren slumped back down and looked for all the world like a daydreaming young man, while he secretly prepared bow and arrows for action. The blood was pounding in his ears and it was taking him longer than usual because his hands were shaking. Knowing they were in imminent danger was bad enough, but not being able to look for it was pure torture for the young man.

Falk continued to speak quietly. 'Selsena warned me earlier that she's receiving a lot of hatred and anger. Whoever's lying in wait there must have a couple of really shady characters among them if she can sense their feelings over such a long distance'.

'I can't do much with magic', murmured Uldini. 'We've another few days of unshielded travel through open countryside and I'm glad that the Dark Ones have lost our track. The magic nets of the Ancients have done their job and caused the necessary distraction. If I cast a strong magic spell now, the enemy will be on top of us immediately'.

'Can you throw a small magic net so we know how many and where they are? asked Falk quietly.

Uldini nodded. 'But that's it then. Then I'll defend us with a few little sleights of hand, but I'll only intervene in an emergency'.

He closed his eyes, made a few quick hand movements under his cloak and said something in the foreign language he always used when he was weaving his magic. He opened his eyes again five heartbeats later and said, 'there are fourteen, three of them have crossbows, the rest have cudgels and swords. They're a hundred paces away behind that big rock'.

He pointed his chain at a rock formation which rose up to the right of the trade route. The terrain was still undulating grassland as it had been for the previous weeks, but here and there were fragments of rock that jutted up from the ground like the teeth of an ogre. They were dark on the surface and Uldini had explained to Ahren a few days previously that they had originally been parts of one enormous mountain that had been blown up during one of the major battles. The young man was terrified at the thought that such a massive mountain could be destroyed, and he looked at them in superstitious awe.

But now this feeling was replaced by real fear for his life. Fourteen opponents. Falk had taught him enough about the art of war for him to realize that this superiority in numbers was justification to flee. But instead, his master was proceeding apace and deliberately raised the bow in his hand.

'What are you doing?' asked Ahren, confused.

'They're not using the left side of the road', said the old man calmly. 'Which means they have neither experience nor courage enough to challenge the Clanmen. They've dug their whole group in behind one rock instead of dividing themselves up. That says to me that we're dealing with amateurs, and we know where they are, so the element of surprise is gone. We'll force them to leave their cover and then you and I will pepper them with arrows until they flee. We'll start with the crossbowmen'.

Ahren was flabbergasted. He had shot animals when they had needed food and Dark Ones who had wanted to harm them or others. But now he had to direct his arrows at people.

'Can we not just talk to them?' he asked fearfully.

Falk shook his head grimly. 'The feelings that Selsena is absorbing are pure bloodlust and greed. Those people don't want to talk, at least not with us'.

'But maybe we can persuade them?' Ahren persisted. If he was going to have to shoot at someone, then only after he had tried everything to avoid it.

His master nodded haltingly. 'Alright then. We'll give it a go. But I want to tempt them out anyway. Ahren, dismount and prepare your arrow. Loosen your sword just in case and if one of them shoots then drop down on one knee and shoot at anything that's moving in our direction. Culhen will give you cover. I'll take on the crossbowmen'.

His master wasn't counting on Ahren to agree to this, that much was clear to the young man. But Ahren was clinging on to the hope that the imminent bloodbath could be avoided.

Ahren did as he was bidden, his loyal wolf crouched beside him and as he was organizing his arrows in the quiver to make them easier to pull out he heard the thunderous voice of Falk, who had nonchalantly placed an arrow on his bow which he had set up in position on the saddle in front of him.

'We know that you're there. Your little ambush has failed. Come out and be on your way. Then nobody will be harmed'.

The sudden authority in Falk's voice even intimidated Ahren. Hopefully the bandits would cave in.

First, nothing at all happened. The rock lay still in the morning light. A dozen heartbeats passed by and then a number of figures came from behind and walked to the front of the rock. Eight positioned themselves in the middle of the road, two of them had crossbows at the ready. Another five appeared from the other side of the rock, away from the road. One of them was pointing a firearm at them.

The ambushers were too far away to study in detail but Ahren could see men and women in varying degrees of neglect. He couldn't see their facial expressions but their body language suggested determination and threat.

A particularly burly man called from the middle of the road in a voice, raw from years of heavy drinking, 'as you see, there are more of us than you!'

The mob laughed and jeered before he continued, 'put your weapons down now and maybe, just maybe, we'll spare your lives'. The last words came out as a snarl and Ahren saw, even from this distance, that their opponents were bracing themselves for action. He suddenly realised that there wouldn't be much more talking before they came to blows. Panic was threatening to overcome him and so he instinctively sought the Void in the hope he could control his emotions. Falk murmured, 'try to get the crossbowman on the right'. Then he called out loudly, 'one more thing before we begin'.

Before the words had echoed across, he had already lifted his bow, drawn the string and let his arrow fly. Distracted by the sudden end to the negotiations, the bandits ducked a half a second too late and one of the crossbowmen collapsed with a scream on the road. Ahren was just as surprised as the bandits who after the split second shock were now storming forward. The remaining crossbowmen started shooting and Ahren shot at the chubby figure to the right of the rock before he had a chance to shoot. His opponent threw himself to the ground to avoid Ahren's arrow and the bolt of his crossbow went askew, flying harmlessly into the distance. Ahren heard a whizzing sound and realized that the other crossbowman had just missed them. He broke into a cold sweat and his concentration faltered. He heard Falk mutter something and then shoot, sending the second crossbowman tumbling to the ground.

With shaking fingers the apprentice set another arrow and dropped to one knee as his master had ordered. His corpulent opponent was lying flat on the ground trying to reload his crossbow. The analytical part of Ahren's brain, which was firmly anchored in the Void, was telling him that the more immediate danger was the four bandits who were now charging at him. The remaining crossbowman would have to shoot through his own people once he had his weapon loaded.

And so Ahren fixed his look on one of the rapidly approaching enemies and suppressed his strong feeling of repulsion. Human being or no human being, the faces of the attackers left him in no doubt of what would happen to him and his comrades if they were overpowered. He let the arrow fly and his target didn't stand a chance. Wedged in between his companions and running on uneven ground he couldn't take evasive action in time. Ahren's arrow drove into his chest with a terrible sound and he collapsed to the ground without uttering a sound.

Ahren could feel the Void fading at the sight and he shot another arrow before his concentrated calm left him completely. The stocky woman he was aiming at this time threw herself to the side, but the arrow grazed her throat and a fountain of blood spurted out of the wound. She covered it with her hands and let forth a gurgling sound.

The horror of the scene completely banished the Void and Ahren jumped up, stunned, and dropped the bow. He stared wide-eyed at his victim who made a few weak movements while the fountain of blood slackened until the woman finally died. He staggered backwards a few steps and frantically looked around him. Falk had been firing the whole time and another three bodies were lying lifeless on the ground. Uldini was sitting on his horse impassively, the crystal ball in his right hand and he was watching the fight with total concentration. The bandits were twenty paces closer now and having received a quiet command from Falk, Selsena charged at the rest of the bandits on the road while he pulled out his broadsword.

Uldini meanwhile shouted at Ahren, 'draw your sword boy! In the name of the THREE, defend yourself!'

Instinctively rather than consciously, Ahren followed the wizard's instruction. Culhen was standing at his right leg, his hackles raised and snarling angrily at the approaching enemy.

Falk fell to work on the bandits with ruthless efficiency. Ahren saw for the first time the harmony between his master and Selsena as they rode into battle. Titejunanwa and rider moved in perfect harmony. What the one saw, the other knew. The effect was uncanny. The Elven horse rammed an attacker who had been too slow to jump to one side, and the poor soul was spun through the air like a rag doll with a gruesome jagged hole in his chest, splattering the surroundings with droplets of blood.

Falk was warding off swords and cudgels from the flanks of his war horse with his broadsword in a combination of graceful arcs and cutting thrusts. He cut down two more attackers almost casually and they sank to the ground with a groan, unable to stand again.

But all this was of no use to Ahren. The two remaining attackers who had come from the side of the path would be upon him any second. A man with ugly pockmarks and a long sword was lunging towards him while a woman with an evil grin and a serrated dagger in her hand was running towards the seemingly defenceless child, sitting dumbfounded on his pack horse. Ahren tried to push himself between Uldini and the woman but the man blocked his way. Ahren was still overwhelmed by his latest deeds and mechanically raised Windblade into the defensive position he had been practising for the previous few weeks while he kept looking over at the two motionless bodies who were on his conscience, and this action in all probability saved his life. He caught sight of the one remaining crossbowman, who had reloaded his weapon, aimed it at Ahren and shot.

The apprentice instinctively leaped to the side so that Windblade was in the firing line.The bolt whizzed within a whisker past them and Ahren felt sick as the displaced air caused by the bolt cooled his skin. If he hadn't taken that evasive action he would now be just as dead as his two victims and Culhen too had barely escaped being hit. This realization roused him into action. He pointed at the chubby crossbowman and shouted, 'Culhen, attack!'

The wolf catapulted forward, as if spring-loaded, howled loudly and hurtled towards the unfortunate man. Ahren concentrated on his own attacker, and as the pockmarked bandit aimed his sword at him, Ahren practised one of the few manoeuvres he was familiar with. The assailant's sword was coming towards him in a flat arc about shoulder high so that it would injure his head or chest. Ahren moved towards the strike and held his sword with the hilt upwards and the blade slanted downwards so that the cutthroat's blow slid along the curved blade with a scraping sound and was deflected. They were now standing beside each other and the parried long sword harmlessly cut the air behind Ahren.

The second part of the manoeuvre was even easier. While the bandit was stopping his sword to initiate a backhand stroke Ahren only had to use his movement to good effect and take another step forward while he turned his body towards his opponent and swung Windblade in a downward motion. The impetus of his body turn gave his weapon enough strength to cause a gaping wound down his opponent's back, with blood spurting forth immediately. The pockmarked swordsman dropped his blade and collapsed into a groaning heap. Ahren looked down at his blade in surprise and saw the brigand's blood dripping from it. But before he could react to the sight, he heard a tumult behind him and spun around with his sword once again in the defensive position.

The woman with the dagger was throwing herself at Uldini and they were too far away for Ahren to do anything. He screamed a warning but the wizard had already reacted. He flicked the crystal ball from the palm of his hand with his fingers and it flew with high speed towards the woman's face. But instead of shattering into pieces, it ricocheted with a dull thud and flew back into the ageless youth's hand. His attacker dropped to the ground as if struck by lightning, and on her face was an enormous crimson swelling.

Ahren looked around frantically but there were no more bandits in the vicinity. Culhen was chasing down the crossbowman who had sought safety in flight and was running between the red stakes into the area of the Green Sea. Meanwhile Falk rode at a gallop towards the rock, and the brigands lay motionless on the road. Blood was dripping from Selsena's coat and also off the armour of war horse and rider. The sight was terrifying and Ahren swallowed hard. Falk rode around the back of the rock and seemed to be hunting down the puppet master of the ambush, who Ahren hadn't set eyes on. There had only been thirteen attackers although Uldini's magic had revealed fourteen. There was a short scream and Ahren was glad that the rock was hiding the action, then Falk reappeared and looked searchingly around. Culhen had been chasing the last survivor and Ahren had a sick feeling in his stomach about this. 'Culhen, come here!' he shouted and his four-legged friend turned with an unwilling growl and trotted back to him. Ahren breathed a sigh of relief as soon as the wolf had come back between the border stakes, and a few heartbeats later he understood exactly why.

The chubby bandit was still running for his life away from them, he was wheezing and could still be heard from this distance. He was ploughing his way surprisingly quickly for a man of his size through the knee-high grass. Suddenly a shape seemed to grow up from the ground beside him. The clan woman had waited in the grass until the runaway was beside her. The woman rose up and in a single flowing movement she sliced her dagger across his throat and ducked down into the high grass. The man took two unsteady steps forward before he noticed what had happened at all, then he collapsed and his death rattle echoed around the field.

Ahren looked at the scene of the drama in shock, but nothing could be seen apart from the gently waving grass. He stroked Culhen and swore that he would never wander into the Green Sea without permission. Meanwhile Falk had ridden up to them and was asking, 'everyone unharmed?'

Ahren didn't answer. The shock of the bloody battle was eating away at him, and the terrible images of the last few minutes were spinning around in his head. Uldini answered for him and said, 'it's not all his blood. Two with the bow and one with the sword. You've raised a real warrior there. Maybe we won't all die under the spell of the Adversary'.

The images in his head were all too much for Ahren and he threw up violently in the middle of the road.