Screeching winds pushed at their backs as they traversed across the rigorous terrain of Ulthrak. The great plains gave rise to the crest of a steep hill where a walkway had formed along the narrow pass. Flurries of snow sprinkled down against their faces as they battled the terrain. Many had their faces covered with furs and cloaks as best they could. The women held their babies about their chest in slings or held their child's arm as they walked—the steep drop off on either side of the path kept their strides purposeful.

Off into distant lands the sight of lightening pulsating through the sky told them there were warmer lands further south, but it was the north they moved towards now. Vince's hand comfortably secured itself around the magnificent hilt of the fabled sword that was now his, as far as he understood. An Ulthraki animal fur was wrapped around Vince's shoulders, his pale eyes squinted against the cold air that brushed his eyes. By his side was the lady Edna. Vince knew that many frowned upon an Ulthraki women with an outsider— as they were referred to. Vince looked up past the line of Ulthrakis and saw Fintan leading the pack up front with Magnar—Vince could tell by his walk.

No one had dared speak, the wind and snow were too loud anyways. Vince watched as a mother jerked her boys' arm towards her, angry that he had dared to wonder so close to the edge of the crest, which had now grown quite steep and narrow. Looking down Vince realized what a deadly fall it would be if one were to have the misfortune to slide down. There was little debris to hold you back were you to fall down. The same was true for either side of the pathway, where the steepness of the slope mirrored each other.

The cold gnawed at him, biting at his face like carnivorous teeth. The overcast sky matched Vince's demeanor as he trudged. He thought about the Magi way—there was no magic in it for himself. It was all through the sword, he had realized. He had felt the power the instant he had snagged it from Gerd's tent. Part of him felt as though he had committed a crime of sorts. It was certainly a wrongdoing—to take a man's sword and abandon him. He was sure Gerd would be fine on his own, however. He'd know how to make his way back home. He had been an elite Magi Knight in his prime. Vince wondered why he had never heard stories of him though—maybe that was just because he was from Weptswur. No one cared for Weptswur, an entirely selfish kingdom.

Vince's mind flashed through many things now—from the time he had killed the archer when he was on the road with Gerd and Fintan. Gerd. He had abandoned him, but he had to, right? He remembered his conversation with Fintan now, and the words could not escape him, "Go and speak with him, Vince. He's a wise man, he knows it's time to pass on his blade. However, it must be on his terms. It is the only way."

It is the only way. What had he meant it is the only way? He had come away with the sword just fine the way he'd done it, but he had a terrible guilt feeling about it. He couldn't explain why. Vince's fingers wrapped around the old metal of the sword's hilt. He felt the end of the hilt where the stone of Ertorin was encased tightly. He peered down at it as he walked, and a ringing filled his ears. He began to sway, disoriented. His balance left him. His eyes were locked on the stone, had it turned greener? No, it's yellow. He stumbled now, and Edna had to reach out to catch him. He almost flung her down with him. The two tripped over each other. Their bodies were halfway over the steep ledge when the large palms of the savage Dokk gripped their heads and yanked them from their death. Vince just lay absent-mindedly, blinking continuously. His head pounded and his eyes were glazed. A concerned Edna watched over him. He pushed her away and began fumbling his fingers around as if trying to find something.

The noise had drawn the attention of many of the Ulthrakis. Many began to turn to try and figure out what had just happened. A few Ulthrakis snorted in disgust and kept moving. Vince could feel the disapproval growing of his relationship with Edna. He had not intended for it to become of anything significant, he had simply desired the company of a woman for a night. It had not been intended that they would grow so fond of each other.

Vince found his feet after many Ulthraki's had passed by him, dismayed at the near scare he had caused. One man who had never been friendly since the moment the Ulthrakis ran into the Magi Knights had been a man named Poku. Vince certainly wasn't surprised to feel a shoulder ram into his shoulder as he rose to his feet finally, knocking him right back down to the ground. Poku shot a cold stare at Vince as he passed by. He wore minimal clothing over his upper body, even in the snow, which had turned from a few light flurries to a snowstorm by now. Vince watched Poku and a few of his close men pass by. The angry Ulthraki had bow in hand with a quiver of arrows slung across his back. An Ulthraki wielding a bow and arrow, quite unusual compared to the traditional Ulthraki battle axe.

Edna's squeezed his shoulder, urging him along. She might have said something along the lines of "You can do it, keep going," but the snowstorm drowned out anything audible. The winds swept the flakes of snow across their face, whipping their cheeks.

Many hours had passed before they began to descend off the hill's crest and back towards the traditional plains of Ulthrak. The snow was coming on thick now and many of the women feared for their small children. They paused and set up camp once they reached flat land. The men set to work assembling igloo-like structures in the snow. They appeared well versed in this trade, Poku and his men set to work on one structure and were finished in half an hour. It was not long after the first one went up that many more were built. Vince had never seen something so simple yet inventive for a people who were known for their shrewd qualities.

Vince huddled inside an igloo with Edna and the two brought their bodies close together for warmth, and more inevitably followed. The morning sun rose and with it came cold drops of melting snow. Vince awoke in a panic, suddenly fearful that the group had left without him and Edna. He flung his head straight up, breaking through the ceiling of the igloo and crumbling a pile of snow over Edna's body, who shrieked and moaned when the cold snow hit her body, hugging her neck like a scarf.

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He relaxed when he saw the feet of other men sticking out from their igloos. The igloos were constructed too small to fit their whole bodies. Vince cleared out the snow that had fallen on Edna and let her return to her sleep. She muttered something when he grabbed his scabbard and arose through the crumbled ceiling to exit, but he shushed her and told her to return to her sleep. Seeing as though the rest of the camp sought rest, he went off for a walk. He needed to get away from all of it. His legs carried him far. He had to go far enough so the base camp of half a hundred igloos was a dot on the horizon. His feet crunched under the snow as he walked. He eventually came up to a singular tree that stood on its own. It stood strong and tall, but all of its leaves were dead. It had many strong branches however, and Vince raised himself up its trunk and found a seat in a high branch above at the top of the tree.

He unsheathed the sword from the scabbard and his eyes were mesmerized. The radiating brightness of the Ertorin stone transfixed him. He stared into the stone. Inside it looked like a bright green fluid made of sap. The fluid was dense and thick, and it moved ever so slightly. He gripped the hilt firmly and held the sword up straight before him. His face stared back at him through the shiny blade. He gripped with a second hand to keep the sword up straight. It was a heavy blade, but its weight felt as though it changed to match grip. He removed the second hand and swung it lightly, testing its weight. It felt perfect.

His thoughts drifted to other things. Before he had been taken up by the Order, he remembered it clearly. It was a little over a year ago, soon after the war had finished up in Fereton where he was taken from. He remembered being in the streets of the large city. Houses and shops were abandoned, and most were destroyed by fire and giant rocks that had been the result of catapults breaching the walls with debris some time earlier in the war. He sat huddled in a wooden crate inside his father's shop. He ventured out of his hiding place, and he instantly had feelings of anxiety and nakedness. There was nowhere safe, nowhere to feel concealed. The streets outside were quiet, almost too empty. It had been only one day since a raid had taken place inside the city and his father had ran outside with a pyke, and demanded that he remain inside and hidden, no matter what. He wondered if his father lived. He wasn't his real father though, so why should he care.

He tip-toed through the shop and then had to bite his tongue not to cry out when his toe stubbed a piece of splintered wood form the flooring that had jutted up and out of place. He remembered the shop vividly, he had spent so much time in that shop, helping his step-father serve customers. Most attendees were drunkards looking for more ale for cheap. He hobbled his way to the door and scuffled his way into the street, forgetting all of his fears in that moment thanks to the searing pain that shot through his foot. He looked at his toe and saw a splinter of wood protruding from his toe. He ripped it out and let a yelp escape. His first mistake. Horror filled him further when from around the corner turned a Scoward warrior. His armor hung off him, leading Vince to believe he had been through some battles himself. His face was covered from top to bottom in fresh blood, his head cut open severely. Vince remembered his only words, "There's enough in this world to scream about, how about you keep your mouth shut." He watched as the Scoward man turned and walked away as if Vince was irrelevant to the great scheme of the war. Vince had pursed his lips and taken up a pike from the ground. The man had his back turned as he walked, and Vince launched the pike, the tip narrowly missing the man's head and thudding into the shuddering of an inn to his left.

"You missed your chance to walk away from the enemy. Next time you should run." This time when the man turned it was Gerd's face now covered in the fresh red blood. He screamed in anguish and rushed towards him as Vince turned, but froze. He felt as though his legs could not move. Paralyzed, he accepted his death, Gerd's blade going through his backside and spilling out the front of his stomach. Suddenly he was in the perspective of the one stabbing Gerd and he twisted the blade, and twisted, and thrust it. He had talons for hands, and he ripped open Gerd's chest. He let out a roar he didn't know he was capable of and soon his companions arrived beside him and tore the man apart.

Vince jerked awake as his body slammed into the ground from up in the tree. He groaned as his thoughts swirled around in his head violently. He arose and raised his sword to the sky. He felt stronger than he ever had. He believed in the blade, he believed in himself. He began walking towards the base camp where igloos simmered under the sun all that distance away.

Outwardly he felt himself return to Vince. But inside, he kept hidden. There was something unsettling but exciting. Something that did not feel like the Magi way, but something far more powerful and self-ruling. Vince never felt so alive.

"Ah, there you are my apprentice. We have much to talk about now that you have found your true stone. I trust Gerd was pleased to pass it on to you?"

"I don't know if pleased was the right word. It was hard for him to face it, I'd say. But he knew it was coming."

"Well done Vince, although you make it sound like you ended his life or something. Sometimes passing on a blade can feel like that for a Magi Knight." Fintan chuckled as he spoke, pleased for his apprentice.

"Yes, master, of course. He did seem quite glum about It, but I think he's quite content now. That responsibility no longer lies with him."

"You are quite right, apprentice. You are quite right."

The two stood in awkward silence for a moment before Fintan spoke up again, "Well Magnar has agreed to continue on in service to us. As long as he upholds his end of the deal, it was not in vain that we wiped out those Ulthrakis earlier. To Scourden we shall continue, they have quite a noble king if I remember. I believe he'd be willing to help us."

Vince nodded his head and pursed his lips. He felt eyes on his back and his intuition told him it was Poku. He glanced back and he was right.

"Stay away from him. Magnar has told me of Poku's temperament. He is not to be messed with, especially not you- being a foreigner."

"I say we drop him. Leave him behind."

"We could use his strength. He's a warrior. Plus, if we force him to leave then that eliminates many of his friends from this group. Anyways, Vince, a critical skill of a Magi Knight is to create peace with all men. This is your first test."

"If this is my first test, what do you call that back when I killed that archer on that road? Was that not a test just because he was already on his knees?"

Fintan's shoulders dropped, he had been doing so well, "No, that was a test, but it was not by the book of the Magi. This is a valuable skill taught to all Magi Knights—to negotiate, to barter, to be able to converse with any man of the realm who is willing to talk."

"Yes, master. I will talk with him before nightfall."

"Good, Vince. Good."

The two returned to camp and rounded up the Ulthraki's and ventured back across the long plains of Ulthrak, headed for Scourden. Vince brought up the rear, thinking to himself. Poku is the first test, unfortunate for him.