They didn’t return directly to the village. Despite his wound, Saul was very keen to look around the glade further, and particularly to check if the goblins and the trolls had anything useful on them.

They scavenged the corpses, finding little of value on the goblins beyond their weapons and some dried herbs on one of them. One of the trolls had a pouch full of old-fashioned gold coins at its belt.

Saul hefted them thoughtfully. He would donate them to the villagers, he thought. They might come in useful.

As they scavenged the corpses, shouts and cries came from the direction of the village. A group of the youths who had fled came into view.

It seemed they had not gone too far but had instead raised the alarm and come back once they realized Saul and Brand had remained behind.

They were rather shamefaced, and Brand seemed inclined to admonish them for cowardice, but Saul made sure to speak before Brand could.

“You did the wise thing,” he told them. “It’s folly to attempt to fight a foe you know is beyond you. Any man should be given credit for learning where and when to flee and leave the fight to others. It’s rare that a man can do more good by dying than by staying alive.”

Brand looked in awe at Saul, and then, before Saul could say anything more, he told in vivid detail how Saul had used magic to defeat the trolls, had then demolished the five goblins almost single-handedly, and had actually saved Brand’s life in the process.

There was little Saul could do to stop Brand telling his friends. He had to just smile and accept the praise that was given him.

After all, he thought, it’s unlikely I could have kept my magic secret for long, and if I want to be able to gather rewards from using it and keep living in the village, it’s better for them to know.

So, he smiled and thanked them for their compliments. He instructed that the corpses and weapons of the goblins should be picked up and carried back to the village. It would be important for the hard-headed Captain Jerryl, and the other soldiers and villagers, to know the true nature of the peril in the forest.

Brand himself carried the warlock’s enchanted shortbow proudly.

When they got back to the village, everyone was in a fever to find out what had happened. The older folk had repented their earlier disapproval and, led by Rork the blacksmith, were preparing to come out in pursuit of the young people. Even Sergeant Dryan and his soldiers looked like they wanted a piece of the action.

Everyone was pleased to see the return of the adventurers, but Saul was content to leave Brand to tell the tale while he retreated to his hut. Zorea, who had been watching the return of the group with crossed arms and a disapproving face, appeared at his side.

“I want to look at that wound,” she said in a tone that brooked no argument as soon as she saw him.

Saul nodded.

“You got lucky,” she said after she’d examined, cleaned, and bound the wound up with an unguent and a pad of herbs. “The goblin arrows are always poisoned, but this is one of the less nasty ones. I’ve made a bit of a study of potions and herb lore through my training as a healer, and I’m well aware of the terrible poisons that the goblins sometimes use. Since this arrow just grazed you, you didn’t get a full dose of the venom. If you had, it might have been a very different story.”

She looked up, and her eyes met his, their curiosity burning bright through her natural wariness. “No magic could have saved you…” she said heavily.

Saul sighed. “So, you heard enough of the story to know there was magic involved?”

“Brand may be many things, but a liar is not one of them. I heard enough. I heard him say you cast a fireball and summoned a rock troll, and then fought like a demon yourself to kill those goblins. What happened up there? Who are you? Whose anchor? And where are your channelers? I’ve always wanted to learn about magic but the only mages we have up here are warlocks or the crazy old hermit mages who live up in the mountains and only ever do magic if they are creating some hallucinogenic potion for themselves. That’s not magic, not to my eyes, and if a young woman goes up to them asking for training, well…”

She shuddered, and Saul could imagine what would occur in that situation. Zorea was not classically beautiful by any measure, but she was a healthy, intelligent, bright-eyed young woman. To some creepy old half-mad mountain hermit, she would have been a goddess.

Saul closed his eyes for a moment, and then opened them to find her staring at him expectantly.

Clearly, her curiosity and her questions about magic had finally overcome her natural reservations. He suddenly realized she had just made probably the longest single speech he’d ever heard her make.

How could he explain? He knew well enough what she meant by asking who his channelers were, and whose anchor he was.

For all time, magic had worked like this; a group of people with magical ability would channel power to another person, the ‘anchor,’ who would make use of the gathered power to cast spells.

In his old life, Saul had been the keystone anchor for the vast sending of the channelers at the Prism Academy. The Prism channeling had acted as the source of power for all the mages of the imperial army, and for Saul himself. He and Karak had made a project of forcing all the mages in the world to join the Academy and lend their power to this effort.

In the time before the unification wars, powerful mage groups of various sizes would form around a skilled anchor, and would roam the world, using their magic for good or evil as their natures directed.

But as far as he knew, Saul alone in history was a mage who did not need an external power source for magic.

He did not need channelers.

He had the System.

“Zorea,” he said slowly, “I’m an anomaly, a man out of my place and time. I am a mage, it’s true, but my power comes from…elsewhere. My magic is different from other mages. The fact is, I’m not anyone’s anchor. I don’t have any channelers.”

“What?” she said, amazed. “But I thought that was the only way magic worked? I’ve never heard of…” He held up a hand to stop her flow of questions.

“I know,” he said. “I know. I’m still getting used to it myself. As far as I understand things, channeling and anchoring is how magic has always worked. Like I said, I’m an anomaly. I don’t think it’s something that can be taught, however. I don’t know a lot about my way of using magic yet. The truth is, up in the woods, that’s the first time I’ve used magic in this new way…in combat anyway.”

She gave him a look. “The bath water?”

He was shocked, and he sat up straight, surprised. “How do you know about that?” he demanded.

“It took me a while to work out how you were heating the water,” she said, “but I saw you emptying the tub out the back of the hut. One day, when it was cold, I saw that the water steamed in the crisp air as you poured it out. That seemed strange, and so watched more closely. After you poured your wastewater away, I came up to check, and I found that I was right—the water was warm. But I know that you were not using enough firewood to heat that much water, so I watched.”

Saul glowered at her. “You spied on me?”

“Not while you were in your bath,” she said sharply, meeting his look with an equally fierce one of her own. “But I watched how much firewood you were using, and I watched how long it was taking you to haul the water. Every day, you had two hot baths, but you filled, used, and emptied the tub in less time than you would have used to heat the water boiling it over the hearth. Eventually, I concluded that magic was the only explanation. You had to have some spell you were using to heat the water.”

“Have you told anyone?”

She shook her head. “I kept it to myself. The others wouldn’t understand and, anyway, I’m Xornian; I don’t rush into judgment. But you have to understand how fascinating it is, Saul. You’re by far the most interesting thing that has ever happened here in Harkin’s Holdfast.

“I’ve lived here my whole life, save for a few years when I traveled with Nala, the old wise woman who taught me the healing arts. I returned here to care for my parents in their old age. They died last fall and, shortly afterward, so did Nala, my mentor. To be honest, I was only waiting for last winter to pass before heading off again. This is a backwater village in a backwater country at the edge of the world. I want to see the rest of Keldor, see the Riverlands, the Sea Coast…”

She stopped, looked at him again. “And then you arrived in the last gasp of Winterstooth. You stumbled into the village with death nipping at your heels, a blond-haired, blue-eyed southerner with no explanation for his bizarre appearance out of the forest, without even shoes on his feet! And you needed my healing, so I was bound to stay and help you recover. I told you that you spoke in your sleep while I was caring for you. That’s when I learned your name.”

Her eyes bored into him. “You spoke of magic, of an emperor, of wars and of monsters, and something called the Prism and…so many things. It was all disjointed, I don’t know who you are or who you were or what you did, but you seemed to be speaking of a time, a world, that was like this one but different. Who are you?”

“It’s not so much who I am, Zorea, as who I was,” he said quietly, then he shook his head in amazement. “I said all this, and you worked out that I was using magic…you figured all this out, and you told no one?”

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

“Who would I tell?” she said, a little scornfully. “My mentor is dead, my parents are gone, and now that I’ve received an education and learned a little of the ways of the world beyond the Xornian northern hinterlands, I have little in common with the other villagers. No one here can even read except me. I’ve become an outsider. They recognize my skill in healing and are happy that I’m here because of that, but they are not my friends. I kept your secret to myself, and I suggest you should as well…though I suspect it’s a bit late for that.”

She was right.

* * *

There was little Saul could do about his new reputation. The villagers had decided he was a powerful mage and a brave fighter. Because he had freed the village of the threat and did not appear to be a warlock, they were happy not to hold his magic and his fighting skill against him.

In the weeks and months that followed, he found he was obliged to come up with an explanation for the villagers. Reluctantly, having never enjoyed lying, he simply made something up.

He told them he’d been a soldier, and that was how he’d gained his fighting skills, and that he’d won a duel with a mage from another land, who had granted him the power to cast a few spells without the use of channelers. He portrayed his magic as a useful but insignificant thing, something that was interesting as a curiosity but that, in reality, had significant disadvantages.

He hinted that the magic had gotten him into trouble, and that this was how he had ended up in the woods in such a deplorable state on that fateful day.

Most of the villagers accepted this story at face value, but Brand did not believe it. The young man was already smarter and more thoughtful than most of his peers in the village and had become wise beyond his years after the fight with the goblins.

He watched Saul with a hawk-like attention that was more than a little disconcerting. But while he clearly didn’t believe Saul’s simple tale, he understood Saul wanted the magic downplayed, and so he ceased to talk about it so much to the villagers and kept his opinions to himself.

Zorea was also not content with Saul’s refusal to explain more about his background. She pressed him until he finally had to tell her clearly that he appreciated her keeping his secret, but that he was not ready to tell her the full story.

“I promise that one day, if we get the chance to get to know each other better, I’ll tell you,” he said. “But, for now, I simply cannot.”

“Oh, we’ll get the chance to get to know each other better,” Zorea said dryly. “I’m not leaving your side, Saul. My mentor Nala told me I have some power of prescience and showed me how to bring my attention to it. I cannot tell the future, but I can feel when something is significant. And you, my mysterious friend, are as significant as they come.”

Brand and Zorea, as the only two in the village who knew and suspected more than Saul was letting on, naturally sought each other out and became allies. Saul saw them become friends. This reassured him.

Their friendship would keep them from talking out of turn with anyone else. But they had clearly come to an agreement to keep Saul under constant surveillance and to report to each other anything they saw.

In the weeks following the fight with the forest trolls, as the short mountain summer drew to its end and fall changed the colors of the forest and make the mornings cold, Brand and Zorea became his shadows. One or the other were never out of sight.

He found their obtrusive interest in him both amusing and very annoying. They were always awaiting him when he got up in the morning, always wanting to talk to him and follow him about as he did his mundane daily tasks of hauling water, eating, and training with his weapons.

Zorea at least attempted to cloak her curiosity and interest under reserved disdain. Brand, on the other hand, was as eager for Saul’s attention as a puppy despite his resolution to stop bragging about the adventure with the trolls.

It didn’t take Saul long to come to a decision. If he was not to be rid of these two, the best thing he could do to take control of the situation would be to train them.

One morning, he deliberately got up much earlier than usual so that when his two uncalled-for acolytes appeared at the hut, they found him already there, moving through a longsword drill with his staff.

Only, this time, there were two new staffs leaning against the cottage wall.

“You’re late,” Saul said to them sharply. “From now on, if you’re going to be always with me, you’ll get here at first light and be ready to do as I say. You want to know about me? I’ll teach you. Grab a staff each. Quickly, now!”

The two of them jolted at his commanding tone, clumsily picking up their staffs and standing to attention as best they could.

“Move farther apart,” Saul said. “If you try to train like that, you’ll hit each other. That’s lesson number one—always be aware of your surroundings, your friends as well as your foes. Do you know how easy it is to injure an ally in battle if you’re not paying attention? Unless you’re actively fighting together, side-by-side, protecting each other, then you want to always be two sword’s lengths apart.”

So began Saul’s training of Brand and Zorea. As the summer passed, the village was bustling and active.

Now that the threat was removed, foraging parties were able to visit the woods without too much risk. No new threats had risen since the adventure with the trolls.

Sergeant Dryan and his men chafed against their orders to remain in the village. They were bored and, after not too long, a few of them turned up to the morning training sessions at Saul’s hut.

It was something to do, and Saul was a good trainer.

Before long, every soldier who was off duty started finding his way to the hut of the “Outlander” as they affectionately called him. He trained them in the mornings. In the evenings, he spent time with them, hearing their stories and learning about the history of their land.

He found them rough but kindly men, veterans of many skirmishes over the years, and men who knew a great deal about the warlocks and the history of their country, the northlands of Xorn.

He learned that soldiers were stationed here because the warlock called Wytchlord Grimdir. He was a powerful magician who had a grudge against the Xornian royal family. Since he had been seen gathering strength in the mountains, it was feared he might strike the isolated northern villages.

“He could create a staging post for further attacks if he could take a village or two,” said Sergeant Dryan one evening when he’d come to Saul’s hut to sit outside and chat. “And this village of Harkin’s Holdfast is the northernmost settlement in all Xorn, so it’s here he’d strike first.”

The soldiers did not really need training. They knew what they were doing with weapons, and they were well-drilled and battle experienced. But they needed practice, and they needed something to do.

Dryan saw the beneficial effect that Saul’s input was having on his men’s morale, and he gave Saul permission to take the soldiers out into the open space outside the village and practice mock-battles and squad maneuvers with them and to experiment with new weapon drills and new tactics he suggested.

This benefited everyone. The soldiers felt like they were doing something worthwhile, and they were having some fun at the same time. Zorea and Brand had more experienced fighters to practice with, and they both quickly improved at handling halberds and swords. The villagers regained some respect for the soldiers since they saw that the men were active and putting their time to good use with their training.

And the training sessions did something else as well. They sculpted a new perception of Saul in the eyes of soldiers and villagers.

Instead of a stranger from the forest, a sick man, or a mage, the villagers saw Saul as a military leader, almost as one of the soldiers. And as for the soldiers, they began to respect him and to get into the habit of doing what he told them without question.

Zorea noticed this growing loyalty among the soldiers. “You’ve quite captured their respect,” she said to him one day as the soldiers were dispersing after a mock battle. “If Sergeant Dryan gave them an order and you countered it, I do believe that more than half of them would follow you instead.”

“And Dryan doesn’t even see,” Saul replied. “He’s just glad his men are not bored and mutinous anymore. I’m glad to be able to help the soldiers and to gain their respect, and I’m pleased that you and Brand have come such a long way in your training, but I have no desire to usurp Dryan’s command.”

“Just as well for him!” Zorea said with a grin, and they spoke no more about it.

* * *

Saul soon discovered he had been mistaken in his initial assessment of his progress through the System. At first, he had assumed that with each stage of his progress through the levels he would be able to unlock a new spell.

It was not so.

His Experience Points increased through his steady personal training and his training of the others. This was an interesting and important insight; he did not necessarily need to be doing spectacular magic to be making progress through the System.

His Arcane Dust did not increase at the same rate as the Experience Points. XP was tied to practice, apparently practice of any sort. Arcane Dust, on the other hand, seemed specifically tied to the use of magic in combat.

He spent his Gold XP as it accumulated and so moved steadily through level four and five, but new spells did not become available to be unlocked. Despite this, he found each step of his incremental progress still had an effect.

Each time he gained a level, he returned to his physical body a little stronger, quicker, and more effective than could not be explained by his training alone.

And there were other benefits, too. Despite the fact that there were not any new enemies near the village, Saul continued to practice the magic spells he had. As he progressed through the levels, he found the spellcasting ability improved in small but noticeable ways.

With each level, he was able to cast his spells farther and farther away from himself, and the spells themselves upgraded, becoming better and more powerful. The summoned rock troll became taller, broader, and stronger, and the duration that the monster remained active for increased as well.

He could cast Fireball for a longer distance, and the spell became brighter, hotter, and flew faster through the air. The Rockfall spell that he’d used to kill the forest troll dropped more stones with more force than it had at first.

Perhaps his acquisition of new spells was not going to move as quickly as he had initially thought, but the consolidation and improvement of the progress he’d already made was very satisfying. New spells would come in time.

He drilled with the soldiers and worked on Zorea and Brand’s training, and diligently practiced his magic, regularly visiting the Workshop to check his rewards and upgrade to the next level whenever possible. He built his strength and looked to the future.

His goal was to regain his old level of power, then to exceed it and reach a level where he could take revenge on the Seven Elemental Gods who had betrayed him. At first, this had seemed like it might be an impossible task. As the time passed, he saw more and more clearly that it was not impossible.

Diligent daily practice and continued incremental progress would eventually get him to where he needed to be.

* * *

On a cold, crisp day just after the first snow of winter had begun to fall, in the middle of a particularly fierce practice bout, Captain Jerryl returned at the head of several squads of raptors.

Jerryl and his men had heard the shouts and clash of weapons and came rushing up, battle ready, only to find Saul and Brand commanding opposing halves of the village garrison in a mock battle.

“Hold!” Saul shouted as soon as he saw the captain. “Form up!”

Instantly, every member of the guard stopped fighting, formed ranks, and snapped to attention.

Jerryl’s eyes widened. Saul could not help but grin. He wiped the sweat from his brow with his sleeve and strode through the neat ranks of Xornian foot soldiers to greet the captain, his feet crunching on the frozen mud.

“Good afternoon, Captain Jerryl. Welcome back.”

“Where’s Sergeant Dryan?” Jerryl said, a little hoarsely.

“Off duty, captain,” Saul replied. “I believe he’s asleep in his quarters.”

Jerryl looked for a long moment at Saul. Saul watched the captain take in the broadened shoulders, the shortened hair, the weathered tan, the bright, clear eye, and the straight back that were the result of Saul’s recent months of diligent training and his steady advancement in the System.

Then, Jerryl raised his eyes and cast a long, perceptive gaze over the ranks of foot soldiers. All of them appeared now to be willing to respond to Saul as if he were their commander.

“Making some progress, I see,” Jerryl said dryly, his eyes returning to Saul, and a flicker of a smile playing across his face.

“You could say that, sir,” Saul said, respectfully, then added politely, “I think you and I should probably have a talk.”

Jerryl let out a short bark of laughter. “Yes, I think we probably should!” he said. “No time like the present.”

“As you wish, Captain,” Saul replied. He turned to the ranks of soldiers. “At ease, men,” he called. “Training is over for the day.”

The soldiers instantly relaxed and began chatting and slapping each other on the back and wandering over to greet the newly returned Raptor Riders.

Jerryl glared at Saul, dismounted his raptor, and took Saul firmly by the arm. “The barracks,” he said quietly. “Now.”