The small community of Fallow Vale had produced exactly one champion in its history. This was exactly one more than Talen Vale in the next valley, a fact that they often liked to remind them. In Fallow Vale, the choosing ceremony was taken seriously; after all, it happened once, why not again?

Unfortunately, the festive mood in the village didn’t reach the Fallow Vale fishery, where the line to the pay desk was moving as slowly as ever. Konrad was already running late, and he shifted his weight onto his good leg to ease the pain that his crutch caused under his arm.

"Next Clod," Daniel Reed growled, and the line shuffled slowly forward.

Daniel Reed was a big man, sturdily built with a huge belly that seemed to anchor him down into the foreground. He held the stump of a cigar, and the stale smell mingled with the odor of the fishery.

His daughter, Alice Reed, sat at a table and pushed small piles of coins towards the workers. Her hair had been freshly cut into a neat red bob that curled around her ears, and today she wore a green dress.

"Next Clod," Daniel Reed called.

Konrad tried to wipe his hands clean but only succeeded in transferring fish guts and scales to the front of his shirt.

"Hi Konrad," Alice said, giving him a bright smile.

"Hi Alice."

Alice pushed a measly handful of battered copper pieces across the table, and Konrad leaned on his crutch awkwardly to scoop them up.

"Deductions for land debt," Daniel Reed instructed, and Alice gave Konrad an apologetic look before removing half of the coins from the small pile.

Konrad surveyed the coins that remained. As a Clod family, he and his parents owed Daniel Reed for the land that they worked. At this rate, he’d be a hundred years old before he’d be able to call himself a citizen.

"Do you still need help pinning the wishes for choosing, Kon?" Alice asked.

Daniel Reed looked from Konrad to his daughter, and a frown creased his forehead. Under his stare, Konrad couldn’t seem to find his tongue, opening and closing his mouth like one of the hundreds of fish he had gutted that day.

"What’s the matter with him, he simple?" Reed asked.

"No, da, don’t be rude. I’ll meet you in the village square, Kon," Alice said, giving him a reassuring smile.

"Alice has work to do; hang those choosing wishes yourself, Clod," Reed grumbled, glancing down at the wooden crutch wedged under Konrad’s arm. "Although I don’t know if you can put them high enough for the gods to see them," he added, his mouth curling up slightly at the corners.

Alice stood up so fast that small piles of coins scattered across the table. "Don’t talk to my friend like that," she said, glaring at her father.

Daniel Reed had a dangerous glint in his eye. "I’ll talk to Clods how I like. And you won’t waste your time helping him, Alice, Clod’s don’t need choosing wishes cause the gods won’t choose another Clod champion."

Konrad stood uncertainly as Daniel and Alice Reed faced off against each other.

"What are you staring at, Clod?" Daniel snapped at him. "Get out of here."

Konrad fled, his crutch making a rhythmic tapping on the flagstones as the growing shouts of their argument filled the fishery.

Outside, Spirit bounded out from a patch of shade and jumped up to lick his face.

"Hey Spirit, I missed you too," Konrad said as he tried to fend her off.

The grey dog glanced in the direction of the fishery, where the Reeds' shouting match was reaching a crescendo.

"Alice is arguing with her da again, so it’s just you and me tonight," Konrad told her.

The sun was setting as they made their way through the Clod village. The mud and straw houses that had been baking in the sun all day gave off a dry smell like a hot oven, and in the village square, they passed other Clod workers making their way home from their labors or heading to the small, low-slung tavern. Two roads led out of the square: one was fine and cobbled, often repaired, and the other was a rutted dirt track that flooded every time it rained.

Two roads lead out of Fallow Vale, one for citizens and one for Clods.

Konrad and Spirit made for a simple wooden structure with a thatched roof in the middle of the square that protected the main village drinking well, and Konrad quickly found the box Fra Dun had left for him. It contained several woven flower wreaths, two crowns made of flowers, and a hammer and nails. A smaller box held around a hundred small pieces of paper with scribbled writing on them.

"We can’t hang the flower wreaths up top, but we can make sure all of the wishes are pinned up," Konrad said, pulling out the small pieces of paper and starting to fix them reverently to the wood.

The scribbled words were wishes for those who would be making the journey up to the shrine for the choosing ceremony. Konrad couldn’t read them, but he imagined what they said.

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‘Bless our Lottie, and may the Mother smile on her.’

‘May the Brother choose our Ryan.’

This would be Konrad's last year to be chosen as a champion to the gods, and he knew that there would be a scrap of paper for him in there somewhere that his mother had asked Fra Dun to write. He knew what it would say: ‘Bless our Konrad, who’s only got one good leg’.

Soon all of the wishes fluttered in the breeze, and there was around half an hour of light remaining. Konrad pulled a crate over and hauled himself up, balancing on his good leg. He stretched over as far as he could, but the wreath of woven flowers was just out of his reach. Spirit padded over and nudged it forward with her nose so that he could seize it.

"You shouldn’t be up there," Alice said.

The crate wobbled dangerously, and Spirit bounded forward just in time to stop him from toppling over backward.

"Gods, Alice, you scared me."

"Sorry, and I’m sorry I’m late." Alice gazed up at him with a concerned expression. She had something heavy clutched in her arms.

"It’s fine. Did you get a new book?" Konrad asked, struggling down.

"I did," Alice beamed. "This one has pictures; have a look while I finish this."

Konrad sat with the book open on his lap. Most of the pages were filled with tightly scrawled writing, but there were images beautifully etched in vibrant colors.

"Just looks like a load of stuff," he said, gently touching a picture of a fine cloak.

"It’s not just stuff; it’s a book about enchanted objects."

"These are all magical?"

"Yes, and these are only the ones we know about. The arcanists have most of them, but the book says that there are hundreds more all over the continent."

Alice spoke with an excitement that Konrad knew well. Each new book she received inspired a new plan for her life. Two summers ago, she had read a book of stories called ‘Tales of the Faelen Queen’ and had run away from home to go and search for the Echo. She had made it all the way to the big city of Tajar before her father found her and brought her home.

"So you’re going to go and find them? What happened to living with the giants or learning magic from the witches?"

"I still intend to do all of those things, Konrad," Alice replied primly. "But can you imagine the adventure of searching ruins for these secrets? When I go, I promise I’ll bring you something back. What would you like if you could have anything?"

"A magic crutch would be nice, one that didn’t hurt my arm."

"That’s boring. If you’re not going to take this seriously, I’ll find you something truly useless. Like a torch that’s resistant to flames."

Konrad laughed. "How about a torch that glows red in the presence of fire?"

Alice finished hanging the wreaths and sat down, taking the book. "Or a cloak that can travel great distances but leaves the wearer exactly where they were," she said, gently touching the image.

"Boots that fly but the wearer dangles upside down under them?" Konrad suggested.

They both laughed, imagining arcanists and witches trying to hang upside down and still look powerful with their robes over their heads.

"That’s a good one," Alice said, wiping a tear from her eye.

"Thanks for coming to help; it all looks great," Konrad said, looking around at the paper wishes fluttering in the wind.

"There’s something missing," she replied, giving the arrangement a quizzical look.

"Looks fine to me."

"No, there’s something missing."

Alice pulled out the woven flower crowns, placing one on her own head, and looking at him with a mischievous glint in her eye.

"Alice no. Those are for the champions."

"There’s not going to be any champions; there’s never any champions."

Konrad lunged for his crutch to escape her, but the girl pushed it away.

"Hey, that’s not fair," he cried as she pounced on him and forced the ring of flowers onto his head. Her burst of laughter was infectious as she stood back and observed him.

A cruel echo of her laughter came from a dusty group of workers returning from the fields. Alice’s brother, Clayton Reed, rode the wagon, and his mocking smile was fixed on Konrad.

"You know the champions have to dance, don’t you, Clod? I think that might rule you out," Clayton said.

Konrad caught sight of his father standing at the back of the group, watching him with a stony expression, and he ripped the crown of flowers off of his head, burning with shame.

"No, keep it on; if you’re chosen, you won’t have to work a day in your life," Clayton taunted.

"There won’t be much change there then," Sam Gladwell shouted, to a roar of laughter from the group.

"Piss off Gladwell, and you’n all Clayton," Alice shouted, storming over to them.

She was older than her brother by several years, but she looked small beside the wagon.

A low growl came from deep in Spirit’s throat, and she stepped slowly forward to stand by Alice’s side, her hackles raised.

"Let’s leave my sister and her pet Clod to their work," Clayton spat, slapping the reins so that the wagon gently rolled away towards the citizens road.

The party of Clod workers shambled towards the tavern, leaving only Konrad’s father behind. Luca was nearing his sixtieth year and no longer stood as tall as he once had. His short hair and beard were more gray than brown, and his eyes were sunken.

"Your mother wanted you home early. Don’t upset her, you hear?" He spoke in his usual monotone without meeting Konrad’s gaze, then walked to the tavern without waiting for a reply.

"I hate it when Clayton calls you Clod," said Alice, throwing her book into a bag.

"Well, I am a Clod."

"It’s the way he says it then."

Konrad remained silent; he knew what he was, and complaining about it wasn’t going to change anything.

"He’s been insufferable lately. He really thinks he’s going to get chosen this time; my da thinks it too."

"He might. It’s been years since Otto."

"My ma said your brother was the most handsome boy in all the valleys, strong and smart too. She says she can see why the Father chose him. Can you imagine what it was like for him?" Alice said, staring in the direction of the shrine all the way up on the Long Hill.

She was a year older than Konrad, and so the previous choosing five years ago had been her last chance to become a champion.

"I guess he would have been proud. Are you sad you didn’t get chosen?" Konrad asked.

"I was at the time. It would have been a good way to get out of here."

Konrad couldn’t think of why Alice Reed would want to leave Fallow Vale. She was a citizen, not a Clod, so her family didn’t have to pay a land debt like his. What’s more, her father was the richest man in the valleys.

"Does your ma still have a hard time on choosing?" Alice asked.

"I think it’s my da that really suffers, but they both miss him."

"When you get up there tonight, if the Mother or the Father so much as blink at you, just ignore them. I’d miss you and Spirit if you went anywhere."

"Otto was special, and the gods don’t choose Clods with one leg, so you won’t have to worry about missing me."

Alice snorted and retrieved Konrad’s crutch.

"Then you and me will be here forever. You can take Fra Dun’s house, and I’ll have a dozen dopey children with Franklin Tate from Talen Vale."

Konrad forced a laugh to cover his pang of sadness. It was well known in the valleys that Franklin Tate couldn’t tie his shoelaces, but it seemed that he was still a better option than a Clod with only one good leg.

Long after Konrad and Spirit had left, a strong wind blew through the village square. It plucked at the wishes that had been carefully fixed to the wood, and they fluttered and strained against the nails that held them in place. With a final gust, one of the pieces of paper was snatched off and sailed away, tumbling into the night sky.