Mother had always wished for a daughter, but William had never been able to meet her expectations.

William had known it his entire life. He'd seen it in her disappointed glances as she trained, her blonde hair flowing. But he couldn't think of that right now; he had to train in the art of music.

He scarcely heard the music of his minstrel's harp. The white garb was loose around his hands as he strummed the instrument. Blonde hair fell over his shoulders as Rusara watched beneath a dark hood and green eyes. The cavernous hall he was in seemed to warp and mutate the sounds. William kept his eyes away from the skeletal figures carved in stone on the high ceilings above. He hated this room with a passion.

The fire burned low in the hearth, but his hands were still cold. So why did Lady Rusara insist on having her lessons here? There were many smaller, better rooms. So why did Rusara always insist on the most unpleasant one?

William had grown to hate these stones around him.

But it hardly mattered. No one questioned Lady Rusara except Father; he'd been gone for years. Even Mother wouldn't dare.

"You're thinking too deeply," said Lady Rusara, brushing a strand of blonde hair from William's face with one gray-skinned hand. You haven't touched the strings of your harp."

William rose and looked at his harp, carefully carved and fit for his hand. William loved his harp, but it was getting small for him. He hadn't realized he'd drifted off. "I'm sorry, Rusara. I'm... I'm not in a good state of mind."

"That doesn't matter," said Rusara, pulling down her hood. "Someday, your life may rely on your ability to play the harp. If you have not practiced, where will you be, then?" She paused to draw a small strip of dried meat and offered it to the crow on her shoulder, Skullcracker. Skullcracker snapped it up and flew up to land on the rafters.

"Dead, I suppose," said William.

"Exactly," said Rusara, "now start again."

William played once more. His hands felt unnatural as he plucked the strings. The proper melody always eluded him, no matter how he tried to make music. The task was difficult to master at the best of times. It was far harder than swordplay, but he much preferred the music.

"Passable," said Rusara, "you need work and ought to be a bit less stiff. If you fear failing, you are more likely to make mistakes."

"I'm nothing like Mother, am I?" asked William.

"That may not be as bad a thing as you think," said Rusara. "Every person is different, William, and few are exactly like the people who bore them. You have Azgora's hair and strength, but your eyes you take from your father—that and much of your personality."

"Father is a great hero," said William thoughtfully. "He's a victor of many battles. But I'm not like him."

"You don't have to be," said Rusara with a smile. "A person may serve their nation, people, and god in many ways. Vanion didn't think much of his chances either. He was only a passable warrior at the best of times. Yet his cunning turned him into a great leader. So continue to improve yourself; you may be great one day."

"I don't want to be great," admitted William. "Is that why Mother hates me?" Would that he could gain anything from her but scorn. Yet he served little purpose in this place, held back long after all the others had gone.

"Azgora doesn't hate you," said Rusara. "I've seen her when she hates someone, and it's altogether different. She is unsure of how to react to you. She was very set in her ways when I first met her, with clear expectations. Vanion defied those expectations, and that attracted him to her.

"I think she wanted to tame him. Not that it worked, and it threw her into doubt when she bore a son instead of a daughter. Her people are very different from-"

"I know," said William, "she never stops talking about it!"

"Don't use that tone with me," hissed Rusara, violet eyes flashing. "I am talking."

William shivered as Skullcracker cawed in what might have been laughter. "I'm sorry, Lady Rusara; please continue."

"I was mostly finished," admitted Rusara. "Don't lose sleep over it. Seek to excel as best you can in all ways; sooner or later, she should come around." She looked up at the table and set aside the scarf she had been knitting. "The sands in the hourglass have nearly run their course. You'd best get on your way and meet with Raynald at the front gate. You know how he despises coming to get you."

"I only got caught reading in Father's library once," objected William.

"Then you'd best not make it twice," laughed Rusara. "Get going."

William set down the harp and slipped out of the chamber into one of the black stone halls of Carn Gable. He felt a familiar presence around him, but he could see no one. He looked down the hallway behind him. "Felix, you don't have the skulk like a thief."

Felix emerged from the shadows, his dark skin having blended with them. The red-eyed boy sighed. "I need the practice. So are we going to meet Raynald this time? Or the library?"

"Raynald," said William.

"Good," said Felix, "I don't like it when you break the schedule. I get blamed for it."

They made their way through the torchlit halls. From there, they walked down a flight of stairs and out the keep's doors into the courtyard. There, the pages and squires were practicing under Raynald's watchful eye. He was leaning against the wall near one of the front gates. His withered right arm turned away, his orange hair growing a bit long.

Only the hand and the steel ring on it could be seen. He was flipping his serrated sword into the air, then catching it with practiced ease with his good hand. There was another instructor there, of course — a woman named Maria.

What was going on?

Whatever it was, Raynald must have spotted them out of the corner of his eye. He gave William a crooked smile and stood straight to his formidable height. "Ah, William," he said before turning an evil eye to Felix, "and the Calishan. I was hoping you'd arrive on time today.

"Why does everyone keep acting as if I'm always late?" asked William. "I'm not."

"I could argue against that," mused Raynald. "Follow me. Also, pick up those packs lying by the wall. We're going up into the highlands, and we'll need supplies."

"Couldn't we just have it out here?" asked William.

"Sometimes you need to walk before you get the chance to fight," said Raynald. "This will help you get used to traveling. Why, you always ask? The answer is always the same."

"The last time I asked that, we just had it out here," William firmly believed in forthright honesty.

"Hmm, you may be right," Raynald admitted. I'd better cut that out. Let's go."

They made their way out of the looming gates and onto the road. The spring air was chill, as it usually was this time of year, and the winds were strong. Gusts were blowing their hair around them. Farmers were planting cabbages, potatoes, onions, and many others. William felt pity for them, for it had been a more brutal winter than usual. The wind was howling in his ears, and it stung a bit.

After a time, Raynald broke off the road and led them into the trees. Soon, they went up into the hills, clambering up huge stones. William wondered where exactly they were heading. He had a few guesses based on their direction. The trees around them protected them from the wind and their cloaks, but it was still cold. Their breath became visible as they scaled higher into the hills. William pulled his cloak closer around him.

Finally, they came out of the tree and found themselves at the base of a tower. It was at the peak of one of the hills. There was a sharp look to it. It was like a black knife that had stabbed up through the earth to loom above all the world in silent threat. Once, William had stood at the top of that tower and gazed upon all the surrounding lands.

Looking back, one could see the castle of Carn Gable. It was a fortress of fierce outlines and jagged towers. It looked like a tiny model on a fake landscape from this height. It was the sort Raynald had used when teaching battle strategy. The many farms and villages that surrounded it seemed insignificant. When he had first gazed on them from on high, William had wondered if that was how the gods saw such things.

He'd been up here once or twice before, and the majesty of the place never lessened.

Raynald turned to him and flourished his sword with practiced skill. The air seemed to scream in agony as the blade cut it. He smiled. "Draw your sword, William. You are under attack."

William drew his sword, and then he had no more time to think, for he was too busy fighting. Raynald unleashed a series of jabs and lunges with his sword that William barely parried. The onslaught drove him further and further back. Finally, slowing his retreat, William tried to go on the offensive.

Then Raynald made a scarcely perceptible movement with his blade. William's weapon went spinning from his hand. Raynald was slow to bring his sword in for the kill, and William rolled away to catch the blade as it fell. Raynald took a defensive stance with a smile. His mentor loved battle; he always had.

William rushed at him and struck Raynald. Unfortunately, his blade turned, and he lost his sword again. William felt the serrated sword at his chest. He looked back and saw that his sword had plunged its blade into the ground. Raynald motioned to it, and William went to grab it.

"Better," said Raynald, "yet not good enough. Again."

It was a typical session with Raynald. Defeating him was impossible. As his skills increased, William found he could last longer, even take the offensive. But Raynald fought godlike, always seeking to slash and lunge. He could never get a tie with Raynald no matter how he improved. He didn't understand why Raynald hadn't given up on him.

Raynald had told William a thousand stories about great battles. He, Rusara, Father, and later, Mother had fought many of them and gone on many adventures. They were inspiring and a joy to listen to. But, none of this made said training any less painful.

Of course, he was never hurt—Raynald was far too skilled for that—but he often got bruises. Raynald would sometimes rap him with the flat of his blade to remind him of some mistake or oversight. He was almost always sporting these; he had another by the time one batch healed. William did the best he could, but Raynald was a relentless teacher.

As always, Felix watched, sitting on a rock with his head propped up in his hands. He looked very bored, of course, but William knew he was judging him. He didn't like the fact.

When they finally stopped for the day, William gasped for breath. Raynald didn't even look winded. As the withered-armed man sheathed his sword, his smile dimmed. "You've advanced well, William. You haven't been slacking as much." Then Raynald looked up to Felix. Calishan! Bring the bags; we'll eat now."

Felix obeyed without question. William felt a surge of resentment towards Raynald. It didn't seem fair to treat Felix this way. It wasn't his fault he'd been born of an inferior race. Even so, he didn't say anything. Raynald was much older and more experienced than him, and it was not proper to question him.

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They had rations for their meal, which soldiers used in the field. They were dry, chewy, and stuck in the throat. William hated them. When Raynald introduced him to them, he'd had trouble keeping them down. However, over time, he'd learned to tolerate them just as he'd learned to accept sleeping on the ground. Not that he'd ever had a chance to use these talents at this rate.

Felix, as always, ate some distance away from Raynald so he did not have to look at him. He also remained silent. Raynald didn't like it when Calishans talked in his presence.

"You have a real talent for the blade," said Raynald, sipping from his waterskin. "Though your lack of enthusiasm is a problem. One day, you may become a great warrior. And I'm not interested if you don't want to be one; there comes a time in every noble's life when he has to fight. So you're better off preparing for the day than wishing it will never come."

"I wasn't going to say anything," said William.

"You usually do," noted Raynald. "Perhaps I am getting through to you."

"You've been saying things like this to me every few weeks since we started," said William. "I'd have to be thick not to absorb some of it."

"Fair enough," said Raynald. Then his expression grew somber, "William, there is something you should know."

"Yes?" asked William.

"Your Father sent me a letter," said Raynald. "He wants me to head for Artarq. He's afraid that Baltoth will start an invasion. There are signs of troops moving on the borders. Since he's governor, he'll need all the help he can get defending the place.

"Rusara and I are both going."

"You'll be back, won't you?" asked William, not liking the idea.

"Sooner or later, yes," said Raynald, though it could be some time. I need you to keep practicing with your blade in the meantime. I expect Azgora will have Maria keep instructing you, so you'll have to take the lessons seriously. I know you don't like violence, but it's bound to be a part of your life."

"I will," said William. "I promise."

"I'll hold you to that," said Raynald. "If I get back here and find you've slacked off again, I'll remove it from your hide. Understand me?"

"Yes, sir," said William, believing him.

"Good," said Raynald. "Now, I have a letter for you as well." He drew a sealed scroll from a bag and offered it to William. Taking it, William unrolled the scroll and looked over it.

"My son,

I have heard that your studies have progressed less quickly than I would have liked. As the son of a Duke, you are honor-bound to set an example that others might follow. Therefore, this tendency to laziness, which I have discerned, is improper.

From this point forward, I expect you to put your total effort into everything asked of you. You are the most recent in a long and illustrious line of nobility. Start acting like it.

Sincerely yours,

Your Father, Duke Vanion Gabriel, Governor of Artarq.

P.S.: Forgive me if I seem harsh. However, this is a grave matter, and I am very trying. Don't be too hard on yourself unless it will improve your unacceptable results."

It could have been a blow in the face. William couldn't leave it like this; he had to improve. But then Raynald was going away, too. Was this because of him?

Raynald looked at him in sympathy but said nothing.

They finished their meal in silence. William looked up and realized it was late in the day. Dark clouds were gathering overhead, and he wondered if it might snow. Raynald had spoken of Artarq, where it hardly ever snowed at all. The idea was strange to him.

"We'd best get back to Carn Gable," said Raynald. "Azgora doesn't like you going missing."

The journey back could have been more uneventful. The three travelers' pace was faster, and they took a different route. Their path went by the village near Carn Gable. In the village square, they saw Rusara sitting on a stump. She was surrounded by village children, with whom she was telling a story. As they drew nearer, William heard the end of it.

"-and then, the trap door would have opened at the moment..." She motioned with her hands, and the children gasped. "...the spell wore off. Everyone realized it had been the knight, and the real villain was still at large.

"There was a great battle after that, with many brave deeds. But, unfortunately, that story will have to wait for another time."

"Why didn't they just take the castle by force?" asked a boy.

Rusara smiled. "No one has ever seized that castle by force. At the time, the depths of the Duke's treachery were unknown. Yet with cunning, the knight turned the demon's ambitions to good while denying him his prize."

William shifted in unease as he heard the story. He knew who the knight, the Duke, and the demon were. Rusara might not have said their names, but he'd heard that story, the real version, from her many times. It was enough to know that she was changing it for dramatic effect.

"What happened to the demon?" asked a girl.

"Well, he was furious," said Rusara. "But he dared not attack the knight while being so well guarded. And now, everyone was wise as to what he was up to. So he fled back into his dark land to plot his revenge. To this day, he has not been heard from." She stood up and made for them. "One moment, children. Raynald, William, I see you are back."

"That isn't the story I remember," noted Raynald.

"Of course, it's not," said Rusara with a smile. "The real thing was far too anticlimactic. I had to do something to make it interesting again." She paused and glanced back. "Why don't you three go on ahead? I'll meet up with you later."

"Right," said Raynald, "let's go, William."

The sun was sinking into the distance when they reached the gates of Carn Gable. They opened before them like a hungry maw. Adding to this image was the gatehouse in the shape of a human skull. The two bonfires kept burning in the arrow slits that were the eyes helped, too. The walls looked like rows of jagged teeth all lined up, just for effect.

"I have never understood why Erik the Voyager chose this place," muttered William. "I mean, it's my home, but it used to be a domain of the Withering. You'd think he'd have destroyed every stone of it."

"And waste a good castle?" asked Raynald in amusement. "Erik the Voyager was not a fool."

They found Lady Azgora waiting for them on the other side. She was clad in polished steel armor and held a round shield in her left hand. On her right was a long spear, and on her head was a helmet that obscured her face. Her long flaxen hair was falling around her shoulders in waves. She looked magnificent in her armor. William felt slightly scared as they approached. He hoped he had not done something to anger her.

"Mother," he said, "I'm sorry we were out so late, but-"

"Silence," said Azgora.

William shut his mouth as Mother regarded Raynald. "So you return, Witherarm."

Anyone else would have been dead where they stood after calling him that. Raynald had killed men for less. William knew well the love of Father prevented Raynald from striking her down. Mother knew how such words infuriated him and chose to bait him.

"Well," said Raynald, "someone has to raise your son."

"I will raise him however I see fit," said Mother. "Now, I would speak with him alone. Leave us." She looked at Felix. "You as well, young Felix."

"By all means," said Raynald, brushing past her.

Felix paused a moment and bowed his head. "Lady Azgora." Then he moved on.

Azgora led William to one side and looked at him hard. William shuddered as he looked at the cold and gray eyes behind that helmet. The shadows made them seem even more menacing than they usually were. Then Mother planted her spear in the ground and removed the helmet with one hand, holding it under her arm.

For a long time, there was silence between them. Then, "I have noted you are no longer abstaining from your lessons." Mother said. "That is... good."

"I don't want to disappoint you, Mother," said William. How many times were people going to bring that up?

"You have not entirely." Mother assured him before lapsing into silence again. "Among my people..." Here it came. "Men are not trained to fight. I have never understood why things should be so different here. You do not have the right temperament for war. Even so, you are a member of Harlenor's warrior elite. It was unbefitting of one of your stations to evade lessons."

"Yes, Mother." What did she want from him again?

Azgora looked around before turning her attention back to him. "Rusara's lessons are more things which people of your kind should be worried about. Harlenor is a strange place, so you must adapt."

"It isn't strange to me," said William, clenching his fist. Why did Mother pretend as if this place wasn't his homeland? He'd never even been to Themious. Nor did he wish to go there.

Azgora missed his tone entirely. "Yes, I suppose it is not. You have never been home. Truly home." Her eyes grew distant as she looked at the sunset. "You have never seen the Temple of Zeya as it stands upon the cliffs overlooking the bay of Acoria. Nor have you seen true warriors at work. Rather, you have seen the mockery of martial prowess in this place."

"Raynald seems a fine warrior," said William, letting defiance seep into his tone. Why did she pretend this faraway place was much better than his home?

"I don't doubt Witherarm is dangerous in his own right," said Mother. "I have fought him only once, and he was a formidable adversary. But, even so, no divine power runs through his veins, and so he will never be as mighty as you or I might be. In Acoria, cripples like him are left to the wolves."

"His family tried to do that to him," said William. "The wolves brought him back. I don't think I'm all that different from anyone else. How can I know? I've never even left Carn Gable. I don't want to, but I should at some point."

"The time for that has not yet come," said Mother. "For now, continue your studies."

"Raynald," said William, emphasizing the name, "just told me Father is calling him away. There is a war brewing in Artarq."

"I know; the message came to me first," said Azgora. "I am glad Vanion is calling Raynald to his aid. It will be good to be rid of that cripple. And, fortunately, war should come to these lands before the people grow too complacent."

"A lot of people will get killed," said William. "There doesn't seem to be anything fortunate about that to me."

Mother smiled fondly. "Your tenderness of heart befits your gender, but not a member of the warrior elite. Wars are a chance to win immortality; otherwise, one would fade into the mists of time. Only in battle are vices and virtues brought out in full. There, we may know each other's true nature.

"War is a magnificent and glorious thing. I cannot understand how your father puts so much thought into avoiding it."

"You sound like Raynald," said William.

"Do not compare me with Witherarm," said Mother sternly. "He is a wounded creature. The disabled are a burden upon the healthy. One that should be thrown off."

"Raynald is the greatest warrior in all of Harlenor," said William. "Why are you always mocking him?"

"This is a question that I have asked many times," said Rusara, appearing behind Mother. "Were you not protected by Vanion, there would have been blood between you years ago."

"One exception does not change the rule," said Mother. "And I am speaking to my son."

"That alarms me," said Rusara. "To my mind, all living things have the potential for great good and immense evil. In a thousand small ways, all things advance both causes."

Azgora and Rusara's gaze met in silent challenge. Mother loomed tall over Rusara, but the latter had the higher authority. Rusara was small, even for a Dust Elf. Yet she faced down a princess of the Amazons. It was the princess who looked away first.

Azgora hid the motion by turning back to William. "Bear in mind what I have said. You have a higher destiny."

Then she moved away. Skullcracker cawed from one of the battlements.

"She is in a good mood today, isn't she?" mused Rusara.

"When will you and Raynald leave for Artarq?" asked William.

"Soon," said Rusara, "perhaps in the next few days. But, of course, it depends on when we can get a ship, so I came looking for you. I would like you to go with us.

William got a sinking feeling when she mentioned this. "Me?" he asked, "Go with you to Artarq?"

"Don't be a coward," said Rusara. "Weren't you saying how you wanted to see the world outside this place? So, instead, Azgora would have you remain here until she ships you to wherever she wants you to go.

"I've never understood the appeal of destiny. If our choices are preordained, what is the purpose of making them? Where was I?"

"Leaving Carn Gable," said William, the idea of it gaining some appeal. "Can I take Felix with me?"

"Yes, yes, of course," said Rusara. "He is your servant, after all, and Vanion did assign him to you."

"But shouldn't we tell Mother?" asked William. "We ought to get her permission."

"She'll never give it," said Rusara. "If you want to see the outside world, this is your chance. Take it or leave it. I'm not going to force the issue. Far better to leave with her none the wiser and have her find you suddenly gone.

"I'd love to see the look on her face."

"Could I at least write her a letter explaining where I'm going?" asked William. I could leave one in my room so that she doesn't worry."

"If you wish," said Rusara, "Now, let's not breathe a word of this to anyone. If you want to join us, have Felix find us your answer. Then we'll make arrangements."

William felt this could be the beginning of a great and terrible adventure. He didn't like the idea at all, but he was a member of the warrior elite and had to act like it. Everyone wanted him to be bold and seek out adventures, so he ought to.

Shouldn't he?

Even so, the whole thing boded poorly either way.

Later, he tried playing chess against Felix to ease his troubled mind. It didn't go well at all.

"Checkmate," said William in a dull tone. "You let me win, as usual."

"I am your servant," said Felix with a grin. "I'm not allowed to beat you at anything."

"Come off it. You're just doing it to annoy me," said William, standing up.

William went to the far wall to look at a large map of the three Harlenorian Kingdoms. The island of Haldren is to the north, Escor is to the southwest across the channel, and Antion is to the southeast. Once, they had been one kingdom, united, but that was long ago. Reuniting the nation had been the dream of many, and none had yet achieved it.

He traced a finger from Antion, then east into the elven reservations, north through Seathorius, and northwest along the shore until he reached the province of Artarq. On the opposite side of a great river lay Calisha in the east. If he did, Baltoth would attack Artarq first.

"If I go with Raynald and Rusara," realized William. "I may end up in a war."

"That does seem a fair statement of the obvious," noted Felix. He had begun playing chess against himself. He was winning handily.

"But if I stay here, I'll just stay here forever," said William. "And anyway, everyone thinks me a coward. If I don't take this chance, they may be right. I have to go. It is my duty."

"You are listening too much to Raynald and Rusara," said Felix. "They want you to come with them so they can spite Lady Azgora, and you know it."

"What do you think I should do?" asked William.

"Stay here," said Felix. "You're fourteen; I'm fifteen. We're not of age to fight in wars. Your father would agree with me."

William considered telling Raynald and Rusara that right to their faces, but he decided he had too much respect for them to do so. They believed he ought to get out, and they were here while Father was not. He didn't like danger but wanted to see new things and knew he had to go now or never. He could not say where and when it would end, but he desired it.

He wrestled with it momentarily, then realized he had not seen his father in almost two years. The Lord of Carn Gable had left on duties one day and has yet to return. His only contact with him had letters. He wanted to speak with him again about something, anything. William didn't want to go without seeing Father any longer. That tipped the scales.

"Go to Rusara," said William. "Tell her I'm coming with her and Raynald."

"Great," said Felix as he stood up, "but when all this goes to hell, I want to say I warned you."

"You have my permission," said William.

"All right then," said Felix. "I'll be back."

As Felix walked out the door, William sat down and wondered what he had gotten into.