The leaves of trees were scattered before Abdul Sahshir like a funeral procession. They crunched beneath his feet, unable to hide the path ahead. He adjusted his mask as he scaled the slope, eyeing his surroundings. His hand was kept near the katana at his side as he climbed the slopes of Tuor's fortress.

His instincts told him he would be challenged.

His eyes told him there was no one in sight. So he listened. Listened as he scaled ever higher. A breeze blew past him, sending a cluster of leaves past him, and he heard footsteps to his left. His blade slid out of his sword in a moment. As it came out, a kunai was set to his throat. Black-clad assassins were all around him with swords drawn.

Abdul remained silent. One wrong move, and he could die.

"Drop it," said the leader, far slighter of build than the others. A girl. Very thin.

"Stay your blades," said Abdul. "I am Abdul Sashir. I have been called by my Father, Aresh." The assassin holding the kunai was smaller than the others, slightly built, and very thin. Female.

She looked up at him with blue eyes. "We are well aware. If you were unwelcome, you would be dead. Drop the sword."

Sahshir let go, and the blade clattered to the path's stones. Their blades were withdrawn. She pulled back her mood to reveal fair features and pointed ears. An elf's hair was violet, a mark of devotion to Rioletta. "I am Nayasha, the servant of Master Tuor. The name Aresh no longer has any meaning. It is, surprisingly, you are here at all. With such a lack of stealth, you would not long survive."

Abdul flexed his fingers. As she reached down to clasp the blade at his feet, he slipped one foot beneath the sword and kicked it into the air. As it rose, he caught it. The men around him surged forward, but he weaved past their blades.

For a moment, their swords flashed in the noonday sun.

Then Abdul brought down his blade to rest. Its edge was near the girl's throat. The other assassins were all reeling. "It is not by stealth that I win my battles."

He felt something and glanced down to see a knife at his side. "Proud words from a proud fool. We would have both died today. And you would have achieved nothing."

"Had this been a true battle, all your subordinates would be dead," said Sahshir.

"And you would be a hunted renegade," said Nayasha. "But then, if this were a true battle, you would have been killed before you drew your sword. Must we continue this futile exercise further?"

Both drew back their weapons. Sahshir sheathed the blade. Nayasha returned the favor with her own gun. "Don't try that again. I may have been forbidden from killing you. But I can still give you a scar for teaching's sake.

"Follow me."

And so they scaled higher on Tuor's Mountain. When the Disciple of Baltoth had come here, it was a barren wasteland like most of Kalthak. But he had tended the plants here day after day, year after year. Finally, grass and bushes began to grow. The fields became forests over hundreds of years and many lives.

Now it was a majestic place.

A place where all manner of trees could be seen. Many Sahshir had never seen the like of. Brought from all over the world.

"These lands are strange and beautiful," said Sahshir.

"Do not be fooled," said Nayasha. "There are dangers within this place which would devour such as you easily. We dwell near the land of Dinis, where the world's laws are warped. And many of the creatures within that place have slipped in here in recent years."

"You judge too quickly," said Sahshir. "Many of them dwell in the forests of my home as well. Or do you forget what we guard?"

"You are easy to judge," said Nayasha. "And I did not forget."

"The writings of Baltoth say, 'Look for the man who judges others powerless. For he is easily manipulated," said Sahshir.

"The words you say are but ink scrawled across murdered trees," said Nayasha.

"And we are skeletons surrounded by flesh with blood coursing through us," said Sahshir. "Yet we are more than what we are made of."

"You spout many wise-sounding words for a fool," noted Nayasha.

"It is written: The wise man knows his limits and strives to exceed them. On the other hand, the fool stands upon his achievements. He says, 'I am the greatest; there is none beside me,'" said Sahshir. He did so purely to infuriate her.

"Shut up," said Nayasha.

Sahshir considered this a verbal surrender.

Soon, they came to the Order of Discipline's base of operations. The villages that Sahshir would one day were stretched out. They were built in valleys and woods where farming was easy. But Tuor had situated his order on a plateau near the mountain's peak. The buildings were of stone, not work, and were packed closely together. The roof was slanted like Sahshir's own, but they had tiles of gleaming blue, not wood.

At the center of the compound was a round altar. Sahshir sensed a power from it, a radiance. But the source was gone. Once, something of great power had lain there.

"Is that where the Grail of Immortality once lay?" asked Sahshir.

"Yes," said Nayasha. "It was forged by Elranor, the god of healing, long ago to grant his chosen servants eternal life. Tuor and your father stole it from the Sorcerer Arengeth and spirited it away to Calisha.

"And here it stood for many years."

"Until you lost it," noted Sahshir.

"Garacel is not one to cross," said Nayasha.

"Garacel was a Love God," said Sahshir. "One at a mere fraction of his power."

"He is very cunning," said Nayasha. "And when he raided us, Tuor had not yet returned from his present life."

"Of course, he hadn't," said Sahshir. "Garacel was defeated by Baltoth with one corrupt minister." Nayasha looked at him with fury.

"Baltoth is Inexorable, eternal, and beyond the comprehension of any of us. Yet, his cunning extends beyond this mere reality and has saturated every aspect of the world. His power sets the heavens in motion and harnesses the fires of the earth. All that is his to command.

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"You'll forgive us if we have not quite his power."

"It is written, 'There is no excuse for failure save the will to overcome it,'" said Sahshir.

"A great many things are written," said Nayasha. "And the failure is as much your fault as ours. Tuor usually regains his memories at the age of eighteen. But because of you, he tarried for years before resuming his duties."

Sahshir almost went for his weapon. Almost. He remembered the day that Father had left. It had been without warning. One day, he watched Sahshir's training and congratulated him on his work. The next, he had been gone.

It had been done without so much as a letter.

At least until now.

Sahshir was led onto a raised walkway, which led up to a great hall with only one entrance he could see. Two high doors led in. Nayasha drew out some keys and opened the door. They walked into the hall before heading up another set of stairs.

Finally, she came to the door. Here, she unlocked it. "He waits for you within. I suggest you show less impudence."

Sahshir met her gaze. "I will show respect when he proves he has earned it."

"You will not live long, then," said Nayasha.

She opened the door.

Sahshir walked through the door and into a strange sight. As he expected, he was within a grove rather than a training hall. However, the skies above were blue rather than red, and no walls were around him. Cherry blossom trees were in full bloom around him. And amid these trees was Tuor.

He sat cross-legged. His hair had gone completely white, whereas it had been black and graying before. A long iron staff lay beside him, and a cup of tea was by him.

"Tuor. The disciple of Baltoth," said Sahshir, walking forward.

Tuor glanced back. Green eyes met his. "So you have come then, son. How fair is the city of my most recent birth?"

"You know all too well the answer," said Sahshir.

"True," conceded Tuor. "But questions have many purposes. First, ask someone a question and know them by their answer. Even if they have no information of value."

"A test," guessed Sahshir.

"Yes. I wanted to see how you would respond," said Tuor. "I have heard less than flattering descriptions of you, Abdul Sahshir."

"I don't care," admitted Sahshir.

"It is written in the book of Baltoth: The son must honor the father. The daughter must honor the mother. It is by the binds of the family that nations are forged," noted Tuor.

"Did not Baltoth cast down his father long ago?" asked Sahshir. "Is it not the way of power that the lesser should overthrow the greater? The son must seek to exceed the father, or the bloodline will deteriorate."

"You speak of ancient history rather than the words of your god," noted Tuor.

"I follow his words," said Sahshir. "For it is also written; 'Heed not only one source. By understanding many views, you may manipulate all.'"

"So you would cast aside part of the sacred texts by taking another part out of context," noted Tuor. "I can see why Nayasha dislikes you.

"Are you certain you wish to accept my training?"

Sahshir set a hand to his blade. "I have not come here for training."

"Then why are you here?" asked Tuor.

"To kill you," said Sahshir.

He drew his sword and rushed toward Tuor, the blade gleaming. Even as it descended, Tuor snatched up his staff and rolled backward. He remained out of reach of Sahshir's blade. From there, he unleashed a flurry of rapid stabs that forced him on the defensive.

Sahshir leaped over the spear as Tuor tried to knock his legs out from under him. Then, flipping over the older man, he brought down his sword at the neck. But Tuor slid his staff backward and struck Sahshir in the gut, sending him falling away.

Sahshir caught himself and rolled to a kneel. Then, parrying the inevitable counterassault by Tuor, he held him in place. "Hmm, you have some skill," said the master. "I see now that my judgment was correct."

Sahshir caught the staff under one armpit and slashed at Tuor. But Tuor grabbed him by the wrist as he slashed, and they trapped each other. Sahshir lashed out with a knee, but Tuor countered it. They wrangled and twisted in a stalemate. Then Tuor slammed his head against Sahshir's forehead, sending him falling back.

His sword fell from his grip, and Tuor caught it.

Tuor examined the sword in one hand before spinning it around and offering it to Sahshir. A humiliation. But he would use it to kill his enemy. Sahshir snatched the weapon and wrenched it into Tuor's hand. The blood spilled from his hand.

Rising up, Sahshir drove a knife up. But then he was disarmed and pinned in a moment.

"You hold me in great hatred, do you not?" asked Tuor.

"More than any other, I hate you," said Sahshir.

"Do you resent Aresh?" asked Tuor. "Or the Disciple?"

"Both," said Sahshir. "For the Disciple called my father from my home and left it to be ruled by lesser men. And Aresh abandoned me of his own will, leaving without making any provision for me. So that which should be rightfully mine is now all but taken.

"Yours is not the first knife that has come for me. And I would rather force you to kin slaying and damn you than wait to be killed or bend the knee."

"I was never told of this," said Tuor.

"Then it seems your judgment is not without flaw," said Sahshir.

"Perhaps." conceded Tuor. "But it does hold authority." He relaxed his grip and walked away.

"Nayasha, what is the meaning of this?"

Nayasha emerged from where she had been hidden. "It was necessary."

"Are you not my servants?" asked Tuor. "Bound to serve me by the authority of Baltoth? Why is it that you have not told me of these events? Or are they lies?"

"They are not," said Nayasha. "The order judged that for you to know of events in Aresh's family would be counterproductive."

"I see," said Tuor. "Leave us."

Nayasha bowed. "As you command."

As she departed, Tuor turned to Sahshir. "You came here resolved to kill me. Did it not occur to you that this might be a grave blow to Baltoth?"

"You would return in a single generation," said Sahshir.

"You are skilled with a blade, Abdul Sahshir," said Tuor, drawing some bandages from a packet in his vest. "But you lack sense. What if you had killed me? What would you have done here in the heart of my power?"

"Been satisfied for the few remaining minutes of my life," said Sahshir.

"And been known as a heretic and a kinslayer for all time," said Tuor. He wrapped the bandage around his hand. "Killing one's parents is nearly as grave a sin as killing one's children. Or did you not know?"

Sahshir had known. He just hadn't considered it. "I assumed you'd kill me," he admitted after a moment.

"Never make a plan that can't survive success," said Tuor. "Getting a useless victory is as bad as a defeat." He tied the bandage with only the fingers of one hand. "So tell me of these knives directed at you, Abdul?"

"When you left the village, there was no clear leader," said Sahshir. "The rule fell to the priestess Yuna. She kept things for a while, but her mantle passed to Kushina."

"Your friend from childhood," said Tuor. "She is your age."

"Yes," said Sahshir. "She was not trusted to rule despite her power. So the running of the kingdom fell to my uncle, Asim."

"I remember him," said Tuor. "He resented me, that is to say, Aresh, for being born first. I believe he was why Aresh remained dominant for so long."

"Asim does not wish to cede power to me," said Sahshir. "And my... affliction has prejudiced the villagers against me. So, I have spent my life living in fear of accidents.

"Because you left."

"It is written: 'Ambition often is the bane of family,'" said Tuor. "And it was written for a reason. In any case, my invitation came at a good time. You should have viewed this as an opportunity.

"With my training, I can make you strong enough to crush Asim and force his submission. Or simply take his head if you so desire."

"If I was satisfied to take his head, it would have been on the floor years ago," said Sahshir. "His son pales in comparison to my skill. His attempts on my life only began once people noted my prowess with a blade."

"Then why did you not act?" asked Tuor.

"He has the loyalty of the men," said Sahshir. "It would be a kin slaying without purpose."

"Then there may be hope for you," Tuor said, smiling. "Let this be your first lesson, Abdul Sahshir. Power cannot be gained overnight. It must be learned through careful study. And mastered through disciplined practice.

"A power that comes easily is no power at all."

Then, suddenly, there was a piercing sensation within Sahshir's heart. White-hot agony shot through him. A blade, now gleaming, was driven through his heart, held by a spectral hand. His vision faded, and all went dark.

Sahshir awoke. At once, he realized he was within his mask. Rising quickly, he found himself lying in regular clothes on a bed. Was he alive? Yet he had seen a blade pierce his heart? Felt the pain of the wound. I saw the blood drip down.

He was within a simple room, not a cell. And he was not wearing his mask. Where was his mask? His eyes peered throughout the room for any sign of clothes to hide what was beneath him. Then a door opened.

Quickly, he fled to the shadows. Nayasha peered through. "You are up. Good." She tossed him a set of black clothes. "Put these on and come quickly."

"I was dead," said Sahshir.

"The blade was one of mind," said Nayasha. "The one who died was your old self. Now come quickly; it will not do to be late."

"Late for what?" asked Sahshir.

"Your training," said Nayasha.

So Sahshir began his tutelage under Tuor. He was sixteen years old at the time.