The thick forest eventually gave way to a series of sheltered meadows, and it was here that Eurya decided to end the day's journey. With a lazy flick of her sheathed sword, the tall grass was forced flat. The sudden gust of wind barely rustled Nicos' clothing, but shook the branches of every tree for hundreds of feet in every direction. Angry bird calls erupted from dozens of dark shapes, as they escaped into the sky.

Eurya snickered malevolently.

The Keeper strolled up beside Nicos, and gestured to the ground. The grass ignited, and the earth around it lifted, curling upwards to form a shallow bowl. The makeshift campfire burned merrily along, fueled more by Memory than tinder. Nicos forced down a giddy grin; he never tired of seeing the Keeper work his magic. The boy couldn't wait to learn how to perform such feats, himself.

The blind man's face shifted to him. "Its time to test your progress, Nicos."

The boy straightened his back. "Yes, Keeper. What should I do?"

"Eurya," the blind man called, ignoring the boy's question for a moment. His companion glanced over to him, a smile still on her face. "Be a dear, and find us something to eat? I'll get started with Nicos."

Eurya snorted, casually flicking at her hair, but she gracefully walked into the forest nonetheless.

"Now..." The Keeper reached into his crimson cloak, and withdrew a long object—how the hell had he fit that in there?—wrapped in cloth. He tossed it to the boy. "Unwrap it."

Nicos did so. He held in his hand a long tube, perhaps as wide as his fist, crafted from wood and steel. His grip wrapped around what seemed to be a hilt, diagonally off-set from the rest of the item. At the other end was a steel barrel, flared wide, and embedded in a wooden frame. Resting above the barrel, was a spring loaded piece of metal, tipped with what Nicos recognized as flint. There was a trigger mechanism attached to the spring, and Nicos found his index finger naturally resting against it, as he held what every instinct whispered was a weapon. There was a mirrored trigger, on the opposite side, and he realized that it was meant to be used ambidextrously. The end of the tube closest to his hand appeared to be missing something. It was too open, almost like a sheath awaiting its sword.

There was no ornamentation on the weapon. It was simple and blunt, made for a single purpose and without a single deviation. Nicos thought it was beautiful, but he had never seen anything like it before. He experimentally pressed down on the trigger, and the flint snapped down against the surface of the steel barrel with a crack! Sparks sprayed across the surface of the weapon, and angry red embers landed on the boy's wrist. He hissed at the brief burning sensation, while the Keeper chuckled.

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"What is it?" Nicos asked, as he shifted his grip and delicately wiped off his burnt hand.

The Keeper tapped the weapon's barrel. "This, Nicos, is an ashthrower. It is a weapon commonly used by warcasters in the Fertile Lands and beyond. It is my gift to you, for surviving the desert. You've thrived in our absence, and both Eurya and I are very proud of what you have become."

NIcos' back involuntarily straightened at the praise. Pride warred with shame, as he considered the events he had lived through in that barren place. He glanced down at the ashthrower, running his hand over the smooth wood, and cold metal. It was a gift he was uncertain that he had earned, but he trusted the Keeper's words. The blind man knew better than the boy ever would.

"I will treasure it," Nicos said simply. His brow furrowed. "What does it do?"

"It simplifies the process of casting, so that even an idiot can do it," the Keeper replied jovially.

Nicos slumped at the implication. "I see." Something important occurred to him. "I was taught how to cast, in the desert!" he exclaimed.

"By the Naru." The Keeper nodded. "Yes, we know."

Nicos blinked in surprise, before enlightenment struck. "You were watching me."

The Keeper shrugged. "Eurya worries about you more than you realize. She has her ways of monitoring those she cares about. We did not follow you, however, and the dangers you faced were very real."

Nicos barely heard him, too lost was he in the implications. The boy scowled. "Could you have saved Urz?"

The Keeper adopted a sad expression. He spread his hands wide. "If we were there? Of course. But we were not." His hand came up, and his finger jabbed Nicos in the sternum. "The desert was your trial, Nicos. We could not interfere without invalidating it. Legends are not forged by hand-holding."

The boy's scowl deepened, and he nearly snarled, "You should have interfered! I would never wish to trade the life of a friend for personal power!"

"No." The Keeper placed his hand on the boy's shoulder, his face stern. A part of Nicos wanted to stubbornly shrug off the comforting gesture, but he couldn't quite summon up the nerve. "Interference was never an option, Nicos," the blind man stated. "We would have avenged you, if you fell, but neither of us were in a position to save you. Success or failure, you must bear your own burdens. We will teach you, but the responsibility for your actions will always fall upon yourself."

Nicos' shoulder's fell, and he bit back bitter tears. Something ugly squirmed in his chest, as he admitted, "So, it was truly my fault."

"It was," the Keeper answered simply. "You led your friend to his death. He followed willingly, and died well."

"But still he died," Nicos said.

The Keeper nodded. "You once asked me why your father disliked war. This is why."

"No man wants to watch his friends die," Nicos echoed quietly. "I understand." It was not something he ever wished to experience again. There were two possible solutions to that. The first was to never make another friend. A simple answer, and an intolerable one. The boy immediately disregarded it. The second solution...

Nicos raised his eyes, any lingering tears wiped away by resolution. "I will grow strong," he stated to the Keeper. "I will learn from my mistakes, and I will never watch another friend die."

"Unlikely," the Keeper stated with blunt honesty. "Impossible, even."

Nicos looked the ageless blind man square in the eye, and said, "I don't care. I'll do it anyway." He held his gaze for an embarrassingly long moment, before realizing the futility of the act. With an awkward cough, he hefted the ashthrower, and said, "Now, how do I work this thing?"