Fillas trudged down a sand dune with Tomean and Cortain as the three followed their teacher. It had been two years since they had undergone their testing with the Lapistra, and much had happened in that time.

All three had excelled in their studies. They were taught the various aspects of magic by the teachers of the Elemental Order. Their initial test had brought about a bond of brotherhood. Though they didn't speak of the intensely personal experience, the testing stone had changed them all, and that was enough.

The Elemental Order was a place only for the strong. The world was a harsh and unforgiving place; it only favoured the powerful. The order both exemplified society's standards and contradicted them. It boasted many powerful masters within its ranks, but they remained neutral, always striving to maintain the balance.

But that balance was attacked almost every day. The world was changing and not for the better. Raging wars grew larger, and the people grew harder as the meek and lowly were culled from their ranks.

As strong as the three had become, their knowledge and might paled compared to the masters of the various Elemental Towers scattered throughout the world. Their rank of journeyman granted a small measure of independence, except on days like this. Today, they were to assist Trakar, one of their teachers.

“I think we’re in for a boring lesson,” Cortain muttered.

Fillas snorted and laughed. “What gives that away?”

The three of them had grown accustomed to certain freedoms when questing, and all of them had a certain penchant for adventure.

“The day is still young.” Tomean eyed the grey sky above. “Looks like a storm's coming?”

“We're on the coast. There’s always a storm,” Fillas said.

Cortain nudged Fillas. “He’s doing it again. Getting all foreboding on us." He spread out his hands in mock awe. "What do you see, Tomean?” He couldn't keep a straight face and devolved into laughter.

Tomean ignored Cortain, as usual, and followed in the teacher's wake. Fillas was happy to walk in silence for a bit, but he anticipated Cortain wouldn't be able to handle that for long.

“Fillas," Cortain asked, "what did Trakar say we’re doing today? Gathering rock pool algae and washed-up seaweed?”

“Yeah, something about ‘em helps with healing the sick.”

“And I wager he stands to make a few coins off this.” Cortain rubbed his forefinger and thumb together

Fillas straightened his back and clasped his hands in mockery of their teachers. “Healing comes at a price for a reason. We need to eat, too."

Cortain laughed. “Well, I hope we get a cut. This might be boring, but it's not easy.”

With violence rising across the world, magical healing was in high demand. The Order had turned its attention to the problem, but to produce healing salves, scrolls, and potions, they needed raw materials. Once finished, their wares would fetch a hefty price on the open market.

“Someone always profits in a war,” Tomean said. "Better that it's the Elemental Order than some corrupt kingdom."

Fillas looked at his two friends. Out of the three of them, he alone looked forward to today's scavenging. The world was full of magic, but for many common folks, the skills of a capable healer were beyond their ability to obtain. A simple potion or salve was the next best thing and could be the difference between life and death.

His interest was two-fold: he wanted to help the common man, and he wanted to learn. Out of the three of them, he was the one lacking when it came to healing. Cortain and Tomean both possessed a growing ability in that school of magic, even if it barely held their interest.

Stepping down a steep sandbank, he adjusted the double-bladed axe slung across his back. Part of their training within the order involved the use of mundane weapons. Whilst the daily practice of magic was commonplace, they were still required to carry weapons. The Elemental Order was renowned and feared for its blending of magic and traditional fighting styles.

Fillas appreciated the training principle. No matter how lowly ranked, a member of the order was equipped to handle a variety of situations. He and his fellows were formidable warriors, and Fillas could count on their expertise should trouble arise. Cortain’s twin, curved swords and Tomean’s barbaric clawed gauntlets and spiked forearm guards were as deadly in their hands as his axe was in his own.

Fillas sparred with them regularly, and they were prepared to meet danger as a team. Just the day before, he'd sparred with Tomean. He still ached from the session. The man tended to lose himself, and more than once, he drew blood with those claws. A red mist descended upon his friend sometimes, and only powerful magic could bring him back to himself. It was a curse Tomean was forced to live with, and one Fillas and Cortain had to watch out for during sparring and battle.

Tomean’s problems stemmed from the testing. Something happened that day that he never shared. Fillas hadn't known him before they'd all passed the test, but even in the beginning, he could see stark changes in Tomean, changes that were not good.

But Arakar, the Master of the Tower, had interviewed Tomean himself, which had been seen as a sort of intervention. Whatever happened during that meeting was kept secret, but it mattered not to Fillas. In the end, Tomean trained just like the rest of them.

A jab to his ribs brought his thoughts back to their track across the sand. “Hey!” He rubbed his side.

“Come on. Stop dawdling,” Cortain said.

Shaking his head, Fillas hurried to catch up.

* * *

Yimushk raised his scaly head out of the water as he watched the four humans descend the dunes. His greyish head bobbed in the surf, and his webbed limbs glided smoothly through the water. He took great care not to drift closer to shore. He didn’t want to alert them to his presence — not yet. His nostrils flared, the magic on them wafting in the air, soiling the sweet tang of the ocean. Yimushk hated magic. The stronger the practitioner, the stronger the stench. Lucky for him, the putrid essence didn't taint the meat.

Humans were awful creatures. So bold and confident in their soft flesh, made stupid by the presence of weapons or magic. They did not rely on cunning or other honourable traits. His species, though, were the opposite. Glorious masters of the sea, strong and mighty, with magnificent teeth made for ripping apart human flesh. Cunning and worthy though they were, Yimushk could not deny how they covered their cowardice with words like discerning and cautious.

My people should be revered. He smiled, his fish-like lips drawing wide, and bared the sharp, thin fangs lining his mouth. I’ll gnaw on their bones, and leave their carcasses for others of their kind to find. Humans will tremble at the thought of us!

Nose twitching, he dived beneath the surface. These humans had a bearable odour; he was disgusted, but his senses did not burn hot at their magic. They would be fairly easy prey. It would be a good start to bringing his clansmen some victory and courage.

Tonight, we eat man-flesh! His powerful limbs propelled him into the depths where he would gather the clan for an attack.

* * *

Cortain was bored. Only Fillas was excited to be learning how to make these potions. Both he and Tomean had a good grasp on healing magic. He excelled more so with using it on himself than others; that didn't bother him. He thought it advantageous, actually. But he did as he was told and rather unenthusiastically gathered the required ingredients. Glancing over, he noticed Tomean crouched down on the beach, staring out at the rolling ocean, beyond the crashing waves.

I wonder why he's frowning?

Fillas was collecting ingredients with gusto; Cortain didn't have to look at him to sense the pleasure at pleasing their teacher come off him in waves. Cortain's immediate vicinity was picked clean; he'd need to either go back toward Fillas or onward toward Tomean. Weighing his options, he decided he preferred Tomean's sombre presence.

* * *

Yimushk swore to himself as he darted under the water. He was convinced the smooth-headed one had seen him; the human was crouching low, staring in his direction. He hoped he hadn’t ruined the surprise, not after he had convinced the rest of the clan there would be easy pickings here.

His clan's cowardice had almost dissuaded them. They never attacked if the fight would be at all challenging They preferred to attack in numbers, using shock tactics to overwhelm inferior forces.

The clan leaders sent Yimushk to scout the beach and report final numbers along with any weapons the humans might be carrying. He found them readily enough; the acrid taste of their magic led him straight to them. He frowned as the wind changed direction, blowing more of their magical stench in his direction. It was stronger now, and for a second, he doubted his earlier judgement.

But there are only four of them, and it's not that strong. He brushed aside his doubts. After convincing the others to attack, aborting would mean losing face. The clan craved human flesh. To deny them that now with cries of fear would only embarrass him.

Today, we fight.

Gripping his fishbone spear, he swam back to the meeting point. The raid would go ahead no matter what. Even if the fight was a little harder than Yimushk originally predicted, his clan needed to break out of their cowardly patterns. He would do whatever it took to push them into greatness. Or he would die trying.

* * *

Cortain joined Tomean, crouching on the yellow sands of the beach beside him. Tomean nodded in acknowledgment without breaking his intense study of the sea.

“What can you see, friend?” Cortain asked.

“Trouble. I hope.”

“Bored?”

“Yup.”

“Me too.” Cortain tried to follow his friend's gaze across the rolling surf but could make out nothing more than the crashing foam of the waves. “What's the trouble then?”

This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

“Kranoids,” Tomean said.

“You sure?” Cortain had read about the scaly humanoid race that lived in the sea around the coastal regions, but he'd never seen one. “You saw one just now?”

“Not too long ago.”

“They’re cowards. They won’t attack us. They avoid magic users, and no doubt we reek to them.” But his downplaying of the situation did not prevent him from scrutinising every play of light on the waves, looking for evidence of them.

“Normally I’d agree.”

Cortain snorted, and Tomean glared at him, finally breaking his concentration. Cortain held up his hands. "What? You're very rarely agreeable." He sighed. "Why don't you agree?"

“My blood is up," Tomean said. "Something tells me we’re gonna be attacked.”

Cortain stood and loosened his twin scimitars in their sheaths. They had learnt to trust Tomean and his feelings. If he said trouble was coming, Cortain believed him. He rolled his neck and shoulders, limbering up.

“What are you doing?”

“You just said we’re gonna be attacked. What do you think I’m doing?”

“Well, apart from making yourself look a fool, I don’t know.”

Cortain flashed his friend a smile as he circled his arms in opposite directions. “I don’t wanna pull a muscle.”

“Cortain! What in all the hells are you doing?” Fillas shouted from where he nosed about in a rock pool.

Cortain turned around to find Fillas searching a rock pool “Warming up," he shouted back.

“For what? You look ridiculous. You're no Winged Avarian. Stop trying to take off.”

Cortain laughed at the reply. Winged Avarians were just a myth, a race of humanoid dragon people that only existed in books.

“Tomean reckons a bunch of Kranoids are gonna be stupid enough to attack us. I’m just getting ready.”

“Really?” Fillas left the rock pool he had been investigating and came over to them. “Tomean, what makes you think that?”

Tomean stood as he answered. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because a bunch of them are headed our way?” He ended his sentence with a single Word of Power and shot a bolt of pure energy from his outstretched hand at the first Kranoid emerging onto the beach.

Without a word, Tomean charged forward to meet the rest of them, his bladed gauntlets flashing as they reflected the sunlight. Cortain drew his twin blades, and Fillas his double-headed axe. Roaring a battle cry, they ran into the fray.

* * *

Yimushk hung back as his clan rose from the sea, thirty strong, each with bone spears or sharpened coral tridents. The occasional fighter had hardened scale strapped across their bodies. It had taken some convincing, but their full hunting force had joined the chase for these humans on the beach.

His clan was one of the smaller ones. Their hunting grounds were lacking compared to those of other clans in richer seas, and their growth was stunted because of it. But Yimushk had ideas — all above his station. But, he had the cunning to pull them off.

Armed with weapons of coral and bone and ferocious claws and teeth, they were not to be trifled with when attacking in numbers. But when the hairless one unleashed his foul magic, as his brethren was torn apart and the smell of burnt flesh and magic washed over him, Yimushk hung back to re-evaluate. Their scales provided natural protection against blade and claw, but they were useless against the human's horrid magic. Still, the humans were few, and they were many.

This should be over soon.

He snarled as a human wielding a flaming axe hacked another hunter in two.

“Damn their magic!” he growled.

* * *

Axe in the air, Fillas muttered a spell. Dancing red flames manifested along the head of his weapon. In a strong, two-handed grip, he howled his battle cry and bisected the first creature within reach. The sizzle of wet meat and the thump of the cleaved body joined in the cacophony of the roar of battle. He had heard Kranoids were a cowardly race, and he was determined to put this to the test.

In any other situation, thirty to four would have been bad odds. But Fillas and his companions weren't just any old fighters; they were of the Elemental Order. Grinning at the thrill of battle, he was ready to show them what that meant.

* * *

Trakar turned to see what mischief his students had got themselves into now. From his vantage atop a dune, he frowned at the three journeymen charging toward the Kranoids emerging from. They were heavily outnumbered.

Let’s see how they handle this. He folded his arms across his chest and observed.

* * *

Yimushk grunted as another hunter fell to the flaming axe of the human. In the thick of the fighting, the smell of cauterised flesh was strong. Darting forward, he lunged with his spear, seeking the human's exposed side. But two flashing blades blocked his attack.

Showing his fangs, he dodged back from the whirling blades. The three humans worked together, each protecting the other's flank. No blow could get through. His clansmen were hungry; otherwise, they would be fleeing for the water already. Yimushk wracked his brain for a solution. They needed a victory, or else he would never be able to convince his people to take risks and stop hiding. It won't be long before they retreat. Yimushk stepped back to breathe, to think.

The three humans were deftly keeping his clansmen at bay. When any one of them came too close, the humans landed a blow. The sand was stained red with the blood of his people. And the humans were enjoying their butchery, which only served to fan Yimushk's anger into flames.

This is wrong! We should be spilling their blood.

He panicked as another of his kind was struck down and killed. His people would blame him for a failed attack. He turned to those fallen behind him. If he could gather their weapons and ensure those still fighting had a chance to — Yimushk paused as he spotted a lone human standing back from the others, watching.

If we kill one human, perhaps the others will panic and lose their resolve. He sprinted toward the lone human, signalling for others to join him. Two of his kind saw what he was about and followed. There was still time to turn this hunt around.

* * *

Trakar noted the three creatures approaching and smiled to himself. From the performance of his three students, it was only a matter of time before some of them tried their luck elsewhere. He eyed the weapon he’d left on the ground.

For fighting, he favoured the quarter staff. He had no need for a cutting edge; his magic would see to that. Focusing his inner energy, the staff flew into his hand. The dark wood glistened in the sun, and it thrummed with power almost as if it was excited. He gave it a few practice twirls in his hand. His grip was strong and sure, but it had been many a year since he had wielded a weapon in combat. His studies within the tower and his teaching kept him out of most of the wars.

I can still crack a few heads, if they’re stupid enough to face me.

* * *

Yimushk approached the human and signalled for the other two to spread out and surround him. They would stab him from all sides, their bone spears skewering his soft-skinned body. Licking his lips, he watched the robed human spin his stick about.

“Silly human, you should have fled at the sight of us.” His voice croaked a garbled attempt at the common tongue most humans spoke. His accent was harsh, but he didn’t care how much was understood. He only cared about the hunt.

* * *

Trakar grimaced at the Kranoid's crude attempt at speaking the common tongue, but he understood most of the words. Holding his ground, he let them flank him.

Kranoids always like to overwhelm their prey. Pity they’ve only found predators this day.

With the natural power of the charged elements coursing through him, he held out his hand, palm forward, toward the creature to his left. Invisible lines of power flowed from him as he manipulated the very sands it stood on, turning the ground into a liquid sludge. As he worked the flows of his earth magic, the creature sank to its waist, howling in its high-pitched language. It threw its bone spear aside and clawed at the ground to escape.

You won't be able to swim through that.

One down, he turned his attention to the others. He registered the muffled sounds of the Kranoid drowning in sand, but he paid it no heed. Its fate was sealed. Still holding magic in his core, he assessed the other two and considered the best way to make his point. There were a multitude of spells at his disposal that he could use to end their lives, but there would be no lesson in that.

Ever the teacher, eh? He laughed to himself.

As another closed the distance, he planted his quarter staff into the soft sand of the dune. As it drew closer he spoke a Word of Power and clapped his hands together as if in prayer. With a flicking motion he opened them outwards, directing the spell toward his attacker.

Waves of magic distorted the air as it hit the Kranoid. It stood no chance; with no magical protection, the arcane energy ripped into its scaly flesh. It exploded apart in a shower of wet, meaty chunks. Its blood misted the air.

Trakar formed an energy shield to prevent the red mist and gore from raining down upon him. In a few heartbeats, he had killed two of them. He turned toward the survivor. With a sad smile, he shrugged. What can you do, vile creature?

He met its eyes with his own. “Your move.”

* * *

Fillas saw the Kranoid explode in a shower of body parts from the corner of his eye. “Woah — did you see Trakar make a mess of that scaly?" He fought back-to-back with the others. Even surrounded and outnumbered, they were having fun. He felt it through their connection, just as he knew they felt his. Smiling, he parried another thrust of a bone trident. “They really need some better weapons.”

Cortain stepped forward, taking the head off one that had ventured too close. “Yeah, I saw. He’s been holding out on us. I thought he was a total bore.”

The three kept to their loose triangle formation, defending and attacking in fluid motions.

Tomean dodged a thrust of a bone spear. “You think everyone is boring.”

“That's not true.” Cortain flourished his blade.

“Oh yeah, who isn’t boring then?” Fillas asked.

“Come on," Cortain said, "we all know I’m the life and soul of the party.”

Tomean and Fillas both groaned.

“However," Cortain continued, "this party is starting to bore me. Anyone for ring of fire?”

“So soon?” Tomean raked his bladed gauntlet down the face of a Kranoid, easily slicing through bone and flesh. The creature fell to the sand, twitching as its life bled out.

“Why the rush? We’ve got all day,” Fillas said.

“You might have all day, but I don’t. I have plans.”

Tomean burst out laughing, causing the Kranoid in front of him to step back in alarm.

“What's so funny?” Cortain growled as he blocked another attack with his curved blades.

“Oh, nothing much,” Tomean said. “Except if you’re sniffing round Nancy, I wouldn’t bother.”

“What you mean by that?”

“Well, she wasn’t that good, to be honest,” Tomean said.

“Wasn’t that good? Wait, you're telling me you—”

“Ring of fire in three, two, one — go!” Fillas shouted, his command nipping the argument in the bud.

All three spoke the Words of Power and channelled their magic, linking their talents. A ring of flames burst to life, surrounding them. The dancing fire burned red hot. It shot outward, burning through their attackers, scorching flesh and bone alike.

The devastation of the fire magic broke the surviving Kranoids. Outmatched, they fled before the might of the three mages.

Cortain sheathed his twin blades and glared at Tomean. “So, when did you two hook up?”

“We haven’t. I just wanted to see your reaction.” Tomean burst into laughter.

“You bastard!”

“It was a good one though." Tomean grinned. "You should have seen your face.”

Fillas smiled as he cleaned the head of his axe as best he could in the sand. The Kranoids hadn’t even cleared the beach, and already they were of no concern.

* * *

Trakar shook his head at his students as they talked and fought as if it was of no consequence. Meanwhile, his own attacker faltered, the fight seeping out of him. No doubt, the creature was having second thoughts. He could have read its thoughts, tried to discern its purpose, but his disdain for the minds of non-humans was enough to deter him.

This one can live, if it has the sense to. It will be an excellent lesson not to underestimate us.

Without saying a word, it bared its sharp, needle-like teeth and then turned, racing back to its kin. The others would soon join in retreat.

Trakar sensed the build-up of power and watched as the trio unleashed a joint fire spell. The ring of fire spread outward, growing as it fed on the flesh of the Kranoids too close to avoid its fiery touch. Trakar nodded in appreciation of the students. It was a good spell, a well-practiced one, and the three executed it perfectly, harnessing their combined power to do so.

It was rare for more than two to link like that, especially in combat. The great ritual spells of old involved more linking, but those spells had taken great preparation. The ease with which these three blended their might was impressive.

They will make a formidable trio as their power grows.

The spell broke the fighting spirit of the Kranoids, and soon those who were not smouldering on the sands were fleeing the bloody beach. A shift in the sea breeze carried the choking smell of charred, fishy flesh.

The three made their way over to him, joking about their accomplishments.

I suppose I better sort all this out.

“So I suppose you think it’s all a joke to just take a life.”

“But they attacked us.” Cortain spluttered.

Trakar held up a finger silencing his student. “That is not the point. Life is precious. Everywhere its found. I see nothing humble or restrained in your actions. Something you should consider. The Elemental Order is powerful. But there is power in restraint, in balance. A humble mind is a neutral mind, something you all seem to have forgotten. Do not worry, a week of menial labour as servants should add a modicum of modesty to your thoughts. Good day.” He said, walking off. He heard their groans behind at the punishment just inflicted, but it was a fitting lesson for them.

“But first, clean up the beach.” He added, over his shoulder.

* * *

Yimushk raged. It had all gone wrong, and the clan wanted his head. It was his idea, his scheming. He was the one that convinced them to come. He had said the humans' magic was weak, that they were easy targets.

How wrong I was.

With no other choice, he fled, banished from the clan waters. Alone, he would have to take his chances in the open water. No other clan would tolerate him in their territory, not unless he proved himself first. He considered taking his own life, but that would not help his clan. No, he would find a way to thwart their magic. As he swam away, his mind turned to dark thoughts, to revenge. He vowed death to all humans that crossed his path, but he swore an oath to see the three devils burned for their deeds this day. Somehow, they would meet their end at his hand. The fantasy of this was all he had left to cling to as he sought the currents in the deep.