Gwynneth, Killia, Martin, and Hurnith stood before a gate, readying themselves to return home, to the Academy. The feast the night before had been subdued. Part celebration of the return of Dorne, part a wake and memorial for his dead family. The food had been good, and the ale and other drinks had flowed freely. Martin had withheld himself from drinking too much, he trusted the Fae but found his guard up in this strange place. He had noticed Quent looking at him, toasting him with a wink as he drank what looked like water. The mayor seemed friendly, but there was an edge to him that left Martin on guard.

His thoughts were broken as one of the guards stepped forward, key in hand. He opened the gate, stepping back and bowing to the four. Quent bowed to the group before they stepped through, his mayoral chain hanging down.

Nursing her still bandaged hands Gwyneth stepped forward through the gate, followed swiftly by Kilia and Hurnith. As Martin moved to follow, Quent came up, placing his hand on Martin’s back, and leaning forward to speak.

“Farewell, Martin. I hope we see you and your friends again soon, though there is little to recommend a small frontier village like this without the resources that the main settlements have.” He smiled, patting Martin on his back, above his pack, and then stepped back. “Go in peace, you will always be welcome here.

Martin stepped through, into the swirling chaos of the gate crossing, and found himself back in the academy, the golden archway of vines behind him. He saw Gard standing by Gwynneth as a healer looked at her hands. Gard gave him a short bow as he came through, waiting for the healer to finish with Gwynneth.

“M’Lord Gard, there is nothing more to do for her hands but wait. The Fae healer was competent. There is little that can be done for mana burn.” She turned and looked at Gwynneth. “Mage, what possessed you to do this to yourself? What was the need to force foreign mana through your body? You are lucky it was just your hands that got burned and not your whole body going up in flames!”

Gwynneth looked at her, and at Gard standing there waiting for an answer. She stood defiant, not apologetic at all. “It was me being burned or watching a friend die. I had no choice and was lucky to be in a location of life mana.” She held up her hands, “I would still do the same even if all I had left was stumps! There was a life at stake, I could not ignore it, could not worry about myself while another lay dying!”

CRACK! The healer’s hand smacked across her face, leaving a red hand mark on her cheek. “Foolish girl! You channelled mana foreign to your paths. Do you not know what a risk you took? It was not just you at risk, but all of you! What if you lost complete control? What if what happened was that you flamed, and became nothing more than a husk and an open mana conduit? What if the entire forest had been set alight with nobody to control it? How many would have died? Think properly on that before priding yourself on doing good to save one life!” The healer looked furious, and Gard stepped up, moving between her and Gwynneth.

“Enough, I think she has gotten the message.” Gard looked down at Gwynneth, now sobbing, her arms crossed across her chest.

“I didn’t know!” She looked up, eyes red and bloodshot. “I just knew I could be harmed from mana burn, nobody told me I could burn down a forest doing it!”

The healer took a deep breath, then drew her in close, hugging her. Careful of her wings,

“No one has taught you? Then the fault lies with your teachers.” She gave Gard a dirty look as the representative of the teachers, “In that case, your act was a selfless act of great bravery. Your friend stands there alive because of you. Just remember for the future, mana burn that kills does not stop the mana flow, and the mana flows freely out. What effect it has is varied, but it is always bad.” She released Gwynneth, with one last angry look at Gard.

“Welcome back.” Gard looked at them before continuing, “Your trip was far more eventful than it should have been. On your first trip, we do not expect you to have any encounters with the dark, let alone two.” He frowned, “We have much to celebrate with your safe return and your upcoming graduation.”

They moved off, and no one noticed the cloaked figure that disappeared without a trace.

***

Bathel sat at his desk, reading the report of the training exercise, frowning as he did. He looked up at Gard, the arms master standing by Jade, the class teacher of the group. “This is concerning. What happened to the other group that was sent out?”

“Two of the four made it back alive. They arrived in the forest and were ambushed, as these others were. But their group did not fare as well. Two were heavily injured and they only managed to hold the dark wolves off, rather than destroy them. The following night they were attacked by stealth by some still undetermined creature that snuck into their camp and killed the two injured members who could not fight back. They came back as soon as they reached the settlement, the village of Kearnath. At least that was not struck with an attack.” Gard paused, “These were low-threat areas, there should have been no dark creatures, let alone two groups of dark wolves, some unknown creature and one that was clearly of higher rank that attacked the settlement.”

Bathel nodded, “It seems events are moving. It has been a while since we had an incursion into low areas though it appears as if we may be facing one.” He snorted, then looked at Jade. “That or having a new Power in play is causing issues amongst the Powers which is flowing down to us. Is there anything strange about our new smith, aside from his Patron Power? Hmm, or for that matter, anything strange about the others in his group.” He looked into the shadows, “And you, did you see anything, note anything?”

The cloaked figure detached itself from the dark, coming into view. “The creature that attacked the Chosen of Hiphate was a Dark touched servant. I made sure the boy was safe and then followed it for a while to make sure it did not ambush them in the night. But I returned to watch over the group, deeming it more important to follow your orders to protect him than to follow the dark touched further and see to whom it reported.”

Bathel nodded, turning to Jade who consulted her notes, then shook her head. “Nothing strange. A high-performing group. Three are descended from Awakened parents, the only exception being Martin. But then, we know what makes his situation so exceptional. Even without prior knowledge he is learning fast, though he is not yet at the level of his peers, he has much to learn and grow in. They have too many years of hearing tales at home for him to equal them.” She paused and looked at Gard, “I noticed nothing strange aside from Martin’s behaviour, which is not that of an Awakened! His behaviour is disturbing and invites ridicule from the normal populace”

Gard laughed. “Jade, you are too used to your position and privileges. Martin behaves as one would expect of a peasant craftsman suddenly being treated as a noble! It could have gone a few ways, unbearable arrogance, ennui and pretending nothing had changed or confused humility as to how his life has changed and why he is in this position. He seems to have gone for the last, retreating to the forge of Master Anders when he needs to escape.”

Bathel nodded and looked at the two.

“The four have graduated and as such are no longer under your charge. However, if you can, encourage Martin to seek the forge and to work on where his true power lies. If necessary, speak to Master Anders and restock his forge with materials from our stores for Martin to use.” He leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers in front of him. “Martin has to fight. He has to go out to find and confront the dark like the other Awakened, but the power of that group will be heavily influenced by what he creates for them.” He smiled, “And the power of others outside their group will be improved by what they discard as he creates ever better equipment for them. I did consider offering him a permanent position as Smith and free him from excursions, but that would stunt his growth and prevent him from learning and growing. We have no markers and no way to know how he will grow and what is needed for his growth. He is the First of Hiphate. We cannot keep him in safety, but we know he can grow by crafting and we also know he can grow through combat unlike with some of the other crafting Powers. He is neither a pure combat classer nor a pure craftsman. What he is, only Hiphate knows, thus he must be free to do as he wishes, though it pains me to see him head into danger.” He looked at Gard and Jade his eyes penetrating, “We tell all those who graduate that they can continue to learn and trade with us, make sure these four make use of it.”

***

Martin looked down at his clothes as he walked down the hill towards the village. He had become used to the finery he wore, the daily clothing that, though the equal of any nobles, he worked and sweated in. He had tried to find something that was not too rich or too ostentatious, but his damaged clothing was quickly replaced. The Academy and Magisters had an image to maintain amongst the populace as to what the Awakened should look like, and they were not planning on spoiling that by having the Awakened walk around in dirty or stained clothing! He had graduated, but he still lived in the Academy. That would change after Gwynneth, Kilia, Hurnith and himself went out and made a name for themselves and moved into the contested areas of the Fae realm while receiving rewards and finding items, resources and information that brought in wealth.

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He smiled at the idea of no more lessons, at more time to spend in the forge, but knew that all Awakened, regardless of their speciality, had to spend time in the Fae realm fighting the dark. Even the least martial of the Awakened were superior to normal soldiers though the pure crafters did not grow through combat and served less on the front lines and more to support and strengthen others through their crafting, be it of weapons, armour, enchanted items or alchemical concoctions. The ability of Awakened to raise their stats gave them a huge advantage, but expecting a Weaver to fight on the frontlines paled compared to the benefits they brought when they wove under-armour that protected so many. Non-awakened soldiers could learn skills and advance them, but they did so much slower and rarely, if ever, could advance their stats. He shrugged, wanting a life in a forge, but knowing his new responsibilities meant life and safety for his family and others and thus could not be ignored.

He looked from the path over the village below him, at the smoke curling from chimneys, the thicker smoke that rose from the forge of Master John spiralling into the sky. It was early morning, the sun barely over the horizon, and could hear the lowing of cows as small boys herded them out to the fields. He smiled as he walked down the hill, towards his parent’s house. He stopped, thinking for a moment and laughed at himself. Three months, and he no longer thought of it as his home. Home had become the Academy and the strange world of the Awakened. He wondered how much he could, or should, explain to his family and friends. There was no rule against talking about it, and in some realms, it was common knowledge. But here, at the Covenant and elsewhere nearby, it would seem strange, unworldly. He decided, he would talk about it, if necessary, but would not do so if he had no reason to. He could think of no reason to panic anyone and have them run in fear to call a priestly inquisitor to the village, searching for evil where none existed.

His mother was feeding the hens as he walked up to the gate. When she saw him, the feed just fell from her hand as she raised her hands to her face and started sobbing as she rushed towards him. His father, preparing to go out, saw him, dropping his axe and rushed forward as well, calling to his brothers to come out. Martin stood there, his mother embracing him as his father watched. He saw his two brothers come out, then run up shouting in excitement as they saw him. Eventually, his mother calmed down, pulling herself away from him, looking at him, at his clothes.

“You look well.” She took another look at his clothes, at the fine boots he wore and smiled. “So, our fear that you were but a sacrificial lamb in the rites of the Magi appears to have been unfounded. Thank the gods!” She embraced him again, then pulled away, rubbing at her eyes with a corner of her apron. “Come in, we must have breakfast.”

Martin laughed as he followed her, picking his brothers up and spinning around as they loved. He was home, his mother, being his mother, solving everything by feeding them all. His brothers were their normal energetic, and obnoxious selves, and his father a support for them all.

He walked to the forge, his brother, Dravid, walking by his side. He wanted to become a smith, and hoped that Martin could convince Master John to take him as an apprentice. His twin, Kevin, had no interest in being a smith and was far more interested in joining the foresters. While Kevin went into the forest to explore, bow in hand, Dravid walked with Martin.

Martin looked at the forge as they neared, smiling at the memories as he heard John bellowing at a worker who had failed to stoke the furnace properly. He pitied whomever it was. He had been on the receiving end of Master John’s wrath, and punishments. He remembered the punishments and had to admit they were also fair, appropriate, and not arbitrary, though he would never have admitted it before.

He arrived at the door of the forge, but instead of going in, went to the customer entrance and entered, hearing the little bell tinkle as he opened the door. He heard silence descend on the forge. Well aside from the beating of hammer on metal as someone worked. The door to the forge opened and Master John came through, drying his freshly washed hands on a towel, his rule being to never meet customers with dirty hands that they would hesitate to shake. The towel dropped as he saw Martin, with him running up, grabbing him in a bear hug and lifting him off his feet.

“Welcome home, Martin!” His face was split into a big grin as he lowered Martin to his feet and looked him over. “Seems like those Magi are looking after you. Though from the looks of your clothes, you have forgotten how to do an honest day’s work. Such finery!” His eyes twinkled as he teased Martin who just laughed.

“I will show you what I have learned and what work I can do! But before that, you know my brother Dravid.”

“Know him? I do believe that I have had to chase him away with a switch after he has been where he should not be… and I do not mean in the forge, though there as well!”

Dravid got a look of fear, he had been caught sneaking into the Master Smith’s house after dark to play games with his daughter. Normal childhood games, both were young and were meant to be in bed asleep, not playing games with friends. He had hoped Master John had not recognised him, now his dream of being a smith seemed very far off. He could not bear to look at the smith, instead he looked at his feet. He felt a strong hand, even bigger than that of his brother, grab hold of his shoulder, and then lift his head.

“So, Martin, what does young Dravid want here? To pay more pick stones with my daughter?” He laughed, “Next time, Dravid, there is a front door and time for it. Sneaking into a girl’s room at night is not right, even at your young age!”

Dravid’s cheeks turned red. How could the Master Smith think such behaviour of him? That was adult stuff, though now that it was mentioned it was an intriguing thought…No, not the time for that, if ever. The Master Smith’s daughter was a friend, how could he have such thoughts about her?

Master John observed the boy’s embarrassment and hoped he had not given the boy any ideas. He and his daughter were only eight, though from the looks of it they would need watching in the future. For now, he wondered what the boy wanted.

Dravid swallowed, looking at Martin for confidence who smiled at him and nodded. “Master John, umm, well, I want to be a smith like Martin. I mean like you and…” His voice trailed off as he thought of his terrible words, putting his brother before the Master Smith. But as he dropped his head again, he felt the smith’s hand raising his head and saw his eyes looking at him.

“So, Journeyman Martin, you think this young rascal has the makings of a smith? Seems a bit scrawny for the job.”

Martin laughed, looking down at his brother, “That’s why you should start him early, now at eight instead of waiting until he is ten. Gove him that muscle he lacks!”

Master John looked at Dravid, “So, boy, here is the thing. I cannot by the rules of the Smith’s Guild take you as an apprentice for another two years. But, if you come here, every day at an hour after sunrise and not a minute later, you will be put to work and learn. If you do that, when you are of age you will become an official apprentice and serve like all others for six years.” He held out his hand, and in a dream, Dravid clasped it with both his hands, a huge grin on his face.

Master John turned to Martin. “You said you would show me what you had learned. I happen to have a spare forge and a new forge boy to assist you.”

Martin smiled, walking towards the empty forge that was rarely fired up. He looked at Dravid, shouting at him, “Hey, forge boy, you coming to help or not?”

***

Martin showed Dravid how to set the forge and work the bellows, getting it to heat. Dravid was quickly sweating, unused to the heat of the forge or the physical labour. Martin looked up, seeing Master John with a leather apron for him.

“Get that shirt off, or your master up at the keep will have your head for ruining your finery!”

Martin took the apron, putting it over his shirt. Seeing Master John frown, he smiled. “Master, up at the Keep this is my working shirt. What they consider finery would make a peacock proud!”

He went through the bins of metal, old metal implements and ingots ready to be forged. He wondered what he could forge for his master and came to a decision. He came up behind Dravid, checked on the forge’s temperature and told him to leave the bellows. Relieved, Dravid went to fetch water from the barrel before he came back to sit and watch Martin work.

Martin started with the steel ingot. He would make a knife, an everyday knife that virtually everyone carried that could be used for everything from eating to defending themselves. On it, he would scribe the rune for sharpness and another for durability. He knew it was stretching himself, but this was two runes, not three and his skills had grown since his last failed attempt at more than one rune. Plus, this was his Master who had taught him, and he deserved Martin’s best, for him to stretch himself, a bit of risk was worth it!

He worked, occasionally instructing Dravid to work the bellows, to keep the furnace at the correct heat. It took the whole of the day, but as night fell he finished the knife, holding it steady as he pushed mana into it, watching the runes fill. He felt the mana passing through him, and he could feel the marking on his chest burning as he pushed more and more, straining his mana resources, drawing more from the world around him as he pushed. He knew he risked the same as Gwynneth. They had explained to the four of them the danger of drawing mana directly, especially foreign mana. He felt safe, the mana here was not foreign. It was a forge, and the mana called to him, even in this realm far from Fae. He could feel it burn as it passed through his body, and he screamed as it did so, but in the end, it imbued the blade, and he stood there, exhausted, as the runes flared and lay on the blade, their mana fixed, the rune perfected and binding on the blade. He looked at the knife, the handle of antler horn carefully worked to make sure it guided the hand and did not slip, the razor-sharp blade, that thanks to the runes would not dull, chip or shatter and he was happy with the results.

He presented the blade to Master John who inspected it with the judgement of a master smith. “This is remarkable, what are these markings you have placed on it?”

“Master, those are known as runes. It is something I have learned while away. They make the blade sharp and prevent it from breaking.”

Master John frowned, “They are not the workings of evil, are they, boy? Have those Magi corrupted you to dark ways?”

“No!” Martin exclaimed, and forgetting Dravid’s presence in the corner, he told Master John all of what had happened in the last three months, including the fight against the dark and his encounters.

Master John came forward, grasping his arm in the greetings of warriors, looking at him. “Be careful. You are as a son to me; I would not wish to lose you. Learn what you must to fight these dark creatures. If you must battle, then battle but come home safe.” Martin and Master John turned as they remembered Dravid’s presence.

“Dravid, keep this to yourself. Please, you know how it would worry mother and father if they knew. And don’t tell Kevin, he could never keep a secret.” Martin looked at him and smiled as Dravid came forward, placing his hand on their clasped arms.

“I think it is just between us, is that not so, Master John?”

Master John laughed. “Indeed, it is boy, but you will still be here every morning at an hour after sunrise!”