Martin was left stunned, not knowing how to react. He felt the large hand of his master on his back, pulling him around. Eyes that he was so familiar with, had seen peering at him, watching him learn to use the hammer, to forge now looked at him with utter surprise mixed with concern.

“Martin, you ok?” The concern in his voice was apparent as he looked at his apprentice, now journeyman, and he thought of what might be the most extraordinary conversation he had ever heard. Never mind the appearance of the four mages, but to pick out an ordinary village boy and to call for him to join them, he had not even heard any such stories.

“What happened, Master? Why did they come for me?” Martin just looked at where the Mages had been, not really comprehending what they had said. “Why would they say I could be a mage? How is it possible for someone to become like them?”

John’s voice was calm, trying to calm the rising panic he could hear in his apprentice’s words. “I don’t know. But for now, don’tyou remember that you just became a journeyman! Go home be with your family and friends and think about what was said here today. You will have to choose, but whether you go with them or stay here, you will always be able to come here. The Keep is right here, you are not going far, just up the hill.”

Martin looked at him, thinking ‘The Keep is not far? Maybe it is close to walk, but it is a world away!’ His words were soft, his confusion far from cured, but at the same time he thought of what his Master had just said, he was now a Journeyman! Never mind the strangeness of the mages, he was now a Journeyman! six years of hard work had paid off! He started to grin then hugged his master; the grin plastered to his face as he almost ran to where he knew his family would be.

He ran home, dumping a bucket of cold water over himself before he dried himself off and donned his finery. He made his way to the village square, in the shade of the Keep that loomed over the village. With today being the day that everyone in the village aged, there was a feast for those who came of age and took their journeyman tests, their first step into adulthood. Some had left a week before, those becoming foresters whose test took longer as they delved into the surrounding forest, tasked on finding specific species of tree and animals, animal tamers who needed to first trap an animal before they could even start and , most popular of all, the few who apprenticed to the brewers and had started their brew long before, to form part of the celebration.

His grin was evident, not that anyone had expected him to fail his journeyman test. Master John followed behind, grinning as well, happy with his apprentice’s success. Cheers greeted Martin as he entered the square, his friends coming up to congratulate him. His two brothers jumping away from the spit where they had been surreptitiously picking at the crisp skin between being chased away by the adults overseeing the process. They dived onto him, each grabbing hold of an arm while Martin laughingly started turning swinging them around. When he stopped, he was dizzy, but the two younger boys laughed as they stumbled around. Martin was not paying attention to them, but at the most beautiful girl he knew coming towards him. Jenny’s smile was just for him, her last few steps running into his arms. He grinned as she planted a kiss on his lips, then hung onto his arm as they broke apart and walked towards the table of food.

The day was almost done, those who had finished their apprenticeships celebrating with their friends and family. The meat was lifted off the spits, carefully carved and placed high on plates before being set on the tables.

With ample fine ale, food and much to be celebrated, the party was set to continue well into the night. Amongst all the merriment, John sat watching Martin enjoying his time with his friends. He saw that the ale was probably flowing a little too freely, and a serious conversation was needed, soon, before it was not possible. He went to his apprentice and put his hand on his shoulder.

“Martin, we need to talk, with your parents as well.”

Martin looked at him, flushed from what he had drunk.

“Just now, Master.”

“No, now, before it is not possible tonight.” His hand tightened on Martin’s shoulder, the immense strength from working the forge coming through. Martin could not ignore it and looked resentfully at his Master. “You have a decision to make, and it needs to be discussed before you are not in a state for sensible conversation!”

Martin knew his Master was right, but he had enjoyed ignoring the confusion in his life, the unknown that had thrust itself into his life. With a rueful look at his friends he nodded at his Master and got up, “Sorry guys, I will be back.”

Jenny and the others looked at him in confusion. What decisions? Was his master planning on kicking him out? Surely not after a successful journeyman test. Plus, everyone knew that the two were close, that Master John had great plans for Martin, so why the sudden need for serious conversation on this day of all days? They watched the two smiths walk off, Master John quietly pulling Martin’s parents aside as they disappeared into the nearby town hall.

***

Martin’s parents stared at John and wondered what could be so important that it should disrupt this celebration, a great milestone for Martin, and the family, as it looked to an era of prosperity with a smith amongst them. Maybe even the start of a store that could sell smithed goods and provide future generations with a livelihood not imagined by those of the current generation.

Swiftly John related the events that had happened to Martin after the successful journeyman test, the appearance of the magi and their offer, one that required a decision to be made tonight. The two looked stunned. They all knew they lived in the shadow of the magi, that even the baron and his men bowed to their will, even more so than the distant King who, in any case, would be unlikely to disturb the magi or to think to try to send an order to them. With a dazed look Martin’s father shook his head.

“They want Martin? Why, for what?” His face had taken on a haggard look, fear for his son evident. He was trying, and not succeeding in holding back tears as he was overwhelmed by concern for his son. Tears flowed down into his thick beard, some running down to fall onto the floor. His wife grabbed him, her own face full of fear, sobs rising up.

“Stop, they mean no evil or harm. On the contrary, they talk about Martin starting a second apprenticeship, this time as one of them.” His face took on a stern look as he continued, “I understand your fear, but now is the time for level heads and to make a proper decision.”

Martin watched as his parents broke down and John tried to calm them. His heart quailed looking at their fear but in a way it made up his mind. If they feared it so much, what would happen if he refused the mages?

“There is no need to discuss it. Today I am a man and I need to make my own decision.” He stopped, seeing how the other three were all watching him. He could see the pride in John at his taking a stand, his mother and father torn between being parents and seeing him as their baby, to having to consider him old enough to make his own decision. He saw his father start to speak then stop and start again.

“It is as you say, today you entered manhood and have every right to make the decision for your yourself. But consider us, your family. What you decide could separate us and have consequences for us all.” Martin saw the concern in his eyes, for him, but also fear.

“There will be no consequences for others. I will go in the morning. What happens will happen. If I do not return, you all know I did it for the love of my family. None will suffer from my cowardice.”

His words opened his mother’s eyes and tears who clung to his father. With a glance he got up.

“I am going to spend some time with my friends, I don’t know when, or if, I will see them again.” He hugged his parents and walked out, feeling their eyes on him. He went to his friends, revealing nothing of what he felt, but putting everything he had in what he suspected may well be the last party of his life.

***

It was mid-morning when Martin finally awoke. The sun was streaming in from outside through windows whose shutters had been left open. He blinked at the brightness, a headache instantly assailing him. Groaning he stood up, before going outside to clean himself. The water was cold, good for waking him up and trying to get some of the fuzziness out of his head. When he came inside, he found a table laden with food, his mother hovering to make sure he ate, not that he wanted to with his stomach roiling with the after-effects of the previous night’s indulgence. But under her concerned eyes, her fearful look, he swallowed it all down even as his stomach threatened to rebel and send it back from where it had come. He managed to finish and stood up, making for the door.

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“Not like you don’t!” His mother’s voice stopped him. He saw the tears in her eyes. “I have put out your best clothes. You cannot go before the Magi dressed as if you are going to the forge. If they mean you no harm, if they are true to their word, you need to appear your best.”

He nodded, going back to his room and to his rarely worn best clothes. A light blue shirt with a collar, buttoned down to black pants held up by a belt he recognised as his father’s best leather one. He also found new boots, shining, the black polished to a reflective sheen. He knew how much these must have cost, and he understood them as an expression of love from his parents, they could not help him as he left, but they would make sure their love went with him. He left his room, not seeing anyone in the house. He was disappointed, he had wanted to wish them goodbye, but perhaps it was just too much.

He left the house, only to find it crowded outside, not just his parents and siblings but friends and those with whom he had grown up amongst in the village. All waited for him outside. He walked forward, his mother coming forward and falling on him, sobbing, his father coming forward and clutching them both in hug. He managed to finally move forward and found himself instead being embraced by his brothers, too mature to cry of course though clearly they were trying their best not. He walked forward with them beside him, almost an honour guard that grew as he passed through the village and his friends followed him out, walking with them as he walked through the village up the path that led to both the keep and the covenant of the mages. He saw Jenny approaching, then running away. He watched as she left, wishing she would come but understanding her not doing so.

His entourage lasted until the split, the guards of the Keep looking at the large group of villagers. They watched as the lone youth in front, known to them since they, too resided in the village, took the lesser used path and started making his way to what seemed to be a heavily fortified manor house, the living place of the mages. From the vantage of the hill he could look down at the village, across at the keep to the manor house in front of him, and the wall that surrounded it all. It loomed larger as he approached, his throat felt dry and he could feel the sweat on his head and back despite it being a cool day. He approached the door, massive doors of iron wood, heavy steel arms running through it. He could see no hinges, evidently, they were inside in case of attack, but who would be foolish enough to attack the magi? He swallowed, the little saliva in his mouth not doing much to cure his dry through. Faced with the daunting doors, not knowing what else to do he stepped forward, his fist ready to knock.

Do you wish to enter? A voice came to him, feminine yet offering no intonation? Say YES to enter, NO to return.

He was taken aback, he could see no one, and the voice came to him from nowhere. However, having come this far and having made his decision there could be only one answer.

“Yes, I want to enter.” He spoke clearly, albeit that fear robbed his voice of volume. It did not seem to make a difference to the voice that spoke again.

“Pre accession candidate Martin has been granted entrance.” The voice cut off and in the middle of the doors in front of him, a much smaller door now appeared, which swung open into what he could see was an opulently appointed entrance hall. He stepped through, felt his foot sink into a thick, red pile carpet that covered the entry. He marvelled as he entered, at the deep carpet all round, the golden chandelier hanging down with at least thirty lamps, the twin staircases sweeping up at the back, the desks on either side flanked by suits of armour, and the dressed stone walls, covered with tapestries and doors leading into other parts of the house. He was still marvelling when with a start he realised he was no longer alone. He saw one of the magi he had not been introduced to previously, a young woman wearing a golden robe with golden slippers on her feet. He had not noticed her approaching until she was close enough to reach out and touch him.

“Welcome, Martin. I am the Mage Vilandre. Some call me the sword wizard since my speciality is using magic through swords.”

Martin was stunned, the beautiful mage was addressing him as an equal. He wanted to throw himself at her feet as being unworthy, after all he was merely a journeyman smith.

Mistaking his silence and look as one of disbelief Vilandre laughed. “Yes, one would expect a sword mage to be a man, and most are. But we cannot change our natures, and this is the magic that ascension brought me. Just as you will soon find out what it will bring you.”

Martin looked at her, once again fearful, worrying that he had offended the mage. “My lady, if that is how I should address you, you mistake me. I am not at all surprised at you being a sword mage. I am surprised at all of this, and that you would address me as an equal.”

Vilandre just made a face then laughed. “No offense meant, and no offense taken. I was chosen to greet you since it was felt that my magic was the most likely to complement or help yours. After all, what is a warrior without weapons?”

“Milady, perhaps there has been a mistake. I am a blacksmith, my knowledge of forging weapons and armour rudimentary at best. Surely you should send away for someone with the skills you require if it is weapons and armour you wish.” Martin half hoped that was the case, that this was all a mistake, they had mistaken him for something he was not and would be happy for him to be on his way.

Instead, Vilandre just laughed and wound her arm through his starting to guide him down through a door that opened as they approached into a long, well-lit corridor. a corridor.

“What a polite young man, I don’t think anyone has called my ‘Milady’ since I was at court during the reign of King Horness the seventh.”

The sentence, seemingly simple, made Martin’s head reel. Vilandre looked not much older than him, perhaps a decade at most, but King Horness the Seventh had reigned over a hundred years before. How could she have been at his court?

“Ah, here we are!” Vilandre’s happy, upbeat voice pulled him out of his musing as she opened a wooden door at the end of the hall. It was different to the others, it looked smaller, simpler, yet when he looked at it as he passed through he could see intricate runes buried within, silver inlay mixed with gold and fine lines of some black material interlacing them. He stopped and looked for a while, Vilandre patiently waiting, and smiling. When he looked up she merely waved at him to continue, seemingly in no rush. Martin, however, stood up. His mother had taught him not to keep a lady waiting and he did not think it wise to antagonize anyone, especially a mage, on this day. So he left the door and followed her in.

What waited beyond was unexpected. From outside the room it had been like peering into a simple stone room, as he stepped through, he felt a gut-wrenching churning of his stomach that dropped him to his knees. He started to straighten up and lift his head, only to gasp at the seemingly endless vista all around him. He looked over his shoulder, and it seemed like the door was falling behind, running away from him far faster than he could follow. He could not see Vilandre anywhere. He was alone, standing on a small piece of eternity, as the infinite revolved around him.

Panicking he spun around, but could see nothing, just the endless blackness, an infinite expanse of nothingness. The door had disappeared, even its fight light and outline now lost to the endless void. He wanted to scream, but only a whisper came out, one that barely penetrated through the void and left seemed to die as it left his lips.

“Pre-ascension candidate Martin has been presented for ascension.”

He heard the voice of Vilandre but could not see her. He knew she should be there, but all he could see around him was the endless void, the eternal blackness.

“Ascension begun.” The voice from when he entered had returned, still soft, still feminine, and still completely neutral with no hint of emotion.

He wondered what ascension meant, what it was that they were doing to him. He stood there, not knowing what to do, what was happening and saw a flame approaching. It burned bright as it came, yet shed no light, did nothing to break the endless void. He watched as it came forward, looking into its depth as if it was a forge fire, and as if guided by him he now saw a forge, a huge fire within, massive hammers hanging down, an anvil being worked by a giant of man who sweated as he beat out a sword. Grabbing tongs he saw the man start to heat the sword, allowing it to get hot, reach the point of quenching, then quickly dip into the oil bath set aside. As the sword was drawn out, Martin gasped to see the runes shining on the blade, the just quenched metal taking on a bluish sheen as the runes shone brighter and the metal seemed to polish itself.

The man grunted and turned to Martin. “So, after all this time one comes who would learn my ways. Never let it be said that Hiphate the Smith refused the will of the gods!” he looked grimly at Martin, “You are the first to ascend to my gifts, they will be great, but if you do not do as you should, my wrath will be greater.”

The man, Hiphate, Martin assumed from the introduction, reached out and touched Martin on the chest. He felt a burning sensation and watched as his shirt burned away. His smart shirt, the one piece of finery he had, became ash. He looked at his chest, at the hammer and anvil symbol that now appeared there, a brand burned into him, not black, but glowing with the red of heated coals, and felt faint. The pain, the abuse of his body from the night before were all taking a toll. He struggled to stay up. To stay awake, and he thought he saw a nod of approval on the face of the smith, before he faded away. And as the smith faded away, he found himself standing in a room, Vilandre to his right, and the other magi sitting in chairs before him. They smiled and raised their glasses in a toast as he passed out, falling in a bundle at their feet.

Name: Martin Race: Human Class: Awakened Smith Level 1

Str: 12 Con: 14 Dex: 8 Int: 10 Cha: 12

Skills: Blacksmithing (Journeyman), Weaponsmithing (Apprentice) Armoursmithing (Apprentice), Smelting (Journeyman), Geology (Apprentice), Hunting (Apprentice)

Stat points: 3

Skill point 2