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  "I'm getting older, Tandace. And here you seem to have summoned a mage with more experience than I if you need a tutor."

  "Not a tutor. A drill instructor. And Hadrian refuses to fill that role if you must know."

  Lady Nasibron sighed.

  "He still seems intent on taking his knowledge to the grave with him."

  "I thought you hated the demon hunter?"

  "Hate is too strong a word, but the man is bent on squandering what he has."

  "Watch your words, Kellene," said Lokoth. "They say he can hear his name on the wind."

  Lady Nasibron scoffed.

  "Nonsense. Such rumors mean nothing."

  "I suppose you'd know better than I," said Lokoth. "can you train five mages in the basics of the art at the same time?"

  "I can and have trained more than that at once," said Lady Nasibron. "The question I think you should ask is how long this will take."

  "As quickly as you can," said the governor. "And as thoroughly."

  "Tandace, you realize training quickly and training thoroughly are opposed elements, like fire and water or sprites and banes."

  "And yet, sprites and banes coexist in every mortal heart, balanced by the mind and spirit." Governor Lokoth smiled. "How long as a minimum before they can be battle-ready?"

  "Elaine," said Lady Nasibron. "How long have you been studying battle spells?"

  "Two years, teacher."

  "Are you ready for a battle, Elaine?"

  "I'd ask not to be tested in one."

  Lady Nasibron nodded.

  "And how long before you may study a sacra scroll?"

  "Another year, at least."

  "Correct. You see, governor, I agree with her. I won't push a student of mine into battle before he or she is prepared. To do so would be the utmost waste of time and energy."

  "Is that so?" Lokoth shook her head. "What can you do in four months?"

  "Now that depends on the students," said Lady Nasibron. "Those with clever minds and strong prior studies may pick up the skills fast enough to fight in that time-frame."

  Melissa's heartbeat grew louder in her ears. They were talking about training to become a mage, maybe more than a mage, a wizard with the power to take a sacra form. She stood, enraptured and excited by the conversation. To think, she'd been lucky enough to be called over by Nasibron out of sheer coincidence. Or was her placement...another blessing from on high?

  Clouds to the north parted, revealing the distant arc of the world's rings, the nearest of which gleamed brighter and more metallic than the others.

  A warm draft rustled the clothes in the pavilion as the wind shifted quickly.

  "Perhaps we ought to search the skies," said the governor. "Hadrian may be due to arrive, given the way things are shifting."

  Lady Nasibron shrugged.

  "You remember some things from your studies, I see."

  "You think too positively of my younger self," said Lokoth.

  Lady Nasibron snorted in derision.

  "Obviously."

  "Bring your people. Walk with me."

  "You want to see him approach?"

  "Of course. When I was growing up his beauty and powers were legendary."

  "Likewise," said Lady Nasibron.

  The party followed the witch and the governor out from under the pavilion into the hot light of day. Melissa and the others gazed at the sky. Though they spoke of Deckard Hadrian, Melissa doubted she would see the immortal demon hunter in the sky.

  In all of Jadiketz, only two men were said to live forever. Cyrus Bode of the Chos Valley, far to the north where the imperial capitol once stood, was one of them. Deckard Hadrian was the other. In Melissa's books, she had read of others, but of the many who once claimed the gift of youth and life eternal, only two remained.

  "There!" Orm pointed. "The lord of winds!"

  The others, except for the impassive demon guards, crowded to him, following his gesture to the sky with their collective gaze. Melissa squinted against the light of the late morning sun. A gleaming speck of reflected light grew above them. The shape resolved itself into the form of a man as he drew closer, a man in a robe of polished iron, dark against the sky but for the glints of brighter metal on the shoulders and the belt around the waist.

  How could he fly with such weight on his back and no wings? Melissa furrowed her brow. He was a mage, that much was certain, but she lacked the studies to say what was required for such an ability.

  As Hadrian drew closer his long black hair floated free behind him. He wore a sword at his side, sheathed in black, and he carried a pack over one shoulder. At first, he seemed alone, but as he reached the air over the pavilion Elaine cried a warning and pointed to the sky above him.

  A creature half-again Deckard's height dove toward him in near-freefall, scaly reptilian wings held close to a scaly, humanoid body. The creature swooped toward the man in the iron robe.

  "What is that?" asked Melissa.

  "A vakari warrior." The governor’s lips trembled. "Most likely trained in magic as well. Get back, everyone."

  The governor's party of hangers-on scrambled for the Pavilion. Elaine and Aryal took Lady Nasibron and led her to the building, moving faster than Melissa guessed the aging witch could manage.

  Orm and Melissa brought up the rear with the two demon guards and the governor herself.

  Melissa had not gotten a positive first impression from Lokoth, but she showed her nature in a crisis, springing to protect her citizens first. The vakari warrior screeched an inhuman cry as Hadrian hurled it from the air. The reptilian creature struck the ground, not ten yards from where Melissa and Orm retreated beside the governor.

  The lizard man roared, staggering upright. It loomed, over three yards tall and built thick in the upper body to support the pinions that until a moment ago held it aloft. Deckard Hadrian descended toward it, surrounded by the sound of unseen trumpets playing a divine symphony. The vakari warrior turned, eyes locking on the governor.

  The reptile said no words, but the murderous intent evident in that gaze told Melissa everything she needed to know. The vakari wove a sign in the air, making a sound like chattering insects or vermin. The demon guards lunged to fill the space between their mortal charge and the governor. Orm dove for cover behind one of the supports of the pavilion.

  The song ringing from Deckard Hadrian grew louder as he darted toward the vakari. The creature beat his wings, hurling himself sideways on the breeze Hadrian rode toward it. The man in the iron robe hit the ground where the dragon creature had stood with the force of a thunderclap, but the warrior was already sailing overhead, flames dancing to the discordant songs on the end of his clawed hands.

  "An attack spell," said the governor through clenched teeth.

  Melissa stared as the vakari flew toward them, building the ball of fire in both hands.

  Deckard turned and took to the air on another updraft that seemed to come from nowhere, but it pushed him in an arc away from the dragon-like man. He would be too late if the vakari hurled those flames within the next second. The reptilian warrior appeared to realize the same thing as Melissa.

  With a hoarse, leathery laugh, the lizard man hurled fire at the governor. Melissa shoved Governor Lokoth to one side. The blast struck her, carrying not just the heat of fire, but a massive weight like a huge bludgeoning fist. The world shattered like a mirror around her and she flew backward into a beam supporting one of the pavilion's arches. The wooden column splintered. She fell to the stone floor, black spots swimming in her vision, and fighting to breathe to return some air to her lungs. Her spear’s head clacked on tile.

  Yet it all seemed alright somehow. She lay on her side, her world moving in falling fragments.

  In one fragment the demon guards raced to the governor's side.

  In a second image, one filled with the sound of blessed music, Deckard Hadrian seized the towering vakari warrior by the throat. He lifted the creature with him in one hand as he took to the ai
r.

  In the next falling mirror glimpse, Melissa saw the vakari warrior hit the ground in a broken heap.

  Orm and Elaine rushed to her side. Aryal, her small sword drawn, advanced on the fallen vakari. Deckard Hadrian's face appeared before Melissa. Then the world went dark.

  Melissa

  The sound of rain on wooden rooftops woke her. Outside a high, arched window across from the unfamiliar bed where she lay, mist rising from an unseen river obscured the shapes of buildings outside. She recognized Soucot, though this was an angle she had never seen before.

  She couldn't see the governor's palace anywhere. Strange. The damn building as her father once called it took up most of the hilltop citadel on its own. Thunder cracked the sky. Lightning flickered. Given that she could see anything out there in the little remaining light, she guessed it was still daytime.

  Her chest had been bandaged. She saw no sign of her tunic or pads of armor for her arms or shoulder. She suspected not much of the tunic would have survived that fire, though she certainly seemed alive. Her shoes sat by the door of the stone chamber. Her trousers and breeches remained untouched, except for loosening of the laces at the waist. Her belt was looped over a stool by the door and her spear propped against the same, shoulder sling coiled on the seat.

  Funny how awakening in an unknown room could feel so soothing. She moved her legs, feeling the smooth sheets, linen so they must be expensive. Except for a light, vaguely hurting burn above the elbow on her left arm, she sensed no pain. The situation felt much better than she expected after watching the world fall apart around her.

  She stretched her legs, then got to her feet. The air was cold, at least for the south. She brought the top of the linen sheets with her, wrapped around her shoulders and chest like a mantle. On the far side of the room stood a cabinet with a mirror on the wall corner to it.

  Melissa walked to the door leading out of the room, found it open. She turned the knob and peered around. No one waited in the elegantly-tiled hallway outside. She turned to find a tall man step off the windowsill and onto the floor near the bed. Traces of rain dripped onto the floor.

  She grabbed her spear, letting the sheets cascade off her. An instant later she recognized the iron robe and the gleaming ring of the belt, the long black hair.

  "Deckard Hadrian," she said.

  "Yes," he said. "And you won't need the spear. I'm not here to hurt you."

  She relaxed her stance but kept her hold on the weapon.

  "Where is here?"

  "This is the governor's palace in Soucot."

  She snapped her fingers.

  "I should have known that's why I couldn't see it out the window."

  "You know, you have a hint of the accent, but you don't look like a local girl."

  "I was born in Soucot, but I've lived in the north."

  "That doesn't explain my thought, but thank you."

  "I think you should explain to me...How did I get here? I mean, I remember the pavilion. The fire hit me, then nothing."

  "Nothing after? That's too bad."

  Melissa frowned.

  "What do you mean by that?"

  "I mean you talked in your unconsciousness. Don't worry, nothing abnormal."

  "Do you listen to a lot of unconscious people talking?"

  "Over time, the incidents add up."

  "How old are you, anyway?"

  "As of this year, three hundred and forty-four years." He smiled slightly. "I've been on enough battlefields to know a serious injury when I see it. I flew you here within the hour and the governor's physicians healed you. The process proved difficult, so they weren't sure if or when you’d awake."

  "If?"

  "I had every confidence you would survive. I will add, that most humans would be dead immediately given the power that vakari put behind his final spell."

  She turned her gaze on her bandaged chest.

  "The way it felt when it hit me agrees with your assessment. I can't say if either of you is right."

  Deckard's smile grew by a twitch of the lips. His pale green eyes gleamed.

  "Do you think your feeling was wrong? I don't."

  "Why do you say that?"

  "Tell me. Did you hear anything during the fighting yesterday?"

  "Yesterday? I've been asleep for a whole day?"

  "Slightly more, according to the clocks across the bay in Kanor, I'd wager." He shrugged, then sat down on the windowsill.

  Melissa set the spear beside the door frame. She approached the window cautiously.

  "You don't know why I survived."

  "I've been trying to find out. Did you hear any sound, in particular from me or our reptilian attacker?"

  She frowned in thought.

  "I think so. When he started making the spell I almost thought rats were fighting in my ears. And you..." Heat rushed to her cheeks. "You made a sound like music, trumpets."

  He nodded.

  "So you can hear them."

  "Hear who?"

  "Sprites and banes, the particle entities of all magic. The ability to hear them is not uncommon. Most people can learn or hone the technique easily enough with the right teacher."

  "I've never been taught any magic."

  He slid to one side and patted the broad expanse of windowsill beside him.

  "Have a seat then, talented caravan guard."

  Melissa rolled her eyes. She sat beside him.

  "My name is Melissa."

  Deckard nodded. Thunder rolled over the bay, echoing through the streets of Soucot below and in the arched window where the two of them sat. With Deckard silent, Melissa glanced at his face.

  "You say I'm talented. With magic?"

  "Yes."

  "Do you think I could become a mage, like a real mage?"

  “Most people have that ability. I suspect you already are a mage, just not a trained one."

  "People can't be born as mages," she said. “I read that much.”

  "There you read wrong, though such people are rare in Tancuon. However, I would also wager you were not born recently. Were you, Melissa?"

  Her face grew hot.

  "I'm nineteen. You think I'm already a mage? Look, I was turned away from schooling when I was younger."

  "Foolish teachers can't be helped," he said.

  "It wasn't because I lacked talent, according to them."

  Deckard gave her a gentle smile.

  "Perhaps you can tell me the rest of the story later. For now, the governor should know you are awake. I'm sure she'll want to grant you a reward in return for saving her life."

  "I saved her?"

  "You did." Deckard returned to his full height, then walked to the door. "I'll have Governor Lokoth send you a new tunic at the very least. Forgive me for intruding on your privacy."

  "What about the rest of the caravan, my friend Orm?"

  "You and our attacker were the only ones hurt in the attack. Your fellow guards are staying near here, just beyond the citadel walls. I will send you there direction after you meet with the governor."

  "Thank you," she said. "You did most of the saving."

  "It's the nature of a storm to arrive with both thunder and lightning."

  "What does that mean?"

  "Every action has a reaction. Lightning is action. Thunder, reaction."

  "And which are you?"

  "Melissa, I'm a man. I only ride the winds." He slipped out the door without a sound.

  Melissa shook her head, then turned to look out the window over the city. Her parents and her brother were probably out there somewhere. She sighed.

  Not long after Deckard left the chamber, two of the governor's gentle servants arrived at her door. While the man stood outside, the woman entered and laid a fine tunic with laced patterns on its sleeves and at the waist on the bed.

  Melissa tried it on. As she was taller than most women it fit her shoulders and chest well but left her navel bare.

  "I'm afraid for the sake of time, we only have one s
ize," said the gentle maid.

  "It is fine. Thank you."

  The woman smiled.

  "When you're ready, follow me to the court's hall."

  "Of course. Let's go at once."

  "As you wish, girl." The gentle maid led the way into the hall. Melissa glanced at her spear. The gentleman shook his head. "No weapons at court. You can come back for it later."

  Melissa nodded. The woman led, and the man followed her down a flight of stairs, then around a corner beside a pair of great double doors. They passed through the wide doorway.

  The governor's court in the feasting room of the palace surrounded them. Dozens of nobles, gathered in the wings, watched while Melissa and the gentle servants proceeded up a pale green carpet toward the seat. Before the throne stood a table, cut into two halves that arced in slender curves on either side of the carpet leading to the raised portion of floor where the governor sat in authority.

  The servants left Melissa’s side. Nervous, she walked to the midpoint between the two tables, where in times of council when all the authorities of Jadiketz would meet in one place, every governor and prince could be seated. She remembered the etiquette of a petitioner from one of her books. She sank to one knee at the center point of the carpet between the two tables, head bowed.

  "That is a polite gesture...” said Governor Tandace Lokoth, voice echoing from her throne and resonating so it could be heard at full volume throughout the entire court, thanks to the acoustic design. "...but unnecessary for someone who saved my esteemed personage's life only yesterday. Rise, and tell me your name and who you are, if you would."

  Melissa raised her head. She looked at the governor.

  "My name. Is Melissa Dorian. I am a caravan guard, born in Soucot. Only yesterday I returned here after seven years traveling."

  Governor Lokoth smiled, resting her head against the center of the sunrise pattern etched into her silver seat of office.

  "Melissa Dorian of Soucot, I take it you have seen many things in your travels. I have witnessed many strange sights in my time as well. Yet my advisers and I cannot tell me how, and I mean no insult by the words I choose, a simple caravan guard, an ordinary woman, could survive such a fiery blast as you prevented from striking me."