Erich’s body felt heavy as he trudged up the staircase. It only took a touch of mana to light the glowstone around him up, but that didn’t make the long walk any easier. With each step the weight of Wyannix’s mark seemed to weigh down on Erich.

  All of the damage from the injury was long gone, but he could feel the demon following him. No matter how far Erich walked, Wyannix was there with him, watching him and waiting for him to have a moment of weakness.

  It was almost a relief when he reached the ground level. Two cinderborn swordsmen began shouting contradictory commands at him, weapons bare and barely six inches away from Erich’s throat. One demanded that he drop to the ground while the other was screaming that he needed to turn and put both hands against the wall.

  He simply stopped, raising his hands until one of the guards stripped the sword from his side. Only once he was disarmed did one of the warriors actually stop to question him.

  “Human, what is your name and purpose? We have no reports that a human smuggler would be using the hellpath into our camp.”

  It was a bit hard to answer with a sword in his face, but Erich did his best to give the man a winning smile.

  “My name is Erich Saphir. I am a swordsman and the apprentice of Sathis Takkmor. He sent me here. You can check the sword I was carrying, it belonged to him.”

  The two guards looked at each other. Some sort of unspoken conversation flashed back and forth between the two of them before the one that had addressed Erich leaned back a half step and shouted toward the opening of the cave.

  “Norjj. Run and get First Sword Iston. We have a human here that claims he’s had dealings with the Second Sword. I don’t know if he’s a deserter or if he’s speaking the truth, but either way the First Sword can figure out how to handle him.”

  The cinderborn turned his attention back to Erich, contemplating him with impassive glowing eyes. Finally, the man shrugged, lowering his sword but not sheathing it.

  “You can rest against the wall, human,” he said, nodding toward where a chunk of glowstone was embedded in the cave’s wall. “If you are Second Sword Sathis’ apprentice, I’m sure the First Sword will want to speak with you. If you’re not and you just heard his name somewhere-”

  The warrior smiled thinly at Erich. There wasn’t any mirth or joy in the expression.

  “-well, if you’re using a name that has no relationship to you, that’s dishonorable,” he continued, “and the confederacy doesn’t cut deals with dishonorable folks, even if they might be warriors.”

  Erich suppressed a shudder. He hadn’t lied in the slightest, but the implicit threat in the cinderborn’s words was enough to shake him.

  “Still,” the other cinderborn remarked. “Life as a slave in the confederacy is probably better than whatever you were doing under the thumb of the elves. At least here you can manage to scrape together a little honor before you go.”

  The man looked him up and down. Suddenly Erich was self-conscious of his appearance. He’d lost what remained of his Hollendil issued chainmail long ago and his pants hadn’t really survived the rigors of hell. Right now, he was clad in little more than a pair of shots made out of some indeterminate and dirty cloth.

  With his sword, Erich might have been mistaken for a warrior from an untamed border region. Without it, he looked like a deranged refugee. Hardly a convincing figure for trying to assure the cinderborn that he wasn’t a spy.

  “So,” the second cinderborn began, “hell? Only a couple of the higher tier warriors have tried to tackle it solo. I’ve gone in a group before but most of the wildlife avoided us. Other than those flying things. We had a swordmaster with us and she tore them apart before-”

  “Enough Solither,” the first warrior cut in. “The human may be who he says he is, but that isn’t any reason to break discipline. We’re not supposed to be gossiping with a stranger when we’re on duty.”

  The man that had been talking shot Erich an apologetic half smile. He couldn’t help but notice that the cinderborn had never sheathed his sword.

  Erich smiled back awkwardly, taking a spot up against one of the cave’s walls. He didn’t want either of the guards to think that he was trying to start trouble. A sudden sword fight, without his sword, deep behind the cinderborn lines wasn’t exactly the smartest course of action.

  He only needed to wait for about five minutes before a tall, heavily muscled cinderborn swept into the dave, a cinderborn and a human guard behind him. Not that the man needed any guarding. He was at least six inches taller, and power roiled off of him.

  It was like Erich was staring at the sun. He had to squint. The cinderborn martial artist looked Erich up and down once, his eyes lingering for a fraction of a second on his shoulder before settling on his right arm.

  “Show me your wrist.” Erich found himself responding to the command before his mind even processed what the man had said.

  The cinderborn seized hold of Erich’s hand, turning it over so that he could see the mark left by Sathis in the cave. Raw power pushed its way through his skin, liquid and colder than the darkest winter day in Hollendil. Inside his image, Erich felt the rain turn to ice as the cinderborn’s energy clashed with the flame inside of him.

  Once again, his flame burned hotter than the invading magic, but it didn’t really matter. It was a candle in a blizzard. Ice and chill began to obscure Erich’s image only for it to disappear as quickly as it had arrived when the cinderborn released his hand.

  “He is the Second Sword’s apprentice,” the martial artist confirmed, turning to walk out of the cave just as abruptly as he had arrived. “Return his weapon to him. A scion of a sword family like the Takkmor’s should not go unarmed for any longer than is absolutely necessary. Then, lead him to my cabin. I have questions for him, and I suspect that both of us would like a bit of privacy for that conversation.”

  What happened after that was a blur. A cinderborn, he wasn’t quite sure which one, handed him his sheathe, and as Erich belted it onto his waist, the human attendant that had arrived with the commander led him out of the cave and into the hustle and bustle of the confederate military encampment.

  The first thing that Erich noticed as she led him toward one of the larger buildings within sight of the wall, was that there weren’t nearly as many people. Every Imperial Army encampment had at least a thousand soldiers and martial artists on hand. As Erich hurried through the cinderborn outpost to catch up with his guide, he saw maybe one third that number.

  What the confederacy didn’t have in quantity, it made up in quality. There weren’t any masses of barely trained and poorly equipped spearmen drilling in the middle of camp. Every person that walked by had a sword strapped to their belt, and carried themselves with the air of someone who knew how to use it.

  Although cinderborn made up the vast majority of the warriors, there were more than a couple of humans, and as best Erich could see, they were being treated as equals. Obviously he was only getting a surface level view of confederate society, but it certainly looked like Sathis had been telling the truth. Things were far from perfect, but humans weren’t considered to be second class citizens, expendable fodder for wars that didn’t actually matter.

  Before he could fully get his bearings, the woman ushered him into the large wooden building that she had been leading him toward. As he brushed past her, Erich couldn’t help but get an echo of mana off of her. Life and Earth. Both shone brighter than the life and light inside of him, but they barely even touched the intensity of his fire and lightning.

  “Human.” The cinderborn commander’s pronouncement shocked him out of his contemplation. “You bear Sathis’ mark and wield his sword, but I do not see Takkmor by your side. He left this fortress about two weeks ago, claiming that he was embarking on a secret mission. Now you, a complete stranger, return and he does not.”

  “He-” Erich began, only to catch himself. By the blood of the angels, how should he break this to the cinderborn?

  “Master Sathis is dead.” The words felt limp. Insufficient to contain the gravity of what they were meant to convey.

  Anger washed over the cinderborn’s face. His eyes dimmed as he performed his race’s equivalent of squeezing them shut.

  “I suspected,” the warrior replied, his voice tight. “When the second sword did not return on time, I had my fears. When I saw you, they doubled. Now it is confirmed.”

  “I’m sorry,” Erich said helplessly, guilt nagging at him. “An imperial major found out that he was trying to break through to the next tier and ambushed him. Master Sathis managed to kill all of his attackers, but they damaged his image in the process.”

  “An excruciating way to go,” the cinderborn responded tersely. “It’s a shame that a warrior as talented as Sathis Takkmor would die from such treachery.”

  “I’m afraid that I’m at fault,” Erich said, practically choking the words out. “I was part of the team that ambushed Sathis. That’s how we met actually.”

  “You?” The commander asked, looking him up and down. “At the moment you could not threaten Sathis even if he were asleep and you had a knife to his throat. If he accepted you as his apprentice after that, he accepted you as his apprentice.”

  “Now,” he continued motioning toward a table with a number of wooden chairs at it. “Sit down. I believe you stated that you are called Erich. My name is Iston Addmor and I am the first sword of this encampment. Sathis was my second. Now that we have gotten our initial exchanges of information out of the way, I would be grateful if you could fill me in on what exactly happened out in the unclaimed lands. You can start with why you are carrying a demon’s mark. Imperial sorcerers may strike deals with the creatures of hell without much thought, but that is frowned on in the confederacy. It isn’t precisely against the law, but there will be many who have questions for anyone using infernally granted powers.”

  This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

  Erich walked over to the chair and sat, his skin squirming the entire time. He couldn’t help but notice that Iston made no effort whatsoever to find a seat, instead content to loom over Erich with his arms crossed.

  “Wyannix attacked me and tried to force me into a contract,” he said, wincing at Iston’s unchanging frown. “I managed to gamble with it and win my freedom, but it marked me against my will. I haven’t gained any power from it, and I would remove its mark if I could. Any assistance on that front would be appreciated.”

  Iston peered at him, as if weighing his words.

  “I assume that Wyanna evolved into an intermediate demon, breaking the contract that it made with my warriors?” It was barely a question, more a statement of fact.

  Erich nodded hurriedly. Finally after a couple more seconds of dead silence, Iston spoke up again.

  “Your story is plausible and I don’t feel much infernal energy on you. More than that, you appear to have an affinity for the light element. It isn’t commonly known but all who deal with demons have their light affinity corrupted into one for darkness. I doubt you would manage to be the only demonic contractor that somehow managed to retain your original affinity.”

  “As for treating your condition,” Iston said with a shrug, not so much out of helplessness as apathy. “The cinderborn are not a race of mages. Some of our human allies have developed those abilities, but their skills are nowhere near those of the Cothleer Empire. Your best bet is to ascend a spire and beseech the gates of heaven, but we both know that you are more likely to be slain by the angelic host than granted an audience.”

  Erich frowned, but he couldn’t find any fault with Iston’s description of heaven. Maybe at one time the angels had been more welcoming, but the bard’s tales were quite clear. The gates to heaven were closed to all but those who had proven their virtue and worthiness, and any who argued with the angels that guarded those gates tended to meet a short and grisly end.

  “Beyond Wyannix, I don’t know how much more there is to tell,” Erich replied. “Master Sathis trained me as best he could, remaking my image, teaching me magic theory, and imparting the Magma Blossom to me. Eventually, once he couldn’t hold onto his life anymore he passed his sword on to me and I agreed to undergo the rite of Mathliss.”

  “An honorable sentiment,” Iston said with a nod. “The Takkmor Estate is on Mount Attarak, and that is more than a world away. That is a walk that will take you years to accomplish, but it is only right that an apprentice honor a master of Sathis’ caliber with a task of that nature.”

  “I’m sorry about the death of your friend,” Erich mumbled, shifting uncomfortably. “He meant a lot to me and I only knew him for a week. I’m sure his passing is hitting you much harder.”

  Iston stopped, staring incredulously at Erich for a second before bursting forth into laughter with all the warmth of a December blizzard.

  “Friend? I hated Sathis more than any man alive. The stubborn fool wouldn’t stop second guessing me in planning meetings. I’m not surprised in the slightest that he ran off to increase his level, the two of us had a duel scheduled next month to settle our differences once and for all. My greatest regret in this life is that I will never be able to finally put that fool in his place.”

  Erich froze. That wasn’t exactly what he had been expecting.

  “Then he sends you to me.,” Iston said bitterly. “Of all the forts lining the wall, he sends you to my doorstep. Even in death the fool seeks to one up me by showing that he has managed to snag an apprentice with almost infinite potential.”

  “It wasn’t like that,” Erich gushed, trying to defuse the situation. “Sathis was dying and any major exertion on his part would have led to his image shattering. His only option was to send me through the smugglers route in hell.”

  Ishton snorted, his golden eyes flaring.

  “Only option? Hardly. Even if Sathis were paralyzed from the waist down he was still more than enough to scare off the scavengers that prowl through the dark. He could have brought you anywhere. He chose to send you my way because he knew that I would have to check on your condition to ensure that you weren’t a spy.”

  “I’m sorry,” Erich mumbled. “I don’t think I really understand what’s going on right now. I’m not sure whether you respect Master Sathis or whether you hate him.”

  “Both!” Ishton yelled, a wave of power and icy air exploding outward from the cinderborn. “Sathis was a skilled and honorable warrior. He did his duty and held himself to a higher standard than almost anyone else in this decadent and degenerate age. He was also a stubborn fool and insisted on second guessing and needling me. I was counting down the days until our date on the field of honor with more excitement than I had felt in years.”

  “Now you arrive,” the cinderborn continued with an unsettled frown, “telling me that Sathis is dead and that you are undertaking the rite of Mathliss on his behalf. Not only did that fool manage to escape our duel, but he did so by dangling his final apprentice in my face. The man is mocking me from the grave, and there is nothing I can do about it.”

  Erich shifted uncomfortably. He didn’t know what to do or say, but interrupting the incredibly powerful cinderborn didn’t seem like a wise idea.

  “Infinite potential,” Ishton spat. “A talent never before seen in the three worlds, and of course Sathis stumbles across him out in the dark. That’s just like the fool.”

  The cinderborn stopped, seeming to notice Erich as he sat completely still at the table.

  “I’m sorry for the outburst,” he said, grimacing slightly. “I’m sure the entire situation was a bit unsightly. Regardless, I have confirmed that you are indeed a scion of House Takkmor and a member of the swordsman social caste. I will send notice by rider to the next waystation. Before long you will be added to the central registrar as a four affinity martial artist. I only need to know the nature of your image.”

  Ishton paused, a hopeful flicker lighting his amber eyes. Almost too casually he picked up two metal cups, pouring water from a pitcher into both before sliding one across the table toward Erich.

  “I don’t suppose that Sathis imparted his own image to you? After all, you were only in the unclaimed lands for a week or two. It would be absurd to expect you to have an epiphany and develop your own image in such a short time.”

  “Of course I didn’t create an image out in the wastes,” Erich said with a laugh. “There isn’t even anything there to connect with. What would I have an epiphany about? The Darkness? Rocks? Those aren’t even my elements.”

  “Obviously,” Ishton replied, relaxing slightly. “A four affinity image, especially one that could match your abilities, would be almost impossible to acquire. Most warriors spend the better part of a lifetime trying to develop an image that could accommodate your fire affinity, let alone the combination of fire and lightning. Only a handful of the most powerful noble swordsmen could even hope to find something that could handle half the power of your image.”

  “I know,” Erich responded, taking a sip from the water. It was cool and clean, a blessing after the murky sulfurous heat of hell, “Master Sathis said that I was incredibly lucky to have developed my image before I ventured out into the bridge between worlds. A clear moment when I was camping as a kid and a bolt of lightning ignited a pine forest below me.”

  Frigid air blasted over Erich, and the water in his glass froze in an instant. He looked up and Ishton’s eyes were blazing as the cinderborn commander towered over him.

  “You have an image to match your affinities,” Ishton choked out. “All of them?”

  Erich nodded hurriedly. Ishton sighed and the icy mana disappeared as the cinderborn shook his head.

  “I can see why Sathis sent you my way,” he said with a sigh. “Dying with honor and securing his legacy in one stroke is a… distressingly effective way of winning our final argument.”

  “I literally have no idea what any of this means,” Erich responded, gazing dejectedly down at the cup full of ice in his hand. “Can you at least give me some idea what is going on?”

  “No,” the cinderborn replied with a growl. “Suffice it to say that I am more annoyed with your master now than I ever was when he was alive, and that is a fairly loaded statement.

  “But you haven’t done anything wrong,” Ishton continued, nodding his head a fraction of an inch in Erich’s direction. “Your desire to follow through with Mathliss is honorable and right. Just as you cannot ride any vehicle or animal that you have not tamed with your own two hands, I cannot provide you with significant material support. That said, a change in clothes, a tent, and a couple days worth of food is not significant material support. I would be happy to provide those for you if you would perform a minor favor for me.”

  Erich hesitated, chewing his lower lip. Finally, he answered.

  “What sort of favor? I don’t want to agree with anything that would interfere with Mathliss. It seems like it’s going to be a lot of work already, and I don’t know that I’ll be able to handle piling on even more difficulty at the moment.”

  “Nothing so harsh,” Ishton said with a wince. “Since Sathis robbed me of the pleasure of plunging my sword into him with my own two hands, I must find a substitute to satisfy the debt of honor that he left unpaid with his death. I would ask that you fight my apprentice and daughter, Ismerla. She has significantly more experience and training than you, but given the borderline unfair advantage provided by your affinities and image, a fight with her would still be honorable.”

  “As for your quest,” he continued, “although I was born on Icehold, my family dwells just outside Koralmar, the capital of Tempest. The quickest route to Cinder travels through Koralmar so the trip itself would not inconvenience you. I beg you to take up my request. Without an honorable duel to end my dispute with Sathis, I am left unsatisfied and unhappy. I suspect that this was the old fool’s intention, but I cannot leave our disagreement at that. A duel through proxies does not carry the same weight of honor, but it is better than letting the matter die with Sathis.”

  “I understand,” Erich replied slowly, “or at least I think I do. If your daughter is on the route anyway, it shouldn’t be too much of an issue to stop off and fight her except-”

  He paused, frowning slightly.

  “What if she kills or maims me? I doubt I could finish the rite of Mathliss with only one leg.”

  “I hope she does!” Ishton said with a bark of laughter. “I want her to trounce you in that duel. Of course the goal isn’t to injure someone. It just happens when two warriors of similar skill wave swords about. If you are maimed, you are maimed, but you have protected your honor and the honor of your master.”

  Erich hesitated. He knew the words. Honor meant something to him, and he did owe some sort of debt to Sathis. Still, he doubted that the word ‘honor’ meant the same thing to him as it did a cinderborn. He could hear the extra weight that Ishton put on the word. It wasn’t just ‘something,’ to the warrior. It was the only thing.

  “Fine,” Ishton pressed. “I’ll sweeten the deal. A letter of introduction, some armor, and a rain poncho if you agree to duel Ismerla. Of course, you could always wander around Tempest half naked. I’m sure that would make an impression on the yeomen and slaves. Good luck acquiring food, work, or shelter while looking like a murderous drifter.”

  “Fine,” Erich relented. “I’ll fight the duel. Just give me the supplies.”