Chapter 3

Kyven was introduced to the first little joy of the road that day… saddlesores. He didn't ride horses often, though he knew how, and after four hours in the saddle, that fact became painfully apparent as so long sitting in a jostling saddle began to take its toll on his backside legs, and lower back. He knew there were coming, though. The time he'd gone to Avannar with Holm, they'd taken an extra day both ways because neither of them were used to riding, going slow and stopping often to minimize the saddlesores. Kyven mirrored that behavior now, riding at a slow, plodding walk for the horse–which it seemed not to mind–and stopping often so he could dismount and stretch.

At first, it didn't seem like a long journey as he came down the Avannar Road into the Blue Valley, for he was in familiar territory. He came across quite a few miners, prospectors, and even some townsfolk, who had heard of Kyven's lucky find down on the east side of Cougar Creek and were now flocking to the area to see if the lucky coin would flip once again in their favor. He even saw Master Torvik down there with a couple of his older apprentices, crossing the road in front of him with a sniffer in his hand as his apprentice told him in a snarky tone that he'd told him the creek was on the other side of the road. But, when he came down into the Blue Valley and continued east, then the enormity of it began to make its mark when he passed the fallen maple that had been cut to clear it from the road, and moved beyond the normal boundaries of the Atan region. He moved out into what most called frontier land, area dotted by individual settlements, farms, and mills, areas beyond the governmental authority of any village or town. This place was basically lawless, where anyone could do anything without fear of legal retribution. However, despite that fact, it was still an orderly and safe place, for the many farms cut large tracts out of the forest, the farmers and millers all knew one another, and they made sure that the area was kept safe. Any bandits or raiders that set up in the area quickly found themselves being chased off by a posse of farmers armed with muskets, crossbows, firetubes, and shockrods. There was no law here but the farmers, who enforced their own version of the law… and that was do no harm. It was a pretty free-wheeling place, where people were allowed to live any way they pleased, so long as they did no harm to others. But the instant they did that harm, assaulting road travelers, raiding farms, attacking families, the farmers gathered together and hunted them down. And they were not merciful. They killed the offenders without hesitation or remorse. That threat of swift and fatal retribution kept the bandits away from this section of the Blue Valley.

This was the area through which Kyven rode. He passed farms spread out along the roadside, sometimes spread across it, the road cutting through a farm, was often waved to by farmers and workers as they toiled the fields, to whom he waved back cordially. He stopped by a small brook for an afternoon meal, taking a good rest. Just as he was packing up to continue on, a merchant train pulled up, four wagons coming to a stop in the same grassy field by the brook, and he shared space with them as they moved to water the horses and take a short break for a meal. "Ho, traveler, come from Atan?" one of the men called.

"Aye," he answered.

"I do love seeing this restover," the short, wiry-haired man chuckled. He wore a leather vest over a cotton shirt, and he wore the strange knee-length white cotton trousers that marked him as a Flauren, from the southern kingdom of Flaur. It was very hot down there, but both men and women wore shortened breeches, leaving their lower legs bare. It was said that the women wore much shorter knickers than the men, leaving most of their thighs bare as well. It was entirely possible, Kyven supposed. Miyan women often went topless, a custom not very common in the northern kingdoms. If a woman showed her bare breasts in Atan, it would be a scandal that would cycle through the old women for years. But different climates created different customs, Kyven supposed. Flaur, Miyan, and Lewa were very hot places, and wearing a lot of clothes would be unbearable. "When I see this spot, I know I'm just a couple of hours out from Atan. We should roll in just at sunset. On the way to Avannar?"

"Cumman Pass," Kyven replied. "I'm heading out to Deep River."

"Oh, a frontiersman!" the man said with a laugh. "Good luck, friend, you'll need it. That's a hard life."

"I'm going to go see what kind of life it is," Kyven answered, in his usual distant manner, unwilling to get too friendly with a stranger.

"Pretty wild," he chuckled. "I've done a few merchant trains there. Frontier towns like that are magnets for outlaws and rough types. You can get on fairly well as you remember the three rules. Be polite, be fair, and be dangerous. Don't piss nobody off, and prove you're too dangerous to get into a fight with, and you're fine. As long as you're an honest and fair man, you earn respect."

"I'll remember that."

"Not the talkative type, eh? You'll fit in fine there," the merchant laughed. "Just don't let them confuse your silence for weakness. But, we can help each other. You know the road the way I'm going, I know the road the way you're going. Anything up ahead I should know about?"

"No, it's fine. A crowd at the base of Cougar Mountain, but nothing wrong with the road."

"A crowd? What's goin' on?"

"Someone found a white crystal panning the stream at the base of the mountain, so now everyone is prospecting the area," Kyven told him.

The merchant laughed. "Lemmings," he noted. "They won't get the same luck, believe you me. Welp, going your way, they had a tree fall across the road last night about five minars up, so there's a little rough spot there where they had to clear it, but outside of that the road is dry and smooth running. You're not gonna make The Red Inn, which is the usual inn that serves people comin' a day out from Atan, but there's a few farmsteads out past the Blue Forest that'll put up a lone traveler if you pay 'em."

"Thanks for the advice," Kyven told him as he clumsily pulled himself up into the saddle. "Safe journey to you."

"To you too, my quiet friend. And good luck prospecting! I hope you come home richer than you were when you left!"

Kyven continued on for the rest of the afternoon, until he reached the Blue Forest. It was an area of unplowed land on a small irregular set of low but rugged hills within the valley, not so high that they broke up the valley but steep enough to make farming them a rough prospect. The area was wild, natural, steep rises and falls of the road as it followed ridges up and down with flat plateaus atop the hills. He realized that if the wolf was going to catch up with him, then a place like this was the best place to stop and wait for him. He couldn't go stay over with a farming family with a Shaman coming for him, so finding a place away from the road here in the woods was the best idea. He came across a small, clear-running brook in a valley between two hills, and turned upstream rather than follow the road, following the rather smooth running along the stream and moving up and away from the road. He went about a minar up, until he found a rather flat area with a very small clearing that the stream bisected, little more than a gap between several very large trees and the stream, a place that showed signs of being camped by others a while ago. It had a very old burned spot where someone had set a fire.

Well, if it was good enough for them, it was good enough for him.

He set up camp. He unsaddled his horses first, and picketed them with some hay and enough rope to drink their fill at the stream and graze on the small patch of grass that grew on one side of the clearing. It took him a while to erect his tent, since he'd never really done it before, but he finally managed it. He then collected some firewood and used the firestarter he'd bought from Virren to light it. It was a small bronze tube, the size of a child's finger, and when pressing the button at the end, it produce a steady flame from its open end, which made it perfect for lighting pipes and starting fires. He locked the button so it couldn't be pressed by accident and put it back in his pocket, then pulled out the brand new cooking pans he'd bought from the outfitter and tried them out with a bit of salted bacon. Kyven did know how to cook, thanks to spending his early years in the kitchen doing chores, so he had no trouble cooking the bacon and toasting slices of black travel bread, then cutting up some onion and potato and frying them in the pan using the grease of the bacon to give them flavor. He ate in silence, with only the wind and the sounds of the forest touching his ears, and he leaned on the ground using his saddle as a backrest and read from the only book he'd brought, a rather cheesy adventure book called Frontier Jack, about a dashing hero saving damsels and fighting villains in the wild frontier lands known as the Snake Prairie, the prairie lands on the far side of the Snake River, which was far, far to the west of Atan. People used to live out there, but a series of wars and plagues had driven people away centuries ago, and only now were they beginning to come back… but not many. There was little in the way of crystal mining out there, so without crystals, there wasn't much in the way of civilization. Those few who did lived truly rough lives, without crystals or with only a bare few essential crystal devices, like a firestarter or a water purifier. It was a life that was bare and stark, and couldn't be easy… which was why so few lived west of the Smoke Mountain Basin and the Deep River. The southern kingdoms of Noraam didn't have many crystals either, but they did have the ocean, so ships plied the seas laden with other goods, and they traded for them using cotton, rice, sugar, and other goods one couldn't get in the north. Beyond the sea and the natural crystal-producing areas, there weren't very many people, and no major kingdoms or settlements.

Atan was just one example of a mining village. Mines were scattered all over the Smoke Mountains all along its entire two thousand minar range, from the northern end in the kingdom of Acadan to the southern tip in Georvan, the kingdom north of Flaur. Crystals were mined all along it, though the biggest deposits were mainly to the north, from Mevia to Augen. The region around Atan was known for smaller deposits, but good quality crystals and the occasional rich deposit of large crystals, which was why it attracted so much mining. The worst mining was at the southern tip, in Georvan, where the crystals were small and the deposits scarce, but people still mined it just because even small crystals were worth money. The northern kingdoms were crystal producers, and the southern kingdoms generally produced goods not available in the north to trade with them.

As sun set, Kyven started getting anxious. That wolf would be here soon, and when he arrived, then his entire world was going to change. He was going to learn about this mysterious other world that he was able to see, and learn about something that had haunted him his entire life. What would he learn about the fox? What kind of creature was she? Why was she so interested in him? He'd find out, and learn more about himself. He'd find out if he really was a Shaman… and if he was, what he'd have to do about it. The idea of being a Shaman frightened him, but there was also a, a, curiosity there. What if he really could learn to do magic without crystals? What if he really could create crystals? That did interest him. If he could, well, he could just create his own crystal, then cut them, then sell them. The shop in Atan would be just fine, and would always make money.

He was there. Kyven just knew it. He closed the book and stood up quickly, then turned to see the wolf appear from the darkening twilight shadows, tall and menacing. He was topless now, having shed his shirt, wearing only a pair of dark leather trousers that ended at his knees. "You have made good time, human, and chose your campsite well. I'll give you that much," the wolf stated. "Untie the horses and release them."

"What?" he asked in shock.

"You will not need them. You cannot walk the path of the spirits riding on the back of a horse. It must be made with your own feet, and with only what you may carry. Release them."

"Virren never said anything about that," he complained.

"The human does not know our ways," the wolf replied. "Release the horses. Go through all this junk and decide what you may carry with you. Leave the rest."

"We're not staying here?" The wolf leveled a chilling stare on him with those glowing yellow eyes. "Uh, what do you suggest I bring?"

The wolf nodded, seemingly in approval. "Your personal effects, and whatever is important to you. Leave behind all else. The land and the spirits will provide all we need."

Kyven wasn't too sure about that, but then again, the wolf was carrying nothing. He didn't even have a belt pouch, all he had was that pair of ragged leather trousers. Perhaps Kyven needed to be just as spartan. After untying the horses and removing their bridles, freeing them, he went through his things, abandoning virtually everything he bought for the journey. He kept only what he could easily carry, what wouldn't weigh him down if he had to walk on his own feet. He ended up with just his bedroll, and wrapped within it was his clothes, two waterskins, and a wrapped bundle of cheese in case they couldn't find any food. He decided to leave the musket and pistol behind–waste of money, that was–and rely on the daggers that Holm had given him to defend himself. Besides, they were a gift, and he would keep them. He tied his bedroll with a length of thong, then slung it over his back. "Alright, I'm ready," he announced.

The wolf nodded. "You chose wisely. Perhaps you will make a good Shaman, human. Now let us go."

"But it's dark," he protested.

"You have the eyes of the Shaman, human," the wolf snorted. "That is your first lesson. The ability to see the spirit world also provides the ability to see what others cannot, and see beyond. To a Shaman, there is no darkness. Open your eyes, human. Open your eyes, and the darkness will lift."

The wolf then bounded into the murk, vanishing in seconds, without explaining exactly how to do it.

Kyven stood there a long moment, a little frustrated and confused, then he blew out his breath. "Okay then," he sighed, closing his eyes. He knew what it felt like when he could see the fox, and he did notice that when he could see the fox, that light seemed to shimmer, and things brighten. But there had still been darkness, he recalled. The fox had melded with the shadows last night.

He was drifting here. He needed to see, to force himself to see what was there. He kept his eyes closed and groped for a way to make that happen, then opened his eyes and tried to concentrate. He concentrated on the shadows around him, trying to look into them, look through them, look for something he knew he could see, but was escaping his vision.

It was then he realized one of the answers to his questions. The fox had incited this in him, or more to the point, the proximity of spirits. When they were near, it triggered his ability to see. But now he was trying to see without them here, trying to consciously trigger his sight, and he wasn't quite sure how. He just kept concentrating, peering into the gloom, trying to see what he knew he could see.

The forest around him seemed to shimmer just slightly, and the shadows retreated from him. He suppressed giving a cry of triumph when the forest seemed to illuminate to the level of twilight, still full of shadows, but he could definitely see. He could see every tree around him, see the stream, see both up and down the hill, and when he looked in the direction the wolf had gone, he saw him standing far ahead, looking back to him, his glowing yellow eyes easily visible to him. He did notice, though, that he had trouble seeing the ground, like it was still covered in shadow, and the water in the stream was… patchy. He could see it quite clearly in some places, and it seemed dark and indistinct in others. Kyven ignored that, however, hurrying up the hill to where the wolf stood, waiting for him. When he reached the wolf the black-furred Arcan simply nodded. "You have consciously touched your power for the first time, human," he announced. "You forced yourself to use your eyes. Always before, the spirits incited it in you, but you have proven you can control your eyes when need be."

"Uh, was that a complement?"

"You will get no such coddling from me," the wolf snorted darkly. "I merely state fact. Now come. We will run."

"May I ask why?"

"The magic you will use is not kind or gentle, human," the wolf told him. "It takes a strong body and a strong will to control it. It taxes the body and wearies the mind. You are soft. You would be burned out trying to channel a lick of flame. I must strengthen you, make you ready."

"I understand. You will teach me as we run?"

He nodded. "Now come, and remember, I do to you nothing that was not done to me, so do not think I am tormenting you just because you are human. But, since you are human, and I am not sure how the spirits will respond to you, I will assist you," he seemed to grunt while saying it. "Will you accept that aid?"

"Huh? Uh, sure. Why, though?"

"Because it would take me years to strengthen you if we do this the natural way," he answered.

"No, why ask?"

"Because the type of magic I will perform cannot be done to those who are not willing," he answered. "You must accept the aid freely."

"Oh. I understand. What exactly are you going to do?"

"Give you a blessing that will cause your body to rebuild much stronger than normal once it is worn down by exertion," he answered. "I will run you until you literally collapse. When you recover, you will be able to run much further the next time. Using this blessing, I will build you to an acceptable level in weeks rather than years, but it will be very hard on you. I will work you beyond exhaustion, human, for the further down you are broken, the stronger you will rebuild. The harder you work, the faster it will be. Do you understand this?"

"I understand. I'll do my best."

"That is all you should ever do. Your best," he said simply.

For the first time, Kyven saw real magic performed. The wolf raised his clawed, furry hands, and Kyven could… see something coalesce around them. A kind of pattern of glowing, cloudy energy. It flowed into his large hands, and then the wolf reached out and put his hands on Kyven's shoulders. He felt a strange, tingling vitality flow into him, saturate his entire body, and then it faded and he felt it no longer. "Come, then. Let us begin."

And so, through the moonlit forest, they ran. Kyven struggled to keep up with the wolf, who literally ran on all fours ahead of him, whose voice called back to him as he explained the very basics of the spirits and the power the Shaman could call forth. "Behind the world you can see is another world, human," he began. "The spirit world. It is the world you see in shape and form, but it populated by the spirits. Life in the mortal world intrudes into the spirit world, for life is spirit and spirit is life, and what you see now, through your eyes, is the spirit world. You see the trees around us, you see me, you see yourself, but you do not see that which has no life. Look at the ground. All you see is a dark mass, for you see not the dead leaves and the rocks, but you do see the life that lives upon them, hiding their forms while also showing you they are there. In the light, you can see both the spirit world and the mortal world overlaid atop each other, but here, in the darkness, all your eyes can see is the spirit world."

Kyven could see that he was right. The trees were sharp and distinct, probably because he could see the life of them, but the forest floor was dark, murky, unfocused.

"Look at me. What do you see?" Kyven looked at him, bounding ahead of him. With this strange new sight, he looked just as he did before, tall, dark, menacing–wait. His pants were gone. He appeared naked, his fur curiously flattened around his hips, with a strange kind of dim glow around his hips and upper legs. When he relayed what he saw through a winded voice, the wolf glanced back at him. "Astute. The trousers I wear are dead, so you cannot see them. You see what lives, though for some strange reason we do not understand, we can also see hair and fur and claws, which are not technically alive. Clover suspects it is because though they are dead, they are attached to a living body and are thus included within the aura. You see me without my trousers, though you see the tiny life that is too small to see that lives upon the trousers, which is that ghostly outline of my trousers that you see. When I see you, I see you without your clothes in a similar manner."

"Well, that's disturbing," Kyven chuckled breathlessly.

"Indeed. Humans are bald, and it is ugly," the wolf growled. "Practice will allow you to make out the nonliving things people carry, to penetrate your spirit sight into the mortal world. I can see the daggers you carry because I know what to look for."

"So you could see my clothes if you wanted to?"

"Yes. They would not hide what lays beneath, they would be like a phantom around you, but I could see their color and shape. Seeing the non-living through Shaman eyes is not easy and it is not perfect."

"But you can see just fine in the daytime?"

"Indeed. With the light, I can see just as any human, but I still see the spirit world at the same time."

They ran on. The wolf described the world he could see through his eyes, explaining how life intruded into the spirit world. Life was a solid thing in the spirit world, and the spirits could interact with it as if it was solid to them, if they so wished it. Spirits could pass through life of the mortal world, or they could interact with it… which explained to Kyven why he saw that hawk sitting on the shoulder of that first year. Spirits could touch people and living things like they were solid, if they wanted to, but humans and other things that existed in the mortal world couldn't feel them when the spirits touched them.

For long hours, through the night, Kyven ran, and listened. He ran until he was out of breath, until his heart was pounding in his chest and in his ears, until he could no longer hear the wolf explaining his vision, until the entire world focused down on following the wolf as he bounded effortlessly ahead of him, and continuing to put one foot in front of the other. The wolf did not slow down, but Kyven would not slow down. The wolf said that the harder he pushed himself, the faster and stronger he would be when he recovered, so he would not give up. He kept pushing himself, beyond exhaustion, still running even when his muscles felt like water and his breathing was so labored that he sounded like his lungs were bursting. He ran until blood started seeping from his nose, stopping only twice, once to vomit and once to gulp down water from a stream… and only because the wolf had stopped himself to drink. The wolf did exactly as he said, pushing Kyven by making him run, intending to literally run him into the ground.

That happened around midnight. Kyven tripped on a root and crashed to the ground, and lay there a long moment panting, feeling pain shoot through his chest. He struggled to his hands and knees, then gritted his teeth and staggered to his feet as the wolf continued on without looking back. He would not be left behind! He lurched forward, running on weak, unsteady legs. He stumbled through a thorn patch that the wolf had gone around to make up ground, feeling the briars pull on his clothes and tear through his skin, but he could barely feel the pain. He pressed through them and broke into the clear, feeling burning stings all over him as sweat poured into scratches and caused pain, but he wouldn't give up. He pressed on, knowing that the harder he pushed himself, the better off he would be, and that drove him. It drove him beyond pain, beyond exhaustion, even beyond thought, as it seemed that his brain shut down to focus on pushing him beyond his physical limits.

But it couldn't last forever. The wolf crossed a stream with a graceful bound, and Kyven's legs slowed from the water while the rest of him kept going. He fell into the stream, the cold water assaulting him, shocking his muscles, and for a frightening moment he couldn't move, couldn't breathe, and couldn't lift his face out of the water. His body was paralyzed from exhaustion, and he literally lacked the strength to save himself. But survival overrode exhaustion as his lungs began to burn, and he barely managed to lift his face from the water as he took in a ragged breath, inhaling a little water. He coughed, and that cough caused him to retch violently, heaving an empty stomach in painful spasms that racked his torso. He leaned forward and collapsed on the rocky streambank, his head and shoulders out of the water with the rest of him submerged in the cold water. His brain was swimming in a haze of pain and weariness, but his will drove him forward, caused him to start weakly, shakily crawl out of the water, trembling arms and legs trying to carry his weight.

A large black foot, toes tipped with claws, appeared to him in the darkness, for he could no longer see the world as he had been. It was just before his nose, and it took him a long moment to comprehend that it was the wolf's foot. He felt himself being physically hauled off the streambed, out of the water, then he was tossed quite roughly onto a warm sandbar beside it. He rolled over on his back, his chest heaving for long moments, then he rolled back over on his hands and knees and tried to get to his feet. He rose up off his hands, his knees trembling violently, then he collapsed back to the ground.

"Rest," the wolf told him calmly. "You can go no further."

"N-No," he wheezed. "Must… go… on," he said through clenched teeth, trying to rise up onto his hands and knees again.

A foot came down on his back, and drove him to the sand, hard. His breath whooshed from his lungs, and he couldn't breathe for several terrifying seconds before his lungs and diaphragm seemed to remember how to work, allowing him to draw in a ragged, raw breath. "I will not be gainsaid, human," the wolf growled. "I told you to rest, and you will rest. Do not disobey me again. Now rest. You will eat when you are recovered."

Kyven stayed down, breathing heavily for many long moments as the wolf loomed over him, foot resting lightly on his back, almost as if daring him to try to get up again. He could only feel that foot on his back as he closed his eyes and tried to recover his strength, but then his head collapsed to the sand and he passed out.


It was daylight.

Kyven opened his eyes blearily to find himself laying on a sandbar near a stream, covered head to foot in sand. It was in his hair, in his ear, caking his skin, even in his pants and shirt. It took him a moment to remember where he was, what he was doing. And when he did, he suddenly felt like someone had carved out a hole in his stomach, he was so ravenously hungry. He scrambled to his knees, swiping sand off of him as he blinked and looked around. He was alone, the wolf was nowhere to be seen, but a dead buck was laying near the bar, a small red stain in the sand under its neck.

He had no idea what to do with it, but it was food. He knew that it had to be skinned and cleaned, and he wasn't entirely sure how to do either of those things, but he was hungry enough to take a try at it. He scrambled over to it on his hands and knees, but recoiled when he saw its belly, saw that it had literally been torn out, a gaping hole from its ribs to its back legs. The flesh around that gaping hole showed clear signs of being torn, and the visible spine inside was scratched and nicked. Something had eaten it.

He was too hungry to care. The buck wasn't rotted, it was fresh, and he was starving. He'd never eaten raw venison right off the carcass before, but he was about to try. He drew one of his throwing daggers, which had razor-sharp edges in addition to a sharp point, and used the dagger to slice away at the bloody meat at the edge of that gaping hole. He sliced off a small handful and did not hesitate to tear into it with his teeth. It tasted salty, tangy, but if the idea he was eating raw meat nauseated him, he'd have to wait until he felt like he wasn't dying of hunger to think about it. The meat just unleashed an avalanche of almost uncontrollable hunger that caused him to attack the carcass like a starving animal. He barely managed to make sure he didn't get a mouthful of fur or hide as he sliced mouthful after mouthful off the carcass, systematically stripping all the meat he could easily see from it, leaving it skeletonized from the neck to the hind legs. He then cut new holes in its shoulder and hindquarters to harvest the flesh beneath to try to sate his hunger. His hunger didn't allow him to register that he'd eaten more than three times a man could normally hold in his stomach, and still his stomach felt completely empty. He continued to feast on the raw deer, for over an hour, until he finally felt satiated after stripping most of the flesh off its shoulder, hindquarter, and most of the two upper legs.

He leaned back and sat on his heels, wiping blood from his mouth. He didn't feel sick or nauseous at what he'd done at all. The wolf had clearly left it there for him, and he was too hungry to figure out how to do it the normal way, so he ate it as it was. He'd eaten plenty of venison in his life, just never raw, and right off the deer. It was what he needed, and so it was done.

He washed off in the stream, having to remove his shirt because of the blood on it, cleaned the blood off his face and hands, cleaned his dagger, and then moved upstream just a bit to drink his fill. He felt… fine. Now that he was no longer hungry, he didn't feel tired or sore or exhausted in any manner at all. He felt quite lively, in fact, spry, energetic. He felt… good. Strong. Very robust. He stood up and stretched, and his legs were rock solid, no quivering at all, and he felt like he could wrestle a bull. By the Trinity, that wolf's magic spell really worked! He said that it would make him recover much faster and much stronger than before, and he truly felt that way! He put a hand on his stomach and felt how much leaner he was; every bit of fat that had been on him was gone, leaving nothing but lean muscle behind. Tests showed that he was no stronger physically, but he felt as if he could run all day and not be winded at all.

Amazing!

It proved to him that Shaman really were magical, that they really could do magic without crystals. Whatever the wolf had done, it had been damn effective. Kyven had run until he literally passed out, and he woke up much stronger than he'd been when he fell asleep.

He stood up and considered what he'd learned last night, about vision. He closed his eyes and concentrated, and then opened them again. He wasn't sure if it was working, but he did seem to sense a bit of shimmering in the light, and the trees looked a little more sharper, clearer, more vibrant, where the forest floor, the rocks, and the water looked, well, like they always did. He looked down at his own legs and saw his pants, as he expected, but he also seemed to see a very faint sense of his own legs through them, almost like a shadow lurking behind it.

It was working! He could see the spirit world!

He looked around, and was a little disappointed. He saw nothing out of the ordinary, nothing unusual, nothing magical. He saw the forest, and up in the canopy his eyes seemed automatically drawn to a squirrel that seemed to stand out among the trees, sharp and clear. He went to the stream and looked down, and tiny minnows what blended with the shadows within the brook just jumped out at his eyes, almost blatantly visible. He even saw a faint, ghostly silhouette under a rock, a crayfish lurking under the nook. Truly, just as the wolf said, the non-living was invisible to the spirit world, and he was literally looking right through the rock to see the crayfish! True, his normal vision saw the rock and interfered, but the spirit sight of the animal still bled through, allowed him to see its outline very faintly through the rock. It moved and vanished to his spirit-sensing eyes, and he realized that it moved under a patch of algae on the rock, and that living thing was hiding the animal underneath. He recalled that the wolf said that living things were solid to the spirits, if they wished them to be, so he saw that he couldn't look through one living thing to see another.

But still, this was literally the ability to see through a stone wall and see if there was anyone on the other side. What a useful ability!

He continued to practice with this newfound ability for over an hour, examining both living things and dead things, trying to see the tiny tiny things that lived on dead things that made them apparent, and wondering if he could see them if he used a magnifying glass… if this ability was truly based on his eyes, or was magical in nature and couldn't be augmented using a technological device.

No, it wouldn't. The spirit sight wouldn't see the glass, therefore it would have no effect. At least that was what he thought. It certainly seemed, well, logical to assume so.

But he came across an unforeseen issue with looking at the spirit world… it tired him. His vigor waned over the hour, just barely, but he began to notice it, to feel it. What he thought was just a different way to see with his eyes turned out to be something that required his active participation, it was work. He realized that he'd been exhausted both ways last night, both from the running and from forcing himself to use this spirit sight.

By the Father's grace, the wolf wasn't joking. If just using this spirit sight was noticeably tiring him, what would trying to use actual magic do to him?

He closed his eyes and did what he'd done so many times when he'd seen the fox over the years, pushed that idea out of his mind, willed it to go away. He opened his eyes and blinked and saw that the forest looked… normal to him. He didn't see the minnows sharply in the stream, and knew that he'd done it.

He was proud of himself. He couldn't say that he'd mastered this trick, but he could make it work or make it go away.

Uncertain of what to do, Kyven decided to wait for the wolf. He cleaned the sand out of his bedroll and put on a clean shirt, then sat down and rested, figuring that that was what he was supposed to do. He listened to the sounds of the forest as he watched the minnows dart about in the water for nearly an hour, as the sun seemed to be lowering as the shadows in the forest elongated, until the wolf returned. He made no attempt to move quietly, bounding into camp in that curious way that Arcans ran on all fours, skidding to a halt by the carcass and then standing erect like a human. He kicked the carcass and flipped it over, then nodded absently. "I see you did as you needed," he announced. "It was important to eat it raw. I was unsure you'd think to do that. You surprise me, human."

"I didn't eat it raw because I knew I had to, I did it because I was starving," he answered.

"Which is against your human ideals," the wolf said to him. "You are thinking outside the cultured bounds of your race," he said with a derisive snort. "Have you practiced?"

"I was until I realized that using my eyes that way took effort. You told me to rest, so I stopped."

"You obeyed me. Again, you surprise me, human," the wolf said, almost grudgingly. "It makes me wonder why you disobeyed me last night when I told you to rest."

"You said I had to go until I couldn't go anymore," Kyven answered. "I had to keep trying until I couldn't. I thought I could keep going, so I wanted to try."

"A commendable attitude, but I am your teacher. You must listen to me."

"I was trying to do what you said, that's all," he said mildly.

"Well, from now on, obey my words as I say them, not as I've said before. Things may change."

"I will."

"Are you hungry?"

"No."

"How do you feel?"

"I feel fine. Healthy. Your, uh, whatever you did, it really worked. After I ate, I felt… amazing."

"That is a false feeling," the wolf warned. "It's an after-effect of the blessing after it does its work. That false energy fades quickly once you start working again."

"I'll remember that. What do we do now?"

"Since you feel up to continuing, we work. Last night we worked on your endurance. Today, we work on your strength. Each day we will alternate between them until your body is ready for the rigors of working with the magic."

"Then lead on."

The wolf led him into the forest, again used his magic to grant him that magical spell, and they began. He looked through the world with spirit sight, as commanded, as he carried heavy stones and logs up and down a hill, and was made to stack them up over his head on a rock face. Kyven was actually a very strong man despite his lack of a heavy labor profession, and seemed to surprise the wolf with his raw strength as he moved the first heavy rock. But the kind of work he was doing was designed to wear him down. He lasted much shorter than he did running, getting to the point in a mere hour where he literally could not pick up anything, for his hands were so tired that he couldn't keep his grip. The wolf led him back to the sandbar, him on quivering legs, and ordered him straight to the bedroll. He laid down on the bedroll with every muscle in his body screaming at him, trembling, yet he stayed awake, just laid there and rested while he maintained his spirit sight, trying to absolutely and utterly exhaust himself so he'd come back stronger the next day. The wolf noticed this as he hunkered down by the carcass, ripped off one of its legs, then began to gnaw at the flesh hanging from it. "Rest," he ordered.

"May I at least try to keep the sight going until I'm too tired to?"

"You may do that," he said after a moment. "I must admit, human, your dedication surprises me. I thought you feared Shaman."

"I do. But–it's hard to explain."

"I am not stupid, human," he said dangerously.

"No, it's not easy for me to put into words," he said. "All my life, the fox has been with me. It's–well, I want to know why. I want to know why she's so interested me, why she's helped me. She's been there, watching me, for over half my life. It's like she's a part of my life, though a part that I've always tried to ignore or reject when I thought she was a symbol of my own insanity. But now that I know I'm not crazy, and she's real, well, I owe this to her. She's stayed by me for half my life, and I just have to know why. This is the only way I can learn the answer. I, I just have to know. If I don't find out, I'll regret it for the rest of my life. Every time I'd see her, I'd know she offered me this chance to know her, and I passed it over, and I'd feel like I'd done her wrong. You know?"

"I do understand. She is a part of you, a part you don't understand, and you must know her to know yourself."

"Exactly!" he said animatedly. "You're very wise, wolf."

"I would hope so," the wolf grunted. "Now rest. I'll go hunt another deer. When you wake up, you'll need it."


That was the routine for many days, so many that Kyven lost count.

One night, they would run. They would run in silence as Kyven chased the wolf, almost came to hate the wolf for his inexhaustible endurance. He would run until he literally collapsed in midstride, and then the wolf would drag him to a suitable campsite, where he would sleep like the dead. He would awaken to whatever meal the wolf had captured while he was asleep and eat like a starving animal, eat it raw, until he almost came to enjoy the taste of raw, bloody meat, oftentimes still warm and freshly killed.

On the next day, he would exercise his muscles. The wolf would make him carry progressively heavier and heavier objects further and further, tearing down his muscles so his magical spell would allow him to build back up stronger when he recovered. He would stagger back to wherever his bedroll was weak as a newborn kitten, but would awaken, eat, and then feel much stronger than the day before.

And the cycle renewed itself.

The wolf was even more silent than he was. Hours would pass in total silence as the wolf seemed to barely tolerate him, and Kyven was too intimidated by him to ask questions or engage him. He'd spoken much about spirit sight on that first night, but since then had barely spoken at all, except to issue commands. And he had not taught him anything else, anything new, only told him to continue looking through the world using spirit sight and observe, come to understand it, and practice being able to switch back and forth until he could do it at will. He did so, usually only while he was resting after a strength building exercise, as being able to maintain his spirit sight for long periods was as much a part of his endurance training as the physical side of it.

Days flowed into weeks, and Kyven sensed that well over a month had passed as they roamed the forest in the Blue Valley and along the ridges forming it. But that time had had a dramatic effect on him. In that time, his endurance increased by almost unbelievable amounts. He went from collapsing after just a couple of hours of running to being able to run the whole night, finally able to keep up with the wolf, and not collapse in exhaustion when the sun rose. And though he hadn't become superhumanly strong, he was as strong as he could possibly be without his muscles ballooning, giving him a sleek, fatless, panther-like build that was fast, agile, nimble, enormously strong, and as durable as stone. His clothes, however, did not fare half as well. His shirts were destroyed by the running, and his leather breeches had holes and tears in them from his boots to the waist, making them look like they had the pox. His hair grew shaggy, and he'd have grown a beard if not for the fact that his throwing daggers were so sharp that he could literally shave with them. He ceased looking like a clean-cut, urbane villager over those time and came to look like a lean, lithe, bare-chested, shaggy-haired mountain man, tall and sleek and dangerous-looking.

The night he managed to keep up with the wolf until sunrise, he felt enormously proud of himself. He was winded when the wolf bounded to a stop by a very small stream, but he felt he could still run more. The wolf rose up on his hind legs and looked down at Kyven with those glowing eyes, then simply nodded. "You are ready," he announced. "Make camp here. Rest. I will bring food, but tomorrow, you learn to hunt. Tomorrow you must feed me."

"I'll do my best," he said pantingly as he pulled off his bedroll and threw it on the ground, then sat down on a soft bed of leaves near the stream. "Why are you teaching me?"

"A Shaman must be self-sufficient," he said darkly. "And you are pathetically inept. Without me, you would die out here."

"I can't disagree with that. I spent my whole life in the village. I'll learn whatever you teach me."

"As it should be. Rest. I will be back soon."

The wolf dragged a huge buck carcass back to the camp not twenty minutes later, and they ate. Eating along with the wolf had taken some getting used to, for the Arcan ate like a wolf, with his jaws and claws. While the Arcan tore into the belly of the buck, Kyven used his dagger to cut off one of its hind legs, and used weeks of practice to expertly skin the hide off of it and begin to eat. The weeks had gotten him not just used to eating raw meat, but actually preferring it. The wolf wouldn't let him cook it, telling him it was better for him raw, and he had developed a taste for it. He ate enough to satisfy him and left the rest for later, for he knew he'd awaken ravenously hungry, after the blessing that magically augmented his body's recovery used up his vital energies, and forced him to eat like a starving animal to replenish it.

And it was so. When he woke up a few hours after sleeping, he was starving to death, and the buck was there and waiting for him. He attacked it with desperation, consuming far more than he'd normally be able to eat, literally stripping it to the bone since both of them had eaten off of it previously. When he was done, he washed himself up, then stood up and stretched languidly, waiting for the wolf to return. The wolf had said that when his body could handle the stresses, he's start teaching him about how magic worked. Well, it seemed that they were there, so he was starting to look forward to it. Finally, he would start learning about the spirits, and about magic. He'd learn about the fox that had been with him since he was a kid, learn who she was, why she was interested in him, and learn why he mattered so much to her.

Then again, it was nice to be able to just think after waking up, not to be dragged straight to some hillside to carry heavy rocks as soon as he finished eating.

The wolf bounded in on all fours, then slowed to a walk and rose up onto his legs. Even though he saw it every day, he was still quite amazed and impressed by that Arcan ability. Their legs were just as long as human legs, actually a little longer, but what looked like a third joint in them let them fold them down short enough to be able to run on all fours, and run fast. He'd seen the wolf sprint before, and he was sure that he could chase down a sprinting horse. He'd never seen him hunt, but he guessed that the Arcan simply ran his prey down. They couldn't outrun him. Nothing in the forest could outrun the Arcan.

It wasn't a third joint, though. It was actually his ankle, and everything below it was his foot. His foot was elongated, just like in a normal canine, and what Kyven would call a foot would be just the ball of his foot and his toes if he related it to a human foot.

"Sit," he ordered, as he dropped down on all fours, literally sitting on his haunches by Kyven's bedroll. Kyven did so, sitting on his heels facing the wolf, who lifted his hands off the ground and put them on his legs. "You have toughened up to where I feel you can handle magic," he proclaimed. "For a human, you've done well. I expected you to quit weeks ago, or die."

"I'm no quitter."

"I hope so, for you are about to put that to the test," he said bluntly. "Walking the path of the Shaman is not for the weak, human. The spirits are demanding. If you are to walk with them, you must prove yourself to them. That is why even the most basic and simplest of magic is so demanding and taxing. They demand strength of body and strength of will, and they demand it from the youngest cub as much as they do the oldest Shaman."

"That's why I have to do the walk," he realized absently. "It's not just to gain wisdom. It's a test."

"You are wise," the wolf said with a nod. "They will test you in the Walk, test your body, your mind, and your spirit. Those who complete the Walk are much changed."

"What if you fail?"

"Most don't survive if they fail," the wolf said simply. "Do not believe that the Walk has no danger in it, human. It will be the most dangerous thing you have ever faced. But that is in the future. Before you can begin the Walk, you must learn about Shaman magic."

The wolf raised his hand, which had pads on his palm and fingertips, and short, sturdy claws. "There are three different realms of Shaman magic, human," he began. "Each is called upon the same way, however. There is the Blessing, there is the Summoning, and there is the Invocation. The blessing is magic done to ourselves or to another that enhances or aids them in some manner. For example, I blessed you to recover much faster and much stronger than what is normal for you. That is a blessing. You can also be blessed to run with great speed, or gain supernatural strength, or see or hear beyond your normal abilities. Anything that enhances the body or senses is a blessing. Blessings are not used often, but they can be very useful when you do.

The second kind of magic is Summoning. That is calling spirits to you. When you Summon, you are asking for help. You must know exactly what you want from them, which spirit you call, and be prepared to pay the price. Spirits exact a toll from you for calling them like that. But in return, they will grant you knowledge, carry messages, or grant you special favors if it pleases them. Summoning magic is very dangerous, human. It is always the last resort. If you anger the spirit, it will avenge itself against you, and it very well may kill you. As I said earlier, the life of a Shaman is not an easy one.

"The last form of magic is the most common, and the one you will learn from me. It is Invocation, the drawing of magic from the spirit world and manifesting it into the mortal world. You are invoking the might of the spirits and using their power as an agent, a proxy. The vast majority of the time, you can accomplish your task using Invocation, or what we call channeling. When you cast a spell, you are forming a bridge between the spirit world and the mortal world, human, and you are the bridge. You call the power from the spirit world and channel it through you, and then it manifests into the real world. Channeling can do almost anything you need to do, human. It is the way you will attack your enemies, confuse them, learn about what you cannot see, aid your allies, and many other things. Blessings are actually channeled spells, but we separate them because they don't have the same restrictions as normal spells. Virtually anything you have seen an alchemy device do, we can do, and many more."

"Does channeling follow the same basic types? You know, red, blue–"

"Yes and no. Crystals are trapped forms of spirit energy. We can access all types of spirit energy, but the energy we call on will be that form of energy to perform that task. We would call on what you would call green energy to heal, for example. Actually, it is just energy from different spirits.

"Some spirits represent a type of energy. Some do not. Some shaman, like you, have a totem, a spirit that has claimed you as its own. Some Shaman do not. I have no totem. That gives me certain advantages, such as the ability to use any Shaman magic I please. But when a Shaman has a totem, the Shaman is restricted by the totem's own preferences. Your totem is the shadow fox, and her energy is blue. She is a deceiver, a trickster, a being of stealth and guile. You will excel at spells of deception, confusion, and illusion, for that is what your totem excels at. The shadow fox is also a spirit attuned to healing, which will allow you to heal. And as any spirit of healing, she rejects the black, the energy of death, and she will deny you any access to that magic. If you call on that power, she will block you. When you have a totem spirit, you gain power in one area, but lose power in another. Or, in your case, completely lose access to some parts of Shaman magic. A Shaman like me, who has no totem, can use any spell, but the spells in which your totem specializes will be stronger than my own."

"That's the trade-off for having a totem," Kyven mused. "Can you gain a totem if you want one?"

He nodded. "I could go on a spirit quest to beseech the spirits for a totem if I wished it, but I do not wish it. I prefer the versatility of no totem. Some Shaman, like you, have had a totem spirit who has attached to them by themselves. The shadow fox has taken an interest in you, and she has already claimed you to be your totem."

"If I angered her, could she get rid of me?"

He nodded again. "She could abandon you and remove her favor. You would be without a totem. Her favor would be taken from you, and you would lose the enhanced ability to cast her spells, but you would also regain the magic she denies. But that is rare. Spirits almost never abandon a Shaman like that. If you anger the shadow fox to that degree, she would probably kill you rather than release you. That is one of the drawbacks to having a totem, human. But for you, it won't be much of a disadvantage in what she denies you in return for what you gain."

"Why is that?"

"She only denies you the magic of death, but you gain much stronger spells of deception in return. The shadow fox, at heart, is a stalker and a skulker, human. She prefers to flee rather than fight, and your magic will reflect her nature. You will be a hard Shaman to trap and kill, but she will deny you the power to directly kill in return." The Arcan smiled ominously. "But there are other ways to kill," he added. "She will deny you death magic, magic that directly kills. She will not deny you other spells that kill indirectly. You will not be able to kill using death magic, but you will easily be able to channel a spell that burns your enemies to death. The spell does not kill, the fire does."

"I, I understand the difference."

"You are wise to do so. Now that you understand the basics behind magic, let's get down to the heart of the matter."

Kyven swallowed, and steeled himself. This was it. He was about to take that fatal last step that would bind him to this path, by becoming a Shaman. He would be abandoning the teachings of the Loremasters, would be embracing this new path, a strange, unknown path filled with hidden dangers and which would make him a target for death if the Loremasters ever found out about him. He wanted to know about the fox, learn why, and this was it. By learning Shaman magic, he hoped to become closer to her, and learn the answers to those questions. He hoped that by doing as she wished, he would finally know why. "I'm ready," he said seriously.

"We shall see," he said, sliding down until he was sitting on the ground, his tail sweeping the ground behind him. "Channeling is a very simple concept, human. You act as a bridge, a direct link between the spirit world and our world. All magic comes through you, and so it follows the same basic limitations as alchemic devices' effects."

"Line of sight."

"Correct. It originates from the device, so if it has some kind of physical effect, that effect has to travel from the device to the target, like the lightning from a shockrod. Shaman have the same restriction, but for a different reason. What is the first ability you learned?"

"Spirit sight."

"That is the core of Shaman ability, human. Sight. We must be able to see to use our magic. If you were to somehow lose both your eyes, have them torn out or damaged beyond repair, you'd lose most of your powers, because your eyes are part of what allows you to act as a bridge into the spirit world. Do you understand this?"

"It makes sense to me," he nodded.

"So, simply put, human, Shaman usually can't channel against targets they can't see."

"What about spirit sight? Couldn't I cast–uh, channel at someone on the other side of a wall if I can see them that way?"

The wolf grinned. "Very wise, human. Yes, you can hit a human on the far side of a wall with a spell using spirit sight, but only if the spell won't be blocked by the wall. You couldn't channel a cone of fire against him because of the wall, but you could use a spell that clouds his vision, since it affects him, it doesn't have a physical effect." Kyven nodded in understanding. "That is the first limitation. But also remember that spells that produce physical effects can be unleashed against anything despite being able to see, since the effect originates from you. All you do is aim it where you want it to go. Channeling lightning and hurling it at a wall means it doesn't matter what's on the other side of the wall. You don't have to see it to affect it that way. There's only one exception, human, and that's Blessings. Blessing spells can be channeled on a target you can't see, like yourself, or someone or something you are physically touching. If you're not touching it, though, you do have to be able to see it. All Blessing spells can be channeled like normal spells, but when you use them on yourself, they don't follow the sight restriction. Some Blessing spells are fairly obvious, like healing. All spells of healing are Blessing spells. Some, though, aren't quite so obvious. Basically, any spell that you cast on an ally to heal or help is a Blessing. Blessings are never negative. In order to use them on yourself, they must be positive."

"Alright, that makes sense to me too. How do you make the magic?"

The wolf smiled. "It is easy, human. You ask for it. The spirits will hear your call and respond. They supply the magic. Your mind and will shapes it into the spell, gives the energy purpose and function."

"That sounds almost too easy."

"It is very easy. But there are two things you must remember, human. First, the spirits are very fickle in responding to your call. You could, right here and now, call upon all of their power, and they will respond if only to teach you a lesson. But if you call on them to grant you power to do something they find ridiculous or degrading, they will ignore you, maybe even punish you. You are dealing with sentient beings, human, who are greater than we. They grant us their power so long as we remember our place and treat them with respect."

"That makes sense. I understand."

"The second thing is that the power is very demanding to use," he continued. "Had I allowed you to do this the first night, to touch this power, it would have killed you. Because of that, it is usually best to do something with your own paws before you resort to magic when you first begin. I guarantee you, after you manage to channel your first time, you will all but collapse from the effort, even after these six weeks of preparation for it."

"Does it ever get any easier?"

"Yes. As you gain experience, and you continue to strengthen your body, you'll be able to channel more easily. But when you first begin, it is extremely hard on you."

"I understand. What spells will you teach me?"

"I will teach you only two spells," he answered simply. "The first spell will be the spell that teaches you how to channel. The second spell is the spell of Summoning. Since you already have a totem, the shadow fox will be the one to answer your call when you use it."

"But, but I thought you were going to teach me!"

"My task was to prepare you," he corrected. "The task of teaching you is not mine."

"What? I have to teach myself?" he gasped.

The wolf shook his head. "When you go on your Spirit Walk, the shadow fox will guide you, and it is from her that you will learn your magic."

"Oh. I, I guess that makes sense. And it will answer my question. If she guides me, then I'll learn about her, learn why she's interested in me. That's the whole reason I'm here."

He nodded.

"Since you don't have a totem, who taught you?"

"Many different spirits," he answered. "One would take me and lead me to a place and teach me, then another would come and take his place. But since you have a totem, she will be the one to guide you on your own Walk."

"I understand. Alright, wolf, show me what I have to do," he said, putting his hands on his knees and staring into the wolf's glowing yellow eyes directly.

"First, open your eyes," he ordered. Kyven responded immediately, opening his eyes to the spirit world. The light shimmered to his eyes, and then the wolf and trees became sharper to his eyes, as he opened his eyes to spirit sight. "Remember, human, you must always open your eyes to channel magic. Always."

"I understand."

Now, it is a simple matter, human. I will teach you the most basic of attack spells. It sends a blast of lightning at your enemy. First, focus your mind," he intoned. "I will be your target. Don't worry, you won't harm me," he said quickly. "Focus your mind on the task at hand. Do you know what you have to do?"

"Create lightning and send it at you."

"Yes, just so. You must imagine every step of it, human. You will call forth the power, but you must know from where it will originate. Will it manifest from your hand, or from your chin, or from your elbow or chest? Wherever it comes from, though, it must come from you. Remember, you are the bridge. The magic can come from nowhere else. Once you know exactly where it's coming from, focus all your concentration on that point. Do so."

Kyven raised his hand. He imagined that it should come from his open palm, so he focused himself on his palm. He focused all his concentration right on that one point, could almost feel the skin on his palm in minute detail as he focused his attention on that point.

"Now, imagine what you must do. Imagine what you would see, how it would sound, even how it would smell."

Lightning. He would create lightning. It would be brilliant, bright, a jagged bolt of lightning that would emanate from his palm rather than from the sky. The flash would illuminate the area around him, and there would be a smell of ozone in the air after it was unleashed. It would flash from his palm directly at the wolf, a very short distance.

"If your imagination isn't detailed enough, this will fail," the wolf warned. "When you think you are ready, nod."

Kyven took stock. He felt that he had everything he needed here. He imagined the way it would look, the brilliant flash, the way it would arc from his hand towards the wolf, and the smell of ozone. There–no, wait. Thunder always proceeded lightning in a storm, so there would need to be some kind of sound that would go with it. He thought that since it would be a much smaller bolt of lightning, the thunder that accompanied it would be much less as well.

He nodded.

"Call to the spirits. Open your heart to them and ask them for aid. If they feel that your need is just, and your use of the power is both justified and correct, they will grant it to you."

Call on the spirits? He didn't know how to do that. He wanted to close his eyes, but he knew he couldn't do that. He had to be able to see to do this. He raised his palm towards the wolf and tried to cast his thought out into the void. Shadow fox, please help me, he thought sonorously. I'm trying to do what you wanted. I need your help. I need–

It came in a torrent. A surge of the same tingling power he'd always felt when he touched crystals raged into him, saturating him with power, the power of the spirits, the power of the shadow fox. It roared into him, infused him, then poured into the point of focus, into the palm of him hand. The power was shaped by his mind, forced to conform to his expectations, but it was limited by his body's ability to channel that power. He could feel so much power trying to pour into him, yet only a tiny fraction of that power could actually manage it, and the power surrounded him even as the power that flowed into him found a gateway into the mortal world. It coalesced into his palm, and then issued forth as a bright flash of light and a jagged blast of raw electricity, lancing and arcing as it thundered across the small distance between him and the wolf. There was a loud sound like a gunshot, or the crack of a whip, and the lightning struck the wolf. It danced around his body, but didn't seem to go into him.

After the task was complete, the power withdrew from him, but when it did, it sucked what seemed like every iota of energy out of him, draining it away. Before the report of the lightning even finished echoing off the trees, Kyven's hand sagged, and for a terrifying moment he felt his heart falter from the sudden exhaustion. But it then picked back up to a normal pace, leaving him drained and weak.

"Holy Father!" Kyven gasped, his shoulders slumping as he felt barely able to move.

"That is the price," the wolf said to him simply. "Had I not prepared you for this, that would have killed you."

"I can believe it," he panted. "Will it be like this every time?"

"No. Every time you do it, you will feel slightly less weak. It is like a muscle you must train, human. Resisting the drain the spirits demand of you is something you can increase. When you reach the point where you can cast lightning and then run immediately afterwards, you will be ready for your Walk. Now rest. You will find that though you feel exhausted, your strength will return very quickly. When you are rested, I will teach you to hunt."

"How am I going to hunt? I left the musket, and I can't chase down–uh, nevermind," he said, a bit sheepishly. Why else would be taken out to hunt if not to use what he just learned? He would hunt using this spell he'd just learned, killing with lightning.

The wolf gave him a smirk. "Such a human," he noted. "But you seem more wise than most humans, I will give you that," he added as he regained his feet, towering over the exhausted Kyven. "Perhaps that is what the shadow fox sees in you. Rest. I'll scout about and return in about an hour. You need to move as soon as you're able to get up. Rest for a short time, then push yourself. That allows you to recover faster."

"I will do as you say."

The wolf nodded, then dropped down onto all fours and loped off into the warm, sunny forest.

Kyven laid back and put his hands behind his head, trying to recover from his bone weariness. He had done it… and it had been so easy. So easy. He succeeded on his first try, he had touched the power of the spirits. He had felt the power of the fox that had watched him most of his life, felt it touch him, felt it flow through him and do as he asked, then retreat from him to leave him so weak he couldn't even walk right now. He felt nothing in the power that answered any of his questions, though. The power had been just… power. There was no sense of emotion in it, no intimacy. It was merely the answer to a call, nothing more, nothing less, leaving him a little curious. She had answered his call, so she was still interested in him, but the touch of her power answered no questions other than the fact that though he had not seen her since that night he met the wolf, she was still there.

He wondered how she felt about it. Was she happy that he had touched his power for the first time? Could she even be happy? He thought so. She had been angry when he recoiled from her in fear, so it only stood to reason that if she could be angry with him, then she could also be happy with him. And the wolf had said that it was entirely possible to anger the spirits if one called on them and tried to use their power in a demeaning or ridiculous way. So, the fox had emotions, as did all the other spirits… which again made him wonder if she'd been happy he finally used his power, if she was proud of him for his accomplishment.

But there was another issue. He had done it. He had used Shaman magic, he had crossed that line that he knew was there that separated two sides in his mind. He had used Shaman magic, and now the Loremasters would consider him to be a Shaman too, evil, the scourge of the earth. But they were wrong. He knew it now, now that he had used that power. There was nothing evil about it. Though there had been no sense of emotion in that power, it felt exactly the same as the power he'd always felt lurking within mana crystals. Virren was right, the power of crystals truly was the exact same power that Shaman used, they just used it directly from the source, directly from the spirits that granted it. Instead of using a cut crystal in a device where the shape and metallurgical signature of the device shaped and harnessed the crystal's power to produce an effect, he had instead called directly on the power behind the crystals and used his own mind to shape and produce the effect. It was a different method, but it produced the exact same result. What he did was no different than the function of a shockrod. Shockrods zapped targets with a blast of lightning, just as he had done. In a way, he had learned to mimic the magical effect of an alchemical device using the power directly. The only difference was he was the crystal, and the alchemical device that created the magical effect was his own mind and body.

Why did the Loremasters think Shaman were evil, then? They had to know that the Shaman were just tapping directly into the same power that created the crystals. It seemed that a group that pursued science and knowledge as its main goal couldn't possibly miss something so obvious… well, unless it was something they didn't want to know.

What was it that the wolf said? Or was it Virren? That the Loremasters were working to restore humanity to the glory of the Great Ancient Civilization, which wasn't a bad thing, but they thought that Arcans were supposed to be slaves… which was. Oh, he didn't have the same fanaticism that Virren did, but he could agree that after spending so long with the wolf, that it was wrong to think of Arcans as nothing but slaves. Some Arcans were little more than animals, and that was fact, but ones like the wolf, well, that was a different story. He actually didn't have much opinion of it one way or the other. The stupid Arcans, the ones that were basically animals in an Arcan body, those needed to be controlled. But the intelligent ones, that was a different story.

He was starting to feel like his body didn't weigh a ton. He struggled to a seated position, remembering the wolf's command. He had to move around as soon as he could, the wolf said, move around to recover. He slowly rolled up onto his knees, and felt like he had a mountain strapped to his back. He then struggled to his feet, his shoulders slumped, his head bowed, and gritted his teeth and deliberately began to move. One step. One step. One foot in front of the other. His foot shuffled forward like it was tied to the ground, but it did move. He did it again, feeling like he was dragging a ship behind him, but he did as he was told, he got moving. He walked in unsteady circles around his bedroll, but then something strange began to happen. He felt warmth starting to flow through him, started to feel better, started to feel his energy coming back. It was like moving around got his blood flowing, the activity restored his energy. Every step he took made him feel a little better. He shuffled around his bedroll, then he was trudging around his bedroll, then he was walking around his bedroll, then he was marching around his bedroll. He stopped and jumped into the air a few times, shaking his hands before him, and felt just fine. The exhaustion that came with using that power seemed to be very temporary. It was debilitating right at first, but it also abated quickly.

Within minutes of forcing himself to his feet, he felt completely recovered. He felt so recovered, in fact, that he decided to try again. He repeated what the wolf had taught him, he focused his mind completely on what he was about to do and where he wanted the magic to go. He focused on a mossy rock about five paces from him, half buried in the ground. He then imagined the lightning lancing from his open palm to that rock, remembering what he'd seen, felt, and heard the first time, and then called out to the fox within his mind, calling into the spirit world. Shadow fox, please–

KRAK-KOW!

A jagged lance of lightning blasted from his palm and struck the rock, incinerating the moss on the rock and leaving it smoking. Kyven felt the energy retreat from him, and when it did, he literally collapsed to the ground. He panted heavily, feeling like a mountain was pressing down on him, keeping him from moving. But he knew know that it was just temporary, and that, after a moment of rest, he had to move, he had to shake off the lethargy. He lay there and just rested… but this time, he realized, he wasn't recovering quite as fast. He realized then that it really was like training a muscle. He hadn't worn the "muscle" down all the way yet, so it had not recovered stronger than before. He'd have to keep practicing, keep working, to build up his ability to shake off the crippling fatigue that came after using a spell. Ready or not, he knew he had to move. He struggled back to his feet and began slowly pacing around his bedroll, and felt warmth and energy begin to flow back into him like blood reawakening a leg that had fallen asleep.

He heard very faint rustling then. He thought it was the wolf, but the wolf wouldn't be skulking about out there, he'd just bound in. He had no idea who it was, but there was definitely someone out there, several hundred paces away from him. He realized that he had no weapons, and besides, nobody would really be out here that might be entirely friendly. It was best to lay low, be quiet, and try to evade detection until the wolf returned.

Kyven was no outdoorsman, but he was light on his feet, lithe, and agile, and that gave him the natural ability to skulk. He moved on silent feet to the nearest big tree, creeping carefully through the underbrush, staying out of clearings and being careful not to rustle any underbrush. He opened his eyes to the spirits, because that caused living things to become much sharper and clearer to his eyes, and glanced out in the direction he was hearing the rustling and movement. They were still too far out. He couldn't see them. But from the sound of it, they were moving in his direction.

There was sudden movement. The rustling charged towards him, and then it erupted from the trees. It was a deer! A young buck, racing at an angle that would take it about ten paces to his left, having been spooked by something.

The wolf said he had to hunt for their food, and here was dinner, coming right at him!

He moved quickly. He was already open to the spirits, so he quickly formed the image in his mind and concentrated on both his palm and the deer. He would send a bolt of lightning from his hand to the deer, aiming at its head so as not to ruin their meal. He collected himself and gathered his concentration as it rushed towards him, at an angle, then he turned and called to the shadow fox just as it bounded between two trees and was open and visible to him. Now, please help me before I lose sight of it! he pleaded.

The lightning blasted forth from his palm and sizzled across the thirty paces of open space between him and the young buck. It hit the buck in the neck, not the head as he'd aimed, but it hit it nonetheless. The deer gave a bleating cry and crashed to the ground in a spray of dead leaves and dirt, then it rolled into a young tree, making the tree shudder violently from the impact. Kyven felt the magic retreat from him, and he again literally collapsed where he was standing, panting as if he'd just run a thousand minars. His mind swam in an exhausted haze for a long moment, then he found himself staring up into the glowing eyes of the wolf, looking down at him with a slightly amused look on his face. "You heard it coming! Six weeks in the forest has done well for you. I am impressed, human."

"Th–Thanks," he wheezed. "Dinner."

"You have fed us this day. You have done well."

Despite the complement, the wolf was his usual self. He grabbed Kyven by the back of his breeches and all but dragged him back to camp, then tossed him on his bedroll. He then went and collected the buck, dropping it in the tiny clearing as a tiny wisp of smoke wafted up from a blackened patch on the side of its neck. The strike had been fatal, but it had also broken its back hitting the tree, which would have killed it anyway. "I heard another strike besides that one while I was out. Did you do that?"

"Yes," he panted. "You said… to push myself. I figured… that was… pushing myself."

The wolf simply nodded. "I will sleep now. You do the same. You still have more work ahead of you."

"I'll try," he said as the wolf laid down on the forest floor next to the kill. He put his muzzle on the back of his wrist, and then closed his eyes.

Despite it being the middle of the day, channeling three bolts of lightning had taken their toll on him. When his breathing regulated, instead of getting up to renew his vigor, he instead closed his eyes and quickly fell asleep.


Over the next several days, Kyven practiced that spell what had to be a thousand times.

The wolf was right, though. Every evening when he woke up, he was more tolerant of channeling the magic than he'd been the day before. His ability to withstand the draining after-effect of using the magic increased. Over the first few days, he could barely move after using the lightning, going to where he could just barely manage to stay on his feet. Then, over the next couple of days after that, he could walk slowly after using the spell, until he was capable of using the spell and then moving, albeit not very fast. Then, after the next few days after that, he was able to use the spell and then walk steadily, and then he was able to use it and then jog. Then, two weeks after his first use of the spell, he was able to channel lightning and then run immediately afterward.

It was still very taxing when used consecutively, though. His ability to withstand the drain of the magic was strong against one use, but if he used the spell three or four times quickly, it all but put him on his knees. But that too seemed to improve over time. He was able to use the spell more and more often, and it tired him out less and less by the end of the day. It truly was like a muscle, a muscle he was strengthening with constant practice.

During that time, the wolf reverted to old training. He would run or move heavy stones between uses of his magic, maintaining the level of fitness that the wolf had instilled into him, but the wolf also taught him some basics of hunting. He couldn't use the wolf's skills, since he used his nose and his Arcan speed, but the wolf taught him some very basic woodcraft. He showed Kyven what to look for to find deer, taught him the importance of approaching upwind of it, and showed him some very basic tenets of tracking so he could hunt for his own food. It was the most the wolf had spoken in the entire time they'd been together, and the wolf didn't seem to like it. Despite over two months of working together, the wolf still kept his distance from Kyven, and he could sense all kinds of animosity lurking beneath the wolf's furry ears. The wolf didn't like him, but Kyven could not say that the wolf did not treat him fairly or fail to teach him well. For that, at least, Kyven had a great deal of respect for the wolf. The wolf was his mentor, his teacher, and he gave him that respect he was due because of it.

Kyven wasn't necessarily the one that fed them over those two weeks, but he was the one that brought down the game. The wolf would flush the deer to him, and then Kyven would hit them with lightning, giving him practice hitting a live, moving target.

The day after Kyven managed to channel lightning and be able to run afterward, the night of the full moon, the wolf woke him from a nap around midnight. The weeks with the wolf had been a major change for him, for the wolf was nocturnal. He'd been sleeping during the early and late afternoons and staying up all night and through some of the morning. Kyven napped quite a bit, but so did the wolf, actually. His favorite activity when not training Kyven, hunting, or eating, was sleeping. The wolf riled him from his nap and had him sit on his bedroll, then sat down in front of him. "This is our last night together," the wolf told him bluntly. "Tonight, I will teach you how to Summon. You will Summon the shadow fox to you, and then she will guide you from here."

"I understand," he said with a nod.

"Summoning is a very simple thing to do, human. In fact, you probably understand how to do it already, if you stop to think about it."

Kyven was quiet just a moment before answering. "I just call out to the spirits," he said. "No spell. Just call."

The wolf nodded simply. "Call. But you are calling a specific spirit, human, not just any spirit. Summoning requires you to know exactly which spirit you are summoning. But as I have said before, you must be prepared to deal with the consequences. Spirits do not like to be summoned for frivolous reasons. If you summon a spirit, you had damn well better have a good reason for doing so, or you will anger them. I cannot make that more clear."

"That's completely clear," he said seriously. "So, do you want me to try?"

"Yes. Open your eyes, and then call out to your totem. If it pleases her, she will respond."

Kyven opened his eyes to the spirits, but then he closed them, and then bowed his head. Shadow fox, he called in his mind, but casting it out away from him as he did when he beseeched the fox to grant him her power, shadow fox, the wolf bids me summon you so you may take over from him, he called out. If you think I'm ready, then please come. I… want to see you again.

He felt it almost immediately. He opened his eyes and turned his head, and she was there, seated sedately near a tree, her tail wrapped around her front legs, her glowing green eyes unwavering and unblinking. He felt… happy to see her. Excited. She had returned, and if she was here, then she must be pleased with him, with his progress. He was excited because now he would finally learn what he had come out here to learn. He wanted to know about her, to learn why she had stayed with him, why she had saved him, and why he felt obligated to her. He had undergone this training just to learn the answers, and he was willing to follow her now, learn from her, to understand why he felt so adamant about this. He just had to know, so badly that he had directly defied everything his people taught about Shaman. He had turned his back on his own people to learn Shaman magic just to be nearer to her, just to learn why. It was nearly an obsession for him, a consuming drive that clouded all his other judgment.

"Sister shadow fox has answered your call, human," the wolf told him simply. "And our time together is done. You impressed me, human, I must admit. I never believed you'd live to reach this point, or you would have given up long ago. Clearly, humans are not as weak as I first thought."

"Thanks… I think," he said uncertainly.

The wolf chuckled. "With your permission, sister, I leave him to you," the wolf said, nodding his head to the fox. She nodded back, quite gravely, and the wolf stood up. "Our time is ended, human."

"Thank you, wolf," he said honestly. "You were a good teacher. I wanted to kill you a few times, but I can't complain that you didn't do your best with me."

"As it should be," he said simply. "Fare well on your Walk, human. May the spirits guide your steps and grant you wisdom."

"Be careful, and thank you," Kyven said in reply.

The wolf nodded, then turned, dropped to all fours, and bounded off into the dark forest, lost quickly among the trees. Just like that, Kyven was alone, alone with the fox.

Kyven looked at her. What would she show him? Where would she guide him? He didn't know. He stood up and rolled up his bedroll and tied it up, then slung it over his shoulder. "I'm ready," he told her simply. He really didn't know what else to do. The wolf hadn't told him what would happen next, but if he was about to begin his Walk, then he needed to be ready to, well… walk.

The fox looked to him with… amusement? She didn't seem quite so grave. She stood up and looked to her right. To Kyven's amazement, an image appeared there, a map of central Noraam, showing Atan and the Blue Valley, and the piedmont leading to the sea. It showed the cities of Avannar and Chardon, Avannar up the Podac River from the sea, and Chardon on the road to Avannar, past the Blue Valley.

Amazing! She could create images in the very air! But then again, he remembered that the wolf said that the shadow fox's specialty was deception and illusion. This had to be an illusion, a visible image of something that wasn't real. She urged her muzzle towards her image.

"You want me to go… where? Chardon?"

She shook her head.

"Avannar?"

She nodded, her eyes serious.

"You want me to go to Avannar?" he said in surprise. "But… but what I've learned. The Loremasters will think I'm a Shaman. Won't it be dangerous?"

She nodded, her eyes locked on him.

"I… understand. I'll go to Avannar as you wish," he said with a nod. "Do I have to walk?"

Her mouth opened and her tongue lolled out, which Kyven took as laughter.

Kyven felt a bit sheepish. "Well, can I at least resupply? I'll attract attention if I go looking like this."

She nodded. She stood up as the image of the map faded away, and she nudged her head at him. He knew it meant she wanted him to follow, so he fell into step behind her. She led him for nearly a half an hour, led him to a large stream, almost a river, then padded upstream for nearly five minutes. She stepped out onto the water, then stopped in a shallow, slow-moving area and pawed at the surface meaningfully. He knew immediately what she meant. He waded into the stream and then knelt down and dug around in the silty bottom, until he felt the tingling in his fingers. He grabbed it and pulled it up, then washed it off to reveal a surprisingly large red crystal, a good nineteen points. It would easily allow him to buy new clothes and some traveling gear, as well as a couple of little ideas he had in mind.

His lightning was indistinguishable from the effect of a shockrod. Well… what if he bought a shockrod tube and carried it with him? Wouldn't people think he was using a shockrod as long as they didn't see his eyes?

The fox nodded to him, her eyes quite pleased.

"I'm glad you think it's a good idea," he said modestly. "Do you think it'll work?"

She nodded.

"I'll do it, then," he said, standing up. "Will this stream lead me to the road to Avannar?"

She shook her head, and nudged towards him with her muzzle.

"Oh, upstream?"

She nodded.

"Alright. I'll go to Avannar. Will you go with me, or will you meet me there?"

In answer, she stood up and walked away from him, then stopped at the bank and looked back to him.

"I understand. I'll feel, strange, being alone. I've never been completely alone before. But, the wolf prepared me for it. He showed me how to find food, and taught me the lightning spell so I can protect myself. I think I'll be alright."

She just stared at him, her glowing eyes steady.

"Shadow fox," he called. "Just one question."

She paused.

"Why?" he finally blurted. "I'll learn why eventually, won't I? You'll tell me?"

She gave him a long look, then bowed her head. The she turned and walked into the night. Despite his spirit sight, her form seemed to merge with the darkness, and she vanished.

He stood there in the stream, feeling both humble and strangely thrilled. She was proud of him! And she was going to answer his questions! It wouldn't be immediate, he could sense that, but she would show him the answers he sought.

He would find out why she was so interested in him. He would find out why.


It took him almost a full day to reach the Avannar Road.

He'd had no idea they'd gone so far, but then again, after thinking about it, the wolf had run him for hours every other night, for weeks. They'd traveled hundreds of minars, maybe thousands, staying within the Blue Valley the whole time. The wolf had actively avoided all human settlements, keeping them in the forest, keeping them alone and keeping them isolated. When he reached the road, after talking to the first traveler he came across, he found out he was nearly a full day out from Chardon, on the other side. He'd be going back the way he came to go to Chardon, but he had little choice. He needed to buy some supplies and sell his crystal, and he'd not have another chance until Avannar if he didn't go to Chardon. Trying to sell it to some merchant in an inn along the way wasn't going to work.

He was broke and without any kind of provisions, but he could run. It was a day on foot if one was walking, but the wolf hadn't spent all that time building him up just so he could skip along at a leisurely pace. He put that toughening up to immediate use, settling into a steady, ground-eating pace that ate up the minars.

The whole time, he thought. He thought following the river to the road, and on the road to Chardon. He'd done it. He was on his Spirit Walk now, learning the wisdom that the fox wanted to teach. He knew that she would lead him to places and show him things in an effort to teach him wisdom, let him grow and become wiser, even as she taught him new spells and molded him into the kind of Shaman she wanted him to be. In the course of that, he felt, he would learn the answers he so desperately wanted to know, so much that he had devoted himself to this path just to find those answers.

Shaman. He was a Shaman now… or at least he was on the path to become one. A human Shaman. It seemed impossible, yet here he was, on his Spirit Walk, about to embark on a journey of experience that would make him a wiser man and worthy of what the fox would teach him. He knew it would be a test as well, no doubt as the fox tested his fortitude, tested his determination, tested his courage. He figured that was why she was sending him to Avannar, to the headquarters of the organization that thought he was evil incarnate, a test of loyalty and bravery. She was sending him into the bear's den, and seeing if he could kiss the cub and escape without losing his face to the mother's claws.

He would do it. To find out, he would do it.

He arrived in Chardon in a warm summer rain, close to sunset. Chardon was a small town, a little bigger than Atan, built in a flat area of the Blue Valley that had rich, fertile soil and plentiful water, making it an ideal place for farms and ranches. Farmers brought their harvest to Chardon, ranchers sold cattle and horses in Chardon, and over the years, a town sprang up from the commerce. The town separated the ranches from the farms, with farms to the south and cattle and horse ranches sprawling to the north, and from what Kyven remembered hearing about this place, the ranchers and farmers actually didn't get along. There was always a little tension in town, as the ranchers patronized their taverns, and the farmers patronized theirs, with the occasional fisticuffs unfolding on the streets between them. The shops of Chardon served the ranchers and farmers, each shop serving mainly one side or the other.

Those sitting on sheltered porches watched him as he padded into town, soaking wet… but he was used to that. He'd not seen shelter for almost two months, and had actually gotten used to the rain. He'd slept in it right along with the wolf, ran in it, worked in it. After his shirts were destroyed, and he tore all the holes in his breeches, being wet didn't really mean all that much. He came up to a covered porch of a house where an older man and woman sat on chairs. "Pardon me, but where is your alchemist or crystalcutter? I have a crystal I'd like to sell."

"A prospector all the way out here? Well, that's new," the man said. "Two streets down, there's a crystalcutter in the big building on the right. He'll buy it."

"Thank you," he said with a nod, then turned and walked back to the street.

The crystalcutter's shop was a large affair where the older man had said. Kyven dripped water on the floor of his receiving room as the apprentice minding the store fetched the shop's master. The master was a rather old man with a bald pate and knobby, big-knuckled fingers. The man blinked, then laughed. "Why, by the Father's grace, Kyven Steelhammer!" he exclaimed. "They think you're dead!"

"Huh?" he asked in confusion.

"Boy, I heard it from Master Torvik, coming from Atan. They found your horses roaming the Blue Valley some six weeks ago, and here you turn up! What happened?"

"Oh. Oh, well, I kinda lost the horses, they bolted in a thunderstorm and I never did find them," he admitted. "I'm just glad I was camped when it happened, so I didn't lose my gear. After that happened, I went on on foot and just stayed closer to home. Ever since then, I've been prospecting the Blue Valley from here to the Podac River. I found something, too," he said, taking his soaked bedroll off his back and digging the crystal out. "I came in to resupply. Most everything I had was either lost, broken, or used up. Now that I've found something worth selling, I can regear and head back out."

"Good for you! And they'll be happy to hear that you're just fine up in Atan, too."

"Could you send the word? I hate the idea that Master Holm thinks I'm dead," he said sincerely.

"I'd be happy to," he said with a nod. "I'll even use the Guild Talker, just for you." The Guild Talker was an alchemy device that allowed people in different towns to send messages to each other. They used up crystals at a frightful rate, however, so they usually were only used in emergencies. That the cutter would burn a crystal just to send word to Atan that Kyven was still alive was a very generous gesture.

"I appreciate it, sir," he said with a nod. "Would you buy this crystal from me? I need the money," he laughed.

"I surely will, son!" he said with a broad grin, taking the crystal, the size of a child's fist. "Nineteen points! A good find! This can get you all geared up easily, my boy. How about four hundred chits for it?"

"That's just fine, sir."

"Done! Would you like to stay here tonight? We have a spare bed."

"Ah, no thank you, sir. I need to get my gear bought and get back out there. I think I could come back with a few more like that one, and I want to get back and see."

"Ah, think you've found a spot everyone else missed, eh? Well, it's possible," he noted, turning away. "Honey! Go to the vault and pouch up four hundred chits!" the master shouted down the hall.

"Aye sir!" came a reedy response.

"You're lookin' awful thin there, son. How's the wild treatin' ya?"

"Much better now that I've learned how to hunt," he admitted with a laugh. "It was very rough going there for a couple of weeks. After my stores ran out, it was learn to hunt or starve."

"That's always a good motivator," he nodded. "I don't see no musket, son, how you doing it?"

He drew one of this throwing daggers from his belt and showed it to him. "If I can get close enough to use this, I eat."

"Ah, true, true," he nodded. "You sick of rabbit yet?" he grinned.

"When you're hungry, you don't care," he said simply.

"I can believe it," he said. A young female Arcan scurried in, a young canine with golden fur and a boxy, long muzzle, wearing nothing but a collar, her form slender, lithe, and with small fur-clad breasts and narrow hips. She had hair, chestnut hair that was tied behind her ears in a pair of tails. She handed a leather pouch to the cutter with a little bow. "Take that crystal to the vault," he commanded of her, pointing to the crystal in Kyven's hand.

"Aye sir," she said with a little bow, holding her gold-colored paws out. Kyven gave it to her, and she turned and hurried away.

"I'm not used to seeing Arcans in a cutting shop. Holm won't buy them," Kyven noted.

"They're very handy, and can be quite fun," the man said with a glance back at the Arcan as she hurried back into the shop. "I just got that one last month."

"And you let her into your vault?"

"I have a special collar on her," he answered. "She'll get zapped if she carries any crystals outside the boundaries of this shop."

"I'm sure the women complain about you keeping her like that."

He laughed. "They can go to hell," he answered bluntly. "She's my Arcan. If I want to keep her naked, I'll keep her naked. I prefer the female ones that way," he said with a chilling smile. "What they got between their legs don't look no different at all from what's under the dresses of those women out there, once you get past the fur, and I love to look at it. It's all the same equipment. It works the same too."

"That is a disturbing thought," Kyven said.

"Pshaw, don't knock it 'til you try it. Wanna try it?"

Kyven shuddered involuntarily. "I've never heard of that."

"Of course not, you've been apprenticed to Holm. He hates Arcans. Why do you think female Arcans are more expensive?"

"Because they can breed," he said immediately.

"Well, there's that too," he noted absently.

Kyven was genuinely surprised. He'd never heard of human men having sex with Arcan females before, but he figured that there were men out there depraved enough to try it. After all, he'd heard stories and rumors of men who had had sex with animals, and Arcans were somewhat similar to animals in appearance. And he was right about one part; Arcans were identical to humans in most respects. The wolf had the same equipment between his legs that Kyven did, there was virtually no anatomical difference between Arcans and humans in their genitalia.

"Well, if you wanna get back to that deposit, you'd better head out, boy. Unless you wanna give Honey a ride," he said with a frighteningly eager smile.

"No thanks," he said mildly. "I need to get my gear and get back. Have a good day."

"Good luck, Kyven. I'll make sure Holm knows you're alive and well."

"I appreciate that, thank you."

Kyven left the shop with his eyes opened just a little wider about the true nature of the world. It seemed that there was a lot more out there than he expected, and finding out that a human man was using an Arcan female for sex had been both shocking in one way, and not too much of a surprise in another. It was something he honestly had never considered, but upon further consideration of the nature of the human man, it was something that was entirely possible. It made him wonder if there were human women out there who had had sex with Arcan males.

He shivered at that thought. Arcans were stronger than humans. A female was one thing, the man could control her, put her in a position where she couldn't use that strength, but an Arcan male–well, that was a different story. A human woman had better be pretty damn careful, and maybe a little crazy, to ever try something like that.

Probably, though.

Kyven didn't waste much time, putting the cutter and his disturbing revelation out of his mind for the moment, because he had to get to the shops before they closed. He was committed to the story that he was restocking for prospecting, so he bought a pick, a shovel, two sifting pans, and a sniffer to keep up that appearance, then bought what he was really after. He needed to keep it light, because he'd be running, so he bought a small pack, two new sets of sturdy leather clothes, and a new bedroll. He then went to the alchemists and talked him into selling him a shockrod without a crystal, just the rod itself. "It's useless, fella," the alchemist protested.

"Not really. It looks like a shockrod, sir, and if someone sees it on my belt, they'll think I'm armed. It may make them leave me alone."

The alchemist chuckled. "Well now, that's actually pretty clever. I'll sell you one for twenty chits, then, and keep yer little secret to boot."

He also bought a new firestarter and a little miniature lamp for those occasions he might need visible light at night, then decided to take a short break at one of the local pubs for some cooked food before starting out. He wasn't sleepy at all, still attuned to a nocturnal cycle, and was planning to run tonight if only to distance himself from Chardon and anyone who might follow him to see where he was going to "prospect."

That, of course, was a tricky proposition in Chardon. If one went into a rancher's tavern, they were hated by the farmers. If they went into a farmer's tavern, they earned a bad reputation among the ranchers. The only safe place in Chardon for a neutral party to get a drink or a bite to eat was the Stand Off Inn, an inn just outside Chardon on the Atan side, where merchants and travelers often stayed rather than get embroiled in the local politics. Kyven went there himself, and saw that it looked more or less as he recalled when he and Holm visited some three years ago. The common room had a very low ceiling, so low that he had to resist the urge to duck under the support beams that were just fingers over his head, and the walls were painted black. The furniture was black, too, and it lit by lamps that gave the place a closed-off feeling, like a dungeon or tomb. The place was populated by a pretty good crowd of merchants and their servants, so much that there were no open tables at which to sit, forcing Kyven to the bar so as not to intrude himself upon others.

"What's ready to eat right now?" Kyven asked the surprisingly tall woman behind the bar, with long, thick blond hair, wearing a sturdy gray shirt and leather breeches… which surprised him a little bit. Women didn't usually wear breeches.

"A side of beef," she answered. "Boiled corn ears and boiled potatoes."

"I'll take a serving of all three," he said, going for the pouch holding what was left of his money. "How much?"

"Five chits," she answered. Kyven was a little surprised at the expense, but he put down a five chit coin for it. She picked it up and bounced it off the bar, the chiming sound it made revealing its authenticity, and called through a window in the wall behind the bar. "Beef, corn, potatoes!"

Quickly, he got his entire five chits worth. A small cat Arcan with dark fur, a collar, and wearing nothing but an apron, brought a laden platter out from the back. The woman pointed to Kyven, and the little female cat set it down in front of him wordlessly.

It had been a long time since he had anything other than raw meat. He attacked the generous helping with enthusiasm, finding the meat to be surprisingly bland after weeks of the rich taste of raw venison, but absolutely swooning over the corn and the potatoes. The woman behind the bar watched him for a moment, throwing a rag over her shoulder and then filling a few tankards for another Arcan, a male ferret that was carrying a serving tray and was also wearing nothing but an apron and a collar. Kyven wolfed down all the potatoes and was halfway done with the ear of corn when someone shouted from the common room. "By the Trinity, Bella, put some pants on that that Arcan!" came a man's voice. "That's not something I want to see when I'm eating!"

"I don't hear you complain when I have the other one on the floor, Vral," the woman shot back, which produced a few laughs.

"Well, at least that one looks nice!"

"Well, his ass looks better to me than hers does," she answered immediately, which made the common room erupt in laughter. "Besides, clothes cost money, and I'm not gonna waste money on fuckin' Arcans. Don't like it? Go wade through the fistfights in town to find a new tavern, or close your fuckin' eyes."

"That's our sweet Bella alright," Kyven heard a man at the table behind him chuckle. "Sweet as the summer rain and as ladylike as Queen Mera."

"How much for more potatoes?" Kyven asked the sharp-tongued woman.

"Two chits," she answered.

"I'll take it," he said, digging more chits out of his pouch.

"Potatoes!" she boomed through the window. The cat Arcan brought a plate of them and set them before him when the woman pointed to him, and he handed over the chits to the woman. She kicked the Arcan in the backs of her thighs when she didn't get out of the way, and she was not gentle. The cat squeaked in surprise and pain and hurried back into the kitchen.

It was treatment he'd seen before, but after spending so long with the wolf, Kyven looked at it through new eyes. Was it really right for people to kick Arcans like that? She didn't really do anything wrong, after all. Why be so rough with her?

"You got a problem, buddy?" she asked, giving him a direct stare.

Kyven blinked. "Huh?"

"You give me a look like that, you either got a problem with me, or you're about to," she said belligerently.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," he protested.

"Nobody gives me fuckin' dirty looks in my own tavern," she said, her handsome face twisting into a snarl.

"Fine," he said simply. He took out his pouch and put a five chit coin down on the counter. "For the plate," he said, picking up his plate and turning his back on her and walking for the door.

"Don't turn your back on me, you smug son of a bitch!" she shouted angrily. He turned around to see her literally jump over the bar, and he saw quite a few patrons clear out from around Kyven.

"By the Trinity, what's your problem, lady?" he asked, in a little exasperation as she stormed up to him. He expected her to stop and yell at him or something, so when she reared her fist back, he was genuinely startled. He wasn't so startled not to react when it came at him, though. Kyven was very fast, and weeks of conditioning gave him lightning reflexes as muscles were toned and hardened from heavy labor caused his hand to let go of the plate and whip out. There was a loud smack as her fist was intercepted by his open palm, stopping it instantly, and then his fingers closed over her fist, trapping it. "You tell me to get out, and then you try to start a fight with me for doing what you wanted? Why don't you stop trying to walk down both sides of the street, lady?" Kyven protested as he squeezed her fist in his hand, making her gasp in pain and try to pull away.

The woman raised a foot to kick him, but a vice-like grip on her hand made her wince, gasp, and bend to the side as Kyven yanked her sideways to keep her from keeping enough balance to do it.

"Not much fun to be the one manhandled, is it?" he asked her simply as he yanked her to the other side, then back again, keeping her off balance, almost on the edge of falling down. "Keep that in mind the next time you kick someone in the butt just because they don't get out of your way fast enough." He let go of her hand as he pushed her away, making her stagger back from him, then turned and walked towards the door.

"I shoulda known, a Trinity-damned Arcan lover," the woman spat.

"Think whatever you want, lady, your opinion means as little to me as mine does to you," he told her, a bit flippantly, as he reached the door. "Like I'll ever see you again, and may the Trinity bless me to make it so."

A throwing knife slammed into the door, not a rod from his head. Kyven flinched a little at that, but covered it well. He pried the knife out of the door, looked back at her as she pulled another knife from her belt, blew her a kiss, then slipped out the door with her knife.

He knew she wouldn't let it go. He sprinted a good ways from the door and skidded to a halt, took measure of her knife in his hand, found its center, then deftly flipped it into a throwing position. When the door opened, he flung it hard and true. The woman charged out, but squeaked in surprise when her dagger embedded itself in the frame of her door, not half a rod from her head. She flinched violently, which gave Kyven the chance to take a few more steps backwards, still holding his plate of potatoes in his left hand. "There's your knife back, and I paid you for this plate. I'm out of your inn, so just go back inside and leave me be."

"Arcan loving bastard!" she snapped at him, stepping up and hurling her knife at him.

By the Trinity, she really meant to hurt him!

But from that distance, he easily saw it coming. She had good aim, but Kyven had quick reflexes and an eye trained for detail. He saw the knife coming at him and was able to sidestep it, almost easily, heard it bounce on the dirt of the road behind him. "Good lord, woman, what's your problem?" Kyven demanded. "Are you crazy? What the hell did I do to you?"

"You probably embarrassed her, and Bella doesn't like to be upstaged in her own inn," a calm voice called behind him. He glanced back and saw a tall, middle aged man wearing the white surcoat with the three circles that marked him as a Loremaster. He was probably the village Loremaster, their envoy to the organization in Avannar. "That's enough of that, Bella. Go back inside," he said in a mild voice, but a voice dripping with authority.

The woman gave him a dark look, made a rude gesture with her hands, then stormed back into the inn.

"Sheesh, I just wanted something to eat that didn't involve a ten minute grilling over if I'm a farmer or a rancher," Kyven growled.

"What happened?" the man asked.

Kyven gave him a look. This was a Loremaster, a man the wolf said were the enemies of the Shaman… and he was on the path to becoming one. But the man didn't know that, for humans weren't supposed to be Shaman, which gave Kyven a unique position of being able to look him in the face without fear. "She said I gave her a dirty look, so I paid for the plate here and left. She jumped the bar and tried to punch me, so I stopped her without hurting her. Then she threw a knife at me while I was leaving. I gave it back to her," he said pointing at the inn's door with his free hand. "I she always so violent?"

"Yes," he sighed. "She rails against the bars in town for the enmity between the farmers and ranchers, but will do the very same things herself if she thinks someone slights her or insults her. And she has a vile temper. Odds are, she'll take it out on her Arcans tonight if nobody in the inn gives her satisfaction."

Kyven frowned. He never meant to do anything like that. He realized that he'd just caused those poor Arcans trouble, and since he was on his Spirit Walk and was supposed to be learning and gaining wisdom, maybe this was something the fox wanted him to do. Maybe he was here to do something about Bella, or help her Arcans… but even if he wasn't, he just couldn't let the Arcans pay for his mistake when it wasn't their fault.

Just as he was thinking about what he might be able to do, the door slammed open again. The woman, Bella, appeared, and she dragged something out behind her. When she was out on her porch, he realized that she was dragging the cat Arcan by the foot, the cat still and limp. She pulled it off the porch, the cat's head bouncing sickeningly off the steps.

His eyes widened when he realized that the cat had left a bloody streak on the wood behind it.

"So you like fuckin' Arcans, do ya, you bastard?" she said with a cold, brutal smile, leaning to the side and hurling the limp body out in front of her. She crashed to the ground on her back, and when her head rolled to his side, he saw her eyes were open and glazed, and her throat was cut. "Here, take this one!"

"Bella!" the man said reproachfully. "That was a very silly thing to do!"

"It's my money, old man, so shut your fuckin' mouth," she sneered. But that sneer faded off her face when she saw the cold, almost emotionless stare Kyven leveled on her, and then she gasped in surprise and scrambled back into the inn.

He saw the shimmer around his vision. He was using spirit sight! He closed his eyes quickly and got himself back under control, before the Loremaster saw his eyes and realized what he was.

"I swear, at the rate she goes through Arcans, I'm amazed she has a single chit to her name," he said, then tutted. "Too bad, that was a cute one. I rather liked her. Oh well," he said, then he turned and walked off, leaving the Arcan laying dead on the road.

Kyven didn't move. He was furious, he was outraged, he was appalled, and he felt not a little bit of honest guilt. That vile woman had killed that poor Arcan just because he made her angry. Her death was his fault, his responsibility. He had to do something, both to atone and to get revenge against this Bella woman. He clenched his fists and forced himself to turn around, and slowly walk away.

He wasn't leaving Chardon yet. He had business here.

He sensed her. He turned his head and saw her sitting between two houses, her tail wrapped around her front legs. The fox, huddled in the shadows between the two houses, gave him a single, eloquent nod.

Now he knew that he had permission.

He started towards the east side of town, to leave and make them think he was gone for good, drop off his gear, then circle back in the darkness and tend to this little bit of business.

His first task on his Spirit Walk had begun.


It was dark. The inns and festhalls were all closed, and the moon was all but set, but not everyone was asleep or still in Chardon. Several ranch hands were staggering up the north road towards their ranches, while the farmers had all returned home hours ago; some few of them were about to awaken and get an early start on the chores.

But there was one more moving than drunken ranchers. Kyven stalked along the edge of town, circling the buildings on his way back to the Stand Off Inn, the town visible to him with spirit sight and allowing him to see where everyone was. He already knew exactly what to do, for he'd had plenty of time to think it through, while he took turns walking in circles in fury and mourning the fact that he'd caused the death of the Arcan cat.

He was not only contemplating, but planning, murder. He was about to kill another human being, and he knew it. But that fact didn't shock him half as much as what he'd seen earlier that day. Yes, he was going to kill that woman, Bella. By the Trinity, she deserved it, and he had the blessing of the fox to do it. Perhaps this was his first test, to see if he had the nerve to execute another human being for crimes which more than warranted such a punishment.

The way he felt right now, oh, Trinity was he capable.

He reached the inn. His sight allowed him to look through the walls and take stock of the location and race of every person in the building. He saw fifteen humans and eight Arcans, two of which were huddled together in the cellar of the inn. Those had to be Bella's Arcans, for the others were all upstairs, probably the property of travelers and merchants. Bella seemed the kind to him that would put her Arcans in the cellar. He couldn't tell which of those humans he could see was Bella, but he was betting that it was that one right there on the third floor, the lone female that was still awake, sitting on something his spirit sight could not make out… probably a bed or chair. He circled around to the back of the inn, to the stable, and encountered his first task. Quietly, probed the door with a throwing dagger, having trouble seeing the non-living object in the darkness, but finally got his dagger tip in enough to throw the latch and open the door. He slipped in silently, carefully navigating using the faint, ghostly radiance of those microscopically tiny living things that lived on the chairs, tables, counters, and walls, letting him see them just enough to barely make out their outlines and navigate around them. He crept through the kitchen and found a barred door leading to the cellar, then opened it silently and crept down the narrow steps.

The two Arcans were indeed Bella's. He recognized the ferret, and saw once he got closer that he had blood matted in his fur on his head and neck. Bella must have beaten him. The other Arcan was a female ferret, and just one look at her told him that she was pregnant. Bella had a breeding pair… and the idea of letting that female give birth to children under Bella's roof filled him with fury. Both of them were still awake. From what he could see through the wall that separated their room from the stairs, the female was tending the male, cleansing his fur with something he couldn't see in her paw. He slipped down to the base of the stairs and came up to the door separating the cask room where he was with the tiny cell in which they were kept, and found this door also barred. He unbarred it, which caused the two inside the scramble back into the corner, but he didn't open the door. He did not want them to see him. "Wait three minutes, then run like hell," Kyven whispered through the door. "The back door is open."

"We can't leave, the collars won't let us!" the female whispered in reply.

"Damn. Then stay here, I'll be right back," he answered, which made her face start in surprise. He stalked away before she could say anything, then lightly navigated the stairs and hallways leading up to the third floor in the darkness, watching with spirit sight the people in the rooms, sliding past their doors quietly. He ascended to the third floor, and now that he was closer, he saw that the lone female was indeed Bella. She was naked to his eyes, with an admittedly handsome figure, in the act of laying down on what had to be a bed. He reached the door and realized that she was awake, the door was locked, and any attempt to open it would alert her.

He needed magic here.

The door was in the way. Any attempt to hit her with lightning would fail, because of the door. He needed some other way to get at her that either let him get past the door or allowed him to get to her despite it.

It came to him, almost like a brilliant flash. He knew exactly how to do it. He formed the intent in his mind, imagining exactly what it was he wanted to do. He focused all his concentration on his palm, and joined his palm to the figure of Bella, forming the path the spell would travel when it channeled into the mortal world. He put his palm flat against the door, and then called on the shadow fox. Please help me, shadow fox. Help me avenge that Arcan and end this woman Bella, in a manner that befits you. Guile and deception.

The power roared around him, surging from the fox into him, and then it channeled through him, taking the form he held in his mind. The spell formed in his palm, and then went through the door, settling itself like a sheath around Bella's head. And there it remained for so long as Kyven could concentrate on holding it in place, a spell that dulled all sounds and left him free to throw the latch without its sound warning her.

The fox was a spirit of guile and deception.

He moved quickly. He used his dagger to all but cut the latch of the door, then pushed it open as she turned her head away, quickly sliding into the room and closing it before her eyes caught the motion in the gloom. Once he was inside, he crept up to her bed, looming over her. She opened her eyes and moved to gasp, but Kyven's hand slammed over her mouth before she could make a sound. He drew a dagger from his belt as she tried to struggle, then her body shuddered when the dagger drew over her neck, slitting her throat. Hot blood spurted from the wound as Kyven deliberately stared into her eyes balefully, letting her see his glowing eyes and know that she had died at the hands of a Shaman, died for her cruelty. The hand over her mouth pulled away when she stopped struggling, and the glow of her body to his spirit sight then shimmered, flared with a brief light, and then quickly dimmed and vanished.

She was dead.

Justice was done.

He wasn't done yet, though. He quickly rifled through her room, until he came up with what he wanted, the crystal-tipped silver probe that was a collar key. After pocketing it, he took his firestarter from his pocket and set a tiny flame on the edge of her covers, a flame that would not go out and would grow to consume the bed, and ultimately the entire inn. He knew he had to move quickly now. He silently left the room and rushed back down to the cellar as quickly as he dared, and as he moved, but as he moved he realized that he may not be doing those ferrets any favors. He couldn't take them with him… did they know how to survive in the forest alone? The female was pregnant. Was it right to force them to flee, or was it right to give them that chance?

It was right to give them the chance, but only if they were willing. That was the proper thing to do.

He returned to the cellar silently and quickly, until he was again by the door. "Listen," he whispered. "I can get you out of here, but if I do, it means you're on your own. I can't help you out there. You'll have to escape on your own and survive out there on your own. I leave that choice with you. You can remain here and hope for a better master, or I'll take off your collars and you can try to escape. But you have to choose quickly!" he said in a hiss.

"Let us go!" the female said immediately.

"Shama, you're with child! Maybe–"

"And live the rest of my life knowing we might end up with another one like her? How many of us has she killed in the four months she's owned us, Mrau? Do you want our baby to end up like poor Shii?"

There was a tense silence within. "Let us out," the male said resolutely.

"Turn your backs to the door. Do not look at me," Kyven ordered.

"But–"

"It's for both our sakes. If you don't know who freed you, then you can't tell anyone if you're caught," Kyven told him bluntly.

"I understand." Both of them turned and knelt with their backs to the door. "Go ahead."

Kyven moved swiftly. He opened the door and used the key on their collars, touching the crystal tip to the crystal on the collars, which caused them to come apart. The collars dropped to the cellar floor with metallic clinks. "Count to twenty, then run," he whispered. "The back door by the stable is open. Run and don't look back."

"We will. Thank you," the female said earnestly.

"I hope you find happiness," he told them, then turned and bolted up the stairs.

As swiftly as a flying hawk, Kyven made his way out of the inn and bolted for the trees. His spirit sight allowed him to navigate the darkness flawlessly, and when he reached the trees, he hunkered down and looked back. He saw the two ferrets quickly emerge from the back much later than he expected, as flames began to appear in the third floor window of Bella, carrying what looked like a tablecloth filled with goods. Clever, clever Arcans, bringing food with them! The ran straight for the forest, and then vanished into the trees without looking back.

He wished them well.

He waited several more moments, watching the fire. It spread out of Bella's open window and took hold on the wood of the exterior, and licks of flame began to appear between the tiles of the roof.

That was it. They wouldn't put it out now. And if they did, Bella's body was already most likely charred beyond recognition.

He stood up and took in a deep breath, then yelled "Fire! Fire!" as loud as possible. He didn't wait to see what happened. He turned into the forest and ran, then ran across the open area of the south road and open fields where the farms bordered the village. He ghosted through the forest on the far side until he was well out of sight of the village, then came out onto the road and ran at a ground-eating stride that would put him far, far from Chardon by dawn, far from the scene of his first act on his Spirit Walk.

Justice.


In Chardon, the shadow fox watched from the road as the Stand Off Inn burned out of control, seated sedately with her tail wrapped around her legs, as the guests scrambled out carrying whatever they could hold and villagers rushed to look on, but helpless to do anything about it. She watched as the inn burned, and everything that had mattered to the woman Bella was consumed in the pyre of vengeful flame.

Justice was done.

Her Shaman had done well. He had understood the need for justice, but also saw the truth of the ferrets, that saving them was not truly saving them, and it would have to be their choice to face death in the forests of Noraam, or the chance the luck of the draw in the pens of the stablemaster. He had seen the truth, a truth that many would blindly ignore with false hopes that everything would just be fine once the collars were removed and they were liberated.

He had gained wisdom. And so his first task was complete.

The first task of her Shaman was complete, but there were many more tasks ahead, and many lessons for him to learn.

She nodded in satisfaction, then stood up and padded away on silent feet, invisible to all around her.

Chapter 04