“What am I doing here?” Shon silently asked himself for what seemed like the hundredth time that day. He walked along at the same slow and steady pace as the green wagon next to him, rubbing his temples and focusing on the rhythmic sounds of the squeaking and jostling of the wagon wheels as the two large tauroks in front pulled it onward. Shon hadn’t been very impressed with the stocky beasts the first time he saw them, but in the last few weeks he had come to appreciate the company of the steady, thick-skinned animals. Despite the tauroks’ dim intelligence, or perhaps because of it, they had remained constant and dependable after the traumatic events of the last month, and Shon was grateful to have something so steadfast to rely on.

Shon looked at the tauroks moving along, quietly chewing on the leaves and grass they would occasionally scoop up with their bony tusks. Shon wondered if they had any idea that their former owners had died painful and violent deaths just a few weeks before. Even if they did realize it, would they even care?

Shon had always been very proud of his bright and talented mind. Though he often felt self-conscious about his thin build and completely bald head, he knew that his real strength lay in his cleverness and the magic abilities that allowed him to hear and influence the thoughts of others. Shon often thought that he could live with any physical limitation, but he could never endure an existence of ignorance. Looking at the blissfully mindless tauroks though, Shon wished for the first time that he could will himself into a state of numb stupidity.

As if in protest against his wishes for a mental sedative, the pain in Shon’s mind increased from a dull throbbing in the background to a cutting sting at the front of his consciousness. Shon stumbled slightly as he winced, and held on tightly to the staff in his hands for support. He had been incredibly grateful for the staff named Stick his uncle had loaned him, especially during the last few weeks. While carrying Stick increased the range and clarity of Shon’s magical abilities, he found that it also gave him greater control over those abilities, including managing his headache.

Shon had tried to reason with himself that the headache was the result of the changing weather. After all, he had lived most of his life in the desert town of Life’s Edge with his uncle Grodin, and could not remember experiencing an autumn as chilly as the one settling in the forest around him. But when he was honest with himself, Shon had to admit that the headache had started long before the autumn weather had set in. It had begun the day that the dragon had attacked the town of Alderfold.

Just thinking about the enormous black and purple mother dragon made Shon’s head throb. Shon had somehow used the magic in his mind to defeat the poisonous dragon, though he had no idea how, and he was afraid that the effort had somehow broken something inside him.

Shon had wanted to confide his fears in his best friend and traveling companion, Tarun, but couldn’t. As badly as Shon’s mind had been hurt that day, he was afraid that the damage to Tarun was far greater. Tarun had been with Krall, Solimar, and Piggy when they had been killed by the mother dragon’s young brood, and he was the sole survivor of that terrible encounter. Shon found it hard to believe that the three dragon hunters were really gone, but he found it even harder to believe how much the experience had changed his friend.

Ever since he met Tarun, he had always seemed so… alive. Even though Tarun had no memories at all when he had stumbled into Life’s Edge, he had always been incredibly eager to learn, to do, and to move. So much of what Shon had experienced in the last several months had been in large part to Tarun’s initiative. It had been Tarun’s need to move on and leave Life’s Edge that had given Shon the push he needed to begin the search for his missing parents, and Tarun had agreed to join him.

But their search had gotten wildly off track. After locating the Soul Trees that were magically tied to Shon’s parents, he and Tarun had quickly hit a dead end. Shon’s hope had then shifted to Krall and the other dragon hunters when they offered to help Shon track down his parents in exchange for his and Tarun’s service in hunting the mother dragon. But that hope had died nearly a month ago along with the dragon hunters.

“What am I doing here?” Shon asked himself for the hundred and first time. The dragon hunters may have died, but at least Shon had learned some valuable tracking skills during his time with them. He still found himself demonstrating skills and habits that he hadn’t realized he’d mentally picked up during his time alone with the elf Solimar. Why didn’t he head back to his parents’ Soul Trees and begin tracking them down himself?

For the first couple of weeks after they had left Alderfold, Shon told himself that he had stayed with Tarun because his friend needed him more than ever. After his injuries and trauma at the hands of the young dragons, Tarun hadn’t been thinking clearly or acting like himself. He seemed to be in a constant state of tension, with a furious rage constantly bubbling beneath the surface. To make matters worse, he seemed convinced that his next course of action absolutely had to be defeating Krall’s old master, a powerful necromancer named Vdekshi.

Was Shon really sticking around for his friend’s sake though? Tarun had been spending more and more time by himself. He would often leave for hours at a time with Solimar’s bow and arrows to hunt deer or other animals for their meals. Just that afternoon, Tarun had run ahead, saying that he would scout out a suitable location for their campsite later in the evening, and he hadn’t returned yet.

Whether he continued on out of loyalty for Tarun or some other unknown motivation, Shon wasn’t sure. Once again he felt a sensation that there was something tugging his actions just outside of his consciousness, but this time Shon decided that he needed to figure out what it was, or he would eventually end up as unstable as Tarun had become.

While Shon was walking along, lost in thought, he found himself unintentionally picking up the thoughts of others nearby. Shon’s first reaction was surprise at the realization that there was anyone within a mile of his remote location, but his surprise turned into concern as he realized that the thoughts he was sensing were frightened and defensive. Someone was being attacked and needed help.

Shon looked around to see if he could spot any sign of Tarun returning soon. His friend was strong and had been training with Krall the orc before his death to become a capable fighter. Shon felt anxious about running into danger without him. Shon couldn’t see or sense Tarun anywhere nearby, but he did sense the thoughts he had picked up before become more panicked.

For just a moment, Shon looked at the two tauroks pulling the wagon and wondered if it wouldn’t just be better for him to continue plodding along like them as if nothing was the matter. Then shaking his head, he reminded himself that he was no dim-witted animal, and he was never any good at playing dumb. Grasping Stick firmly with both hands, Shon issued the message in all directions, Tarun, come back! I need you! He then turned sharply to face the direction that the frightened thoughts were coming from, and left the path to go running into the woods.

***

As Shon moved through the forest, he tried to clear his thoughts and allow himself to travel the smooth, graceful way that he had been able to when he had traveled with Solimar and been influenced by the elf’s thoughts. He couldn’t match Solimar’s movements like he had when they were actually travelling together, but was certainly less clumsy than he had been when he left Life’s Edge with Tarun months ago. As he continued running over roots and rocks without tripping, Shon was surprised at how quickly he had been able to pick up the pattern of movement again.

Shon realized that this was the first time he had left the road and the wagon and allowed himself to just run through the woods since the day the dragon hunters had died. He had never enjoyed running or any other physical exertion much before, but during his time with Solimar, Shon had found that it became a valuable tool in clearing his mind and focusing his thoughts. A feeling of great sadness and loneliness set in as Shon started to realize how much he would miss Solimar. Shon did not try to push the feeling away, but he didn’t allow himself to focus on it either, as he knew that Solimar would have berated him harshly for letting such thoughts interfere with his movements.

As the grief washed over Shon, he felt a glimmer of insight flutter past his consciousness. He could vaguely tell that it had something to do with Tarun, his own grief, the uncharacteristic rage that was driving Tarun toward revenge against the necromancer, and Shon’s apprehension about the doomed path they were on. Shon shifted his thoughts to try and capture the insight, but as soon as he did it zipped away, leaving Shon unable to put the different pieces together. No sooner had Shon allowed himself to be distracted by the thought than he found himself tripping on a root, and sprawling forward on the ground.

Shon groaned and rolled to his side as he tried to brush the dirt and debris from his hands and clothes. The magical red cloak his father had left him seemed unaffected by the fall, but his pants were very dirty and had a small hole in one knee. Shon began to scold himself for his foolishness, but stopped abruptly when he heard raised voices coming from a few feet away.

“Hurry up and give us the rest!” said a loud, harsh voice. “Do it now! Or you’re gonna be sorry!”

“I already told you I would give you the rabbit,” said another voice. The second voice sounded calmer, but Shon could tell it had an edge of nervousness to it. “You and your friends are obviously very hungry and I can always get another one. I’m quite handy with this sling of mine.”

“You put your hand anywhere near that sling and I’ll run you through!” shouted the first voice. “And what do you mean ‘give’ us the rabbit? You see this sword? This sword means we take what we want. And I told you we want your clothes and that fancy stick of yours.”

Shon quietly crawled on his hands and knees towards the voices and came to the edge of a clearing. Through the leaves, Shon could see a young man with light brown hair probably no more than five years older than Shon himself. He wore simple, but sturdy looking traveling clothes and carried what looked like an intricately carved walking stick. Surrounding the young man were three men with scraggly beards and long hair, dressed in dirty and threadbare clothes. One man was holding an axe, another was holding a spear, and the man between them was holding a sword. The weapons all looked rusted around the edges, and by the way the men were holding them, Shon had the impression that they had only recently been acquired. Shon could sense fear emanating from all four individuals.

“Take the rabbit,” said the young man with light brown hair. He was gesturing to a skinned and roasted rabbit cooking over a small campfire. “You and your friends will feel better after you’ve had something to eat. I can’t spare the clothes, because they’re the only ones I have.” Though Shon could tell the young man was obviously frightened, his expression was calm and even friendly.

“And the stick?” said the man holding the sword. “I’ll bet I could get a pretty good trade for something as pretty as that.”

“The stick is not available,” said the young man, his expression suddenly turning serious. “You would have to kill me first.”

At the word “kill,” Shon could sense the fear in the three men turn to panic, and then grim determination. The men were desperate, and they were angry that the robbery was not going to plan. While there was little outward change in the men, Shon could sense that inside their minds, they were resolving themselves to kill another person to get what they wanted, probably for the first time in their lives.

Realizing he had no time to think before disaster struck, Shon jumped to his feet and burst through the trees into the clearing. “Do I smell roast rabbit?” Shon asked loudly as all four men turned to look at him. “I sure hope so, because it smells delicious.” While the three men with weapons turned their attention to Shon, the young man with light brown hair began to slowly back away from them.

“Who are you?” shouted the man holding the spear.

“Me?” said Shon. “Well, I’m just an old friend of, uh…”

“Seth,” said the young man.

“Right,” said Shon. “You see, me and Seth are old buddies. We go way back!”

“I think you’re lying,” said the man with the sword.

“Well yes,” said Shon, watching Seth inch farther away from the men, “I suppose I am. But on the bright side, hopefully the lie was distracting enough to snap you out of murdering someone in broad daylight just to get a fancy stick.”

“Actually,” said the man with the sword walking towards Shon, “I’ll bet we could get a lot more for that fancy red cape of yours than that stupid stick anyway.”

The three men began advancing quickly, and Shon reacted by casting a spell he had taught himself a couple of months ago that used his mental magic to redirect the thoughts of others back at themselves, but with a slight delay that made it difficult to speak or act clearly. At first the spell produced the desired effect of making the men stumble and become confused, but Shon realized that something was wrong when he felt a surge of rage build among the three men.

“He’s got magic!” shouted the man holding the axe. “I’ll bet he’s one of the lackeys of that death wizard that’s been ruining the whole region!”

“Well we may not be able to kill his master,” said the man with the sword, with a murderous glint in his eye, “but we can at least show this scum what happens to someone who messes with our home and families. Get him!”

Out of the corner of his eye, Shon could see Seth pick up a stone to put in his sling. But as the three men ran towards him, Shon could tell that even if his aim was good, there would be no way for him to loose a stone before the men got to him. Shon raised his hands in the air at the men and shouted, “Wait, stop! I don’t work for any death wizard!” but he could tell the men would not hear him.

Suddenly there was a yell and a loud crash of branches behind him, and a large figure rushed past from behind Shon. The man with the axe had already been thrown through the air and crashed into a tree before Shon realized that it was Tarun that had come crashing onto the scene.

Tarun had always been unusually strong, but Shon couldn’t believe how quickly and brutally he dealt with Shon’s attackers. The man with the spear rushed at Tarun, but at the last moment Tarun grabbed the spear and yanked it from the man’s hands. Tarun then snapped the shaft of the spear in half before kicking the man in the stomach and knocking the wind out of him.

“Demons and warlocks!” shouted the man with the sword, rushing at Shon again. “Die!” The man was only one step away from Shon when Tarun tackled him.

“You will not hurt my friend!” screamed Tarun as he lifted the man into the air by his neck. Despite how effortless the exertion looked, Shon could tell that the burst of strength and speed was taking a toll on Tarun. The injury on Tarun’s forearm, which hadn’t healed properly, had opened back up and was starting to bleed again. Tarun had not told Shon how he had gotten the injury, but with the blotched and swollen appearance of the wound, it made Shon worry about its seriousness.

“Tarun, you can put him down now,” Shon said. “His friends are running off, and it looks like he can’t breathe. I’m safe now.” Shon could tell from the intense and furious expression on Tarun’s face the he hadn’t heard a word he had said. “Tarun!” he shouted. “Enough!”

Suddenly a rock came zipping through the air and hit Tarun in the shoulder. Shon turned to see Seth already swinging another stone around in his sling. “That was a warning,” said Seth. “I really don’t want to have to aim the next one at your head. These rocks can be pretty dangerous when they move fast.”

Tarun turned his face towards Seth, and Shon could tell he had finally gotten Tarun’s attention, though he wasn’t sure if that was a good thing at the moment.

“Look, these guys attacked me and your friend here, but that doesn’t mean they deserve to die,” said Seth, his voice becoming gentler. “They’re just poor farmers who are desperate because of what’s happening around here. I’m sure they all learned their lesson today about robbing the innocent to get by. Just let him go.”

Tarun dropped the man to the ground, who began coughing and sputtering before quickly running away. Tarun then stalked toward Seth, and for a moment Shon was afraid that Tarun would either punch or choke him. But a moment before Tarun could lay a hand on him, Seth stepped forward, put his hand on Tarun’s injured arm and quietly said the word, “Almetesi.” Instantly, there was a blinding light under Seth’s hand, and for the first time in weeks Shon could sense the rage inside Tarun start to subside.

When Seth took his hand away, the open wound had been closed and all that was left was a thick purple scar. “What was that?” Tarun asked, feeling somewhat lightheaded.

“Just a word,” said Seth. “In our language it roughly translates to ‘peace’ or ‘mend.’ Do you feel any better?”

Tarun nodded and Shon stepped forward to inspect the freshly healed wound. “That’s quite an impressive bit of magic,” Shon said. “We’ve been bandaging that injury for weeks and couldn’t get it to stay closed.”

Shon extended a hand towards the young man. “I guess we’re lucky we bumped into each other,” said Shon. “What did you say your name was again?”

“I am Seth the IV,” said Seth, shaking Shon’s extended hand. “And luck had nothing to do with it.”