Erich took a hasty step back, his mouth gaping in shock. Sathis smiled up at him, a hint of teeth visible through the man’s dark lips.

  “Oh don’t worry,” the downed warrior said dismissively. “I’m not a zombie or anything foolish like that. I still have a week or so to live before I die from my wounds, but my death is inevitable.”

  “The elf chose to attack me as I was breaking through to the ninth tier for a reason,” he continued. “As one increases their tier, it becomes harder and harder for a martial artist to improve their image. I was training in isolation because the process makes the user incredibly vulnerable while they solidify their advancement and my rivals would know that. One strong attack is all it would take to crack or shatter my image, leaving me to slowly bleed out aether until I die, desiccated and powerless.”

  “And Nettlewisp…” Erich trailed off.

  “Yes,” Sathis said, surprisingly agreeable under the circumstances. “None of the warriors that attacked me were strong enough to shake my foundations, but his final spell was fatal. I suspect he didn’t know that I had managed to advance into the ninth tier. If I were still in the eighth tier, his defensive wards would have been enough to stop my hasty attack and he would have survived while I perished. It was a well thought out but cowardly attack. Luckily, the snake didn’t have all the information he would need to emerge victorious.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Erich replied, a hitch in his voice as he tried to find the right words. He’d never been good at these sorts of things. Maybe it was because he didn’t have many real friends growing up, but every time he had suffered a loss it felt like it was happening to someone else. For the first time, the death and heartache actually felt real.

  “Don’t be,” Sathis said dismissively. “All men die. You are dying right now as well, just much slower than me.”

  “That’s an enlightened approach to the situation,” Erich responded slowly. “I’m not sure I could face my death with a quarter the calm you’re displaying right now. I’m pretty sure that I would be screaming and railing at the unfairness of fate.”

  “I considered it,” Sathis replied with a chuckle. “It wouldn’t accomplish anything, only sully my dignity. More than that, it is not like everything is completely lost. I can still pass on my legacy and memory.”

  “Human,” the cinderborn continued, his glowing yellow eyes seeming to pin Erich down. “What is your name? I’ve given you mine and it is only polite to return the favor.”

  “Erich Saphir, first tier swordsman of the Green River School.”

  The cinderborn nodded slowly, a quick wince of discomfort flashing over his face as he reached up with his left hand to stroke his chin.

  “Green River School,” Sathis said contemplatively. “I think that’s your problem. An image learned from a school is generic. It limits the power you can display while also making it harder for you to advance tiers. There are schools on Tempest and Cinder, but they are only for the martial artists without much talent. For a skilled individual, let alone a prodigy like you, it’s a tragedy to do anything but push you to form your own image.”

  “Is that even possible?” Erich asked. “I thought that images were closely guarded secrets, handed down from master to apprentice over the generations. I suppose there must be a method to make a new one somewhere, but I never really thought about it as an option.”

  “An image requires inspiration,” Sathis answered. “A moment when the user becomes wholly connected with nature, creating the perfect medium to integrate their natural abilities with the physical world. For me, I meditated on the edge of a volcanic cliff, breathing in ash and toxic fumes for months on end before the volcano erupted. As I watched the lava explode into the air only to flow down a channel barely five feet from the end of my leg, I was struck by a vision of the moment. A picture that attached itself to my subconscious and would not let go. That became the image, the foundation of my sword style.”

  “Erich, I suspect you have something like that too. I can feel another image, dormant underneath the muddy river that your teachers forced upon you.”

  He opened his mouth to deny the cinderborn’s words only for a memory to overwhelm him. Erich was twelve once again, hiking in the hills behind Burrwood with nothing but a tent and two days' food in his backpack. As he set up his camp for the night, a storm blew into the valley below, dark heavy clouds that pelted the forest with the first rain of spring.

  Logically, he should have just stayed in his tent, riding out the storm, but something drew Erich outside. Even now, seven years later, he could remember with crystal clarity the way he walked out until a nearby crag and watched the storm. The way the wind blew aside a bank of clouds revealing a patch of clear starlight even as lighting struck the forest, igniting the dry wood that had not yet absorbed the spring rain.

  That split second was frozen in time. A jagged spike of lightning illuminating the raging forest fire, all in front of a backdrop of gentle starlight.

  Something in Erich’s chest rippled. He could feel his image shaking, blurring and vibrating as it tried to fight off some disruption.

  “Yes,” the cinderborn said softly. “There it is. I can’t see your image, but I can feel its presence through your aether. It’s remarkable that you’ve already managed to have an awakening given the strength of your affinities. Ordinarily, the more affinities you have and the more powerful they are, the harder it is to find an image that suits all of them at once.”

  “Honestly,” Sathis said with a tired smile. “Forcing you to learn a water and life image is such a tragic waste that I can’t help but wonder if it was intentional. Even if you were originally taught the image in good faith, any skilled martial artist would be able to tell that it was a poor fit and direct you onto the right path.”

  “What would you consider a skilled martial artist?” Erich asked, dropping into a crouch next to the cinderborn so that he could address the man more easily. “My instructor was third tier and the most powerful man in our column was fifth tier. Our unit mostly relied upon the support of high circle elven mages and their honor guards of loyalists.”

  Sathis shook his head, eyes flashing in disbelief.

  “A fifth tier might notice, but they would need prolonged physical contact. Tell me human, why are your people so profoundly weak? I knew that the Cothleer forces relied more on numbers than skill, but it’s absurd to believe that in your entire unit there wasn’t a martial artist above the fifth tier.”

  There really wasn’t much for Erich to say. There wasn’t anyone in his column that was over fifth tier. Once a martial artist surpassed that level, they gained the ability to manifest their image in the external world. The first through fourth tier made a warrior supernaturally strong, fast, and resilient, but once they learned manifestation, a fighter could perform feats of magic that transcended the purely physical, using their martial arts to mold the very world around them as if they were a mage.

  Individuals on that level were sent back to Cothleer. Whether it was to make sure that there weren’t powerful martial artists that could challenge the elves for supremacy or to train the warriors into more skilled weapons for the Empire’s constant wars of conquest, no one knew for sure. Just that any martial artist that made it to the fifth or sixth tier wasn’t likely to remain with the army for the entirety of their ten years.

  “Never mind,” Sathis continued, reading Erich’s hesitation perfectly. “The past hardly matters in this cave. I don’t have enough time left to worry about inconsequential details and loose ends. Instead, the two of us should focus on the future.”

  “You are weak.” The words pierced Erich like an arrow. “There’s no getting around that human. As you are now, no matter how hard you practice and train, it would be a miracle for you to make it to the third tier. That’s enough to truly be a martial artist, but barely so.”

  “But that does not have to be the case,” Sathis said, an undertone of urgency driving his words. “You have the potential to be the greatest swordsman I have ever seen. There may be some myths or legends in the distant past that could have surpassed you, but none of them are alive today. So-”

  He stopped, the glow from his eyes increasing somehow.

  “Erich Saphir. Become my apprentice. I don’t have long to live, but I have trained with the sword for the better part of four decades. For all of that, I have not yet reached mastery. You on the other hand have the talent to surpass me in half that time. My legacy and my sword are doomed to fall in this place, but through you a small part of my swordsmanship can live on. Fair or unfair, that is the best I can hope for at this time. I will not stop you if you walk away into the dark, but we both know that journey is one that ends with your death.”

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  The cinderborn was right. It was hard for him to avoid the fact that, unless something changed drastically, a solo journey out into the eternal night of the unclaimed lands would result in his immediate death.

  “But why?” Erich asked. “And how? Of course I would benefit if you can teach me to be some sort of supreme warrior, but I don’t understand what you get out of this. I know that a legacy is important, but you don’t fool me for a minute. There has to be something else behind all of this.”

  Sathis smiled back at him. A hint of sadness glinted in the other man’s glowing eyes.

  “You aren’t wrong, but it’s nothing I will force on you. At the end of our training, I will make two requests of you. Both of them will be very selfish, but at that point I will be too weak to do anything even if they wanted to. In cinderborn culture, the favors that II will ask of you can only be completed by an apprentice and even then, only voluntarily. If you said no, I would be disappointed, but there would be nothing more I could do without betraying my honor. Think on my offer Erich. The training will be painful and difficult, but beyond that you have nothing more to lose.”

  It was hard to clear his thoughts while Sathis smiled up at him, but it was even harder for Erich to find the flaw in the older martial artist’s reasoning. If Erich was free to turn down the older man’s request, there really wasn’t anything to lose.

  “Fine,” He replied, nodding at the injured cinderborn. “If you have a way to turn me into a supreme swordsman, I’d be a fool not to take it. Even if I were to die out here anyway, some extra instruction and training couldn’t hurt.”

  “Oh, it’s going to hurt,” Sathis said with a dark chuckle. “After all, the first step is destroying your image.”

  Erich froze, his eyes widening.

  “Isn’t that…” he began, stopping halfway through the thought. His tongue darted out, wetting his lips uncertainly. “Isn’t that literally why you’re dying right now? I might have misheard you earlier, but I don’t think I’ve heard of anything good or beneficial coming out of someone destroying their own image. More the opposite really.”

  “Death or insanity are the two most common results,” Sathis replied. “Breaking an image becomes more dangerous the higher your tier is. At first tier it isn’t likely to kill you, but it will almost certainly drive you mad. If you were third tier or higher, I can almost guarantee that the process would be fatal. As is, destroying your image will be agonizing but you should be able to do it. Probably.”

  “No need to be hasty,” Erich blurted out, waving his hands back and forth through the air between them. “Why do we need to break my image? I don’t mind hard work, but the way you describe this, it’ll be so agonizing that it drives me insane. That seems like something we should only do if it's absolutely necessary.”

  “It is necessary,” Sathis said easily. “If you knew anything about elemental affinity, you’d understand. It’s as obvious as the nose on your face. Each person with the ability to gather aether and control mana has one or more affinity, but not all affinities are created equal. The stronger someone’s talent for an element, the greater the powers they can manifest at each tier. That means that someone like you with an absurd potential for fire and lightning should be stronger and faster than a fighter with normal talents even if they are a tier or two above you.”

  “Before the fifth tier when you gain the ability to manifest your elements into the outside world,” Sathis continued, his voice taking on the practiced cadence of a lecturer, “the differences aren’t quite as obvious. Someone using the fire element will have more strength than someone using the water element, but the water user will be more agile. At the same time, different elements work better with different styles of techniques. For example, the image you're using is predominantly water and life based. That means that your swordsmanship largely focuses on agility and defense, weathering and misdirecting an opponent’s attacks before countering at a critical moment.”

  “Yes,” Erich replied with a frown. The cinderborn had never seen him use his sword. There was no way he could have made a judgment like that without there being some truth to his words.

  “An image needs to match a martial artist’s elements and talent,” Sathis replied. “If it is missing an element that you have a proficiency in, you cannot use that element. If it is weaker in an element than the user, the user’s ability to use that element is capped at the strength of their image.”

  “What about if there is an element in the image that someone can’t use?” Erich asked. “I think you said that the Green River was a water and life image, but you never mentioned me having any talent for water.”

  “You don’t have any talent for water Erich,” the cinderborn replied, shaking his head ruefully. “Not a single lick of water attribute potential in your entire body. What that means for you is that gathering aether is almost impossible. The weaker a user’s affinity is in comparison to their image, the harder it is for them to accumulate the aether that they would need to advance a tier. That’s why it has seemed like your training has plateaued. Without your above average talent for the life element, you wouldn’t have even been able to absorb this ‘river’ image that your school fed you.”

  “So that’s it,” Erich said unhappily. “That’s the reason why the last four years of my life have been a living hell for barely any gain. All of it solved by a one minute explanation of magic theory that no one in Burrwood knew anything about.”

  He sighed, running a hand through the closely cropped brown hair.

  “I should accuse you of lying, but I’ve seen the steps the elves have gone to in order to keep Hollendil weak. Compared to the way that they actively sabotage the army’s efficiency, concealing a couple key pieces of information isn’t actually all that surprising.”

  “I will never understand the Empire,” Sathis replied. “The three worlds of the confederation trade with each other, but the cost, distance and difficulty of travel across the world bridges makes a single governing body more time and effort than it’s worth. Crippling subservient worlds out of fear or revolt might make a government more stable but it weakens the whole. After all, how many warriors like you have been consigned to dying in mediocrity just because your masters feared your ability?”

  Erich didn’t say anything. There wasn’t really anything for him to say. What was he supposed to do, tear his shirt and beat his chest over the unfairness of it all? Over the way the elves ‘let the humans do what they wanted’ so long as their citizens paid a ruinous fifty percent tax. The entire system was rigged from the start, meant to crush the will out of Hollendil’s humans so thoroughly that the thought of revolt and independence never crossed their minds.

  “Fine,” he said, gritting his jaw. “I don’t care how much this hurts or how miserable it will be. I’ve suffered plenty to date and I can suffer some more if it means actually getting enough power to control my own fate. Teach me.”

  “Good,” Sathis responded, pointing at the rubble strewn ground in front of him. “Take a seat in front of me. I will have to fully map your body before we begin. The process isn’t entirely safe, and most people wouldn’t even consider trying it until after they had a new image established and ready to go.”

  Erich sat down, nervousness churning his empty stomach. Bile sizzled in the back of his throat, a reminder of his recent experience with nausea on the stairwell.

  He almost jumped when Sathis’ hands touched his back. A warm tingle ran through his body as the other man’s mana began to infiltrate him. The bruises and exhaustion from the attack began to fade visibly as the cinderborn hummed quietly to himself.

  “Please activate your current image,” Sathis said, startling Erich. “I need to see what we’re working with.”

  Erich closed his eyes, focusing on the mental picture of the river. Only about twenty feet of it were clear. The rest was a bit hazy, like there was some fog or mist obscuring it. Water gurgled in the visible portion, flowing at a brisk pace as it passed over the roots of the trees lining its banks.

  In the sky above him, lines of red began to creep in, growing and branching until they looked like a webwork of veins encapsulating the entire scene. Erich tried not to think about them, knowing from experience that any distraction would shake and weaken his grip on the image, almost to the point that he couldn’t use any mana for his swordsmanship.

  Sathis clicked his tongue behind him.

  “Inefficient. Weak control over water. Almost negligible life affinity. This is like handing a warrior a broken sword. It might almost be better to not give him anything rather than encouraging him to throw his life away using something as foolish as this.”

  “Now try to call up your other image,” Sathis continued. “The one that you thought of earlier. It obviously won’t be solidified with aether, but I should at least be able to gauge it before we begin.”

  Erich nodded, eyes still closed. He pushed the picture of the river aside. He could still feel it inside him, wrapped up in a web of red as he sent his mind rushing back to that night on the hillside.

  The image snapped into focus, and it felt like Erich was sitting there in the dark once again. He could feel the warm spring rain pattering on his skin. He could even smell the sharp odor of the pine forest beneath him. Then, the lightning struck, lighting up the entire hillside even as the stars shone through up above.

  Time ground to a halt, but still the scene felt more real than anything. The colors, the feeling, the urgency of that moment all swelled around Erich threatening to overwhelm him even as he sank into their depths.

  “Phenomenal,” Sathis said breathily. “Most martial artists would meditate for years to find an image this striking. The stronger a warrior’s affinities, the harder it is to find an image that will work with them. Given the magnitude of your talent, it would have been easy for you to go an entire lifetime without finding an image that suited you.”

  Erich licked his lips. At some point they had dried out.

  “What’s next?” Once again, the nervousness was roiling in his stomach like a nest full of snakes.

  “The next step is for me to use my mana and destroy your image,” Sathis replied. “Once that happens, you will instantly lose all of your martial arts and you will begin leaking aether. Your entire body will feel like it’s being ripped apart because, to a certain extent, it will be. You will be unable to sleep or rest until you manage to establish a new image and solidify it with aether. If your will is strong, you will have maybe two days before you go mad. Most people can only make it ten to twelve hours once their image is totally destroyed. Regardless, we won’t have much time.”

  Sathis took a deep breath, his voice losing what remained of its levity as he addressed Erich somberly.

  “So I must ask you for the final time, Erich. Are you ready for me to shatter your image? There is no shame in saying no. You are subjecting yourself to pain beyond imagining all in exchange for the distant hope of power. Are you ready to suffer for that dream?”

  Erich nodded.

  Twin spears of heat jammed into his back, emanating from both of Sathis’ hands. Liquid agony branched out from them, like the catching and biting thorns of a bramble patch, shredding his insides.

  The image of the Green River, a mental artifact that he had spent years developing and nurturing shook once, the red bands of energy surrounding it pulsing with malevolent light. Then, it shattered and everything went white.