Erich stepped out of the darkness into driving rain. He reached up, shielding his eyes from the rain as he looked up into the murky gray sky. There wasn’t anything to see but uniform low hanging clouds.

  He reached up to pull his collar tight before wrapping his cloak tight around himself, suddenly grateful for Iston’s assistance. Erich wasn’t entirely sure about fighting a duel with his daughter, but the armor, food, and rain gear were angel sent.

  A line of cinderborn stood stomped their way into the cave, swords at their sides and heavy packs hiked up high on their backs. Inside the cave, workers piled supplies onto the carriages that were used to ship food, lamp oil, and medicine to the front.

  No one bothered him. Erich wasn’t sure whether Iston had sent word ahead or if it was as simple as no one caring. Either way, he welcomed the silence. There hadn’t been all that much time to think while traveling through hell. Every moment was a constant struggle against the heat and predators. Indecision or losing focus could kill him as easily as a blade or falling into a hidden crevice.

  Erich started walking. There was only one road into and out of the cave network so there wasn’t any need for him to ask directions. Theoretically he could try to wait for the rain to stop, but the sky didn’t show any signs of clearing up.

  Plus, the longer he stood in the cave entrance, the more likely it was that someone would stop and try to talk to him.

  Slippery and slightly uneven rocks crunched under foot as he walked, taking in the landscape of the new world. There wasn’t any real cover from the rain. Instead, large partially flooded fields stretched in every direction, filled with reed-like plants that bobbed up and down in the heavy wind five or so feet beneath the raised roadway.

  Here and there were individual trees that he didn’t recognize. Each of them stretched twenty to thirty feet in the air with massive thick trunks ending in a loose netting drooping dark green leaves. None of them were near the road, instead marking solitary existences on dirt mounds in the middle of the flood plains on either side of the road.

  Erich reached up to wipe water from his face, a futile gesture against the constant rain. Already he could feel water beginning to seep under his neckline, wetting the chainmail and wool undershirt that he was wearing beneath his mostly waterproof cloak.

  “Just like hiking back home,” he mumbled to himself. “One foot in front of the other until you get there.”

  Another look at his surroundings spawned a sputter of anxiety. He didn’t recognize the trees. He didn’t recognize the plants growing in the flood plains. There wasn’t anywhere for him to pitch a tent.

  Erich toe caught on a slightly raised plate of stone. It didn’t really hurt through the heavy boots provided by Iston, but it did make him miss a step before he caught his balance. He looked down, blinking his eyes against the rain.

  Underneath his feet the constant rain flowed off of the road and into the fields. The rocks that made up the roadway were clearly artificially organized. Someone had chipped them into more or less flat surfaces and embedded them into the dirt. It wasn’t anywhere near as solid or level as the cobblestone roads in Hollendil, but it was stable enough for someone to drive a wagon over it.

  Compared to the fields around him, it was angel sent. The lowlands weren’t completely flooded yet. Here and there he could see patches of damp soil around the steadily growing ponds and lakes, but it was clear from the way that the rain was pouring down that it was only a matter of time.

  He sighed. Nothing about his trek was like camping back in Burrwood. Worse, with each step it became more and more clear to him that he didn’t know the first thing about survival on this world.

  All of his experience hunting and trapping small game was useless. He’d built shelters out of downed trees, rocky overhangs, blocks of snow, and even chunks of sod, but none of that would do him any good. There weren’t trees, the dirt was more or less mud, and the only rocks came from the road itself and the mountain behind him.

  Each step carried him further from home. Each breath filled his lungs with new and unknown air.

  Erich looked up, raising a hand again to clear the beating rain from his vision as a smile began to grow on his face. He was cold, he was wet, and he was more or less lost, but ultimately he was free. More free than he’d ever been.

  He was free of expectations. He was free of the rules that had hemmed him in and forced him to fight a war that was beyond pointless. He was free of a family that considered him equal parts a burden and a tool.

  He was even free of his own self-limitations. Erich wasn’t a part of the Green River school anymore. He wasn’t part of any established martial arts sect. He could do what he wanted, go where he wanted, and learn what he wanted.

  More than that, as miserable as Tempest had been for his first couple of hours in it, it was still a brand new world. He might not know what the strange, solitary trees were, but he could learn. He might not know how to survive in the damp wilderness, but he could learn.

  Erich didn’t know who he truly was or what he truly wanted. There would be months and years for him to figure that out. What he did know was exploration. Discovering new things, finding new places, and figuring out how things work. That was something he enjoyed.

  The water continued to pelt his heavy cloak, but Erich didn’t feel anywhere near as miserable as he had when he first started out. What he needed was a change of perspective. Sure, life had dealt him a bad hand. His mind still shied away from thinking about the deaths of his friends, and there was nothing when he thought about the family that had abandoned him to the charnel house of war.

  But dwelling on that didn’t fix anything. A lot of people had tragic backstories. As abandoned as Erich felt growing up, there had still been food on the table and a warm bed for him to sleep in when he came back from his hikes. The same couldn’t be said for a lot of the farmers that were forced to fight as levy spearmen.

  There wasn’t any point in moping. He had his new martial arts and an entire world to explore. The only thing burdening him in the slightest was the quest he had agreed to undertake for Sathis, but even that was a matter of years. As long as Erich kept moving, it would resolve itself eventually.

  That thought sparked a little bit of warmth in his heart. Not enough to completely change his outlook, but it provided some warmth and comfort as he lowered his shoulder into the wind and rain.

  One step after another he trudged onward. The landscape barely changed. There were new trees and a couple of raised dirt paths that turned off of the road, but everything was more of the same. Empty wet fields. Tall, lonely, drooping trees. Each mile blended into the next.

  After about an hour and a half into his journey, Erich encountered his first campsite. Three crude walls held up a wooden plank roof around a cool fire pit filled with ash. In the corner sat a stack of firewood, sheltered and dry despite the constant rain.

  Part of Erich wanted to detour into the camping structure in order to warm himself around a fire, but he resisted. He had thousands of miles to walk, and a couple hours in the rain were nothing. Honestly, in light of the task in front of him, stopping now would be beyond pathetic.

  Lightning crashed overhead as he trudged onward. Erich paused to look up, watching the forks of light crawl across the sky. As soon as one bolt disappeared, another one lanced downward striking a distant tree.

  He started walking again. The tree didn’t burn. Instead the long hanging leaves stood up on end, crackling as they flicked back and forth. Deep inside himself, Erich felt his image stirring.

  Another bolt of lightning struck a different tree, Erich’s eyes tracing its descent. He drew his sword, squaring his feet into the first stance of the Magma Blossom style.

  His sword darted forward, as fast and savage as the stroke of lightning. The quick jab felt wrong. It wasn’t one of the great sweeping swings or slow overpowering thrusts of Magma Blossom. He couldn’t plant his feet and rotate his shoulders properly to drive the attack.

  Erich readjusted his feet and lunged a second time. It was still slightly wrong. He could feel some extra tension in his shoulder and tightness in his hamstring. A couple seconds later he spread his legs about a half foot further apart. He stabbed again.

  This time, his body felt right, but the sword itself was wrong. Another peal of lightning traced a spiderweb of light across the sky. Erich felt the image burn itself into this mind.

  He pulled his sword back, eyes still on the cloudy patch where he’d seen the lightning. Erich thrust again. This time his sword darted and jerked side to side mid strike.

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  It wasn’t quite right. Erich could feel the tension in his arm. The blow needed to be quicker and more savage. He could feel it in his bones with absolute surety, but at the same time, he knew that he wasn’t capable of what the attack needed with equal clarity.

  Erich sheathed his sword and kept walking, his sword thrust replaying itself in his head alongside the stroke of lighting. With each step he tried to match the two up, to merge them into each other.

  Before he knew it, he was walking past a second campsite. There wasn’t any way for him to know whether the sun was high in the sky or about to set. Erich paused for a minute as he weighed his options.

  He didn’t want to be stuck wandering at night. There was no light for the road, and without a moon or stars, he would be completely lost, more likely to fall off the road than to successfully make it to his next stop.

  On the other hand, he wasn’t actually tired. Day and night meant nothing on the bridge between worlds. Erich wasn’t sure whether he had exited the caves in the morning or at noon. He wasn’t even entirely sure how long he had walked. It could’ve been three hours and it could’ve been six.

  However long and far he’d traveled, Erich knew he had a couple more hours in him. Once again he shushed the voice inside himself that said that he could stop and step out of the rain. The sky was just as bright now as it had been when he stepped into Tempest. There were very real concerns with pushing himself too hard and ending up on the road at night, but his biggest obstacle right now was himself.

  Erich didn’t have a master telling him what to do anymore. He didn’t have a superior officer telling him when to wake up, when to eat, and where to go. He didn’t even have a family telling him what his expectations were.

  He was free, and that freedom went hand in hand with self-motivation. The only one that could make sure that he pushed himself hard enough to master the martial arts passed down to him by Sathis was himself. Erich was the only person that could ensure that he made good progress on his journey to Sathis’ home. If he let himself slow down and make compromises, that was a process that would never stop.

  Humid air filled his lungs as Erich took a deep breath and began walking again. He didn’t look back at the small camp shelter for fear that it would sap his resolve. His body was soaked despite the heavy cloak he was wearing, and the idea of a dry night spent beside a fire was as alluring as any fancy meal or drink had ever been.

  Step after step, careful not to trip himself again on the slightly uneven stone of the elevated roadway. Once again he started replaying the memory of the lightning strike and his attempts to replicate. There was something there. Erich couldn’t make up his mind whether it was a simple attack or an entire style of swordplay.

  He blinked. It was harder to see the road than before, and the fields themselves had all but faded into grayish black blur. Somewhere above the rain clouds, the sun was setting, pitching Erich into darkness.

  Erich shook his head, trying to clear vague daze and brain fog that still clung to him. Mental images of the thrust still replayed themselves slowly, fading into wisps of immaterial nothing as he focused his attention on the dim road ahead.

  In the distance, he spotted a dot of orange, flickering and dancing slightly as he plodded on. Erich quickened his step, the distant fire gave him a goal, something for him to aim for as he traveled.

  It grew closer with each passing minute, a boon given how quickly the world darkened. By the time Erich was within two hundred or so feet from the campsite, it was completely dark. He couldn’t even see the flood plains that lined the walkway.

  At the camp structure itself, a single wagon sat out in the rain. A single low-slung ox chewed on some sort of oats or barley under the roof to the left of the fire while an older cinderborn sat cross-legged to the right of the blaze.

  “Traveler!” The man called out, waving at Erich. “Come and share my fire. You’ll wander to your death if you keep traveling at night. I don’t know what region you’re from but it's the first week of garr breeding season here. The critters are pretty docile during the day, but they defend their territory at night.”

  “Thank you,” Erich croaked back, his throat scratchy from disuse. “I’m actually new to Tempest so I don’t know all that much about the dangers of travel around here. Your warning is appreciated.”

  He hurried over to the campsite. The occupant slipped to the side, making room for Erich as he stripped off his dripping coat and hung it up on some of the loosely piled rocks that made up its walls.

  “The name’s Allthier,” the cinderborn said cheerfully, extending a hand to Erich as he sat down. “And I’m presuming you’re someone from the bridge?”

  Erich froze for a second, panic flashing through him before he could force it down. He took the man’s hand, trying and failing to shake the man’s hand smoothly. Of course the traveler would know he was from the bridge. They were under a day’s travel from the caves and everyone else on Tempest would know the dangers posed by the planet’s weather and animals.

  Announcing his ignorance was as good as wearing a sign on his chest to declare his homeland.

  “Don’t worry stranger,” Allthier said with a hearty smile. “I’m not racist against humans. You’re just people trying to make a living too. I’m more than happy to share my fire with you so long as you aren’t a bandit, and this close to the confederate military base, I doubt anyone would be that bold.”

  “Erich,” he replied, dropping into a seat next to the man, “and you’re right. This is my first time on Tempest.”

  “You don’t look like a merchant,” the man observed, “are you a soldier? Swordsman maybe? I doubt the army would let an escaped slave grab a sword of that caliber on their way out.”

  “Swordsman,” Erich agreed, scooting closer to the fire. “The sword is my master’s. I trained under him while on the bridge and he died recently. I’m participating in the rite of mathliss for him.”

  A handful of lines appeared on the other man’s forehead and he pursed his lips for a second.

  “That’s the one where you have to go on a hike to honor the dead, right?” Allthier asked. Erich nodded back. “How far do you need to go anyway?”

  “Ember,” Erich replied, reaching out with both of his hands to warm and dry them in front of the fire.

  Allthier whistled, shaking his head slowly.

  “Ember? That’s a bit of a hike. Even by horse without any interruptions that’ll take you the better part of a year. Can’t say I envy you Erich.”

  “No horses,” he said, shooting the man a quick smile. “Part of mathliss is that I can only travel by foot or atop an animal that I’ve tamed with my own two hands. Don’t worry, I have a pretty good idea how miserable this is going to be. Still, it’s hard for me to measure how much I owe my master. It’s only right that I do this for him.”

  “Makes sense I guess,” Allthier responded with a nod. “I’m a merchant, but I’d be willing to travel a fair bit to honor my dad if he were to ask about it on his deathbed.”

  The cinderborn’s eyes were fixed on the fire so he missed the almost reflexive wince that flashed across Erich’s face.

  “That’s a fair bit of walking,” Allthier continued, “but honor is honor. It’s easy to be honorable when the village head is singing your praises and all the pretty young things are talking about all of your good deeds. It’s a good sight harder when honor means helping your neighbor harvest his crops until the dead of night because the fool broke his leg.”

  “I suppose that’s how you take the measure of a man,” Erich mused, turning his attention back to the fire. “It’s not what he does when things are easy. It’s what he does when the world is crashing down around his ears. At the end of the day, right is right and everything else is excuses and compromises.”

  “That so?” Allthier asked with a chuckle. “You’re a swordsman after all. An old school one at that. Some of the new generation pursue the position just because of the freedom that it provides from the laws of the land. They don’t realize the terrible weight that goes with that honor. More of a burden than a boon really if you ask me.”

  “Course,” the cinderborn said with a quick wink. “That’s why I stuck with being a yeoman merchant. Carting goods to and from the army is hard and wet work, but it’s also straightforward. I complete a shipment and get bits. If an innkeeper tries to overcharge me or a supplier tries to short me, the law will protect me. I don’t have to worry about big questions about right and wrong. I just do my job, and when I’m done with a trip, I get to spend time with my family. Not quite as simple as the life of a slave, but I don’t think I’d trade it for anything else.”

  “I suppose,” Erich replied. “Back home my family were merchants. They made a good deal of money, but I never really felt like they cared much what I did. I suppose they wanted me to live long enough to learn martial arts, but beyond that, I was pretty much a stranger that happened to share their blood.”

  Allthier shook his head, reaching behind him to grab one of the logs off the woodpile so that he could shove it into the fire.

  “Shame that,” the cinderborn responded, and strangely enough, Erich believed him. “My kids are my night and day. Half the reason I stuck with being a yeoman trader this long is to make sure that I have a little bit left over to pass on to them when they come of age. Being a slave isn’t the worst thing in the world, but I don’t know anyone that wouldn’t prefer the freedom of being a yeoman. It was hard for me to start out, but I ended up making it in the long run. I just hope to make it a little less hard for both of them.”

  The fire popped, sending a spray of sparks up and into the wet logs of the shelter roof. Thick white smoke rolled out the side of the structure, disappearing into the night sky.

  “Say,” Allthier continued. “I suppose you know how to use that sword at your side, right?”

  Erich shrugged, uncertain how exactly to respond.

  “I wouldn’t call myself a master or even a veteran, but I’ve been fighting for years and I’ve killed my fair share of people and monsters.”

  “Good enough for me,” Allthier replied. “I don’t suppose you’d mind traveling with Benny and me for a couple of days.” He nodded in the direction of the slowly chewing ox.

  “I’m going as far as Kratter, that’s two towns down. Ordinarily I’d have joined a caravan or hired a guard for the trip given how close it was to garr breeding season, but it was a rush job and none were available. Unfortunately for me, sometimes I have more ambition than sense.”

  “I got held up for a couple days in Madla during a monsoon, and now here I am.” Allthier shrugged. “Halfway between Madla and the bridge without any protection. If I travel quickly, I might be able to get lucky and make it back to Kratter before the garr start swarming the road, but I’d much rather pay some bits to ensure my safety.”

  Erich leaned back, pressing his spine into the uneven rocks of the camp shelter.

  “I don’t know anything about Madla or Kratter,” he replied slowly. “By the angels, I don’t even know what a garr is let alone how much a bit is. If we’re going in the same direction, I’d be happy to travel with you.”

  “West,” Allthier said with a smile. “We’re at the eastern edge of the world. Everything is west of here. It’d be a lot harder for us to travel in different directions at this point.”

  “Good enough for me,” Erich replied, extending his hand to the cinderborn. “I don’t know anything about this world’s money, so all I can do is put myself in your hands. Treat me fairly and I’ll keep the monsters off your backs.”

  Allthier accept his hand, pumping it once, a smile on his face.

  “I wouldn’t have it any other way, Swordsman Erich.”