He was lost. That much was apparent due to his stumbling confusion; constant checking of landmarks, and complete three hundred and sixty degree turns every so often. He had passed my camp 4 times, overlooking the warm glow of my fire every time. On his fifth time around, I threw a small rock in his direction. He whipped around, and for the first time, he noticed my small fire. He nonchalantly strode over to the fire, and pretended to be right where he wanted to be. He had a regal sense about him, and acted as if he owned my meager camp, the entire forest, and me.

“Greetings; I am Evvan, Prince of Kiergstadd, Duke of Alagany, son of the fierce King Jorge Darkenmoor.” He proclaimed this aloud, in such a way that he probably expected me to fall at his feet prostrate. “Since you are in my forest, I require you to feed me, give me a bed and direct me on my way the next morning.” Sitting still through his whole introduction and rash demand I slowly raised my head and looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

“You want me to feed you?” I smiled at him in such a way that I was sure he didn’t think that I was going to do anything of the sort. “And just how do think you are going to make me do that?” After this impromptu challenge, he turned bright red. He stuttered mumbled responses as he worked himself back into a calm state. As he slowly took deep breaths he gazed down at me with a growing look of contempt.

I now had an average height young man with loose brown curls flowing down to just above his neck staring at me angrily. He wore bluish robes with enough gold inlays that I didn’t doubt his claims of royalty. From the inner folds of his robes he produced a wicked jagged dagger and medium-length sword with enough expensive jewels and precious metals to support a family from my village for a whole year. They were decently forged, but the jagged edges provided for several weak points on both blades. They were effective enough for the purposes of intimidation and show, but they didn’t match up to anything that my father or even I could make.

My father is quite literally a master smith, who used to live in the courts of different kings, making them some of the finest weapons and armor, until his rebellious attitude and stubbornness got him kicked out. He presented dilemmas to all of the monarchs who thought to hire him, them choose between his quality work, and his flippant attitude. Finally he settled down in a small village, hid a king’s ransom in gold all over the property and had a family. We always lived comfortably, even though he charged the other farmers ridiculously low prices for his wares. From a very young age, he taught me his trade and now I would say that although still not as good as him, I could have started to offer my work to the highest bidder, but something prevented that.

The prince standing above me feinted with his dagger, bringing me back from my reminiscing. I shifted backwards, pretending to be frightened, but actually casting my arm backwards and grabbing my trusty axe, given to me by my father after for one of my birthdays. I waited until he brought his dagger up for a thrust, and leaped at him. This caught him off guard and he held up his sword and dagger in an X to fend against whatever I was going to do to him. Rather than actually hurting him, I swung my axe in a slow sweeping arc at his weapons. Just as I had suspected the axe bit through the dagger, tearing it in two at the hilt, rendering it useless.

I rose out of my fighting stance and hooked my axe back to my belt, as the young prince looked in disdain at his ruined armament. The blade lay in the grassy floor of the forest, and the hilt just sat in his left hand. A worried look washed over his face and he managed to replace it with an outset of conviction and resolve. He casually tossed his sword and dagger to the ground and rolled up his sleeves.

“I’m afraid my simple friend, I can’t be defeated that easily. For, you see, I am a formidable Water mage and although you may have the advantage in brawling, you will not overcome my prowess in the arcane.” At these words, he brandished a mark on his upper right bicep. It was a small tear shaped water drop, and it was very artistically done. There was no mistaking this as the mark of a water mage. However, this drop was small, and it was nearly transparent.

Seeing this, I laughed, as this pieced together several things, including his presence in the forest, and his cocky nature. He was an aspiring mage, being one of the eight youths picked by the High Council of mages to be trained in the great magic arts. Each of the four elements, Earth, Fire, Air, and Water, all got two new mages each year, one male and one female. They would go through a rigorous training process, and then be apprenticed to an older mage. After their apprenticeship, they would become Journeymen mages, roaming the countryside, doing good deeds. After a sizable deed, the mages would become recognized as masters of their craft. At this point they would take on apprentices of their own. Once their apprentices had become more powerful, they would move back, and train the new recruits. After the recruits moved on, the mages would become members of the High Council themselves. The size of the bicep mark determined the user’s prowess, and by the looks of it, my new “friend” might be able to summon a weak stream of water, but not much more. I had a similar mark, except for the fact that mine was a small flame, marking my abilities as a fire mage. Unfortunately, I wasn’t much stronger in the arcane arts than him, so, if we clashed, it would end in a draw. I also bared my mark, and he recoiled in shock. The fact that two of the recruited youths were in such close proximity before their official training started was a noteworthy occurrence. The fact that we were not getting along so well, however, wasn’t all that strange. Water and Fire, opposite elements, didn’t fare so well together and by token, neither did the mages that controlled them.

“You too are a mage?” he inquired with an incredulous look on his face. “Who knew that even a dirt-poor farmer could be a mage? Figures that you’re only a fire mage, and nothing too powerful. I mean, most fire mages can’t even write their own names, and don’t even let me get started on their personal hygiene—OOF”. I decided not to let him get started on my personal hygiene, and lowered my shoulder into his gut. He stumbled back, the wind knocked out of him. As he passed in-between two trees, I mumbled a short incantation and a perimeter of fire leapt up around my camp. This was my one useful skill, other than not being susceptible to flames, but that comes innate in all fire mages.

All mages got token skills. Fire Mages could handle flame with no injury, and because of this, could throw a bit of fire, but nothing that powerful. Water Mages could breath under water and could spout water out of their hands, I guess. The Earth Mages could transverse through solid rock, and shift the earth slightly. Air Mages had the ability to hover, and the ability to control wind. Before training, these skills are all weak, so he would probably, shoot a stream of water at me, and I would turn in into steam, and we would basically be at an impasse. I had learned the firewall skill in a book that had resided on the top shelf of my father’s library. It was an autobiography of a long dead Fire mage, but on the back of the last page, there was a small diagram and three spells. The first incantation laid a post of the perimeter, and the second connected all the nearest points with a wall of fire. The final incantation dispelled the wall and all of the nearest points. I could hear him pouting on the outside of my wall, but he made no attempt to enter. I finished the meager meal that I had been working on before I met the other mage, retired, and stretched out on my bedroll, drained from this use of magic.

I awoke early the next morning, just before the sun started to rise. I quietly dispelled the firewall, and rolled up my pack, reaching into the glowing ashes of my fire, and smothered them with my hand. Confident that I wouldn’t burn down the forest, I quietly took my bearings, by looking at the moss growing on the trees. As normal, I headed a bit north of east, and passed by Evvan, who was sleeping quite soundly. By midday, I was out of the forest, and heading across the flatlands, and towards a large stone that rose out over the horizon.