He startled awake to harsh sunlight on his face. He blinked and looked around, but Daelyn was nowhere to be seen. Finally, he stood up and stretched.
    Leaning against the cold stone wall and yawning, he looked around the barrow. The morning sun cast its light through the door, illuminating the small pile of treasure. Delgar blinked. The hoard no longer seemed luminous, but old and rusted instead. The once intimidating skeletal guardian was reduced to a dusty pile of bones. Delgar frowned, suddenly regretting losing the fearsome wonder of the night.
    “I had wondered when you would get up!” came a familiar voice, and Delgar turned to see Daelyn in the doorway, an apple in his hand. “You’ve slept for some time; it is past mid-morning.”
    “Are we leaving now?” Delgar asked.
    Daelyn tossed him the apple. “Eat that first, and then we’ll be off.”
    Delgar happily bit into the apple. For a moment he wondered how he could feel so refreshed with so little food. But then Daelyn was calling him, and emerging from the barrow, they began to walk to the southwest.
    In the first day of travel after the barrow, they came to a small forest, where Daelyn led Delgar to an ancient grove. The afternoon sunlight shone down in warm waves, and for a brief moment Delgar felt completely safe.
    “This is a Tuatha de Danaan holy place,” Daelyn explained. “Here we can commune with the essence of the natural world. You’ll need to learn to recognize such places, as they are part of the magic of the world around you.”
    Delgar nodded. “Is this part of being a wizard?”
    “It can be,” Daelyn said. “If you follow the true path.”
    Then Daelyn muttered something in his musical native tongue, and they were off. That evening they camped on a hillside, Daelyn standing a silent vigil all night.
    The next morning, he told Delgar that they were near Pakaria and its warlords.
    That day, they drew near some small mountains, but turned west instead of trying to pass through them. It rained lightly in the afternoon, and Delgar found himself wrapping his cloak around his body as the rain pattered down. If Daelyn was disturbed by the rain, he gave no sign of it.
    It was on the third day that they saw the battle. They spent the morning climbing up a long rise, and as the sun bore directly overhead, Daelyn stiffened.
    “What is it?” Delgar asked.
    “Two forces are fighting,” Daelyn stated. “They’re in our path. We’ll have to wait until they finish and pass.”
    “A battle?”
    Daelyn grimaced and nodded. “People are dying this day.”
    They spent another hour cresting the ridge. As they walked, Delgar heard clashing metal and the faint screaming of men. Finally, they reached the top of the ridge and gazed down at the conflict. Two small armies were battling in a valley. The first wore red cloaks, and the second wore blue cloaks. As Delgar watched, the red-cloaks began to press back the blue-cloaked army.
    “Who is who?” Delgar asked.
    “The people in blue cloaks are soldiers of Taerraland,” Daelyn said. “The others must be from Pakaria.”
    Delgar shook his head. “It doesn’t look too bad.”
    “It is an exercise in terror,” Daelyn stated. “When you fight, all you can think about is surviving to the next moment. As soon as you lose concentration, you die. As soon as your luck runs out, you die.”
    Shouting erupted within the blue ranks, and the army surged forward, pushing the red-cloaked fighters back. For a moment Delgar saw one of the soldiers clearly, waving the other red troops on, but then the man was surrounded, and something pale and bloody flew into the air.
    “They’ve killed the Pakarian commander,” Daelyn said. “We should be able to go through soon.”
    “Should we go down and help?” Delgar asked.
    Daelyn shook his head. “That would only get you killed. The only time you should ever fight is when there are no other options. We will wait, and then we will go to Taerra.”
    “What is Taerra?” Delgar asked. “Is it this entire land, or is it just a city?”
    “A city. It holds the throne of the castes, and it holds the Mageschool.”
    “Won’t I have to pay to learn magic?” Delgar asked.
    “Money is not an issue,” Daelyn said. “After all, right now you are my charge.”
    Delgar looked back to the battlefield to see the red troops fleeing from the field. The Taerran soldiers cheered for a moment, and then began to gather their dead. Delgar fiddled, every now and then glancing at the position of the sun. Finally, after what seemed like hours, the army quit the field.
    Daelyn nodded. “Right. Now we may go down.”
    The two travelers made their way down the crest and onto the battlefield. As they came within sight of the corpses, Delgar gagged. The stench of death filled the air, a combination of blood and excrement. Around them blood-flies hovered over the corpses, beginning their horrible feast.
    Daelyn stopped at one corpse and called Delgar over. Once the young man had made his way there, Daelyn motioned at the dead soldier.
    “This is the face of war,” the Tuatha de Danaan said. “No glory, no great victory, only death.”
    Delgar nodded sadly. “I think I have seen too much of it now.”
    “Then hopefully you will never forget.”
    They made their way off the blood-soaked field, and Delgar finally managed to calm his nauseous stomach. Once they left the battlefield behind, they came to a large hill near the mountains. Behind them, the sun began to set.
    Daelyn nodded. “Just over that rise you will see Taerra.”
    Delgar started up the hill. “What are we waiting for, then?”
    He came to the summit and looked out. Far away in the southwest lay a small jumble of towers. Even with the great distance, Delgar’s mouth fell open in shock.
    The towers seemed to reach towards the sky, and there were so many of them! Thousands of people could live in that city. All around the settlement lay vast tracts of farmland, small communities dotting the landscape, barely visible.
    “Your first city,” Daelyn said. “And for the next few years, your home.”
    “I had never dreamed...” Delgar stammered.
    “We are but two days away,” the Tuatha de Danaan stated. “Until then, you will have to admire its beauty from a distance.”
    “Let’s waste no time!” Delgar whooped, starting down the hill.
    “Stop!” Daelyn barked, and before he could think about it, Delgar staggered to a halt. “Come back up here and rest for the night first. You’ll do no good at the Mageschool if you arrive there dead from exhaustion.”
    Delgar sheepishly climbed back up the hill.
    The next two days Delgar spent in a state of excitement. Every second moment he pressed Daelyn about what the city would be like, but the soldier only shrugged off his questions.
    “Will there be books there?”
    “Probably,” Daelyn said.
    “Will there be food there?”
    “You’ll see.”
    “What about scholars? Will there be scholars?”
    “You’ll find out when you get there.”
    “Can’t you tell me anything?”
    “You’ll have to work very hard.”
    “But what else?”
    “Delgar, you’ll find out when you get there.”
    Later, Delgar thought he had been unfair to Daelyn, but then, in the prime of his youth, all of his burdens fled with his new excitement. A city full of things for him to discover!
    For his part, Daelyn spent the majority of the time with a small smile on his face, as though he was reminded of a pleasant time. Finally, on a bright, sunny afternoon, they came to the gates of the city.
    Delgar followed Daelyn around the city in a state of glee. The streets were filled with people, and there were pubs on almost every second corner. The high towers stretched to the sky, and a grand castle dominated the northern end of town. Merchants hocked their wares from corners of city streets. It was almost as if every dream of the small village he had grown up in had been realized by this magical place.
    Finally, they came to the gates of the Mageschool. The Mageschool itself was a small walled town inside Taerra, with a robed, heavy-set guard sitting just inside the open gate reading a book. Daelyn walked up to the guard and smiled.
    “Still buried in the pages of Yuliman, Corant?” the Tuatha de Danaan asked, grinning at the bearded, middle-aged man.
    The guard looked up in shock. “Daelyn! It’s been decades!” he said in a deep, rumbling voice.
    Daelyn nodded. “True. Is Berran still the chancellor?”
    Corant nodded. “There have been one or two Archmages who have tried to take the chair away from him, but they’ve never been able to get the popular support. Berran still runs things well, although he has said that if Vertanus ever wants the chair, he’ll have it.”
    “Could you send a message to him? I have a new student here, and I am in a hurry. I think he’ll see me.”
    Corant nodded and stood up. He walked inside the gatehouse for a moment, and then a young student mage, wearing red robes, burst from the gatehouse and ran into the small town.
    “I trust you know your way?” Corant said.
    Daelyn nodded. “Of course I do. Come along, Delgar.”
    Delgar followed the Tuatha de Danaan through the quiet streets of the Mageschool, glancing in awe at the ancient buildings. The streets were paved with small stones, and robed figures wandered the streets, usually carrying books or satchels.
    “When you meet the chancellor, you will be meeting one of the most powerful Archmages in all of Mideorth,” Daelyn said. “Be polite, follow my lead, and speak only when you are spoken to.”
    “Won’t it look good if I seem enthusiastic?” Delgar asked.
    “It will appear far better if you are respectful. Your future is at stake here.”
    Delgar nodded. “I understand.”
    They came to a large building built almost like a cathedral, and Daelyn motioned the young man inside. Delgar stepped into a small, stone hallway with a high ceiling.
    “The chancellor’s office is this way,” Daelyn said, leading Delgar through a labyrinth of corridors. Finally, they went through a door into a large office where a thin, clean shaven, silver haired man sat at an ancient desk. Around the desk were four padded wooden chairs.
    Daelyn bowed politely. “Chancellor Berran.”
    Berran nodded. “It is good to see you Daelyn. I understand you have a student for me.”
    Daelyn motioned for Delgar to take a seat and sat down. “As usual, you get to the point.”
    “Both of us are in a hurry,” Berran stated. “Is this your student?”
    Daelyn nodded. “His name is Delgar Daegar’s son.”
    Berran turned to face Delgar. “Are you from Nordland, boy?”
    Delgar nodded. “Yes, sir.”
    “Can you read, boy?”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “Can you write, boy?”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “How old are you, boy?”
    Delgar gulped, counting for a moment. “Fifteen winters, sir.”
    Berran nodded. “A bit young, but I think you will manage.”
    The chancellor turned back to Daelyn. “He’s polite. I’m impressed. Usually the rich come in with these spoiled brats who want to look good for some tavern wench.”
    “He has incredible promise,” Daelyn stated. “Fleot’heortan and I are in agreement about it.”
    Berran nodded. “That is impressive.” He took a closer look at Delgar. “I can see the wyrd surrounding him.”
    “Look closely,” Daelyn said.
    Berran’s eyes widened. “Could this be true?”
    “I have never seen anybody with such potential in my life, Berran. This is where he needs to be.”
    Berran leaned back in his chair. “And who will sponsor him?”
    Daelyn dropped a small pouch on the table. “I will. His tuition and allowance, to be added to any scholarships he earns.”
    “You know our payment schedule?”
    Daelyn nodded. “Payment is not an issue.”
    “And his supplies?”
    “I would prefer that the Mageschool supply them,” Daelyn said.
    “We used to include that in our scholarships,” Berran said. “But we have not done that in some time.”
    “Then I will pay for his supplies as well. Take the money out of the first installment.”
    Berran took a parchment and quill pen out of his desk. “What program do you want him in?”
    Daelyn leaned forward. “An Archmage program in a natural magic concentration, with some general theory and control magic. The best program you can offer.”
    “That would be our eight year program.”
    Daelyn nodded. “That will do.”
    Berran turned back to Delgar. “Boy, I won’t finish signing you up unless you actually want to be here. Do you want to be here?”
    Delgar nodded. “Yes, sir.”
    “It is going to be eight years of very hard work. After your fourth year you will be a Mage, and then you will be allowed to decide on your main concentration for Archmage training. Then you will train for another four years, and then you will be an Archmage. If you do not keep a high academic standard, you will be re-evaluated and then perhaps expelled. You are answerable to myself, your tutors, and your sponsor; in your case, Daelyn. Are you still certain you want to go through with this?”
    Delgar swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. The realization of the vast importance of his decision washed over him. What if he said no? He could be a mercenary, wander the world, find lots of books...
    But the thought of all that knowledge, all that learning, pulled at him. As he thought about it, he realized all that he could accomplish through his training, and he could still see the world afterwards.
    Finally, he shook his head. “Yes, sir. I am still certain.”
    Berran smiled and shook Delgar’s hand. “Welcome to the Mageschool of Taerra. I will have a novice come and take arrange for your lodgings. Your timing is wonderful, and the new term starts in two weeks. You’ll probably need that time to settle in, anyway. I’m sure you’ll make Daelyn proud.”
    Delgar just nodded and prayed to the Eternal One he had made the right choice.