Mother had always wished for a daughter, but William had never been able to meet her expectations.

William had known it his entire life. He'd seen it in her disappointed glances as she trained, her blonde hair flowing. But he couldn't think of that right now; he had to harp.

He scarcely heard the music as his hands flew over the minstrel's harp. The white garb he was clad in was loose around his hands as he strummed the harp. Blonde hair fell over his shoulders as Rusara watched beneath a dark hood and green eyes. The cavernous hall he was in seemed to warp and mutate the sounds. William kept his eyes away from the skeletal figures carved in stone on the high ceilings above. He hated this room with a passion.

A fire was burning in the hearth, but his hands were still cold. So why did Lady Rusara insist on having her lessons here? There were many smaller, better rooms. So why did Rusara always insist on the most unpleasant one?

William had grown to hate these stones around him.

But it hardly mattered. No one questioned Lady Rusara except Father; he'd been gone for years. Even Mother wouldn't dare.

"You're thinking too deeply," said Lady Rusara. She brushed a strand of blonde hair from William's face with one gray-skinned hand. That was the mark of the Dust Elves of Artarq, the Dust Lands, and other places. There had been Dark Elves long ago, but they had long since bred into different races or fled far beyond this realm. "You haven't touched the strings of your harp."

William rose and looked at his harp, carefully carved and fit for his hand. William loved his harp, but it was getting small for him. He hadn't realized he'd drifted off, but he had. Then, mortified, he looked up in shame. "I'm sorry, Rusara. I'm... I'm not in a good state of mind."

"That doesn't matter," said Rusara, pulling down her hood. "Someday, your life may rely on your ability to play the harp. If you have not practiced, where will you be, then?" She paused to draw a small strip of dried meat and offered it to the crow on her shoulder, Skullcracker. Skullcracker snapped it up and flew up to land on the rafters.

"Dead, I suppose," said William. That was what happened to people who weren't prepared in this world of Erian.

"Exactly," said Rusara, "now start again."

William played once more. His hands felt unnatural as he plucked the strings. The proper melody always eluded him, no matter how he tried to make music. The task was a difficult one that was hard to master at the best of times. It was far harder than swordplay, but he much preferred the music. If only it wasn't distorted by this horrible room.

"Passable," said Rusara, "you need work and ought to be a bit less stiff. If you fear failing, you are more likely to make mistakes."

"I'm nothing like Mother, am I?" asked William.

"That may not be as bad a thing as you think," said Rusara. "Every person is different, William, and few are exactly like the people who bore them. You have Azgora's hair and strength, but your eyes you take from your father. That and much of your personality."

"Father is a great hero," said William thoughtfully. "He's a victor of many battles. But I'm not like him."

"You don't have to be," said Rusara with a smile. "A person may serve their nation, people, and god in many ways. Vanion didn't think much of his chances either. He was only a passable warrior at the best of times. Yet his cunning turned him into a great leader. So continue to improve yourself; you may be great one day."

"I don't want to be great," admitted William. "Is that why Mother hates me?" Would that he could gain anything from her but scorn. Yet he served little purpose in this place, held back long after all the others had gone.

"Azgora doesn't hate you," said Rusara. "I've seen her when she hates someone, and it's altogether different. She is unsure of how to react to you. She was very set in her ways when I first met her, with clear expectations. Vanion defied those expectations, and that attracted him to her.

"I think she wanted to tame him. Not that it worked, and it threw her into doubt when she bore a son instead of a daughter. Her people are very different from-"

"I know," said William, "she never stops talking about it!"

"Don't use that tone with me," hissed Rusara, violet eyes flashing. "I am talking."

William shivered as Skullcracker cawed in what might have been laughter. "I'm sorry, Lady Rusara; please continue."

"I was mostly finished," admitted Rusara. "Don't lose sleep over it. Seek to excel as best you can in all ways; sooner or later, she should come around. If she doesn't, then she is not worth the time of pleasing her." She looked up at the table and set aside the scarf she had been knitting. "The sands in the hourglass have nearly run their course. You'd best get on your way and meet with Raynald at the front gate. You know how he despises coming to get you."

"I only got caught reading in Father's library once," objected William.

"Then you'd best not make it twice," laughed Rusara. "Get off with you!"

William set down the harp and slipped out of the chamber into one of the black stone halls of Carn Gable. He felt a familiar presence around him, but he could see no one. He looked down the hallway behind him. "Felix, you don't have the skulk like a thief."

Felix emerged from the shadows, his dark skin having blended with them. The red-eyed boy sighed. "I need the practice. So are we going to meet Raynald this time? Or are we heading for the library?"

"Raynald," said William.

"Good," said Felix, "I don't like it when you break the schedule. I get blamed for it."

They made their way through the torchlit halls. From there, they walked down a flight of stairs and out the keep's doors into the courtyard. There, the pages and squires were practicing under the watchful eye of Raynald. He was leaning against the wall near one of the front gates. His withered right arm turned away, his orange hair growing a bit long.

Only the hand and the steel ring on it could be seen. He was flipping his serrated sword into the air, then catching it with practiced ease with his good hand. There was another instructor there, of course — a woman named Maria. She trained people when Raynald was busy. Usually, when Raynald taught his students, he took a direct hand, yet now that was not the case. What was going on?

Whatever it was, Raynald must have spotted them out of the corner of his eye. He gave William a crooked smile and stood straight to his formidable height. "Ah, William," he said before turning an evil eye to Felix, "and the Calishan. I was hoping you'd arrive on time today.

"Why does everyone keep acting as if I'm always late?" asked William. "I'm not."

"I could argue against that," mused Raynald. "Follow me. Also, pick up those packs lying by the wall. We're going up into the highlands, and we'll need supplies."

"Couldn't we just have it out here?" asked William.

"Sometimes you need to walk before you get the chance to fight," said Raynald. "This will help you get used to traveling. Why, you always ask? The answer is always the same."

"The last time I asked that, we just had it out here," William firmly believed in forthright honesty.

"Hmm, you may be right," admitted Raynald. "I'd better cut that out. Let's go."

They made their way out of the looming gates and onto the road. The spring air was chill, as it usually was this time of year, and the winds were strong. Gusts were blowing their hair around them. Farmers were planting cabbages, potatoes, onions, and many others. William felt pity for them, for it had been a more brutal winter than usual. The wind was howling in his ears, and it stung a bit.

After a time, Raynald broke off the road and led them into the trees. Soon, they went up into the hills, clambering up huge stones. William wondered where exactly they were heading. He had a few guesses based on their direction. The trees around them protected them from the wind and their cloaks, but it was still cold. Their breath became visible as they scaled higher into the hills. William pulled his cloak closer around him.

Finally, they came out of the tree and found themselves at the base of a tower. It was at the peak of one of the hills. There was a sharp look to it. It was like a black knife that had stabbed up through the earth to loom above all the world in silent threat. Once, William had stood at the top of that tower and gazed upon all the surrounding lands.

Looking back, one could see the castle of Carn Gable. It was a fortress of fierce outlines and jagged towers. It looked like a tiny model on a fake landscape from this height. It was the sort Raynald had used when teaching battle strategy. The many farms and villages that surrounded it seemed insignificant. When he had first gazed on them from on high, William had wondered if that was how the gods saw such things.

He'd been up here once or twice before, and the majesty of the place never lessened.

Raynald turned to him and flourished his sword with practiced skill. The air seemed to scream in agony as the blade cut it. He smiled. "Draw your sword, William. You are under attack."

William drew his sword, and then he had no more time to think, for he was too busy fighting. Raynald unleashed a series of jabs and lunges with his sword that William barely parried. The onslaught drove him further and further back. Finally, slowing his retreat, William tried to go on the offensive.

Then Raynald made a scarcely perceptible movement with his blade. William's weapon went spinning from his hand. Raynald was slow to bring his sword in for the kill, and William rolled away to catch the blade as it fell. Raynald took a defensive stance with a smile. His mentor loved battle; he always had.

William rushed at him and struck at Raynald. But, unfortunately, his blade turned, and he lost his sword again. William felt the serrated sword at his chest. He looked back and saw that his sword had plunged its blade into the ground. Raynald motioned to it, and William went to grab it.

"Better," said Raynald, "yet not good enough. Again."

It was a typical session with Raynald. Defeating him was impossible. As his skills increased, William found he could last longer, even take the offensive. But, unfortunately, it always ended in swift defeat. Raynald fought in a godlike fashion, always seeking to slash and lunge. No matter how he improved, he could never get a tie with Raynald. He didn't understand why Raynald hadn't given up on him.

Raynald had told William a thousand stories about great battles. He, Rusara, Father, and later, Mother had fought many of them and gone on many adventures. They were inspiring and a joy to listen to. But, none of this made said training any less painful.

He was never hurt, of course. Raynald was far too skilled for that. But he often got bruises. Raynald would sometimes rap him with the flat of his blade to remind him of some mistake or oversight. He was almost always sporting these; he had another by the time one batch healed. William did the best he could, but Raynald was a relentless teacher.

As always, Felix watched, sitting on a rock with his head propped up in his hands. He looked very bored, of course, but William knew he was judging him. He didn't like the fact.

When they finally stopped for the day, William was gasping for breath. Raynald didn't even look winded. As the withered-armed man sheathed his sword, his smile dimmed. "You've advanced well, William. You haven't been slacking as much." Then Raynald looked up to Felix. "Calishan! Bring the bags; we'll eat now."

Felix obeyed without question. William felt a surge of resentment towards Raynald. It didn't seem fair to treat Felix this way. It wasn't his fault he'd been born of an inferior race. Even so, he didn't say anything. Raynald was much older and more experienced than him, and it was not proper to question him.

They had rations for their meal, which soldiers used in the field. They were dry, chewy, and stuck in the throat. William hated them. When Raynald introduced him to them, he'd had trouble keeping them down. However, over time, he'd learned to tolerate them just as he'd learned to accept sleeping on the ground. Not that he'd ever had a chance to use these talents at this rate.