6 Rivals, Part 1

The elf maiden looked young for a ljósálfar, but that didn't mean she wasn't dangerous. I could never forget that otherworldly beauty that thoroughly hid the wicked thoughts of those bright elf cultists who'd kidnapped me when I was an eleven-year-old preteen clueless to the ways of the larger realmsverse.

Maybe this was why I moved between the she-elf and Dwalinn as if I could protect him from the evil elf maiden even though I had no weapon in my hands. The dwarf was quick to catch me by my belt and pull me back though. That's when my prejudice—one born of painful memories I could barely recall without feeling anxious—gave way to rational thinking and the realization that my hostility wasn't necessary… at least for now.

"As I was saying"—Dwalinn gave me the 'you are an idiot' glare while he moved to stand at my side—"this weirdo needs a guide."

The she-elf's light gray irises inspected my face. She must not have liked what she saw there because her pale lips quickly formed into a frown. Admittedly, I was glaring icy daggers at her too. That might have been why. I couldn't help it though. My memories of the past were far too vivid for me to let my guard down around her.

"You want me to show the human around campus, Grandmaster?" she asked in a voice that sounded like honey being poured into one's ears.

I was surprised by how it differed greatly from the hate-filled, venom-spewing tone I remembered from those ljósálfar cultists. Maybe bright elves weren't all inherently evil after all?

"No, no..." Dwalinn's eyes drifted over to the window which had darkened in the time since the she-elf's arrival. "We don't want to disturb the night classes. They're not a friendly bunch, and it would be a waste for Mr. Wisdom here to get his head bit off after he barely survived the Crucible."

Dwalinn guffawed long and hard. I didn't think his joke was that funny though.

"Take him to the tower and help him adjust with the other weirdoes of your school," Dwalinn ordered.

"You're from that school too, Grandmaster," the she-elf reminded him with a smirk that any male other than me might have found endearing.

Dwalinn certainly did. The dwarf was blushing when he dropped a coin into my hand. No, it wasn't a coin. It was a copper token that had the symbol of a raven etched on its front and a tower at its back.

"That badge identifies you as a member of the Tower of Mages," Dwalinn explained. "The copper indicates your status as an apprentice novice."

Finally, I was offered a mystery that pushed the memory of those cultists to the back of my mind, helping to cool my mood slightly.

"How long does it take to rise in rank?" I asked.

"That's up to you." Dwalinn jerked a thumb over at the she-elf. "While most apprentices tend to repeatedly fail their advancement tests, it only took Ms. Lockwood half a year to rise to journeyman... but she's a wunderkind." He eyed me up and down. "I'm not sure what you are yet."

Dwalinn reached for the gold cord around his neck and pulled it up so I could see the softly glowing crystal pendant attached to it. This crystal was about the size of a thumb. It sparkled like a diamond that had a metallic sheen to it, marking it as a hearthstone that had grown to the rank of orichalcum, the strongest known metal in the realmsverse, which was also proof that Grandmaster Dwalinn was one of the highest-ranking adventurers on active duty.

A hearthstone had several functions. Besides being a kind of dog tag that showed off one's rank, they were also a passport that imprinted a traveler's personal information into them—and I'm not just talking name and birth here, but even internal data related to a person's soul. More importantly, the hearthstone was also a magical tool that allowed someone to create a 'waypoint' that made travel between realms easier.

See, it wasn't just about stepping through a rainbow portal to get from point A to point B because there were more realms in the realmsverse than letters in the alphabet. A waypoint was a marker that stored the coordinates of a particular realm into one's hearthstone, allowing a traveler with that waypoint to easily access the specific realm from almost any rainbow portal in the realmsverse.

"Show me your hearthstone, Mr. Wisdom," Dwalinn instructed.

I pulled out the silver cord I kept hidden underneath my shirt and showed him its crystal pendant. Unlike Dwalinn's orichalcum hearthstone, mine didn't have a metallic sheen to it. It was clear like glass. Proof that I hadn't yet reached the qualification to become a proper adventurer despite my experiences of following Divah around on her many adventures.

"I was going to speed up the 'waypoint' process for you but your hearthstone's already twinkling like a star…" Dwalinn's eyebrow rose slightly. "It takes nearly half a day of hanging around in a realm to build a waypoint. How'd you manage it in two hours?"

Technically, I'd been in the Academy's zone for longer than the two hours it took for my third round of the Crucible to finish. And, because my hearthstone was soul-bound to me, it simply counted my previous deaths as part of the overall tally. Dwalinn didn't know that though so I had to act like it was just a lucky coincidence.

"It's rare but quickly building a waypoint does happen from time to time," Ms. Lockwood added.

Picking my side when I needed an alibi, well, that was certainly one way to get me to stop glaring daggers at her.

With the she-elf's argument seeming to curb the grandmaster's curiosity, Dwalinn waved us away. Then, after that now-familiar feeling of having the world tilt around us, we found ourselves standing in front of a closed stone door that had been intricately carved out of a large outcropping of rock jutting out of a massive tree branch.

"Okay, that was cool, but I'm never getting used to that," I said.

"No one ever does," Ms. Lockwood replied. "Come along, Wisdom..."

She turned away from the stone door and made her way across the wooden bridge of knotted tree limbs without waiting for me to follow.

I took a second to marvel at how gracefully she moved—a trait born from the elven blood in her veins—before I remembered that she was ljósálfar, and I had to keep my guard up if I didn't want to get stabbed in the chest. Again.

"Baldr's balls," I whispered. 'She's way too distracting…'

I caught up with Ms. Lockwood just as she stepped off the bridge that separated the grandmaster's office from the main campus which at first glance seemed like something born from an artist's wildest imaginings.

We stood at the top landing of a series of stone steps that were heavily carpeted by moss the color of late autumn. At this height, I was given a panoramic view of the Academy's campus which seemed even more otherworldly as it basked underneath the starlight that filtered past the world tree's canopy.

A wide clearing at the bottom of the steps spread out into a garden of verdant grass and trees all sporting the colors of late autumn. Vibrant flowers grew among healthy shrubs, while vines and moss carpeted the odd outcropping of stones along the path circling the garden. In each of the cardinal directions of north, west, and south stood three grand buildings of wood and stone that had been built in the architectural style of those old Viking longhouses; long, wide buildings with curved thatched roofs shaped to look like the underside of a ship. Peppered around these three longhouses were much smaller dwellings, notable in how they differed from the big three in their purpose.

Several chimneys on a smaller-sized longhouse suggested a blacksmith's forge. While another was a stable that housed... "Are those griffins?"

"Yes," my guide answered coolly, driving me to glance sideways at her.

Ms. Lockwood was almost a head taller than me. She was dressed in a sleeveless, light brown leather vest and pants that did little to cover the lithe form all ljósálfar shared. Although the muscles showing on her bare arms and the obvious curves of her chest also revealed that this elf maiden was probably a half-breed—part bright elf and part human maybe.

As for her face, well, I think I already mentioned that she was beautiful, and she was.

Framing Ms. Lockwood's oval face was long, chestnut hair that fell across her shoulders in wavy curls. Her eyes were a pale gray hue, like the color of the sky right before a storm. Her skin was the alabaster white of a goddess statue that had suddenly sprung to life. Her nose was long and pointy just like her ears which further emphasized her elven heritage.

What I found most interesting though was the saber strapped to her belt. The sight of them caused my brows to twitch upward in excitement. It was a reaction she noticed right away.

"If you want to ask, then ask," she said flatly.

'Sheesh, someone got up on the wrong side of the bed this morning…' I understood her unfriendly approach to me though as I had treated her pretty badly when we met. Her frostiness didn't stop me from satisfying my curiosity though. "That sword doesn't look like the kind of weapon a mage would carry."

Long, pale fingers grasped the hilt of her saber which I just realized held a softly glowing green stone on its pommel. "It's a spell-saber. And I'm—"

"You're studying to specialize as a Spellblade Enchanter!" I answered excitedly. "You're training in a tradition of arcane arts that incorporate swordplay and dance into your spell-crafting so that you could be useful on the front lines instead of hiding in the back like most seidhr practitioners." It should be noted that I said all of that in one breath.

"No one likes a know-it-all..." With that said, she hurried down the steps, leaving me to follow in her wake...