Immortal Swordslinger 1

the third day, we reached the guild house. Even to my inexperienced eye, it was clear when we were getting close. Statues appeared at bends in the winding road, depictions of men and women who Faryn told me were previous guild masters. Dusk was falling and, as we came further up the road, we saw statues holding flaming brands to illuminate the route. As we crested a final rise, I found myself standing upon a rocky plateau, the whole area lit by a giant pillar of flame that emerged from a hole in the ground. Beyond it was the guild house itself.

“I know it’s humble by guild house standards,” Faryn said. “But it’s home.”

“Humble?” I muttered, incredulous.

The place was amazing. It looked like a fortress out of a martial arts movie, with layered towers looming above forbidding walls, curved roofs above balconies patrolled by armed guards, and symbols painted 12 feet tall across the front.

“This pales in comparison to the Guild House of Resplendent Tears. That house is carved from solid ice,” Faryn said. “And I heard that there’s one in the mountains where the walls drip with liquid rock.”

We walked around the pillar of fire and approached the guild’s gates. Now that I was past the initial moment of wonder, I started seeing signs of the relatively low status of the guild. The rope hinges of the gates were frayed and the paintwork had peeled in places. There had clearly been time for some repairs and maintenance, but not enough to give the place its full glory. I hoped that this wasn’t why Tolin had made me do so much handiwork—so that I could become a glorified janitor here.

The gates swung open as we approached. I wondered if they were powered by magic, as the flame on the plateau obviously was, but once inside, I was disappointed to see a group of guards shut the gates and bar them behind us.

Faryn led me across a courtyard bustling with activity—trainees practicing swordplay and Augmentations, servants carrying boxes and bags, and men and women in ornate robes overseeing them all. It made for a lively contrast with the quiet of Tolin’s deserted temple, with only the old man and his cat.

At the far side of the courtyard, we entered the ground floor of one of the towers. This whole floor of the building was a single, high-ceilinged hall. Groups of masters and students stood in clusters while they shared quiet conversations. At the far end was a raised dais holding half a dozen wooden stools, their simplicity offset by the grandeur of the dragon banner behind them.

Only one of the stools was occupied. On it sat a man in simple black robes with a gold and crimson dragon embroidered on his right breast. His long, black hair, tinged with white at the temples, was tied tightly back. He sat with perfect posture, shoulders square and back stiff as he watched.

“Greetings, Disciple Faryn,” he said as we approached. His voice was quiet yet clear, and as he spoke, the rest of the room fell silent.

“Master Xilarion.” Faryn sank to her knees at the base of the podium. I did the same and then, mimicked Faryn when she folded her hands in her lap

I had heard a lot about Xilarion from Faryn. This was the man who had taken her in when she was young, protected and nurtured her through the most difficult period of her life. The way she talked about him, it seemed that they were as close as father and daughter, yet I saw none of that here.

“Who is this?” Xilarion asked.

“This is Ethan Murphy lo Pashat,” Faryn said. “His clan asks that we take him in as an initiate of the Radiant Dragon.”

“Ethan Murphy.” He turned a steely gaze upon me. “I recognized the robes of Clan Pashat the moment you entered this chamber, but I don’t recognize you or your name. I thought that your clan had all but died out.”

“It has.” I tried to match my voice to his solemn tone. “I have been adopted into the clan by its last surviving elder.”

“How do I know that you are not some thief who stole those robes or a trickster who copied them?”

I hadn’t expected such a challenging reception. I sensed every eye in the room on me and tensed, ready to leap into action if I needed to defend myself.

“I do not only wear the robes of Clan Pashat,” I said. “I also know their augmentation forms, as taught to me by Tolin lo Pashat. And I have this.”

I pulled a scroll from inside my robes and laid it on the floor in front of me, unsure whether I should stand to hand it over. Fortunately, I was saved from that decision. A servant scurried forward, picked up the scroll, and handed it to the master.

Xilarion unrolled the scroll, written by Tolin and affixed at the end with his clan seal in gray wax. After reading for a moment, the master rolled it back up and set it down on the stool beside him.

“Very well,” Xilarion said. “If you can forge a fire pathway within you, then you may join the initiates of the Radiant Dragon.”

“This is outrageous!” A young man strode over. He wore green robes embroidered with a red eagle, his delicate features framed by black bangs. He looked familiar, but I couldn’t work out where from.

“Hamon,” Master Xilarion said sternly. “The status of your father and the power of Clan Wysaro do not give you the right to speak like this before a guild master.”

Now, I knew where I recognized the guy from. He was one of those I had seen training as I made my way through the city, after first arriving in the Seven Realms. The moody-looking son of the head of Clan Wysaro.

“I apologize, Master Xilarion.” Hamon bowed at the waist. “But my clan does not acknowledge the ties of adoption, only those of blood. To claim entry into the guild