The fury inside me ebbed away. The landscape of fire faded, and I found myself back on the earthly plateau, Xilarion’s hand resting on my head.
I opened my eyes. The fire he had sent into me was gone, but now, my own fire burned brightly. I felt it in my guts, on my tongue, in the pulsing of blood in my veins.
I had forged the fire path.
Xilarion took his hand back and gestured for me to stand. A pair of servants ran forward. As I rose, they draped a long cloth around my neck so that it fell across the front of my body like a bishop’s stole, black silk embroidered with a red and gold dragon.
“Welcome to the Radiant Dragon Guild, Ethan Murphy lo Pashat,” Master Xilarion said. “May you do your guild proud.”
Chapter Seven
I felt like I was adjusting to a new world all over again. Instead of sleeping in my own chamber, as I had at the temple, I was given a bed in a barracks hall, with a chest at the end in which to store my possessions. There were 10 beds in total, and as the days of testing passed, they filled up with other initiates. They were all a little younger than me, in their late teens and early 20s, fresh-faced and eager to please. Though they had grown up with magic and monsters in the world, it was clear that the guild was as unfamiliar to them as it was to me. If anything, they looked more nervous than I did. For many, this was their first time living away from home, whereas I’d been taking care of myself for most of a decade. Fitting into a new place took a little effort, and learning the layout and the routines was somewhat tiresome, but it wasn’t going to throw me off my game.
The ranking system was something I discovered the hard way, since speaking out of turn or disrespecting a higher ranking member would lead to serious punishments. After polishing the floors for three nights in a row, I etched the five ranks into my mind: initiate, outer disciple, center disciple, inner disciple, and master. Radiant Dragon had few members beyond the initiate rank, and even fewer masters. We were told that most were out on field missions, but even then the total number of guild members wasn’t beyond a hundred. I got the feeling that Radiant Dragon was a guild that was past its prime, desperately holding onto its existence.
Every day started before dawn when an outer disciple, a guild member ranked just above initiate, woke us with the ringing of a loud gong. We had only a minute to get out of bed, pull on our robes, and get seated on the floor for the first of the day’s long meditations.
The first time it happened, that seemed absurd to me. How were we meant to find our calm and channel the energy within us when we’d just been rudely awakened after a night of each other’s snoring? But within a few days, I started to appreciate the challenge. Fresh out of bed, unwashed and unfed, shivering in the draught from an open window, it took every ounce of will to set aside physical discomfort and focus on the channels of Vigor.If we could tap into our inner energy under those conditions, we could do it any time, including in the heat of battle.
There was no breakfast to follow the morning meditation, only lectures and physical training. Fasting through the morning was meant to build up our mental stamina. Maybe it worked and maybe it didn’t, but either way, I was always famished by the time we stopped for lunch. Afterward, it was on to more lectures, more exercise, and finally, two hours of chores, the masters using us to keep the guild clean, tidy, and in some semblance of good repair. Only after our evening meal were we given time to relax, socialize, and get to know each other—except for those so exhausted by the day’s labors that they fell straight asleep.
Not all of our classes were about the arcane arts and martial techniques. Master Xilarion believed that a rounded understanding of the world was vital to the success of the guild, and this was reflected in its curriculum. Lessons in magic were interspersed with others on philosophy, politics, etiquette, nature, and history. I paid particularly close attention, trying to learn the things that would seem obvious to my fellow pupils, to fill the gaps in my knowledge that came from an upbringing on another world. I didn’t want to interrupt the lectures, so I held back my questions until all the initiates left the room, then ambushed my teachers with a string of enquiries. Some, like Faryn and Xilarion, were happy to answer. Others, like Rutmonlir the beast hunter, rolled their eyes as I approached. But no one in the guild said no to helping me learn.
Kyu was the resident historian, a mature woman only about four feet tall with a single ocular lens about an inch thick. She reminded me a little of a gnome, her plump cheeks and button nose only adding to the image. Her long lectures might have bored me like they did the rest of the class, but I was new to the Seven Realms. Every date, war, and cultural tidbit was a delectable taste of a veritable banquet. I soaked in her knowledge and grew more accustomed to the world.
History class was where I finally learned about something that had been bothering me.
Kyu made a brief remark about the Immortals, Augmentors of great power who practically ruled the heavens. She said that they were capable of riding the winds, penetrating the depths of the seas, and standing inside the very heart of a volcano. I’d experienced only a little power through
