The fire burned brightly, casting long shadows of the leafless branches over the snowy ground. Above, the stars glimmered with pure light in the heavens, save where Katamba's shadows produced a void of darkness.
"Why didn't you become a barbarian, Tirost?" asked Friyah, as she pulled the wolfskin cloak tighter around her body.
"You're a Therengian, aren't you? That's what my father says," chimed in Huber, before taking a bite of the rabbit on his skewer.
A small smile parted Lomi's lips as she listed to the other youths question the warrior mage. "I know," she said, gazing at Friyah with the superior look of one who is wisest. "He's not a barbarian because a moon mage told him a prophecy - that he would become a warrior mage and fight necromancers." The eyes of those sitting around the fire turned to Tirost. "It was Malzard's prophecy. Lymira told me," added Lomi.
Tirost shook his head. His fingers passed over the mourning band he wore on his left hand. "There was no prophecy, Lomi. That's a story my sister used to tell because it was interesting, not because it was true." A look of disappointment spread over the faces of the youths like the wind over autumn grain.
"But then why didn't you become a barbarian? Are you really a Therengian?" persisted Friyah.
"I was born in Therengia, but my mother grew up here, and so I am of the Wolf Clan too," replied Tirost.
Huber snorted. "If you were really one of us, you'd have trained as a barbarian." A few of the youths nodded in agreement.
"The Barbarian Guild has strong warriors, many from here in the Wolf Clan, like your mother and father," said Tirost. His crystal blue eyes hung on Huber like frost on a winter's night. "But I was called to the Warrior Mage Guild."
"Is it true you're a vile sorcerer?" asked Lanni, from beneath a bushel of red curls.
Tirost smiled. "Yes, I use some types of sorcery."
"I heard you're a necromancer," interjected Huber. "No!" shouted Lomi. "That's a gods damned lie, Huber!"
Tirost suppressed a chuckle. "I am not a necromancer."
"But you're in love with one - that's what I heard," said Friyah.
Tirost flesh flushed a deep red hue, and he took a long drink from his tankard. "All magic is dangerous," he said. Huber nodded in firm agreement. "But knowledge is our best defense, and its pursuit is a calling from Meraud."
The fire crackled as the branches resettled. Faintly, and at a distance, hoofbeats could be heard in the snow. Tirost rose swiftly to his feet. "Stand beside me," he said as he traced the geometric sigil of the Fortress of Ice spell. Something in the tone of his voice startled the youths, and they quickly rose and stood beside the knight.
Four horses galloped along the path from the east. They slowed, and the glint of a gladiolus brooch on one of the riders' cloaks caused Tirost to released his spell. "Hail! Is the Warrior Mage Tirost Armagna among you?" All of the youths eyes turned to the warrior mage.
"I'm here," replied Tirost.
"I am Sir Erdregar of House Denesal," replied the rider. "You are being summoned by Lord Liev and Lady Emmilyn."
"You could have gwethed," replied Tirost.
"We tried. It seems you've removed your gwethdesuan," replied Erdregar. Tirost smirked. "We need you to leave with us right now. We have orders to escort the children back to their homes."
A collective moan filled the night air. "This is a special time for -"
"As a Warrior Mage and Knight of Zoluren, you are summoned before Lord and Lady Denesal," interrupted Erdregar. "There are questions regarding what took place on the Basalt Isle."
"They'll want to speak with Navesi."
"She has also been summoned."
Tirost frowned, and nodded. Turning to the youth of the Wolf Clan, Tirost said, "I will speak with your parents when I return. We will climb the mountain at midnight, and you will earn your place in Trefan Ulf, I swear it."
One of the riders dismounted and gave her reigns to Tirost. "I will escort them home." Upon hearing her voice, a faint smile touched Tirost's lips.
"Torya!" came Lomi's voice. "Yes," replied the woman of the Wolf Clan who'd joined the service of House Denesal. "They let Tirost lead the rites this year? They must be desperate." The youths laughed, as did Tirost as he swung himself into the saddle.
"Farewell," he said.
"Farewell," said Torya.
"Is Tirost going to be punished for using sorcery?" asked Huber.
"No," replied Torya with a grin, "but he should be." Erdregar, Tirost and the other guards turned their horses and rode east. The cold night air rushed past their cheeks beneath the starlight.
