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Description
Runar Dalgaard

Runar Dalgaard stared at the symbol of the Element of Fire at the head of the page. As an Inlandian he was no stranger to runes. They were, after all, an integral part of his people’s alphabet or, at least, they had been before Ten Inlands was annexed by the Domanian Empire. Since then many things had changed. To be more accurate, many changes had been forced upon his people – their alphabet had been abolished and their traditions were seen as heresy. The Seiðmaðrs and Seiðkonas – male and female mages, respectively – were branded outlaws and condemned to death.

Runar glanced up at the young man who sat on the opposite bench to him at a table that was set in a garden, surrounded by college buildings within the academy. Despite being surrounded by stone walls, the garden received plenty of sunlight. The day was bright, the air was warm, and Runar’s mind was troubled with the problem that had been set for the Adepts.

‘Take two elements that lie in opposition, and find a way to make them work in concert.’

The problem was a leading one. No-one had been told which elements work in opposition. Of course their Master, Kalgoran, expected them to put in the work of research themselves to find two opposing elements. He had also tasked them to work together to solve the problem – a problem which, he had said, had more than one solution. This seemed obvious, since there were twelve elements to choose from. But knowing which of them were opposites? Therein lay the conundrum.

The young man who sat opposite Runar – Malik - was a little shorter than Runar and wore the traditional outfit of an Adept – a grey tunic and pants with a black belt and black leather wrist gauntlets. His ginger hair was a stark contrast to the dull shade of his robes. Whenever Runar looked up at Malik he always seemed to notice, and smiled at him. Runar stiffened and looked back at the book in front of him, but he didn’t focus on the problem. His mind drifted to how he came to be at the Academy. The tale was by no means a saga but, in Runar’s mind it was at least the beginning of his.

He was born in the small and isolated coastal village of Steinvollr which lay between the towns of Lundar and Vertoak in the nation of Ten Inlands. When Domania invaded the Inlands, warriors came from all across the nation and fought for their respective Jarls – the title that was given to each of the kings of Ten Inlands. The war lasted for almost a decade. The Inlandians were stalwart warriors, but Domania had almost limitless forces to call upon and, ultimately, Ten Inlands was annexed by the invading forces.

With near-mountainous hills to the west, the sea known as Misty Tides to the north, and dense forests to the south, Steinvollr had managed to avoid the worst of the conflict and, while all of the major settlements of the nation became occupied by Domanian forces, many smaller villages were overlooked and received only occasional visits from Domanian generals and a small force for the purposes of tax collection and, later, to seek out any Seiðmaðrs or Seiðkonas who might possess the ability to work magic.

Ten Inlands had been under Domanian occupation for over a century by the time Runar was born. He was raised, as many Inlandian village children were, to hate their oppressors but was taught to keep his head down and not to draw attention to himself. Even after more than a century it grated on the pride of the Inlandians to live in such a manner, but survival was the strongest driving force in these small settlements. Things became difficult for Runar when he reached puberty and began to show signs of innate magic. It showed itself in small ways at first, but more conspicuously when the young man became angry or frustrated. Since there were no mages to teach Runar how to control his magic, his parents were forced to hide his ability and they hid it well, but visits from Domanian tax collectors and ‘witch hunters’ triggered Runar’s temper, and the magic would inevitably show itself. It was because of this that Runar was hidden away in a cellar beneath his home during such visits, with food and water to last a few days, and he was released only when the Domanians had long departed.

As time went by the boy’s magic became harder and harder to conceal. A meeting of the village elders was held to discuss the matter and the choice they had was simple: either turn the boy over to the Domanians, or get the boy out of Ten Inlands altogether. The first choice was abhorrent but, unless Runar learned to control the power he held, he would continue to be a danger to the whole village. Their only option was to send the boy away.

When the next taxation visit came and went, the plan was set in motion: a boat had been constructed by the villagers, larger than the other boats, and stronger so as to withstand more turbulent waters, yet still small enough to pass as a simple fishing boat. Runar was brought to the village centre, where he was subjected to extensive tattooing and branding to the right side of his face, his right arm, and the right side of his torso. It was a long and ancient tradition for Inlandian Seiðmaðrs and Seiðkonas to be so marked, and Runar did his best not to scream or cry as the hot needles inked his flesh. Still bleeding from the tattoos, Runar was taken to the boat. He was to be accompanied by one man – a fisherman from the village – who had volunteered to take Runar across the Misty Tides, into Skalmond’s Crossing and to the shores of AEngland. Magic was not so frowned upon there as it was in the Domanian Empire, and it was a place where, they believed, he might be safe.

Barely a few hours into the journey, the fisherman who accompanied Runar turned on him. The bounty for turning in a magic-user was high, and greed overtook the man’s sense of duty to the village. The young Runar struggled against the bigger man, but it was his magic that saved him as a powerful bolt of force knocked the man into the sea, where he was driven below the surface from which he did not rise. Runar knew a little about how to handle a boat, from time spent fishing with his father but, as he tried to steer back to Ten Inlands, a strong current took him further away from the land on the horizon. The provisions that had been loaded onto the boat for the journey were supposed to last for only a few days but, with his traitorous guardian gone, they lasted long enough for Runar to reach landfall himself on the west coast of AEngland, at a small fishing village.

The first reaction of the fishermen who found him was one of terror. His attire was quickly recognised as that of an Inlandian. They feared that war had come, and that the Empire was about to invade, but one astute villager recognised the meaning of the tattoos that Runar bore – the markings of a mage. Runar told his story to the fishermen and it soon became clear that he was no invader, but a refugee. He was brought to the village where his tattoos were tended by their healer, and then he was taken to the village elders. Runar asked if anyone could help to teach him how to use his magic but was dismayed when none could give him that kind of training. A seed of hope was planted, however. They knew well that anyone who sought to learn the secrets of magic could do no better than to travel to Arodar and seek entry to the Academy there. The journey would be a long one, though. The Shikanti Circles of AEngland were not connected to any other Nation on account of unrest with the Nation of Eireland, which meant that the only way to travel to Arodar was by ship, and that was expensive. But a solution was offered. The town of Lyndesfarne at the northernmost point of AEngland had a direct trade route to Arodar, for mead and for herbs and other plants that only grew in AEngland – vital for the practices of alchemists. If Runar would allow the village to keep his well-designed boat, they would escort him to Lyndesfarne, and pay for his passage from there to Arodar.

After his encounter on the journey to AEngland, Runar was wary of being escorted by villagers he didn’t know, but his worries were unnecessary. The villagers were true to their word. He travelled by cart to the town of Clun and, from there he was escorted to Lyndesfarne. A trading ship was found that would cross the Misty Tides and, some days later, he came to port in Capitol City, the largest city in the Nation of Arodar. Runar had never seen a city before and it both scared and fascinated him. Even more to his fortune, the ship’s captain knew exactly where Runar needed to go to learn magic, and he was brought directly to the Academy where Runar told his story to the Academy’s Chancellor.

From there, however, things were not so straightforward. The Chancellor of the Academy seemed unwilling to admit Runar directly. Instead, he told the boy that his admission would be deliberated by a council of the College Deans, but that he would be allowed to make his petition for admittance directly to them personally.

The meeting was nothing if not intimidating. He stood in the middle of a circular arrangement of six tables, at each of which sat one of the five Deans, and the Chancellor sat at the sixth. There was no way that Runar could stand without showing his back to at least two of the Masters, and he had been taught never to show his back to a potential enemy. Nervous and anxious, he told the Masters of his need to learn to control his magic so that, one day, he can return home and no longer pose a threat to his family and people. Some of the Masters were skeptical. One suggested that the boy be given a rudimentary education and then sent on his way. Another suggested that the boy could be a Domanian spy sent to find some weakness in Arodar’s defenses. It was the Dean of the College of the Arcane – Master Kalgoran – who dismissed such suggestions.

“Since when does the Academy turn away a mage in need?” Kalgoran demanded of his peers. “Since when did we become hoarders of knowledge instead of its disseminators? I would not be surprised if the Goddess Brehenna is looking down on this Council now with shame. Shame! I will sponsor the boy’s apprenticeship myself. He clearly possesses innate magic. When the time comes, I will take him into my college and supervise his education personally.” When the Chancellor raised his concern, Kalgoran dismissed it, regardless of the man’s higher station. “The responsibility will be mine and mine alone,” he declared. “I loathe this prevarication. Let us vote now. And believe me, I will have stern words with any Master who dissents!”

Unsurprisingly, the vote was unanimous. Runar became an apprentice at the Academy.

Runar glanced up again and saw Malik turn a page of his own book. They did not exchange words, and hadn’t since they came to the table in the garden. Other Adepts milled around the open space, some sat on the lawns in deep discussion, and others stood beneath a tall tree at the centre of the garden. Occasionally he saw a glance fall in his direction and, when the observer noticed him looking back at them, they looked away quickly. It was hardly surprising. Runar’s own appearance stood out. While everyone else wore the same outfit as Malik, Runar had taken to wearing furs across his shoulders and wrapped around his wrists and forearms, held in place with leather straps, much like the gauntlets worn by the other Adepts. He had made the outfit himself with skills he had learned from his mother as a child but, in keeping with the Academy’s own tradition, he had chosen grey fur since grey was the colour worn by Adepts. He did not want to offend those who had allowed him to study at the Academy, but he was equally unwilling to surrender the traditional form of dress of his own people. His own red hair was long, but shaved at the sides, and then plaited into a long ponytail, bound with several leather bands which usually ran down his back but, on this occasion was draped over one shoulder and hung in front of him as he leaned over his book. Parts of his chest and arms were exposed and showed the elaborate and colourful tattoos on the right side of his torso that extended down his right arm towards the wrist, and even covered the right side of his scalp and spread onto his cheek. He had worn similar furs during his first year at the Academy – white furs to match the colour of the tunics and pants worn by other Apprentices. He knew his appearance drew attention, but he really didn’t care. His focus was on learning as much as he could.

His choice of clothing did not go unnoticed by other apprentices. The question had obviously been brought to the attention of the College Deans and, while some of the teaching Masters looked at him with disapproval, Master Kalgoran never seemed to notice what he wore. That was until the day he was summoned to Kalgoran’s chamber. Runar recalled the afternoon when the summons arrived. When he knocked at the Dean’s door he was called inside, where he found the Chancellor and Master Kalgoran facing each other

“Kalgoran,” the Chancellor began as he gestured towards Runar, “Do you not consider the boy’s attire outlandish?” They were continuing a conversation, the beginning of which Runar had obviously been absent for.

“No,” Kalgoran replied simply.

“It’s hardly traditional,” The Chancellor continued.

“You need to get out more,” Kalgoran shrugged dismissively.

“I don’t understand…”

“Tradition is subjective,” Kalgoran interrupted, “but let me put it to you in a way you will understand. How would you feel if you were told you could not wear The Black?” He gestured at the black outfit that the Chancellor wore. “This robe is your identity. It is a symbol of your long years of learning. It is a part of our culture and our heritage. The furs that Runar wears are a part of his. Would you strip the boy of his heritage while you cling so tightly to your own?”

“I…” the Chancellor hesitated.

“He has given you no other cause for concern, Chancellor. He has studied hard and well, so far. Would you detract from his accomplishments, simply because he wears something different? There are no written rules that say what he should and shouldn’t wear.”

“But…”

“Leave him be!” Kalgoran raised his voice suddenly. His eyes glared. Something unspoken was exchanged between Kalgoran and the Chancellor. The Chancellor blinked, then nodded and, without another word, turned and left the chamber. Runar did not even get a chance to speak. Kalgoran gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder and dismissed him.

Nothing more was ever said of the matter by the faculty of the Academy and any question that was raised by a student was quashed with a simple answer: “It’s his tradition. Leave him be.” So Runar stood out, but no-one ever actually said anything.

“How come you never spend any time with the rest of us?” Malik suddenly asked. Runar looked up from his book with a frown.

“I’m here now, aren’t I?” he asked.

“I mean socially,” Malik replied.

“I want to learn magic,” Runar looked back down at his book, “not waste time.”

“It would hardly be wasted,” Malik shrugged. “We all graduate from the Academy on the same day, Runar. Learning isn’t a race.”

“You think so?” Runar glanced up again.

“I do,” Malik nodded. “Besides, with friends around you, you can learn more than you can alone. You can exchange ideas… debate… even argue. The outcome is that you’re usually wiser than when you started.”

“Look around you, Malik,” Runar sat up straight and gestured at the other Adepts in the garden. “No-one wants to be my friend. Not that I care. What I do care about is not wasting time talking about it. I mean, who around us doesn’t see me as an outsider?”

“Her.” Malik nodded towards a young woman who stood by the tall tree in the middle of the garden, deep in conversation with two fellow students. “Jayna Valla is an excellent Adept, top of her class in Elementalism, and she never judges. We’re both struggling over this problem. I bet if you asked her for some help, I’m sure…”

“Fine!” Runar stood up sharply from the table and stepped over the bench. “If you want me to prove a point, I will.” He crossed the lawn to where the three students stood talking, and coughed politely when he came near to the young woman. The two young men who stood beside her looked up at him and frowned. Runar ignored them and spoke to Jayna.

“Excuse me… Jayna?”

“Yes?” Jayna replied.

“Malik and me… we’re trying to combine two opposite elements – fire and water – and we wondered if you might…”

“Come on, Jayna,” one of the young men took her arm, “let’s take our conversation elsewhere.”

Runar turned, shrugged towards Malik and started to walk back to their table. He frowned when Malik grinned back at him and pointed in the direction of the tree. Runar looked back and watched as Jayna jerked her arm away from the man, raised her hand and slapped him across the face. The slap caused the young man’s head to twist sharply and he raised his own hand to his cheek with a shocked expression.

“You do not get to choose who I can and cannot speak to, Brennan,” Jayna said, loudly enough for the whole garden to hear. Heads turned in their direction and the general murmur of voices died. “Who the hell do you think you are? Son of a Guildmaster? That means nothing here. Nothing! You only want me to do your work for you anyway, which is no doubt how you’ve managed to get this far at the Academy in the first place!” She stepped away from the pair and approached Runar. Before she reached him she turned back. “Do the work, Brennan Giltstone.” Then she turned away again.

Runar had already returned to their table and leaned close to Malik. “I thought you said she doesn’t judge,” he whispered.

“She doesn’t,” Malik grinned, “but I didn’t say she wasn’t a bad-ass.”

A shadow landed on the table and both Malik and Runar looked up. Another Adept leaned on the wood and looked straight at Malik. “What’s got her goat today?” he asked. Malik snorted and looked up at the familiar face.

“Zane Callanistro,” he said and gestured in Runar’s direction. “I want you to meet Runar Dalgaard.”

“I know who Runar is,” Zane grinned and held his hand out towards him in greeting. “He’s a legend in my dormitory.” Runar stared at the hand as though he wasn’t sure what the gesture meant. He extended his own gingerly, and Zane took it and shook it.

“I’m a legend?” Runar asked with a confused look.

“Hells yeah,” Zane grinned. “Tattoos… attitude… man, it’s good to finally meet you! I love your outfit, by the way. If I’d known robes were optional I’d’ve shed this damned thing in week one!”

“No-one wants to be your friend huh?” Malik looked up at Runar with a smile. Runar looked back and began to smile himself.

“So,” Jayna’s voice cut across the conversation abruptly as she reached their table, “the first thing you need to know is that fire and water aren’t opposing elements. Fire’s opponent is Earth, and Water’s opponent is Air. Factor that into your problem and you’ll be half way to a solution. Does that help?” her final question was aimed at Runar.

“Actually, yes,” he nodded, “very much. Thank you. I’m Runar, by the way.” He copied Zane’s gesture to him and held out his hand to Jayna.

“Jayna,” Jayna replied and shook his hand. “So, why don’t we look over the rest of your approach to the problem?” She noticed Zane and added "you might as well join us, Zane. I’m sure you’re struggling on this one, too.”

“Meow!” Zane answered with a grin as he sat beside Malik on the bench. “Saucer of milk for Jayna!” Runar looked confused.

“It’s a joke,” Malik laughed. “I’ll explain it later.” Runar sat down on the opposite bench and Jayna lowered herself down beside him.

“The solution,” she began, “is in how you get the opposites to work together. Let me explain…”

Description
Runar Dalgaard

Runar Dalgaard stared at the symbol of the Element of Fire at the head of the page. As an Inlandian he was no stranger to runes. They were, after all, an integral part of his people’s alphabet or, at least, they had been before Ten Inlands was annexed by the Domanian Empire. Since then many things had changed. To be more accurate, many changes had been forced upon his people – their alphabet had been abolished and their traditions were seen as heresy. The Seiðmaðrs and Seiðkonas – male and female mages, respectively – were branded outlaws and condemned to death.

Runar glanced up at the young man who sat on the opposite bench to him at a table that was set in a garden, surrounded by college buildings within the academy. Despite being surrounded by stone walls, the garden received plenty of sunlight. The day was bright, the air was warm, and Runar’s mind was troubled with the problem that had been set for the Adepts.

‘Take two elements that lie in opposition, and find a way to make them work in concert.’

The problem was a leading one. No-one had been told which elements work in opposition. Of course their Master, Kalgoran, expected them to put in the work of research themselves to find two opposing elements. He had also tasked them to work together to solve the problem – a problem which, he had said, had more than one solution. This seemed obvious, since there were twelve elements to choose from. But knowing which of them were opposites? Therein lay the conundrum.

The young man who sat opposite Runar – Malik - was a little shorter than Runar and wore the traditional outfit of an Adept – a grey tunic and pants with a black belt and black leather wrist gauntlets. His ginger hair was a stark contrast to the dull shade of his robes. Whenever Runar looked up at Malik he always seemed to notice, and smiled at him. Runar stiffened and looked back at the book in front of him, but he didn’t focus on the problem. His mind drifted to how he came to be at the Academy. The tale was by no means a saga but, in Runar’s mind it was at least the beginning of his.

He was born in the small and isolated coastal village of Steinvollr which lay between the towns of Lundar and Vertoak in the nation of Ten Inlands. When Domania invaded the Inlands, warriors came from all across the nation and fought for their respective Jarls – the title that was given to each of the kings of Ten Inlands. The war lasted for almost a decade. The Inlandians were stalwart warriors, but Domania had almost limitless forces to call upon and, ultimately, Ten Inlands was annexed by the invading forces.

With near-mountainous hills to the west, the sea known as Misty Tides to the north, and dense forests to the south, Steinvollr had managed to avoid the worst of the conflict and, while all of the major settlements of the nation became occupied by Domanian forces, many smaller villages were overlooked and received only occasional visits from Domanian generals and a small force for the purposes of tax collection and, later, to seek out any Seiðmaðrs or Seiðkonas who might possess the ability to work magic.

Ten Inlands had been under Domanian occupation for over a century by the time Runar was born. He was raised, as many Inlandian village children were, to hate their oppressors but was taught to keep his head down and not to draw attention to himself. Even after more than a century it grated on the pride of the Inlandians to live in such a manner, but survival was the strongest driving force in these small settlements. Things became difficult for Runar when he reached puberty and began to show signs of innate magic. It showed itself in small ways at first, but more conspicuously when the young man became angry or frustrated. Since there were no mages to teach Runar how to control his magic, his parents were forced to hide his ability and they hid it well, but visits from Domanian tax collectors and ‘witch hunters’ triggered Runar’s temper, and the magic would inevitably show itself. It was because of this that Runar was hidden away in a cellar beneath his home during such visits, with food and water to last a few days, and he was released only when the Domanians had long departed.

As time went by the boy’s magic became harder and harder to conceal. A meeting of the village elders was held to discuss the matter and the choice they had was simple: either turn the boy over to the Domanians, or get the boy out of Ten Inlands altogether. The first choice was abhorrent but, unless Runar learned to control the power he held, he would continue to be a danger to the whole village. Their only option was to send the boy away.

When the next taxation visit came and went, the plan was set in motion: a boat had been constructed by the villagers, larger than the other boats, and stronger so as to withstand more turbulent waters, yet still small enough to pass as a simple fishing boat. Runar was brought to the village centre, where he was subjected to extensive tattooing and branding to the right side of his face, his right arm, and the right side of his torso. It was a long and ancient tradition for Inlandian Seiðmaðrs and Seiðkonas to be so marked, and Runar did his best not to scream or cry as the hot needles inked his flesh. Still bleeding from the tattoos, Runar was taken to the boat. He was to be accompanied by one man – a fisherman from the village – who had volunteered to take Runar across the Misty Tides, into Skalmond’s Crossing and to the shores of AEngland. Magic was not so frowned upon there as it was in the Domanian Empire, and it was a place where, they believed, he might be safe.

Barely a few hours into the journey, the fisherman who accompanied Runar turned on him. The bounty for turning in a magic-user was high, and greed overtook the man’s sense of duty to the village. The young Runar struggled against the bigger man, but it was his magic that saved him as a powerful bolt of force knocked the man into the sea, where he was driven below the surface from which he did not rise. Runar knew a little about how to handle a boat, from time spent fishing with his father but, as he tried to steer back to Ten Inlands, a strong current took him further away from the land on the horizon. The provisions that had been loaded onto the boat for the journey were supposed to last for only a few days but, with his traitorous guardian gone, they lasted long enough for Runar to reach landfall himself on the west coast of AEngland, at a small fishing village.

The first reaction of the fishermen who found him was one of terror. His attire was quickly recognised as that of an Inlandian. They feared that war had come, and that the Empire was about to invade, but one astute villager recognised the meaning of the tattoos that Runar bore – the markings of a mage. Runar told his story to the fishermen and it soon became clear that he was no invader, but a refugee. He was brought to the village where his tattoos were tended by their healer, and then he was taken to the village elders. Runar asked if anyone could help to teach him how to use his magic but was dismayed when none could give him that kind of training. A seed of hope was planted, however. They knew well that anyone who sought to learn the secrets of magic could do no better than to travel to Arodar and seek entry to the Academy there. The journey would be a long one, though. The Shikanti Circles of AEngland were not connected to any other Nation on account of unrest with the Nation of Eireland, which meant that the only way to travel to Arodar was by ship, and that was expensive. But a solution was offered. The town of Lyndesfarne at the northernmost point of AEngland had a direct trade route to Arodar, for mead and for herbs and other plants that only grew in AEngland – vital for the practices of alchemists. If Runar would allow the village to keep his well-designed boat, they would escort him to Lyndesfarne, and pay for his passage from there to Arodar.

After his encounter on the journey to AEngland, Runar was wary of being escorted by villagers he didn’t know, but his worries were unnecessary. The villagers were true to their word. He travelled by cart to the town of Clun and, from there he was escorted to Lyndesfarne. A trading ship was found that would cross the Misty Tides and, some days later, he came to port in Capitol City, the largest city in the Nation of Arodar. Runar had never seen a city before and it both scared and fascinated him. Even more to his fortune, the ship’s captain knew exactly where Runar needed to go to learn magic, and he was brought directly to the Academy where Runar told his story to the Academy’s Chancellor.

From there, however, things were not so straightforward. The Chancellor of the Academy seemed unwilling to admit Runar directly. Instead, he told the boy that his admission would be deliberated by a council of the College Deans, but that he would be allowed to make his petition for admittance directly to them personally.

The meeting was nothing if not intimidating. He stood in the middle of a circular arrangement of six tables, at each of which sat one of the five Deans, and the Chancellor sat at the sixth. There was no way that Runar could stand without showing his back to at least two of the Masters, and he had been taught never to show his back to a potential enemy. Nervous and anxious, he told the Masters of his need to learn to control his magic so that, one day, he can return home and no longer pose a threat to his family and people. Some of the Masters were skeptical. One suggested that the boy be given a rudimentary education and then sent on his way. Another suggested that the boy could be a Domanian spy sent to find some weakness in Arodar’s defenses. It was the Dean of the College of the Arcane – Master Kalgoran – who dismissed such suggestions.

“Since when does the Academy turn away a mage in need?” Kalgoran demanded of his peers. “Since when did we become hoarders of knowledge instead of its disseminators? I would not be surprised if the Goddess Brehenna is looking down on this Council now with shame. Shame! I will sponsor the boy’s apprenticeship myself. He clearly possesses innate magic. When the time comes, I will take him into my college and supervise his education personally.” When the Chancellor raised his concern, Kalgoran dismissed it, regardless of the man’s higher station. “The responsibility will be mine and mine alone,” he declared. “I loathe this prevarication. Let us vote now. And believe me, I will have stern words with any Master who dissents!”

Unsurprisingly, the vote was unanimous. Runar became an apprentice at the Academy.

Runar glanced up again and saw Malik turn a page of his own book. They did not exchange words, and hadn’t since they came to the table in the garden. Other Adepts milled around the open space, some sat on the lawns in deep discussion, and others stood beneath a tall tree at the centre of the garden. Occasionally he saw a glance fall in his direction and, when the observer noticed him looking back at them, they looked away quickly. It was hardly surprising. Runar’s own appearance stood out. While everyone else wore the same outfit as Malik, Runar had taken to wearing furs across his shoulders and wrapped around his wrists and forearms, held in place with leather straps, much like the gauntlets worn by the other Adepts. He had made the outfit himself with skills he had learned from his mother as a child but, in keeping with the Academy’s own tradition, he had chosen grey fur since grey was the colour worn by Adepts. He did not want to offend those who had allowed him to study at the Academy, but he was equally unwilling to surrender the traditional form of dress of his own people. His own red hair was long, but shaved at the sides, and then plaited into a long ponytail, bound with several leather bands which usually ran down his back but, on this occasion was draped over one shoulder and hung in front of him as he leaned over his book. Parts of his chest and arms were exposed and showed the elaborate and colourful tattoos on the right side of his torso that extended down his right arm towards the wrist, and even covered the right side of his scalp and spread onto his cheek. He had worn similar furs during his first year at the Academy – white furs to match the colour of the tunics and pants worn by other Apprentices. He knew his appearance drew attention, but he really didn’t care. His focus was on learning as much as he could.

His choice of clothing did not go unnoticed by other apprentices. The question had obviously been brought to the attention of the College Deans and, while some of the teaching Masters looked at him with disapproval, Master Kalgoran never seemed to notice what he wore. That was until the day he was summoned to Kalgoran’s chamber. Runar recalled the afternoon when the summons arrived. When he knocked at the Dean’s door he was called inside, where he found the Chancellor and Master Kalgoran facing each other

“Kalgoran,” the Chancellor began as he gestured towards Runar, “Do you not consider the boy’s attire outlandish?” They were continuing a conversation, the beginning of which Runar had obviously been absent for.

“No,” Kalgoran replied simply.

“It’s hardly traditional,” The Chancellor continued.

“You need to get out more,” Kalgoran shrugged dismissively.

“I don’t understand…”

“Tradition is subjective,” Kalgoran interrupted, “but let me put it to you in a way you will understand. How would you feel if you were told you could not wear The Black?” He gestured at the black outfit that the Chancellor wore. “This robe is your identity. It is a symbol of your long years of learning. It is a part of our culture and our heritage. The furs that Runar wears are a part of his. Would you strip the boy of his heritage while you cling so tightly to your own?”

“I…” the Chancellor hesitated.

“He has given you no other cause for concern, Chancellor. He has studied hard and well, so far. Would you detract from his accomplishments, simply because he wears something different? There are no written rules that say what he should and shouldn’t wear.”

“But…”

“Leave him be!” Kalgoran raised his voice suddenly. His eyes glared. Something unspoken was exchanged between Kalgoran and the Chancellor. The Chancellor blinked, then nodded and, without another word, turned and left the chamber. Runar did not even get a chance to speak. Kalgoran gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder and dismissed him.

Nothing more was ever said of the matter by the faculty of the Academy and any question that was raised by a student was quashed with a simple answer: “It’s his tradition. Leave him be.” So Runar stood out, but no-one ever actually said anything.

“How come you never spend any time with the rest of us?” Malik suddenly asked. Runar looked up from his book with a frown.

“I’m here now, aren’t I?” he asked.

“I mean socially,” Malik replied.

“I want to learn magic,” Runar looked back down at his book, “not waste time.”

“It would hardly be wasted,” Malik shrugged. “We all graduate from the Academy on the same day, Runar. Learning isn’t a race.”

“You think so?” Runar glanced up again.

“I do,” Malik nodded. “Besides, with friends around you, you can learn more than you can alone. You can exchange ideas… debate… even argue. The outcome is that you’re usually wiser than when you started.”

“Look around you, Malik,” Runar sat up straight and gestured at the other Adepts in the garden. “No-one wants to be my friend. Not that I care. What I do care about is not wasting time talking about it. I mean, who around us doesn’t see me as an outsider?”

“Her.” Malik nodded towards a young woman who stood by the tall tree in the middle of the garden, deep in conversation with two fellow students. “Jayna Valla is an excellent Adept, top of her class in Elementalism, and she never judges. We’re both struggling over this problem. I bet if you asked her for some help, I’m sure…”

“Fine!” Runar stood up sharply from the table and stepped over the bench. “If you want me to prove a point, I will.” He crossed the lawn to where the three students stood talking, and coughed politely when he came near to the young woman. The two young men who stood beside her looked up at him and frowned. Runar ignored them and spoke to Jayna.

“Excuse me… Jayna?”

“Yes?” Jayna replied.

“Malik and me… we’re trying to combine two opposite elements – fire and water – and we wondered if you might…”

“Come on, Jayna,” one of the young men took her arm, “let’s take our conversation elsewhere.”

Runar turned, shrugged towards Malik and started to walk back to their table. He frowned when Malik grinned back at him and pointed in the direction of the tree. Runar looked back and watched as Jayna jerked her arm away from the man, raised her hand and slapped him across the face. The slap caused the young man’s head to twist sharply and he raised his own hand to his cheek with a shocked expression.

“You do not get to choose who I can and cannot speak to, Brennan,” Jayna said, loudly enough for the whole garden to hear. Heads turned in their direction and the general murmur of voices died. “Who the hell do you think you are? Son of a Guildmaster? That means nothing here. Nothing! You only want me to do your work for you anyway, which is no doubt how you’ve managed to get this far at the Academy in the first place!” She stepped away from the pair and approached Runar. Before she reached him she turned back. “Do the work, Brennan Giltstone.” Then she turned away again.

Runar had already returned to their table and leaned close to Malik. “I thought you said she doesn’t judge,” he whispered.

“She doesn’t,” Malik grinned, “but I didn’t say she wasn’t a bad-ass.”

A shadow landed on the table and both Malik and Runar looked up. Another Adept leaned on the wood and looked straight at Malik. “What’s got her goat today?” he asked. Malik snorted and looked up at the familiar face.

“Zane Callanistro,” he said and gestured in Runar’s direction. “I want you to meet Runar Dalgaard.”

“I know who Runar is,” Zane grinned and held his hand out towards him in greeting. “He’s a legend in my dormitory.” Runar stared at the hand as though he wasn’t sure what the gesture meant. He extended his own gingerly, and Zane took it and shook it.

“I’m a legend?” Runar asked with a confused look.

“Hells yeah,” Zane grinned. “Tattoos… attitude… man, it’s good to finally meet you! I love your outfit, by the way. If I’d known robes were optional I’d’ve shed this damned thing in week one!”

“No-one wants to be your friend huh?” Malik looked up at Runar with a smile. Runar looked back and began to smile himself.

“So,” Jayna’s voice cut across the conversation abruptly as she reached their table, “the first thing you need to know is that fire and water aren’t opposing elements. Fire’s opponent is Earth, and Water’s opponent is Air. Factor that into your problem and you’ll be half way to a solution. Does that help?” her final question was aimed at Runar.

“Actually, yes,” he nodded, “very much. Thank you. I’m Runar, by the way.” He copied Zane’s gesture to him and held out his hand to Jayna.

“Jayna,” Jayna replied and shook his hand. “So, why don’t we look over the rest of your approach to the problem?” She noticed Zane and added "you might as well join us, Zane. I’m sure you’re struggling on this one, too.”

“Meow!” Zane answered with a grin as he sat beside Malik on the bench. “Saucer of milk for Jayna!” Runar looked confused.

“It’s a joke,” Malik laughed. “I’ll explain it later.” Runar sat down on the opposite bench and Jayna lowered herself down beside him.

“The solution,” she began, “is in how you get the opposites to work together. Let me explain…”