Asher woke to darkness. The buzzing of crickets filled his ears, and a few gusts of cold wind blew across his face, ruffling his hair and tugging at the thin blanket draped over him. He twitched as a deep, throbbing ache in his leg made itself known, an excruciating reminder of everything that had happened.

He gingerly sat up, biting his tongue against the pain. He was in a small forest clearing, next to the smoking remains of a fire. Wade was close by, fast asleep on the ground. Henry was propped up against a tree, his back to both boys, staring out into the darkness. He hadn't noticed Asher yet.

Good. By now he and Wade had to have realized this was Asher's fault. He wasn't sure if he could handle that confrontation right now.

Taking a deep breath, Asher removed the blanket and stared at his leg. Blood had soaked through Wade's impromptu bandage, but it seemed the initial flow had ceased. He untied it with shaking hands and examined the wound. The gash was a few inches wide, a few more long, and cut deep into the muscle of his thigh. The skin around it was swollen and red.

Infection. If not for magic, he wasn't sure he could survive such an injury. Speaking of which . . .

Ignoring the pounding headache that had come to life behind his eyes, Asher raised his hands and reached out to the magic. It was the same as before--his hands glowed, his headache intensified, and the wound slowly closed, leaving his leg whole once more. The pain eased, but not entirely; there must've still been some internal damage. Asher didn't care. He just needed to be able to stand again.

Henry had turned around when he saw the light, and now rushed next to Asher. He looked at the boy's leg, and then Asher's face.

"You really are a magic-user," he marveled.

Asher winced and drew his knees to his chest. He couldn't bring himself to meet Henry's eyes. "I am."

"Wade told me what happened. Thank you."

"What?" Asher looked up and searched the smith's face. Not even a trace of the anger or even fear that should be there. "I nearly got you both killed. And now that you've been associated with a magic-user . . ." You'll be targeted as well. Because of me. "Neither of you should have to deal with any of this."

"Asher, none of this is your fault. You saved my life."

"Yes, and the only reason your life was in danger was because the Valkir was looking for me."

"You can't blame yourself for existing, son."

Asher let out a harsh laugh. "The King does."

Henry was quiet for a moment. "I didn't know there were any magic-users left."

Asher shrugged. "Maybe. Maybe not. As far as I know, it's just me."

"How have you survived? You were born right around the time the King began that massacre, were you not?"

Asher wrung his hands, opened his mouth, closed it again, stared at his feet. "That's a long story."

"My apologies. I should've realized that's a delicate topic."

". . . What are we going to do now?" Asher asked, desperate to change the subject.

"At the moment, I'm mostly concerned about getting away from that Valkir. Either he or his comrades are sure to be following us."

Asher ran a hand through his hair. "I might be able to find out if they are."

"Oh?"

Asher grasped the magic and concentrated on the Valkir. Henry started and swore loudly; he opened his eyes and saw that the translucent figure of a man had appeared before them, walking through an invisible environment. The Valkir, alive and well, paused and looked about, his brow furrowed in confusion. Then, somehow, his eyes met Asher's.

Asher's heart jolted in his chest. He leapt to his feet, letting the image fade into nothingness, but he could still see the triumphant grin tugging at the assassin's lips.

"What just happened?" Henry demanded.

"I-I don't know. I was trying to see if he was alive . . ."

"Well," Henry said, "Now we know he is." He spat at the ground. "Unfortunately."

"Yeah." Asher was staring at the empty air, his mind buzzing. What did I just do?

"We--"

"I--"

They both stopped, and then Henry motioned for Asher to continue.

"I need to leave."

Henry sighed and ran a tired hand over his face. "I thought you might say that. Asher--"

"Hear me out. I'm only putting you and Wade in danger right now by staying here. The Valkir's looking for me; I can lead him away from you two, and, well, I have a much better chance of escaping if I'm on my own."

"I have a hard time believing that."

Asher shook his head and used magic to make himself invisible. He'd done it twice before, but it was still disorienting to watch his body fade away from sight, even though he knew it was still there. Henry, unimpressed, scowled at a spot somewhere above Asher's shoulder.

"He's been trained for these things," he said. He moved to Henry's other side before reappearing. The smith flinched. "You can't fight him."

"And you can?"

No. "At least I stand a chance."

"I hate to say it, but Ash is right." Asher turned to see Wade sitting up, watching attentively. "We'll only be a liability."

Asher nodded. It was blunt, but true.

"Even so"--Wade turned his eyes on Asher--"Where are you going to go, Ash? What will you do if you can avoid the Valkir?"

Asher pondered it over. "The mountains? It would be easy to hide there."

"And what about us?"

"I don't know, Wade! I'm just trying to figure out a way to survive this mess!"

"I don't want to leave you and never find out what happened. And I want to help you. We want to help you."

"Wade . . ."

"It takes about a week to travel to Norstarn, right?"

"Yes, why?" The trading town was at the very northwestern corner of Eldernia, with the ocean to the west and the mountains to the east.

"It's a small town, but all sorts of people pass through it. It's the perfect place to hide.

"Father and I can take the roads; nobody will notice two more travellers. Ash, you head to the mountains--it will look like you're trying to flee Eldernia. Once you get to them, you can turn east."

"And then I have a clear path to Norstarn," Asher finished, mentally picturing the route. He'd have to go through the denser areas of the forest, into unexplored territory. Many would find the journey through the mountains painfully slow and difficult, but with magic . . .

"We can meet there in two weeks," Wade said.

". . . It's risky," Henry muttered.

"If you can think of a better option, I'd be glad to hear it."

Wade and Henry locked eyes. Asher looked away, feeling like he was intruding on an important moment.

"Be careful," the blacksmith finally said, turning to Asher.

Asher let out a long breath. "Of course."

After they arranged a place to meet in Norstarn, there wasn't reason to delay any longer. Asher held out a hand for Henry to shake. The blacksmith grasped it and surprised Asher by pulling him into a rough hug.

"We'll see you again," Henry said.

Asher nodded, wishing he could believe that. He turned to Wade, and they hugged as well. It was strange: Asher had been surviving on his own for most of his life, but as he watched the two walk away he'd never felt more alone.

He sighed and started towards the mountains. Every step sent fire shooting through his right leg; he considered trying to finish healing it, but the thought of using magic again made him nauseous. Besides, the pain wasn't that bad.

As he limped along with nothing but the starry sky to keep him company, his thoughts turned to the Valkir. Had the man alerted any other Valkir? How close was he? Henry had been right. Asher couldn't fight him. His only hope was to retain his lead, but could he even do that? The Valkir were trained for years to hunt down magic-users--or magi. Whatever the correct term was. Asher was no different than any other panicked, desperate soul that had fallen to the King's assassins.

He gritted his teeth and walked faster. There was no use dwelling on that; right now, he just needed to get to the mountains as quickly as possible. The journey would only take him a few days if he hurried.

Asher kept walking the entire day, jumping at every small sound. He refused to rest, even when his leg screamed for him to stop and he felt he would collapse from exhaustion. He couldn't bring himself to: every time he slowed, he imagined the Valkir creeping up behind him.

Finally, however, he could no longer continue. He slowed to a halt and looked around. Night had fallen hours ago; the myriad of stars above was his only illumination.

Anxious with the thought of sleeping out in the open, he swept his gaze around his surroundings. There was a small stream to his right, and trees all around. A towering oak with high branches and thick foliage caught his eye. By craning his neck, he could just see an area where two large branches formed a sort of nook in the tree. It was just big enough for him to fit in.

The soft swish of movement across dead leaves made Asher spin around. For a moment, he thought he saw a pair of golden eyes staring back at him from the darkness. But no, there was only the soft silhouette of a tree. Asher froze, his heart hammering, and then shook his head. He definitely needed to sleep--his mind was starting to play tricks on him.

A few minutes later, he was settled in the oak with scratches on his arms and a growing migraine. Levitating himself into the tree had been more complicated than he expected, and the pain behind his temples was becoming intolerable.

Sighing, he closed his eyes and tried to relax his muscles. It was a calming technique he'd taught himself years ago--first the legs, then the chest, then his arms, and so on. It always helped him sleep better when stress threatened to overwhelm him.

Even so, it took him a long time to fall asleep.