Asher opened his eyes and stared at the dusty wooden ceiling. As he watched, a large rat scurried across one of the beams, carrying a small scrap of food in its mouth. It seemed to sense his gaze and paused to give him a disdainful look before retreating once more into the shadows.

Yawning, Asher sat up in his bed. He surveyed the small room, still unused to his new accomodations. A week ago, on his sixteenth birthday, he'd finally become old enough to leave the orphanage and start a new life of his own. Henry, Aleran's one and only blacksmith, had gladly taken him in as an apprentice.

He got up and dressed, shivering in the cold morning air. Winter set in fast and hard in the northern borders of Eldernia. Across the room, Wade, his fellow apprentice and Henry's son, began to stir.

"Ash," he moaned, opening his dark eyes. "Why do you always get up so early?" He gestured to the sky outside the window, which was only just beginning to lighten.

"Sorry," Asher replied with a shrug. He pulled on the woolen jacket Wade had given him a few days before. It was thick and warm, leagues better than the thin, patched tunics the orphanage had provided him.

"So . . . how are you finding the work?" Wade asked, sitting up.

"I like it here. It's good to have something to do other than cooking and cleaning."

Wade laughed. "You haven't escaped the housework yet. Father's been busy teaching you to work the metal, but soon enough you'll be helping me chop firewood. We need an extra hand; that's one of the reasons you're here."

Asher feigned dismay. "Really? The cruelty! I cannot bear it!"

Wade flicked a strand of his brown hair out of his eyes and began to lace his boots on.

"Very funny," he said, his sarcasm slightly undermined by his smile.

When they'd both gotten ready, the boys slipped out of the room and went down the rickety old staircase. The bottom floor consisted of one large room, with a fireplace, a small table with some chairs, and a few shelves crammed full with various trinkets. Henry was at the fire, attaching the soup pot to the hook hanging from the mantle.

"Good morning," Wade said. The blacksmith turned.

"Ah, you're both up. Go to the forge and start preparing it. I'll be out shortly."

"Yes, sir," the boys chimed.

It was still dark outside, but Asher could see a faint red glow staining the eastern horizon. The air was crisp and clean. He took a deep breath of it and followed Wade to the forge, which was only a short walk from the house. It was nice living and working at the very edge of the town, where there wasn't quite so much smoke in the air.

"The next few days are going to be rainy," Wade remarked, craning his head to look at the sky. Asher glanced upwards and agreed; a low-hanging layer of filmy gray clouds had gathered above them. It was a good thing Henry had erected a roof over the forge.

As they walked towards the forest that marked the northern edge of the town, the cobblestone road was gradually replaced by a dirt trail barely wide enough for a carriage. The kingdom of Eldernia reached beyond the woods--all the way to the mountains, in fact--but the forest was of gargantuan size and very dense. Apart from woodcutters, few had the reason or the desire to enter.

Wade suddenly halted, his eyes fixed on the spot where the road disappeared into the trees. Asher stopped and looked at his friend, raising an eyebrow.

"Wade?" The boy had stiffened; his face was slightly pale. Asher followed his gaze and was surprised to see a solitary figure emerging from the shadows lying under the thick canopy.

"That's the King's mark," Wade whispered. "On his arm; you can see it."

Asher squinted at the stranger, and, sure enough, there it was: a small black crescent tattooed onto the man's forearm. Wade must've had the eyes of a hawk to notice such a thing so quickly. His heart skipped a beat--the mark labeled the man as a magic-user sworn into the service of King Soren. Valkir, they were called.

He took an involuntary step backwards. "What is somebody like him doing here?" Aleran wasn't really a small town, evidenced by the fact it was able to afford an orphanage, but it was certainly not large enough to warrant a visit from one of the King's most trusted advisers . . . and assassins. "I don't like this, Wade . . ."

"Relax," Wade said, not sounding very confident. "The Valkir aren't a threat to normal folk like us."

Asher forced himself to nod. He folded his arms over his chest, trying to control his breathing. There was no way he could've been found. It was impossible.

The man noticed the watching boys as he drew near. He switched directions and walked over to them.

"Hello," he said with a friendly smile. He had close-cropped brown hair and pale skin. A dark cloak was draped over his shoulders to keep out the cold, though his tattoo was clearly displayed.

"Hi," Wade replied, offering a tight, nervous grin.

The man took a moment to look each boy up and down. Asher bit his tongue and resisted the urge to run away. "What are your names?"

"I'm Wade."

". . . Asher." Asher's voice faltered, almost failing him completely. Calm down! You need to calm down!

The man seemed to sense his unease; his smile widened, becoming wolfish in nature. "Asher. A good name, that."

Asher looked directly into the man's eyes. He seemed to be the kind of person that could see right through you, instantly aware of the slightest sign of fear or deceit in one's face.

"Thank you."

"So," the assassin continued, "I'm sure it is quite obvious to you lads I am not from here. Could you be so kind as to direct me to the inn?"

After a brief pause, Wade spoke up. "It's just over there," he said, pointing. " The road turns to cobble right around that bend. Turn right at the end of the street; it'll be the first building to the left."

"Ah, thank you. Perhaps I'll see you again during my stay here . . ." The Valkir's gaze lingered on Asher for a moment. Then, with a swirl of his cloak, the man turned and walked off in the direction of the inn.

Neither boy moved until the assassin turned the corner and vanished behind a house. Asher let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding and rocked back on his heels.

"I wonder why he's here," Wade remarked.

Asher shook his head. "I don't know, and I don't want to meet him again and find out. Let's go--I don't want to get into trouble with your father again."

Wade wrenched his gaze from the street and grinned. "No, you don't."

Heavy footsteps sounded behind them. Asher turned to see Henry coming towards them, holding a bucket of water. He looked between the two boys and frowned.

"What's wrong?" the blacksmith asked. "Asher, you look pale."

Asher brought a hand up to his face. He did?

"We just met a Valkir," Wade said flatly. Henry's face darkened.

"Are you both alright?"

"He didn't harm us. No magic," Asher interrupted. He saw Wade flinch at the last word. He didn't blame him--most people were afraid of magic. It was a powerful force, one that shouldn't be reckoned with.

Henry scowled. "Tell me what happened."

Asher let Wade relate the encounter, sinking into his own thoughts. A tight band of unease was constricting his chest, making it hard to breathe. Why was the Valkir in Aleran? It was impossible it had anything to do with Asher--ever since the catastrophic day he'd realized what he was, he'd been so very, very careful to avoid notice. Had the Valkir sensed Asher was different? He mentally reran the conversation through his mind. It didn't seem likely.

The rest of the day passed by in a blur of anxiety. Asher was sure his work suffered from it, but if Henry or Wade noticed, they didn't bring it up. He could only think of the Valkir and what the man's arrival might mean. By the time the sun had reached its zenith, he was so tense he felt like he might explode if he couldn't get some time to sit down and think things over. Unfortunately, the opportunity didn't present itself until dusk, when Henry announced that he was going to go to the pub to see if anybody else had knowledge of the Valkir's arrival. Wade begged to join his father, his curiosity winning over fear. After a moment's thought, Henry nodded.

"Do you want to come as well, Ash?" Wade asked. Asher looked up from the table he was wiping clean.

"No, thank you," he said. "I'm not feeling very well. You can go now; I'll stay and tidy up." The nervous energy that had been building up inside of him reached its peak; he desperately needed to be alone.

"Are you sure?" Wade looked concerned.

"Quite. I just need to rest for awhile."

Wade started to say something, but Henry placed a hand on his shoulder. "Take it easy, Asher," the smith said. "We'll return in an hour or so."

Asher nodded, hoisting a reassuring smile onto his face. He remained that way until they disappeared behind a grove of trees. When he was sure he was alone, he quietly finished cleaning the forge. The task only took him a few minutes.

He looked around. The forge was some distance from the town, but it was within sight of more than a few buildings. He glanced at the sky; two hours of daylight remained.

I need to clear my head.

He thought for a moment, and then fled into the darkness of the forest, away from the town, and, more specifically, away from the Valkir that waited somewhere within.