Something cold and wet struck Asher's cheek. He opened his eyes just as another fat raindrop rolled off of the leaves above him and hit his arm. Wiping away the freezing droplet, he looked up through the oak's leaves. The sky was covered in thick, dark clouds, and a rainy haze filled the air. A faint gray light near the edge of the horizon promised dawn would soon come.

He pushed himself into a sitting position, rubbing sleep from his eyes. The headache had finally vanished, and his leg wasn't quite so painful.

Well, I'm not dead yet. He couldn't help but be surprised he'd made it this far.

Asher listened to the dull thrum of rain for a few minutes before cautiously getting to his hands and knees. Gripping the oak's trunk for support, he began to awkwardly climb down the tree, careful not to slip on the wet wood.

He jumped the last six feet to the forest floor. A dull pain flared up in his leg as his feet sunk a few inches into the muddy ground. Grateful he was wearing boots, Asher surveyed the area. Nothing--not even a squirrel or bird was out in this weather. The woods were eerily silent. Hopefully, the Valkir had lost his trail.

Asher shook his head. The assassin could use magic--there was no doubt he could find Asher. In fact, Asher didn't know how the man hadn't found him already. Why didn't he teleport, as Asher had done only two days before? Something must've been holding the man back, but what?

Something moved in the darkness, throwing the thought from Asher's mind and making his heart skip a beat. It was just the barest shift of a shadow, but he could tell something large was lurking behind a grove of nearby trees. He raised his arm and summoned a bright ball of flames, half of his mind marvelling at how easy it was becoming to reach for the magic. The light cut through the rain, revealing a dark, scaly tail. It quickly vanished from sight, leaving him unsure whether he'd seen it at all.

Asher swallowed and took a step back. He'd heard tales of monsters and strange beasts in the woods, but he'd thought they were just stories. Tales to scare children away from the dense, dark forest.

A minute passed, and nothing happened. If there had even been a creature, it was likely passive. Asher hesitated, and then fled from the site, angling towards the distant mountains. In his fear, the barrier between him and magic partly fell away. The forest seemed to come to life as the magical currents running through it were revealed. A faint hum reached his ears over the rain, and he was surprised to see sparks of silvery energy dancing around his hands.

Asher reluctantly allowed the connection, forcing himself to ignore the world of energy suddenly at his fingertips. After all, magic was his best and only weapon, and he may need it.

The rain steadily grew worse as the minutes passed. Soon, Asher was completely drenched, struggling to keep moving as the ground became more and more saturated with rain. He tripped and fell on the slick mud twice, splattering himself with the stuff and badly scraping his palms. After he'd travelled a mile or two, he was forced to slow down. He caught his breath under the shelter of a young tree, suspiciously peering out into the pouring rain.

He stiffened as the magic suddenly flared someplace behind him, like a sun emerging amongst stars. He darted to the side just as a streak of red light shot past his head. It hit the tree with a loud crack. Asher spun around to see the Valkir watching him from the shadow of another tree, the hood of his cloak drawn up against the downpour. The man's hands began to glow a faint red, and Asher felt another spike in the magic. Did that happen every time a magic-user wielded it?

Asher froze, looking for something to use, but the cursed rain kept him from seeing--

The rain.

He clenched his fists and stared hard at the Valkir. All the rain pouring from the sky shifted towards the man. He stumbled under the weight of the water, unable to breath as it pummeled him from all sides. Asher took advantage of his distraction and ran, knowing it was pointless but not sure what else to do. Before he took two steps, a strange pressure in his chest stopped him. He turned around; the Valkir was looking directly at him, arms outstretched as the rain hammered uselessly against an invisible barrier.

The pressure intensified, and Asher stumbled back. What was the man doing? His control over the magic slipped, and the water splashed harmlessly to the ground. The feeling vanished immediately.

He was opposing my magic, Asher realized. I didn't know that was possible.

Tendrils of pale lightning crackled to life around Asher's hands, humming with energy. With a wild cry, he sent a blast of it at the assassin. The Valkir held his ground, and the lightning arced midair and struck a tree instead.

The man made a sharp movement with his hands, and roots suddenly burst from the earth at Asher's feet and wrapped around his legs.

Asher growled and tried to pull free, but more roots seized his arms and forced them behind his back. He thrashed, icy panic filling his chest. Blue flames roared to life around his hands, filling the air with an intense heat, but the plants refused to burn.

The Valkir walked towards him, something gripped in his hand. A needle. Asher stared at the clear liquid inside with a rising feeling of dread. He sent the fire streaming towards the man, who dissolved the flames with a lazy flick of his fingers.

Driven by pure instinct, Asher focused on the Valkir's aura. He could feel the magic flowing from the man to the roots holding him, and fumbled with the delicate bond. It was surprisingly easy to snap. As the magic faltered and broke, the roots fell limp, inanimate once more. The Valkir halted, his eyes widening in astonishment before he schooled his features into an impassive mask.

Asher wrenched the dead plants off and staggered back. What did I just do?

The Valkir cocked his head, and a sword materialized in his free hand. Asher flinched back; he recognized that blade.

Instead of attacking, the Valkir used magic to send the weapon flying at Asher. Sensing an opportunity, he reached for the magic and once again severed the connection between the man and his blade. The sword shivered and fell, and Asher quickly snatched it from the mud.

"Interesting," the Valkir said, summoning another sword. Asher had the feeling he'd done exactly what the man wanted. The assassin crept to the side, forcing Asher to mirror his movements. Asher shifted his grip around the hilt of his new weapon--the sword felt heavy and strange in his hand. Different from what he was used to.

The Valkir lunged first, swinging his sword in a glittering arc. Asher lifted his own blade, and they met with a metallic clang. He gritted his teeth as the Valkir bore down on him--the man was much stronger than he was.

He twisted his sword, forcing the Valkir to withdraw lest he damage his wrist. Before he could retaliate, Asher slashed the assassin's leg open, cutting deeply into his thigh. Ignoring the sense of irony that flashed through his mind, Asher danced back as the Valkir lunged for his side.

The Valkir paused. He showed no sign of pain, despite the dark blood starting to seep through the fabric of his trousers. He looked Asher up and down, a hint of surprise once again breaking through his stony facade.

Asher smiled grimly. He'd been forced to learn swordplay, and was somewhat skilled, but he knew he stood no chance against the Valkir. He darted forward, seeking to drive his sword through the man's heart while he still had the element of surprise. The Valkir smoothly parried and switched back to the offensive. Asher was forced to retreat as the man began a complex flurry of blows.

He's only playing with me, Asher thought as he deflected a thrust to his shoulder. It was obvious in the way that the assassin moved that he was an expert swordsman. With all his might, he shoved the Valkir back, trying to force the man's weight onto his injured leg. The assassin nimbly caught himself and, with a flourish of his sword, knocked the weapon from Asher's hand. In an instant, his blade was resting against Asher's neck.

Asher froze, shocked. The sharp metal was freezing cold against his skin. The Valkir stepped closer, and Asher felt a sharp, stinging pain in his neck. The needle.

He jerked, ready to knock it away, but the Valkir shifted his sword in a subtle warning. It took every ounce of Asher's willpower to remain still as the assassin injected him with the substance.

When he'd finished, the Valkir lowered his sword. "Turn around," he said, gesturing with the blade. Asher hesitated. Did he drug me? I can think clearly enough. He reached experimentally for the magic, and then stiffened. It was like trying to see through distorted, murky glass--he could feel it, but only barely. He certainly couldn't use it.

The Valkir narrowed his eyes and shifted his grip on the sword. Asher reluctantly did as he'd said.

"Hands behind your back."

Asher complied, balling his hands into fists to keep them from shaking. "What did you do to me?" he asked, unable to disguise the surprise and anger in his voice.

The Valkir produced a length of rope from his cloak and tied Asher's hands together with practiced ease. "It's a drug, designed to keep you from using magic. Don't ask me how it works, because I don't know." He released Asher and stepped back. Asher wrenched at his new bonds; they were tight and strong. He turned around to glare at the assassin, who was examining the thick rainclouds gathering above them.

The Valkir snapped his fingers, and the rain abruptly ceased. Asher looked up and saw that the man had created a sort of invisible dome around the two of them, about twenty feet in diameter. Asher backed up against the border; it was as solid as any wall.

He stared at the assassin, feeling like a trapped animal. The man removed his hood and ran a hand through his hair. He waved his hand, and the sword Asher had taken disappeared from the mud in a flash of white light. Then, with a soft hiss of pain, he sat on a fallen log and started to heal the wound Asher had given him.

"A storm is building," he explained, jolting Asher out of his confused daze. "I'd rather wait it out and get some rest."

It took Asher some time to find his voice and sort through the questions racing around his mind. "What do you want with me? Why am I not dead?"

The Valkir rested his elbows on his knees. "I don't want anything. Soren does. I'm simply doing my job."

Asher blanched. "What would he want with me?"

"To be honest, I'm not quite sure. You're . . . unusual. I believe you've aroused his curiosity."

Asher didn't like the sound of that. "Unusual? How?"

The Valkir sighed. "You're full of questions, boy."

"You're full of answers."

The assassin chuckled but didn't respond. Asher decided to further test his luck. "Why did it take you so long to find me?"

The Valkir arched an eyebrow. "I believe I've been rather quick about it."

Asher shrugged. "You could've used magic to see where I was, or teleport to me, or any of the other thousands of ways to track me down. But you came on foot, and it's been two days."

The Valkir furrowed his brow. "Have you tried teleporting a long distance?"

"No."

"Ah, yes. You're still rather inexperienced. Teleportation--bending time and space itself--isn't something to be used lightly. Even short distances can severely fatigue you. I think you've found that out for yourself."

Asher had a brief vision of Henry bleeding out on the ground. "I was a little distracted at the time."

The Valkir, ignoring the hatred in Asher's voice, continued. "Tracking with magic is also difficult. You are aware that all beings--especially humans--have a certain amount of natural magic, correct?"

"Yes."

"It resists attempts to directly locate, kill, or otherwise harm you. Even more so the case in magi, whose close bond to magic allows them to manipulate it. This natural magic can be overcome, but it requires a lot of effort. You, as the target, would also be able to feel it."

Asher swore. "That's how you knew . . ."

"How I knew you were watching me, yes. I was also able to use the connection to get a general idea of your location. I'd already found your trail, but it helped."

Asher looked at his feet, sifting through the new information.

"So. Your friends . . . family?" The Valkir shot Asher a questioning look. Asher just stared. "Friends, then. Where are they?"

Silence stretched between them. The Valkir fingered his sword.

"No matter. They'll be found soon enough."

"What did you do?" Asher asked, his voice wavering.

"Me? Nothing. But one of my comrades has been sent to search for them."

"Why? They've done nothing!"

"On the contrary," the Valkir said, leaning back, "they've both attacked a high-ranking official. What was that other boy's name? Wade? He could be facing death for that."

Asher cursed under his breath and looked down at his feet, helplessness threatening to overwhelm him. Henry and Wade stood no chance against a trained Valkir. He struggled against the ropes around his hands, trying to make sense of the knot. The rough material chafed his wrists.

"Asher."

Asher flinched and looked at the assassin. He didn't like hearing his name come from the man's mouth. "What?"

"Don't act innocent. Any more of that and I'll chain you to a tree instead."

Asher scowled and relaxed his hands. "What's your name?"

"Sorry?"

"I'm tired of thinking of you as 'the Valkir'. What's your name?"

"Rivas Nestoris," the assassin said dryly. "Pleasure to make your acquaintance."

A blinding flash of light seared Asher's eyes moments before the air was shattered by a deafening boom. He sunk into a half-crouch, staring up at the sky. A couple streaks of lightning flickered between the dark clouds. The rain was falling thick and fast. It seemed the storm Rivas had mentioned was upon them.

Asher shuffled his feet and grimaced as pain lanced through his leg. Rivas frowned.

"You're still hurt?"

Asher nodded warily. The assassin brought a hand to his own leg, where Asher had stabbed him.

"Where did you learn to use the sword?" he asked.

"Someone taught me, and I made sure to practice whenever I could afterwards." Asher had sparred with Wade only a few days before. His friend had been surprised, to say the least.

"Who did?"

Asher bit his tongue.

"I've answered your questions. Now you answer mine."

"My . . . sister."

"How long ago did she die?"

"What do you care?"

Rivas sighed and tapped his sword.

"Eight and a half years," Asher said, eyeing the blade.

"Who killed her?"

"What makes you think she was murdered?"

"You're tenser than a wire, boy."

"You could've done it, for all I know," Asher spat. A burst of fury and terror clouded his thoughts as he struggled to shove back the memories.

"Hmm." Rivas thought for a moment. "It's possible. But I think I'd remember. It's not exactly easy to forget one's dying expression."

Asher was shaking. He closed his eyes, trying to calm himself, and went rigid. For a moment, he'd felt a spark of magic rising with his anger.

"That's odd," Rivas said. Asher looked back at the man, who was slowly getting to his feet. The needle was back in his hand, already refilled.

"What's odd?" Asher asked, unreasonable panic surging through him. Rivas looked unamused.

"Don't lie. We both felt that."

Asher recoiled as the assassin walked towards him. He focused on that flicker of magic, trying to break through the barrier the drug had imposed on his mind. He was too slow, however--Rivas yanked his head back, and he again felt the needle pierce his skin. Asher kicked and struggled, cursing the assassin. Rivas swiftly stuck his right leg, right where he'd been wounded. Asher cried out and stumbled, and the assassin finished administering the drug.

Rivas snarled and hurled him backwards. Asher slammed into the wall of the dome and fell to one knee, gasping for air.

"You are far more trouble than you're worth, boy. Wh--" Rivas stopped. Asher glanced up and saw the assassin gaping at something behind him. He turned and gasped: behind Rivas' invisible wall, a creature was emerging from a thicket of small trees. It was reptilian in nature, with gleaming black scales and slitted golden eyes. It stood slightly taller than a horse, and was much longer. Its long, graceful tail lashed at the ground as it crept forward on all fours. But what caught Asher's attention the most was its wings. They were folded against the beast's sides, but were clearly massive. Their thin membrane looked soft and supple, like dark silk.

The creature crept nearer, only feet away. Asher shrank back, fear mingling with amazement. He could hardly believe his eyes.

A dragon.