Fendel stepped out of the shadows formed by a nearby tree, his bow already raised, a training arrow already nocked and drawn. Grim had perhaps half a second to react before it hit him, and used that time to Shadow Dash back a few feet. By then, the trajectory of his shot had been determined, and the arrow zipped harmlessly through the air feet from its target.

  ? Grim drew back the string on his own bow, feeling the arrow form between his fingers, and raising the weapon to sight on the spot where Fendel had appeared. But, of course, his teacher was gone already, and he turned on the spot, searching for his next appearance. If he missed his first opportunity to shoot, he could take the second.

  ? There! He stopped turning and raised the bow a little higher, then released. The arrow sped through empty air as Fendel ducked it, but his wide eyes showed how close Grim had finally gotten, and he couldn’t manage to get a return shot off before Grim had begun drawing once again.

  ? Not for the first time, Grim found himself wondering why this training was so intense. He could see the benefits, sure, but how often could he be expected to go against other delvers? Even monsters with near-human intelligence couldn’t string skills together like Fendel was doing. No, these tactics were only used by humans. So why was he learning how to recognize and counteract them?

  ? Fendel had refused to answer his question, and nobody else had given him a satisfactory explanation. Trying to work the answer out of Veyra was pointless, he hadn’t even bothered. Miranda had seemed the most likely to know, but even she avoided the topic when he brought it up. The closest he’d gotten to an answer was ‘you’ll find out when it’s time’. Avoidance incarnate, he thought.

  ? Fendel appeared behind yet another tree, not quite in the opposite direction. Distracted by his thoughts as he was, Grim missed his shot, and had to Shadow Dash to avoid the projectile that Fendel had sent his way. He got off another shot, however, forcing the grizzled teacher to actually jump out of the way. So far, he hadn’t used any skills that Grim could see. And he was keeping his physical strength at or around level four. It wasn’t a matter of the difference in strength between them, but in technique and training.

  ? Skills, Grim thought, putting his back to one tree and scanning for any sign of his teacher. Fendel had allowed him to use all skills available to him. No limitations placed on his abilities. Just hit him with an arrow. Of course, he had no offensive or defensive skills, which made securing Fendel long enough to shoot him…

  ? “Secure him,” he muttered, as he spotted a tiny flicker of movement between two bushes. A small reward for the attention he paid. “That could work.”

  ? He waited for his teacher to appear and fire once more, exactly where he’d suspected the man to. Good. He was getting used to predicting the ways he hid and showed himself, at least. Fendel did pause after loosing a shot, evidently noticing the look of cold concentration in Grim’s eyes. The tiniest hint of a smirk touched his teacher’s face. Could he tell what Grim had in mind?

  ? When he ducked into the cover of a nearby tree, Grim fired the arrow he held at it, using Concussive Shot. The wood was unawakened, and so the conjured arrow shattered it with the force of a small explosive. He heard Fendel’s grunt of surprise at the unexpected tactic, but his mentor was still moving. That was fine. With his attention taken by the explosion of wood, he’d failed to notice Grim’s actual move.

  ? With his next and final appearance, Grim was ready and acted without hesitation. The instant Fendel’s feet were set, the tendril of shadow, barely noticeable amidst the darkness already present in the swamp, tightened its grip and pulled. Fendel and Grim were both roughly the same weight, but one of them had more experience being pulled along by Shadow Tendrils. It was over in a blur, a shout of surprise, and a splash of muddy water.

  ? Grim grinned down at Fendel, the drawn arrow level with the old man’s face. “Gotcha. Or do you want me to actually fire this arrow?”

  ? “Neat trick,” Fendel grumbled, knocking Grim’s bow to one side. Grim let the string come down naturally without firing, and the materialized arrow slowly fizzled into nothingness. “I’m disappointed it took until you had access to all your skills before you managed it, but at least you did.”

  ? “Are you going to tell me what this training was for, now?” Grim slung the bow over one shoulder and offered Fendel a hand out of the water. Something had told him he was being tested in some way, though he didn’t know what for. “Why was it so important that I be able to hit you with an arrow?”

  ? Fendel waved one hand over his body as he regained his feet, pushing the water and mud out of his clothing, leaving it clean. “That’s not for me to say. The Captain will fill you in. It was just my job to make sure you were up to the challenge.”

  ? Grim glared silently. “I’m not going to walk all the way back to the guild hall just to know what the hell you’ve been torturing me for.”

  ? “You’re welcome to crawl if you prefer,” Fendel said, baring his teeth. ”Or you can grow wings if you like. However you do it is up to you, boy.”

  ? A patch of mist drifted between them, thickening visibly for a moment, and his teacher was gone. Grim’s scowl only deepened, and, hoping his teacher still had eyes on him, made a rude hand gesture towards the spot he’d just vacated. For good measure, he peppered in a few choice insults in Undercommon. Then, knowing that he couldn’t change the stubborn wild man’s mind, he began stomping his way toward the gates.

  ? Barely a month ago, this place had been the scene of a chaotic battle, he thought. Massive spells had rained down from those walls, and through those gates, well over a hundred delvers had rushed out to put down the horde of monsters that had come to challenge them. And then it had been his turn. A monumentally important day in his career, and it simultaneously felt as if it had just taken place, and that it had happened in another lifetime.

  ? “Never gets old,” a voice said to his right, “the thought that a battle like that can happen. Even after you see it a few dozen times, you still have trouble believing it.”

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  ? He knew who it was before he saw her. “Of course you’re stalking me tonight. Had to see with your own eyes that I passed your little test, eh?”

  ? His Captain merely smiled. Not her usual baring of fangs, but an honest, amused smile. “Oh, what’s the point of life without a little fun?”

  ? “I’d agree with you, if it didn’t seem like it was always at my expense.”

  ? She laughed at that, the noise rippling through the darkness and reverberating against the walls. “Fair enough. But I think you’ll understand, when I tell you why. Everyone’s tested the same way in our Guild. It’s a kind of rite of passage as you get to level five and beyond. If you can prove yourself better than the test, then you deserve to move on. If you can’t, you stay stuck.”

  ? “So I know I’m not staying stuck,” Grim agreed. “What do I get to move on to, then?”

  ? “Oh, just a special little thing that takes place in Beastwick every other year. It’s a small tournament, you might have heard of it.”

  ? Grim stopped in his tracks, and his glare reformed at once. He did understand what they had in mind by testing him the way they had. But he also hated it. “The level five tournament? That’s open registration. And in Beastwick. I was never going to go to it.”

  ? “Oh, yes you were,” Veyra snorted, matching his glare with humor. “Even if I didn’t make you, which I will, you’d end up going. No delver who wants to progress misses out on it. But this time, you’re going as a representative of our guild. And you’re going to prove that we’re better. Not just the Cartographers, but Ironmarsh.”

  ? “And how does beating my chest and defeating other people help me grow as a delver?” Grim asked, arching an eyebrow. If this was truly all they’d been testing him for… If this stupid tournament was the reason he’d spend the last two to three weeks walking home with bruises and waking with a sore, battered body… He curled his right first, wishing strongly that he could manage to punch Veyra. He was sure he could get away with it, but actually landing the blow would be a different matter.

  ? "Oh dear, sweet, Grim,” she said sweetly, batting her eyes, “It’s always good for you to obey the instructions of your betters."

  ? His derisive snort told her exactly what he thought about that remark, and she laughed again. “Alright, it’s more complicated than that. Usually, I’d tell you that it’s about the respect and honor. And that is true, but for you, there’s a more important reason.”

  ? His frown deepened slightly, but not out of irritation. “There is? Why should I care-”

  ? Her small sigh cut him off. “Didn’t that silver-haired devil tell you that you have a Grand Quest? Something about revenge and power? I assume the revenge portion of that includes fighting against the people that killed your family and caused the destruction of your city. That means fighting other delvers. So you better get the practice in now.”

  ? “Oh.” Grim wasn’t sure how he could have forgotten about that. Between getting used to living in a guild, his training sessions with Fendel and Terrence, and becoming closer to Maven, he’d… quite forgotten about how he came to be there. It had finally sunk in that he had a home and a place to belong in Ironmarsh, and he’d focused intently on that feeling. “Right… Revenge…”

  ? Except that… as he thought of it now, he found that there was no real compulsion to take revenge. If there were a face to give his enemy, it would be different. But the only actor he knew of that had taken a hand in the death of his parents and the destruction of his home, was also killed in that same event. Granden hadn’t pointed him in the direction of any new foes either…

  ? No, he thought firmly. He’d take part in this tournament, but only to prove himself. It wasn’t the delver-on-delver combat experience that mattered. He had to show that his guild had made the right choice in hiring him. And impressing Maven couldn’t hurt either, a small voice said in the back of his mind. He smiled at that. Yes, that was a definite bonus.

  ? “Revenge isn’t on my mind right now,” he said, putting his thoughts into reality. “I’ll do it. But I’m not doing it for the family I lost in Evandross. I’m doing it for the one I have here.”

  ? Judging by the smile that split her face–and the alarming number of teeth he could count–she approved of that idea. “Well, whatever your reason, your training begins in earnest next week. The tournament is held on the final day of the tenth month. That gives us about four months to prepare.”

  ? She gave him a small pat on the shoulder. “Take the week off. Train, meditate, whatever you want. You’re going to be rushing to level five, and then training like your life depends on it.”

  —

  ? Maven leaned against him, her new book open on one knee, the other draped over the arm of the sofa as she once again used him as a pillow. He’d finally taken Miranda up on her offer and presented the book as a present at the end of their most recent date. He still hadn’t quite recovered from the surprise of her… gratitude. Not for the first time that night, he idly rubbed one of his ribs, checking to make sure it wasn’t broken. She’d hugged him so tightly, he thought he might pop.

  ? Well, it had been a pleasant experience, he thought, remembering the softness of her lips. She’d clearly aimed to kiss him on the cheek, but either thanks to the excitement of the present or how well the date had gone, they’d taken the chance to… explore some new feelings. Quite aggressively.

  ? Thankfully, nobody thought to tease him about it. The news that he’d be representing the guild at the tournament had made its way around the guild in the last week, and people had wished him well. Anything that kept him in a good mood was welcome. There was also–privately–a great deal of approval for their match. They fit each other well, though they didn’t know it yet themselves. The others were excited to see how their relationship might grow, and so had decided not to give them grief… yet.

  ? “Is it… a good read?” he asked as Maven turned a page. She smirked up at him, twisting her head so that he could make out the glint in her brown eyes.

  ? “Oh, very much yes,” she replied enthusiastically. “How you convinced Miranda to finally stop hoarding every copy, I don’t know. But I’m glad you did.”

  ? He couldn’t help the smile that sprang to his lips. “Oh, like she could refuse me. All I did was ask politely.”

  ? Her brows knit together in a slight frown. “Oh, is that so? Or did she simply give you the book as a favor to her, to be paid back later?”

  ? “You wound me, fair lady,” he said, gripping his chest in mock-horror. “How shall my honor ever recover?”

  ? She snorted at that, but put the book to one side anyway, seizing his arm and folding it over her like a blanket as she relaxed. He smiled down at where her head rested on his lap, her hair spilling out in tiny golden-brown waves. “Keep your secrets, then. You’re lucky I find you interesting.”

  ? “I can work with interesting,” he muttered, though he wasn’t sure she heard it. He leaned back comfortably into the sofa, letting the laziness of the evening wash over him, dozing lightly with his guildmates around him and Maven so close. Not a bad life he had here, he thought. A good life. And he’d work hard to keep it that way.