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dull sound both going into and coming out of the room. Satisfied as the uproarious commotion from downstairs faded into a dull murmur, Rowen pulled the familiar, four foot, square parchment sheet that he kept his magic circle on out from under his bed and sat cross-legged on it. The young Skylance closed his eyes and opened his mind to the magics imbued in the parchment. After several seconds passed and the upstart mage felt in tuned with the magic circle, he spoke the activation word to bring out the circle's full power.

  Rowen slipped into his meditative trance and his mind was laid out before him. Rowen went straight to work and pulled all seven of his major Fire spells to the forefront of his mind. As a young mageling of the Fire School of magic, seven spells was all Rowen's mind could handle, but it was still more than anyone in his class could manage; even those in other Schools of magic. Rowen went through the motions and phrases required to cast each spell numerous times, a practice that kept the spells fresh in his mind and allowed him to cast them each once in the next twenty-four hours.

  Once Rowen finished preparations of his spells, he pulled forth the beginnings of an eighth spell he had started to learn not long ago. He gathered magical energies in his mind and began to form the casting sequence, matching it to the angelic phrase that would let him hurl a large fireball at his foes. Rowen spent quite some time that night at work on his new spell, and indeed even more time over the remaining days until graduation. He finally completed the spell the night before his expedition.

  Rowen and Cecilia arrived at the barracks first thing in the morning and signed in. They were assigned to the First Company. Franz and Loren, the commander and vice commander of the graduation expedition, would be their leaders. Argonnoth, an Earth mage under leadership training from Franz, would also help lead. After they signed in and were given their company number, they were given breakfast. They sat at a table with the other two potential graduates assigned to the First Company.

  One of the two, a few years older than Rowen, wore a fine suit of light chain mail and had a short sword and dagger sheathed on his belt. He called himself Algon and smoothed back his short black hair with a hand every few seconds. He made sure everyone around knew he was going to join Althera’s Vanguard when he graduated.

  The other man, more of a boy, really, looked to be several years younger than Rowen. He had short, curly red hair and wore an outfit of leather armor. He carried a full quiver of arrows slung over his back and kept his short bow close by on another chair. He proclaimed himself Loff, a ranger, and professed to join the militia after graduating. The young ranger didn't say much else.

  Last of all, a cleric from the Church of Althera joined the table. Cecilia introduced her as Lentess. She would be the one to grade Cecilia on her clerical abilities.

  After the introductions and pleasantries were over with, each group divided up and discussed their routes and destinations for the excursion.

  “Good morning, recruits,” Franz said. “As you know Loren and I will be leading your expedition today. You have all been placed in the First Company for your outstanding academic records and high promises of success. As such, we will be tackling the largest threat in the area. Lizardmen have moved into Bracken Hold, an abandoned outpost out west, and we will be clearing them out and setting up a new camp. Lizardmen are fierce fighters and not to be taken lightly. They are also our most intelligent foes right after the demons. You know your roles based on the skills you’ve learned so I won’t go into tactical details until we reach the outpost and have scouted out the situation.”

  Right after preparations were complete all fifteen members of the First Company set out on foot with their pack horses. The company left before noon and traveled for several hours, stopping only once by a stream for a quick afternoon meal of flat bread and nuts before setting out again.

  A few hours later the scouts returned with news that the ruins were in sight and that the lizard men were nowhere to be seen. Perplexed, but not ultimately worried, Franz led the company onward. A short while later they arrived at the clearing that held the Bracken Hold ruins and several scouts came down the large staircase that led up to the old military outpost. Their faces were pale and one of them shook as he spoke.

  “We found the clan of Lizardmen, Sir,” the scout reported to Franz. “They're all dead and heaped into a large pile next to a bonfire.”

  “Well someone, or something, seems to have beaten us to our target men,” the captain said. “It looks like our mission's been changed. We're now here to investigate the situation and react accordingly. If we have a new foe we will deal with them just as we would have the Lizardmen,” he finished and turned to the graduates. “I don't like the look of this, so if at any point I deem your lives in jeopardy I will order you to retreat and you will follow my orders. Understood? I want no heroics from any of you.” Rowen, Cecilia, and the two other graduates nodded their understanding. Franz returned the nod and turned back to speak with the whole company.

  “Form a perimeter around the candidates,” Franz ordered. “Protecting them is our number one priority.” The company fell into a tight defensive circle around Rowen and the others.

  “Weapons out!” came the next order. Swords, shields, maces, and bows all flashed out and arrows were knocked. Rowen pulled his own short staff off of his belt and gripped it until his hands hurt. He forced himself to contain his anxiety and pulled forth into his mind the angelic power of his spells. He didn't even hear the call to move forward but found himself moving with the group up the moss-covered stairs.

  When Rowen reached the top, he took in the strange sight. Straight ahead was the bonfire with the massacred Lizardmen tribe piled next to it. The serpentine bodies were cut and dismembered like a pile of animals fresh from the slaughter. Cecilia's elbow collided with the mentally-distant mageling's ribs, jolting Rowen back to the matters at hand. Franz was whispering with Loren, while Argonnoth strengthened the group’s equipment with minor spells.

  “What do you think?” she asked. “Was it other monsters? Or demons?”

  Rowen looked around for any sights of danger. The group still stood at the top of the old stairs under the crumbled arch that once held the name of the forsaken outpost. To either side of the company was a wide alley between the walls of the hold and the nearest stone building. Both alleyways were littered with stone and wood debris. “I have no idea,” he said.

  Rowen surveyed the building next to the alley on the left. It was in such horrible disrepair that Rowen could barely make out that it had once been the outpost's stable. He turned his head and studied the ruins in an arcing motion. Next to the mass of rubble that was the stable were a few hovels. Many of which lacked roofs, doors, and some even multiple walls. Next came a large rectangular building directly behind the bonfire; or half of one rather. The young student suspected it was once a tavern or mess hall for the troops with ample room for entertainment. To the right of the dilapidated mess hall were more rundown one-room houses.

  Finally, Rowen's eye came to rest on the last building. This one was by far the largest, even larger than the mess hall. It was also in the best shape of any of the buildings. None of its walls were torn down and the roof could be seen if one looked up through the windows on the top floor. A sign hung over the door that marked it as the barracks. Rowen looked back over his shoulder. While the mageling expected to see the clear dirt path bathed in golden rays of sunshine they had used to reach the ruins, he saw instead a dense wall of fog. He looked up and saw that the entire sky was covered in thick, gray clouds.

  “Captain.” he called with haste, ignoring the looks he received for his interruption. “I think whatever we're looking for will show itself,” he said, pointing behind him. The company men adjusted their grips on their weapons. Franz was about to give the first order when a loud, guttural growl cut him off. The entire company turned to face the noise.

  Out from behind the bonfire came a large creature. It stood almost eight feet high and had coal black, sinewy skin. Its head
was of canine shape with a protruding snout, home to a row of razor-sharp teeth. Pointed ears stuck straight up from the sides of its head. It wore a coat of gold chain mail from the sleeves of which came four muscular arms. Each arm held a black long sword in its hand. Its face was contorted into what could only be described as a hideous, otherworldly grin.

  The thing, a demon, Rowen knew from tales of the Vanguard, was a Senshin. The Senshin served as battle commanders, leading the lesser demons into battle. For a moment Rowen knew true terror as he locked gazes with the creature. Its purple eyes bored a hole into his very soul before it broke contact and barked commands in a guttural language, its snake like tongue darting out of its mouth.

  Debris shifted all around the humans as skeletons burst from their ambush spots. An arm of skeletal demons stalked down each alley. Five with swords and shields for the hands, two archers with short bows for the wrist. With the ambush fully sprung, Franz issued orders.

  “Loren, Algon, Lentess and Rowen, with me! We'll meet the Senshin and hold him back. Loff, Argonnoth, Len, Tal and Paff take the eastern alley. The rest of you take the west, minus Cecilia. I want you to support