The slopes of the Shirayama Mountains, called the Comb Mountains in most of Corone, provided little cover in dawn’s early light. Shrubs burnt to death by summer’s heat occasioned the craggy, pit-sliding rock face. Insects thrummed in the thick moss growing in the shadows of the ridges. A fresh earthy scent leaned upon the breeze.

Jake Narmolanya’s footfalls beat an angry tempo as he approached the grassy plateau. Anger had become the most familiar emotion to the young thief of late. Frown lines creased his youthful, ordinarily smiling face. His mop of dirty blond hair played loosely in the wind, and his dark green sifan clothing rippled against his lithe body. He moved with deadly purpose, like a hungry mountain cat following its nose.

In truth he had followed a bevy of rumors and gossip, searching out the only man who would allow him to slake his wrath.

Jake’s sword hand twitched toward the pommel poking over his right shoulder. He had sworn to kill the snow-haired assassin who corrupted his close friend Amari. The half elf remembered Amari when she’d been only a girl, the kindest and most innocent person he’d ever met. He remembered her when the cracked black lines had appeared on her skin, and evil had tugged at her heart. He’d done his best to take her away from the monster of a man, but he’d failed again and again. Now she had become something entirely different. A monster in her own right. A monster Jake might have to put down in order to reach the one she called master.

Leather boots climbed the plateau and trampled the long grass. In the middle of the elevated field sat a man Jake had once called teacher. If he could still be called a man. Then, he had been the Sheriff of Underwood, and a pillar of the community. Now, if stories could be believed, he was more god than mortal.

Joshua “Breaker” Cronen’s legs were folded in front of him. He faced away from Jake, but the half elf knew he’d been sensed as soon as he disrupted the grass. Breaker had the nose of a hound, and the ears of a hare.

“A pleasure to make your acquaintance again, Master Narmolanya.” The voice was familiar, and yet strange. Almost unnervingly calm and even.

“Sorry to interrupt your meditation,” Jake said, shrugging his haversack and cased bow off of his back. He flexed his narrow shoulders, arching his spine and stretching stiff muscles. “I had to ask after you in half of Underwood to learn you’d moved to that little village Yutori, and I questioned at least a dozen folks there before I learned you might be on this particular plateau.”

Breaker’s head tilted to one side. It was the first perceptible movement he’d made other than the way his short brown hair and blue tailored clothing waved in the wind.

“You’re angry,” he said, his words almost lost in the open air, “you’ve come here with violence in your mind. Do you mean to kill me, or ask for my assistance?”

“Well, I’m not here to tell you about Maggie Cartwright’s triplets,” Jake jibed. The question had caught him off guard. “I just need to continue my training. In a condensed timeframe. There’s someone I need to kill.”

“Who?” Breaker asked, like an owl presiding over its domain. He stood slowly and turned. The sun lit on the Y-shaped scars on his cheeks and shone in his deep hazel eyes. Even in such simple movements, he seemed like a shark circling blood.

“Lichensith Ulroké.”

The words hung in the air, a curse as much as a name. Images of the sickly assassin flitted through Jake’s mind. He had only learned the pale man’s name in his most recent, violent encounter with Amari.

Breaker scratched the stubble on his chin with a wide, callused hand. “You might be better off trying to kill me,” he said, “I know little of Ulroké, other than that he is a master assassin with unparalleled abilities and influences.”

“I’ve met him,” Jake said, “he moves like you. I figure if anyone can teach me to kill him, you can.”

“Moves like me how?”

“Like a nightshadow, chasing day’s final rays. Like a leopard padding through the treetops. Like death, waiting on the cusp of life.” Jake unsheathed his blue hilted, green bladed sword. The crystal weapon glittered in the sunlight. He gripped it in both hands and extended the curved tip over his shoulder in a high guard. “Will you teach me, or not?”

“It doesn’t seem you intend to leave me much choice.” Breaker said. He crouched and plucked a single blade of long grass, and then stood, holding it like one might a sword. His black boots shifted slightly, his legs bowing. A battery packed with black powder would have looked less dangerous. The demigod smiled.

“Begin.”