“Again.” Jake breathed.

The two Aleraran soldiers who'd agreed to train with him gave each other a sideways glance. They each gripped a light rapier, while the half elf clasped his crystal sword in both hands. He’d already disarmed and drubbed the dark elves nine different ways; they were breathing heavily and wore a fair selection of bumps and bruises. Jake still felt awkward and unbalanced with only one eye, though, and so he pushed them to continue.

He’d slept for a night and most of a day after receiving “treatment” from the so-called surgeon, and woken with a fire in his belly that would not be snuffed. He’d eaten some gruel to feed his body and immediately set about finding his new training partners.

They wouldn’t do. They came at him together, exploiting his blind side, but it didn’t matter. Jake slipped between them, the flat of his sword blade battering their legs and livers, and they fell to the floor again with matching groans.

Jake slashed the air in frustration and adjusted the black sifan eyepatch Radek had given him. His remaining green orb blazed furiously behind a curtain of shaggy hair.

“I’ve had it with this,” one soldier said as he helped his friend up. They both sheathed their blades. “We barely had any sword-training. Spent most of our time learning to clean and fire different weapons. Proper weapons,” he added, as he picked up the two rifles leaning against the stone wall and tossed one to his comrade.

Their shadows danced beneath the buzzing electric lights as they marched down the tunnel. Jake rose into a one-footed sword stance with his blade arching overhead, and then another, much larger shadow crossed the bright lights.

“How have you progressed?” Came the coarse voice of Flint Skovik.

“Not well enough,” Jake growled, meeting the mountainous man in the middle of the room. “Haven’t you got anyone who knows how to use a blade? Or that can move faster than my grandma, Thaynes bless her soul?”

“Well, there’s me.” Skovik said bluntly. He flexed his massive hands.

A long moment of tension lingered between the two warriors. Their eyes locked. Next to Skovik, Jake looked almost like a halfling.

“Right,” he said, “but you don’t have a sword. I need Breaker.”

“So go get him.”

“Do you know how long it took me to find him last time? I can’t just… actually, now that you mention it, he’s probably on the same plateau where I saw him last. What time is it in Corone, do you reckon? What time is it here, come to that? Nevermind, I’ll just take a quick peek.”

Jake focused for a moment, power flowing through his veins, and a door-shaped portal appeared in the air between him and Flint. Peering through, Jake could see sunlight on the long grass of the plateau. He could see Cronen, seated facing in the other direction.

“He’s there! Right, I’ll be back in some time. Don’t leave without me!” He joked, and then vanished through the portal.