The sun rose over the mountaintops. Chilly rays of light pierced the morning. It was quiet, and the air and the sky were crystal clear. The vast blue expanse spread from horizon to horizon, as August stepped out onto the balcony of his tower room and greeted the morning. He usually rose before Le Toumb, straightened his clothes, sipped the traditional Hanoan beverage they drank each morning. He had taken a liking to it - at first it tasted like mud, or sand mixed with water, but with some fresh cream and sugar the experience became far more pleasant, and the bitterness, he found, cleansed the morning fog from his head and eyes. He did the morning exercise customary for islanders, and used the extra time he had to leaf through the pages of archives on attempted translations of the God-tongue. He still had some time before Le Toumb would come to take him to mess, before the mainland volunteers were set to arrive at noon.

  Naturally, all the early organizing and translating attempts were undertaken by religious scholars - the earliest systematic codifier of the Sigils - Zodeley the Prophet - suffered from a near-death experience in which he was granted some knowledge of the God-tongue. Uttering the syllables, he had conjured a glowing sigil - and everything kept going from there. Even now, magi who return from the brink of death often have their casting strengthened substantially - some even possess knowledge of sigils not yet discovered, or of an ordering of sigils that produces incredible magic. There had been experiments, in the past, with injecting promising mages with poisons that would bring them to death’s door - but one too many tragedy’s had banned that kind of experimentation across all the continents in one of the major peace treaties. But nevertheless, very few of the sigils known to the Hanoans were discovered organically.

  Le Toumb entered without knocking, catching August mid-page.

  “I see you are up again. Let’s hurry. They are arriving sooner than we thought. Good winds on the sea today.” He took a glance at the page, and shrugged.

  “I find these historical texts of little value. The consensus is, among the higher mages, that the sigilic syntax is so unlike ours that we have little hope of piecing it together through any of our known analytic methods. Perhaps it is not even a language at all.”

  “What else could it be? All systems are in some way a language.”

  “Imagine trying to deconstruct a numerical system into a syllabic one. Or geometric one, and so one. We are assuming some kind of referent because we are biased by the act of speech. It may not be so. Who can know how the Gods use their speech?”

  They made their way down the tower to the mess hall and ate hastily, a simple breakfast of gruel cooked in animal fat with freshly baked bread and milk. Then he heard the gates opening, and knew that his first moment of reckoning had come. He felt nervousness creep up on him again, and wallowed it down with a sip of the Hanoan beverage.

  They stepped together into the courtyard. A lieutenant was already barking at the four youngsters lined up by the gate. August peered across the dusty yard into their figures - they wore clean, bright vests of padded armor, and each carried a saber - the traditional Hanoan weapon. Two boys, same number of girls. Most divisions had this gendered split, for many reasons - chief among which was to keep any infighting in check.

  “Stand straight. No dilly-dallying with me here. We are at war. You have taken your oaths. In the four months we spend here you will be training six days a week out of seven, one for rest and recuperation. Any one of you lags behind, I will cut you loose. The battlefield is not a classroom. We cannot afford any hard lessons. Do not take it personally. At ease.”

  The four relaxed, took their arms off their sabers. Stiff, August noted. Too compliant with authority, too rigid. Maybe their greenness will make it easier to get along.

  “You have an hour to get acquainted and find your rooms. We will be conducting a baseline assessment of ability and battlefield tactics, to see where we can start with the curriculum. You fifth, along with your main instructor, are these two.” His voice carried far. He jerked his head towards Le Toumb.

  “Battle-Magus Le Toumb has just returned from the conquest of Belania. He played a crucial role in the siege of the capital and hunting rogue mage units. His word is gospel to you. Understood?”

  ‘Yes Lieutenant!” they answered in unison, and looked at August and Le Toumb. They were now standing directly next to the Lieutenant, the tall Magus, and the somewhat-shorter Kerenian youth. One of the boys grimaced.

  “Is he from the conquest? Of the slave regiments? Does he speak well?”

  “More or less.” August replied in his light accent.

  “This is August.” Le Toumb interjected. “We brought him over from the capital. He was being trained to be one of their casters, but we took the capital before he ever saw the field. His abilities are not, as I hope you will come to judge, like other islanders.”

  The boy reached out his hand, a callous look in his eye, almost nonchalant. “Rudolph. Let it be as you say.”

  August stepped up and took it, as was the Hanoan tradition. One by one, he went down the line, making mental notes as if memorizing a sigil. Rudolph - broad, strong - a firm handshake - dark hair, a perpetual scowl, a cold glance.

  “Aeren.” Another handshake. More subtle, but with weight. Creases near his eyes, a softer glance, straw-colored hair, not as large, not as rough. A touch of pity to him, a softness in his hand, in his stance. He placed a hand briefly on his shoulder as he went to greet the next trainee.

  The girls bowed and didn't shake hands. He returned the bow. “Kelea” - a popular name, reminiscent of their Goddess - and “Chrysantha.” Eloquent.

  Kelea was tall, white-haired, confident. An elegance without contempt emanated from her bow. A quick glance his way was of concern for the slave-boy, not pity, not contempt. She was saddened by this tradition of war-slaves, he could sense. An amused grin crept onto his face, confused her. She stepped back, looked at Le Toumb, shook her head slightly. White locks tumbled over her shoulders. The crimson chest piece gleamed in the light of the climbing sun.

  Chrysantha was more subdued, harder to read. She bowed curtly, met his glance briefly. There was nothing there. She was a good card-player, August decided, and stepped back, his bow just as curt. Careful dealing hands around her. Black, short hair - a more filled out frame, strong legs. The image of a battle magus in training. A stern glance fell onto the retreating lieutenants back, as if she had expected more. August stepped back. Le Toumb looked on soberly.

  “Battle-Magus.” Chrysantha turned to Le Toumb after the introductions concluded. “Are we to know what the assessment will consist of? Will we be assigned battle-roles?”

  “Its fairly straightforward.” Le toumb replied. “A skirmish against a regular unit. Nothing too serious, of course - you will decide your roles among yourselves. But enough of that, there will be a time for that. Let me show you to your rooms.”

  On the way up Kelea and Aeren peppered him with questions, while Rudolph and Chrysantha talked somberly amongst themselves, something about battle-strategy and two-sigil releases.

  “What was it like, on the islands?” A boring one. August decided to be coy.

  “The weather is nice.” Kelea looked accusing at him. Aeren smirked. “Deserved for that one.” He nudged her.

  “You don’t feel resentment towards Hanoa? I haven’t ever talked to one of the war-slaves before, I didn’t expect them to be this young.” A better question, but farm more difficult. He decided to play politics.

  “Justice is the birthright of the strong.” From their Holy Book. Aeren nodded knowingly.

  “You read the Rites?”

  “Not fully. I’m not faithful. Hope that isn’t an issue.”

  Kelea chipped in. “That's alright. Even some Hanoans aren’t taking the Rites seriously anymore. Times change.”

  Rudolph broke off his conversation and turned towards Kelea.

  “Don’t encourage him. He might say the wrong thing to the wrong man because of this foolishness. Don’t trifle with the Rites.” He turned back.

  “He’s a little serious.” Aeren said, almost apologizing. “His family is from one of the Inquisitor orders. They stamped heretic magi out in the civil war a century or so ago. His father is quite important.”

  They climbed the rest of the stairs in silence, but there was only a short way left until they came to the tower’s middle floor, which housed all their rooms ringing the spiral staircase leading upwards to the observation deck.

  “Leave your belongings. Select rooms among yourselves. In ten minutes be back in the courtyard.” Le Toumb left them and made his way back towards the ground floor.

  “We roll for choices.” Chrysantha pulled two dice out of her pocket. Nobody protested. She perched cross-legged on the stone floor and rolled, then handed the dice off. And so they chose, with August getting the first pick. He chose the room looking out towards the mountains, in between Kelea and Rudolph’s rooms. Satisfied, they left their travel-bags in their stoically furnished rooms and returned to the courtyard.

  The Lieutenant had already selected five magi for them to skirmish against. They sat in a circle, laughing about something. When they caught sight of the youngsters coming out of the tower, one leapt up and hollered at them.

  “Don’t lose your britches, greenlings. We don’t have many your size!” The rest of them chuckled. Le Toumb strode over and handed a matching chestpiece to August. “Talk strategy. Rudolph is leading. The objective is to take the feather off the captain’s helm.” He handed a helm with a blue feather sticking out to Rudolph, and pointed at a similar one with a red feather in the hands of one of the female magi.

  “Don’t overthink this. You aren’t supposed to win. Don’t try to blitz them, you might get hurt. We want to see how you think and how you leverage your magic so we can go from there with your preparation for the field. And August…” he looked straight at him. “Be careful.”

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  The group didn't pay much attention to that quip. They were already drawing battle lines in the courtyard sand.

  “You can do two sigils, right?” Chrysantha asked him when he joined, cross-legged, into their strategizing. He nodded. “Alright.”

  Rudolph started making arrows in the sand. “I’ve got the feather, so I'll be in the far back focusing on support and defensive magic. We should have two on offense, one defending, and one who could decide whether to attack or defend. Any preferences?”

  “I’m on offense.” Chrysantha said flatly. That was that, then.

  “I can defend.” said Aeren. “We’ve drilled with Rudolph before getting shipped off. We work well together.”

  “My sword-arm isn’t too good.” August said. “I don’t think I should be pressuring their melee.”

  “Then I’ll be the second attacker.” Kelea responded. “That’s all of them then. August is playing the middle line.”

  “Let’s talk offense then.” Chrysantha turned to August and Kelea. “You two can talk defense. Looks like we’re almost ready to start.” The five regulars had already arranged themselves into a five-point star, the feather bearer in the back, two in the front, and two spread out in the middle.

  “Looks like they’re moving in one unit. That gives us a maneuverability advantage.” Kelea said. “We should use that to flank them, let the front two overextend in attacking, then force a three on three with them surrounded.” She looked at August. “That means you’ll have to survive a two on one with their middle line while we close in from the wings. Can you do that, you think?”

  “Not for long, but I can try.” August replied. “Do you think they can defend two on two?”

  “Rudolph won’t lose quickly” replied Chrysantha. “You don’t either. I don’t know what kind of magic they taught you on the island, but It probably isn't up to imperium standard.” She turned to Kelea. “There’s no way he survives first contact two on one. I don’t like your plan. If he’s out, they can just turn one to defend, and send a third attacker. You’re throwing the slave-boy to the wolves.”

  “I trust him.” Kelea responded. “The battle magus seems to like him. We can change the formation, if you like then, or just do something else, if you insist ....”

  The Lieutenant called for the two teams to line up. Chrysantha shot him a dark look. “We’re out of time. We go with your plan. Don’t lose too quickly, Kerian.”

  They arranged their lines to oppose the five pointed star. The lieutenant put two fingers in his mouth and blew hard. A piercing screech echoed across the courtyard. Le Toumb watched closely from the ramparts.

  The rush of battle. Clash of steel, dark light flashing across fields watered with blood. Sigils glowing in the night air, showering ice and flame on his men. Strike and counterstrike, battle lines drawn and quartered - all this he had tasted in the fields of Belania. Compared to those entrenched nights, this duel in the courtyard filled him only with wonder and anticipation, of clashing sigils and sparks flying through space. The joy of casting - this he had not felt once in the battlefield, and now it was his. He relished every sigil - every syllable of the God tongue left his lips with a sweet succor that no foodstuff could ever hope to match. Mana flooded his eyes, and he stepped forwards.

  The sun burned on his skin. He felt the breeze wash over him in pure shivering ecstasy as mana flooded his arms, his legs, his tongue. He smiled - casting without fear of death - the exhilarating battle - oh to taste their magic!

  They attacked in their star formation, showering their front line with single-sigil spells of flame and frost - a blast of wind threw dust up into the air, shrouding their advance for a brief instant before Aeren dispelled it with his own, and retreated in unison with Rudolph.

  Their front two men charged into melee, like expected. The two girls split, let them pass by, and August drew his sword to parry them as they passed him by, heading for their feather. The two on two commenced, Rudolph and Aeren going blow for blow and sigil for sigil as they tried to halt their blistering advance. From their back line, their captain nonchalantly fired blasts of frozen wind at the girls advancing from the flank.

  August faced forward, matching step for step the two middlemen bearing down on him. They decided for a simple melee-caster two on one, as one pulled back, preparing two sigils, and the other strode confidently into melee.

  Time almost slowed to a still as he read easily the two elementary sigils the caster prepared, readied the anti-sigils, and brushed a sword-strike to the side. The spell released, was met instantly by the counterspell, and recoiled against the caster, sending him tumbling to the side.

  In melee, he parried another strike, and ate a sudden kick to the ribs. He stepped back, gasping for air, and blocked another blow, but it glanced off his guard and the flat of the sword struck against his forearm as it carried itself downwards. The blade slipped from his hand as he danced to the side, readying and casting a wind sigil almost instantly, blowing the swordsman back. He dug into the sand and leaned into the harmless blast, unfazed - he had bought enough time for the caster to fire off another two-sigil spell, and a twin blast of flame erupted in the air just above August. Without any countermagic prepared, the blast sent August rolling through the yard, kicking up dust - but the spell was weakened, and had nearly missed, so only the heat wave had caught him, singing his face on one side. He rolled through it, and glanced over the battlefield as the swordsman closed on him.

  Rudolph and Aeren were holding on, but barely. The two enemy attackers were pressing hard into melee, giving no time for the trainees to read any sigils, turning it into a pure swordfight, and they were forcing them towards the wall of the courtyard. Of the two girls only Chrysantha still stood, panting as she readied a spell to fling at the enemy captain, easily countered - Kelea sat in the dust, nursing a leg from a blast of frozen wind that had caught her directly. Frostburn.

  The attack had failed. What to do - try to salvage the defense, or attempt to break through and attack? Le Toumb said that they shouldn't try to win, but…. Maybe he should try to leave an impression.

  The two pursuing him had almost closed in - the caster had abandoned magic and drew his sword to go into two-on-one melee. Solid - but it would mean his countermagic would be too late. August raised his hands, chanted a wind sigil, then another, linked them, and released them downwards, throwing plumes of sand into the air as he somersaulted over the two attackers - mana flooded his eyes, and he glanced at the sigils Chrysantha desperately readied, and the countermagic the enemy captain prepared. While still in the air, hidden between twin plumes of dust, he reversed the enemy captain’s anti-sigils, and released just as Chrysantha fired off her spell. The captain released his countermagic - and paled as his counter-sigils flickered out, like dying candles. As August hit the ground and tumbled towards Chrysantha, her spell connected squarely with the enemy captain’s chestpiece, blasts of flame that set his cloth undershirt ablaze.

  The defenders, realizing their misstep, instantly fired off sigils of water magic, putting the flames out and dousing their captain in cold mist. He stepped back and drew his blade, recovering from the sudden heat just as Chrysantha met him in melee. While she approached, August had coated her sword in late-release wind magic, and the captain noticed the sigil just in time to avoid the first blow instead of blocking it. The sigil released, sending its pulse harmlessly against the ground. August turned back towards the two defenders. That was the most he could do for her. He looked over to Rudolph - his back was against the wall in two-on-one, and Aeren sat leaning against it nearby, watching the fight and nursing his sword-hand. So that was it.

  He raised his hands in surrender as the two closed into melee - one grabbed and flung him to the ground as the other rushed to help the captain, who was going blow for blow with Chrysantha. A kick to August’s rear and the second was off, sigils firing off thin silver arrows from above, aimed at Chrysantha.

  She parried a blow, twirled away from the spell, and ducked another strike - her counterblow connected with the captain’s sword-hilt, sending the blade tumbling through the air - but the first defender was on her, tackling her to the ground and subduing her. Against the wall, steel scraped against stone as the feather in Rudolph’s helm drifted to the ground. He had held on for a surprisingly long time, August thought, but it was over. Not three minutes had passed since the whistle.

  Le Toumb made a sour face from the ramparts. The offense was played poorly. Part of him wanted to see an upset. He fired off a sigil and drifted down to the courtyard, settling in behind the Lieutenant.

  The enemy captain was helping Kelea up, having healed the frostburn, and went to check on Aeren. A golden sigil shimmered in the dusty air, and the bruising and swelling on his wrist receded. Healing sigils were draining and intricate - each pertained only to a specific injury - they had lost in melee to a medic. August grinned. He wasn’t one to talk - he lost his sword in the first exchange.

  Everyone was up and chatting amongst themselves. Rudolph was berating Aeren over his poor form while the other rubbed his head and grinned idiotically into the dirt. The medic was checking for injuries, and the Lieutenant was speaking with Le Toumb. Kelea and Chrysantha strode up to August, still laying where one one of the soldiers had flung him.

  “You reversed the counter-magic, didnt you?” Chrysantha crossed her arms and peered down at him. “There was not a chance my spell was going to connect. If you had told us sooner we could have planned for it.”

  “It’s not like I can reverse any counter magic.” August replied, sitting up. “These sigils were simple, and the spell was only four syllables. If you had fired off something stronger I couldn’t have done it in time.”

  “The islanders use reverse counter magic? We never drilled that at the academy…” Kelea helped him up. “For countermagic the sigil is mirrored…. Are you mirroring it again?”

  “That would just be the original spell.” Chrysantha interrupted. “We never learned anything like that. How did you do it?”

  “A counter sigil just disperses the mana in the same ways that a sigil conjures it.” August began explaining. “For it to work correctly the caster has to match the amount of mana put into the spell. That’s easy enough to do with augmented sight if you're under no pressure - undercorrect and the spell will be weakened, but still hit - overcorrect and you’ve wasted mana. Most casters will still overcorrect, just to be on the safe side…”

  Chrysantha pieced it together. “So it’s not really reversing the counter-sigils? You’re just adding mana to my sigil? Is that even possible, to modify someone else's sigils?”

  “It's not. I’m augmenting yours, not modifying it - it's not exactly simple, but there are amplifying sigils for their corresponding spell, and if I time the release correctly, It amplifies the mana coefficient in your spell. That’s why it's not that simple - you have to know the correct amplification. There’s some books I can lend you later.”

  The medic was listening in on his explanation. He was tall, middle aged, roughly shaven with straw colored hair that matched the color of his healing sigils. “Most of the cadet’s don’t study amplification - definitely not for overriding counter-sigils. We do study them pretty thoroughly in the medical force though…. Did Le Toumb teach you that?” August shook his head.

  “I learned that while still going through basic training in Belania.” The medic realized his misstep, nodded grimly, and went off to enter the discussion between Le Toumb and the Lieutenant.

  The rest of the soldiers had either thanked them for the match or went off wordlessly to the mess hall, and Rudolph and Aeren joined them.

  “That was a terrible offense.” Rudolph was still pouting - a funny sight for such a large lad. “Taken out in a two-on-one, how does that even happen?” He raised an eyebrow at Kelea. “You didn’t see the slaveboy extraordinaire taking anyone out two on one, did you, princess? Because that isn’t supposed to happen.”

  Aeren clapped him on the shoulder. “Oh, relax. It was an accelerated three-sigil spell. I’d like to see you take on one of those, Rudy - why don’t we call the medic back and have him test it on you?”

  “I didn’t even see what hit me.” Kelea defended herself “I was off to the side, he turned with three sigils already prepared, and this freezing blast just hit me before I could react. I didn't even see the sigils he used….”

  “A quick release sigil” August replied. “It’s smaller than the rest, I’ve played around with it before.” he muttered the syllable - a small gray sigil drew itself in the air, then flickered out.

  “We haven’t learned that one.” Mused Chrysantha.

  Rudolph scowled. “Reverse counter-magic. Quick release. Are they training magic monkeys on those islands?”

  Kelea smacked his hand. “What are you saying, Rudy? August is Hanoan now. You shouldn’t keep bringing it up. They talked to you about all this on the ship, most divisions have a war- “ she stuttered “like a war-capture, you know… “

  “Oh, stop bickering.” Chrysantha finally intervened. “It's annoying, actually. I couldn’t care less if he’s Hanoan or Kerenian or what have you. He can cast, Rudolph. And when we go out there, he’ll be with us.”

  “I know. When we go out to those islands - his home - how can we trust him to not just turn on us? You think he’ll fight against his countrymen like it’s nothing? Against his brothers? What kind of man would that make him? I don’t even know which is worse - to trust him or not to.”

  “Stop with this nonsense.” Le Toumb was done discussing with the Lieutenant, and the two had approached the group when the discussion got heated. “If the mark on his back isn’t good enough for you, then let these four months be a testament to his loyalty. I vouch for him. Personally. You challenge my judgment?”

  Rudolph cast his gaze down. “No, sir.”

  “Then let this be the final time I hear this seditious nonsense.”

  “Yes sir.”

  “Now shake hands.”

  Rudolph stretched his hand out, brought his eyes back up. He looked unflinchingly into August thin face, brown curls, sunken eyes. His glance softened somewhat. He was, he realized, too harsh. Too bitter. And for what?

  August saw all this. Saw the window for reconciliation, and took it gladly. He clasped Rudolph's hand, shook it, nodded knowingly. “Justice is the birthright of the strong.”

  “So it is.” Rudolph answered. “So it is.”