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My main aim with this bit was to clear up the gaping holes in the original version, so if I've managed to make any idiotic gramattical errors, help would be appreciated to spot them. smile

Tell me when I can start again, Awesome. ^^ I'm excited. It's okay to take lots of time, too. You may not be able to reach perfection, but I know you can get pretty close. ^^

Chapter 2:

Swords and fire haunted Sarri’s dreams. When she finally awoke, it was to find herself in the forest. Birds sang from their hiding places, the gentle breeze still blew from the south; not the slightest sign of the night’s slaughter
As she remembered, Sarri felt tears trickling down her cheeks. Why had it happened? She had been far from happy in her village, but surely no one deserved this. How could an entire village be massacred? Men, women, children; people she had known her entire life. They couldn’t all be gone.
Slowly, Sarri pulled aside the blanket. ‘Blanket?’ she thought. Where on Kenah had that come from? An image leapt into her head of a tall, young man. He must have brought her here and put the blanket over her. What had he said his name was? Fin? Fem? Not quite right, but whoever he was, he didn’t seem to be around. Sarri wasn’t sure if she wanted to be alone.
“Hello?” she called, nervously.
The only answer was a soft whinny behind her. Looking round, she realised she was in the company of a large, chestnut brown horse. Sarri smiled; she liked horses. Two large travelling packs sat by its hooves. The man had not left. At least she was not alone – even if she was in the company of a strange man who seemed to change his appearance as he pleased.
Thoughtfully, Sarri folded her blanket into a neat square. She had always liked to be tidy, even if nobody else cared. When finished, she stood, and then nearly fell over. Sarri scowled. This always happened when she over-stretched her powers. She would feel ill and off-balance for days now.
“So you’ve finally woken up,” said a voice from behind her.
She whirled round, then clutched her head in pain.
The man laughed, softly. Though he was fully clothed, his hair, which was just long enough to be tied back, was wet. He must have been bathing at the stream when Sarri woke up. She blushed slightly at the thought.
‘Fen,’ she thought suddenly. ‘His name is Fen.’
“Weren’t you taught not to creep up on people,” she growled.
“Yes, but I never really listened.”
“Obviously,” she muttered.
“You should sit down,” Fen said, ignoring her. “That headache will last for days if you don’t rest.”
“How would you know? And how did you know I had a headache?”
“Because when you use a vast quantity of your powers in one go, it is common to pass out, and react like a sore-headed bear when you wake. Does that answer your questions?”
She nodded, and then groaned as she did so.
“I’d also advise you not to move your head too much, it just makes it worse.”
The glare Sarri gave him was pure evil.
Fen held up his hands in mock surrender. “Forget I said anything”
“I will,” Sarri replied, sitting down. Despite her headache, his cheerful attitude was infectious; it was almost comforting to be around him.
The horse whickered. Fen went over to him, stroking his mane fondly. “Sarri, meet Moonbeam. Moonbeam, meet Sarri.”
The horse nodded, making a small smile creep to Sarri’s lips. “Hello Moonbeam.” Turning to Fen, she added, “I think I’d better go back to sleep,” and leant against a tree, closing her aching eyes.
A while later she heard him rummaging around in his travelling packs.
“What are you looking for?” she asked, opening her eyes.
Fen turned round. “Saucepan, spoons, that sort of thing. It’s gone midday so I thought I’d better make us something to eat.”
At the thought of food Sarri’s stomach did a somersault. Fen correctly interpreted the look on her face. “If you feel like eating, that is.”
“I think I’d be sick if I ate.”
“Fair enough.”
Fen gestured at the ground. A small fire sprang up.
Sarri gaped at him, unable to believe what she was seeing.
“How…how did…how did you do that?” she stammered, eyes wide.
He laughed again. “The same way you do.”

She continued to gape at him. “You mean you’re a sorcerer, or something?”
“Mage,” he corrected. “Sorcerers deal in Aldes-fle, which is designed to cause pain and destruction. I’d never touch the stuff. Seeing Sarri frown, Fen quickly explained “Aldes-fle means black magic.”
“Are you a mind reader as well?”
“I wish.”
Everything was as Fen had expected. Sarri was amazed, and slightly confused. But her next question surprised him.
“Why did you talk in a different language?”
“Huh?”
“Aldest-fle, or whatever it is.”
This threw him. How many people asked about language before anything else? He smiled slightly, remembering it was one of the first questions he’d asked.
“Words associated with magic are often spoken in the Old Language, that’s the language I spoke in. As the name suggests, it’s the oldest speech in the world…well, that we know of. According to ancient lore, originally all people spoke in the Old Language, but of course language evolves, but the important thing is that the more ancient a language, the more closely it is related to the original speech of the gods, which is the source of magical power. Thus when some mages speak in Old Language, their powers are intensified by…”

Around half an hour later, Sarri felt as though her entire body had been crammed with information, much of which was only loosely connected to Fen’s original explanation. To her surprise, she was interested by much of the mage’s monologue, even if she had not entirely understood some parts. And it was nice to have another human bother to explain these powers (and in a totally different way to Eath), as if she, Sarri, was worth their effort. Not that it appeared to take much for Fen to talk about the astounding amount of things he seemed to know.
Fen looked up from the soup he had been preparing (which was starting to burn) and grinned sheepishly. “Sorry, I tend to go on a bit at times. If it happens again tell me to shut up.”
“It’s alright.”
“Really? Most people tell me off after a few minutes.”
“Really… If you go over the top in the future, I’ll stop you. Ok?”
“A perfectly acceptable deal.” Fen flashed a mischievous grin before becoming serious once more. “Anyway, I think, no, I know you have the ability to become a very powerful Magi-Ele.”
“Powerful? Me?” Sarri squeaked. “But I can’t even control my hands.”
“Your hands?”
“When I…when I get angry or embarrassed my hands go all hot. If I can’t control them, fire goes up my arms. My village saw it happen, that’s why I had to leave…”
Sarri trailed off. She had not meant to say this much.
“That sounds like Relan when she first arrived at Paco Magi,” Fen said thoughtfully. “Relan is a good friend of mine, and a powerful Magi-Ele. When she first arrived at Paco Magi she had that problem; she still loses control sometimes.”
Sarri frowned. It hadn’t occurred to her that even powerful mages could lose control. Gods, tales of great mages had only ever been that: tales. While she knew she had some kind of magic, she had never really thought of it as being the same thing that (so the legends claimed) toppled kingdoms or overthrew servants of dark gods. She was both proud of and scared of her powers. They had always seemed beyond her control, not really hers.
“But I’m just the drunkard’s daughter,” she whispered. “How could I be a mage?”
“I don’t know,” he replied. “But you have a talent that shouldn’t go to waste. I saw you extinguish flames that many more experienced mages would have trouble dealing with alone. In my mind it can only mean one thing.”
Sarri studied his sharp face. It looked completely serious; even his blue eyes had turned grave and thoughtful.
Fen sprinkled some herbs into the now boiling pot of soup. “I was wondering…no, never mind. You must have friends or family somewhere.”
“My mother died when I was born. All I know is she was from Tiras. I don’t have any other family.”

It was that which Sarri did not tell him that said the most. Fen could picture her childhood easily: friendless, no family, apart from her drunken father. And the rueful way she’d rubbed at her skin when she said her mother was Tiran spoke fathoms about the villagers’ attitude to her. The typical Hynesse person was pale, blond and blue eyed. Sarri would not have been able to forget that she was different to them in every way possible.
“It must have been hard,” he murmured.
Sarri blinked hard. “You have no idea,” her voice nearly inaudible.
Fen quickly looked down at the soup; he had a feeling that if he tried to respond the girl would rapidly be defeated by tears. As he cast around for a way to change the subject, he decided that if the soup was probably now as edible as any of his cooking could be. Turning to find his bowl, he absently extinguished the fire with a small concentration of power.
Sarri sighed. “I wish I could do that.”
“Do what?” Fen was genuinely puzzled.
“Do what,” she repeated disbelievingly. “You just put out that fire without blinking!”
He shrugged. “I can’t remember a time when I couldn’t do little things like that. These days, I suppose it doesn’t take more effort than blinking.” Seeing an opportunity to distract Sarri further, he added, “Besides, I am rather powerful. I’ve been a black robe since I was fifteen.”
“Am I supposed to be impressed?”
“Slightly. Actually, a lot. The colour of a mage’s robe shows how powerful he or she is. Black robe is the highest you can go; and I’m the youngest living. Not that I boast about it. Well, not often anyway.”

Sarri laughed. It felt strange, she had barely laughed all her life, let alone with some foreign man she scarcely knew. She did not even know what he was doing here, in Hyn. It seemed that he was following those men, but why?
When she asked, he replied, slightly hesitantly, “I shouldn’t really say.”
“Why are you being so secretive? You can’t be a spy or anything like that; you don’t look older than twenty.”
“You’re right, I’m nineteen.”
Sarri looked at him carefully. “You mean…?”
He laughed.
“Yes, I am a spy. I don’t work for your Queen though. I actually work for” – he laughed – “well, Paco Magi is technically a school, and officially it doesn’t even exist. Suffice to say the situation is complex.”
Sarri nodded, wincing.
“Good. Now come here.”
“Why?” she asked suspiciously.
“Because I’m going to make your headache better.”
Sarri grabbed a tree branch for support, and walked the few shaky steps to him. He got up just in time to catch her as she fell.
‘He’s huge,’ Sarri thought as he helped her to sit. Her head barely reached his shoulders.
“Try to relax, it’s much easier if you do,” he told her, putting a hand each side of her head.
Breathing deeply, Sarri tried to do as he said. It was hard, as she felt very conscious of the light pressure on either side of her head. Men who came this close to her rarely had good intentions.
A strange tingling sensation spread in threads from his fingers all round her thumping head, cooling the pain until it was no more than a faint nagging. After a moment’s hesitation, the coolness eased down her neck and through the rest of her body, removing the aches the previous night had gifted her.

Fen took his hands away. The dark blue fire of his magic that had surrounded Sarri’s head disappeared.
“Feel any better?” he asked, shifting back.
“Yes. Thank you.” She hesitated, and then asked: “Could I do that one day?” She sounded hopeful, almost afraid of the idea that she might be able to heal.
“No,” Fen told her, gently. Seeing the disappointment in her face he quickly explained, “You have a different type of magic, one of the Netae-Fle, or Natural Magics. It’s much older than the common types of Human Magic. You don’t have to use spells, just concentration of the mind.”
“You don’t either,” Sarri pointed out.
“Some people need to use gestures and spells. I usually don’t .”
Sarri rolled her eyes, but said nothing.
Fen continued, “Of the Netae-Fle, you have the skills of a Magi-Ele.”
“You keep using that word, what does it mean?”
“Roughly translated it means Element Mage. Properly translated it means Mage of the Elements. Well, actually, there is some debate about the...”
“Fen!” Sarri interrupted.
“What?”
“Shut up!”
“I asked for that didn’t I,” he groaned, half-laughing at the same time.
Sarri had told him she had nobody to go to. Maybe he should ask her. It would be breaking about fifty of Paco Magi’s rules, but he didn’t have many qualms about breaking rules…
“What are you thinking about?”

“Nothing,” Fen replied, suddenly very interested in pouring the partly burnt soup into his bowl. “Now, as I was saying, Element Mages use one of the two types of Natural Magic - the other being Animal Magic. But because they’re dealing in Natural Magic they can’t use any type of Human Magic, like healing or spell casting. Or Dream Magic for that matter,” he added, almost as an afterthought.
“Dream Magic?” Sarri asked.
“The magic that seers use; the genuine ones anyway. The huge advantage that people like you and Magi-Anli, sorry, Animal Mages, have is that you spend hardly any energy doing things that even I would find tiring.”
“What like?” Sarri found it hard to believe that Fen found any magic difficult.
“With proper training, you could talk to elementals, whereas I couldn’t if my life depended on it. What’s so funny?”
When Fen had mentioned talking to elementals, Sarri had started to laugh. The idea of not talking to elementals was absurd to her. Fen’s bemused look only made her laugh more, but eventually she managed to explain, “I’ve been talking to Eath, the earth elemental that sort of lives here, since I was four.”
Fen shook his head. “I should’ve known, after seeing you handle that fire.”
With an unpleasant jolt, Sarri realised she had briefly forgotten about the fate of her village
“What happened to it?” she hesitantly asked.
“I placed a containment spell round it,” he answered, quietly. “The fire burnt out early this morning.”
Sarri turned away. “What if someone was in there?”
“Sarri… You heard the Raiders talking. Do you think they left anyone? Do you think I would have left anyone to die like that?”
With that, the reality of the situation finally hit Sarri.
“It’s stupid really,” she whispered, tears trickling down her cheeks. “I used to wish they were dead sometimes, but now…Oh gods.”

Fen watched as silent sobs racked her body. Every few minutes Sarri would mutter something unintelligible. Finally she calmed down, and lay curled up on the ground. Her breathing deepened, so he assumed she was sleeping. Gently, he placed a blanket over her, and started to eat his soup, first picking out the burnt bits.
“They’re gone, Eath.”
Fen looked towards Sarri. Eath – the elemental Sarri mentioned? How had Sarri managed to get to their realm so quickly?
“I know, I know…He seems nice? What do you mean by that?” A pause. Sarri was sounding puzzled now, with only a hint of despair left in her voice. “Eath, if you don’t tell me what that’s supposed to mean… That isn’t very helpful. Eath!”
Fen turned away – private conversations, even when technically taking place in another realm of existence, were private. He had, however, become firm in his decision to look after Sarri.
‘She is not going to be happy,’ he thought, grimacing at the thought of what Mage Alsi, second in command at Paco Magi, was going to say. Putting men and women together in a Master and Apprentice partnership was an old taboo, only broken in the most extreme circumstances.
Sarri, though no longer speaking clearly, continued to mumble angrily for some time. The elemental was obviously still being unhelpful. It was strange; elementals had a certain amount of control over their territory (though most changes were difficult for humans to observe), influence animals if they wished, and sense people, but they rarely became deeply involved with humans. Yet Sarri was talking to this Eath as though it was a parent. The furthest relationships between mages and elementals usually went was a bond of mutual respect, not –
“Fine,” Sarri snapped. “I’m going.”
Though his train of thought had been broken, Fen could not help but smile, she sounded very annoyed and completely distracted from the fate of her village. Which was probably what the elemental had intended.

Colours flashed past Sarri as she left Eath. She was determined to find out what the elemental had meant by asking if she ‘would go’.
“What did Eath mean?” she asked Fen as soon as she saw her surroundings clearly.
“What by?” he asked, not looking as surprised as she’d expected.
“I was talking out loud, wasn’t I?” she sighed. “Eath is always on about it to me.”
“If you became my apprentice I could help you with that.”
Sarri sat up sharply, pushing off the blanket.
“Did you just say what I think you said?” she asked, voice shaking.
“Yes.” Fen laughed, presumably at the astonishment on her face.
Sarri had never believed that she could become anything special. This was her chance to prove herself wrong. Then she remembered something that made her heart sink.
“What about your job?”
Fen reached up his sleeve and pulled out something in a leather sheath. He threw it to her, saying “This should help out.”
She did not need to draw the dagger’s blade to know what it was.
“I can teach you how to use a sword and bow too,” Fen told her. “That should keep you safe along with your magic.”
Sarri did not look at him, instead examining the dagger. She shivered, remembering the feel of metal against her skin. As the memory returned, so did her caution.
“You’ll need to tell me everything,” she told him, half expecting a refusal.
Fen, in a manner that continually contradicted most things she had come to expect of people, nodded. “What do you want to know?”
“Where do you come from? Where’s this school – Paco Magi?”
“In answer to both: Tiras.”
Sarri started. “You’re Tiran?” The same country as her brown-skinned mother.
Fen smiled in a way that suggested he understood Sarri’s expression. “You’d probably fit in better than me, though nobody really cares about skin colour.” Seeing Sarri’s disbelieving stare, he explained, “it was a large empire some centuries ago, the rulers were half decent, and I suppose everyone has grown used to each other.”
Once Sarri digested this concept, she murmured, “I speak a bit of the language.”
“Why sound so ashamed about it? That’s excellent…But where did you learn it?”
“Last winter some foreign traders got stuck at our village in a snow storm, and couldn’t leave for a month. They were offering to pay for somewhere to stay, and I was desperate for money. This woman was sorry for me, I think, because my house…it wasn’t nice. We could rarely leave, so she taught me Common to pass the time.”
“Useful. It would certainly make it easier for me to teach you. Want to demonstrate?”
Sarri paused. She had never spoken Common to anyone but the trader woman, and did not want to look like a fool. Fen, seeing her hesitation, waved a hand dismissively.
“Another time, then. The other question was about Paco Magi?” Sarri nodded. Fen sighed a little wistfully. “What can I say? It’s my school, my home, the most beautiful place in the world, and completely secret. Magic has been banned for centuries in Tiras, but Paco Magi, has continued, hidden under spells like thick cobwebs, passing down wisdom and shelter to those who need it…”
This time, Sarri did not stop Fen from speaking, but let his words wash over her, building up a picture of the castle in her mind.
“You’re a good story-teller,” she told Fen, when he finished.
He shrugged, modest for once. “I can be poetic when I wish. I read hundreds of books at Paco, so I suppose I’ve picked up the technique.”
“It does sound amazing.” After thinking for a second, she asked, “but why are you here? What have organised bandits got to do with a Tiran school.”
Fen sighed heavily. “These aren’t just raiders, they’re Raiders. They’re an army. A secret, silent army designed to destroy the resilience of a country before all out war.”
Sarri’s eyes widened. “But, why would anyone want Hyn? It’s a tiny country…it was such a tiny village.”
“Tiny villages like yours, when added together, produce huge amounts of wealth and resources. And…Sarri, do you want me to go on?”
She nodded fiercely. “I want to know why they did this.”
“Ok.” Fen frowned. “Hyn is small, but it’s rich from farming estates, and makes a lot of money from taxing traders travelling through its borders using the river Lea.” Sarri nodded; she already had a vague idea about this. “The trouble is that few countries care much about Hyn as it’s so out of the way, and its history with Leasen is far from peaceful.” This Sarri also knew – everyone in Hyn knew about the constant border skirmishes between the neighbouring countries. “It’s an easy country to take advantage of, and it’s geographical location makes it an ideal attack base. Kjin rulers have wanted Hynesse land for years…the current emperor’s Raiders are getting the job done very well, and making it impossible for your Queen to retaliate.”
“But it’s simple!” Sarri cried. “If a Tiran knows, then she must. That…that Karkji can’t attack us and…”
“But it’s not simple,” the mage interrupted gently. “It’s politics. Unless it can be proved that Karkji’s responsible…let’s just say that outright war can have complex repercussions from other countries.”
“We suffer either way!”
Fen’s face darkened. “I’m well aware that it’s always the poorest, most helpless people who face the worst of it. I’ve tracked those cloaked-bastards for the last month and seen what they do. Besides you, I’ve only found one other survivor, and in the end I couldn’t save the boy. And the worst part: that particular band of Raiders were Hynesse recruits.”
Sarri’s mouth dropped open. “W-what?”
“Every country has thugs who will do anything if you wave money or a title in their direction. According to Paco Magi’s latest information, they’re doing most of the dirty work in Hyn, and Karkji’s emperor can deny all knowledge while quietly building his armies.”
An enraged sob broke through Sarri’s throat. Her palms were so tightly clenched against sudden, scorching heat, that she could feel her nails drawing blood. She had not even thought about it before, but that sergeant had spoken Hynesse. How could…? How dare…?
Gentle hands gripped her wrists. Fen was kneeling in front of her, his eyes guilty.
“You’ll hurt yourself,” he said. “Let go.”
“I can’t. The fire. I can’t.”
“It’s your fire, it obeys you. Right now it’s obeying your emotions, but if you tell it to go, it will. Just breathe slowly.”
Sarri drew a ragged breath, trying to reach the state of mind that allowed her to reach the elementals realm. After a time, she was concentrating so hard on breathing that the heat drew back from her palms. She glanced up into Fen’s eyes.
“I’m sorry.”
“No, no don’t be. It’s my fault. I went too far. I’m sorry.”
He looked at her palms as she uncurled her fists. A small gesture with his left hand healed the few cuts her palms had suffered.
“There.” He sat back. “Now you know how, controlling it in the future will be easier when you sense it coming.”
She nodded weakly. Against everything else, his words brought little comfort. “Is that really all it’s about? All this for a bit of land? You can tell me. I’m fine now.”
After a moment’s hesitation, Fen did as asked. “It’s partly because of that. But as for the overall why –” he shook his head, the darkness returning momentarily “– it’s the old story; a madman gets a throne but still wants more power. In this case, Emperor Undlik of Karkji. And he’s not going to stop at Hyn; besides the Raiders, he employs sorcerers and a lot of soldiers. That’s why Paco Magi is involved. We’re able to keep ourselves a secret in Tiras, but we don’t need another opponent that, quite basically, would be a far greater challenge. The Tiran army obviously doesn’t use magic; Karkji does. If Undlik gets near Tiras, Paco’s mages won’t just be fighting off the Tiran armed forces, but Raider sorcerers, and…I’d rather not think what the school would be turned into by Raiders.”
“So you fight them.” Sarri nodded in approval. She wanted to fight the Raiders too; to make them pay for destroying so many lives, for trying to destroy her, and for trying to destroy the image of the mage school she now held tightly in her mind.
“Of course.” Fen’s tone suddenly changed to one of compassion. “If you wish, I can take to someone who’d look after you. But I promise, if you came with me, you’d be safe. It wouldn’t just be your sword and magic looking after you, it would be me.”
Sarri almost gasped. He had barely known her for a few hours, yet this man was offering her greater friendship than people she had known her entire life.
“Why are you doing this for me?” she wondered aloud.
“I can’t abandon you, can I? Besides, I like you,” he added, smiling at her.
Sarri blushed slightly, remembering her conversation with Eath.
“You’re not so bad yourself,” she replied, gruffly.
A silence followed, which was broken by Sarri’s stomach loudly rumbling.
Fen looked up. “Thunder? And it was such a nice day.” He then asked if she’d like some soup. She glanced at the congealing mass, and declined.
“I could always warm it up,” he told her, a small fire appearing as he did so.
Sarri looked from him to the bowl of soup to the fire. She didn’t know why, but she trusted Fen. He had told her so much, so he must trust her. And he made her laugh; nobody had ever tried to make her laugh. Sarri realised he was still holding the soup.
“Ok,” she said. “I’ll be your apprentice.”
He looked at her and grinned. “Let’s celebrate! You want some soup?”
She grinned back. “Why not.”

Sarri finished her soup at a speed that Fen had only ever seen in the most suspicious of street children.
“Do you always eat this fast?” he asked in amazement.
“I’ve always had to; I never had much time between working at the mill and in the wheat fields and looking after Father.” She fell silent, a thoughtful look in her eyes.
Fen put a cleaning spell over his cooking equipment and cutlery, and started to tidy them into his packs. Sarri silently handed him the further away objects. When he thanked her, she seemed surprised. Fen watched the girl closely as they tidied the make-shift camp. While she showed no sign of her earlier disturbed mind set, he doubted that she had forgotten. Still, if he remained cheerful, hopefully Sarri’s mind would stay off the subject for now. Fen had not lied when he said that he liked her, and he was determined to take care of her. Sarri deserved to smile.
“We should get going soon,” Fen told the girl. “I need to meet a contact, and ask her whether the Raider situation has been resolved. When I reported last night, her team were going to intercept the last of them. She lives relatively near here.” He grinned; he had a feeling Sarri would like this surprise. “You and Relan should get on well.”
“That powerful Mage you told me about – the one like me! She lives near here?”
“Her family does. They’re nobles so own land everywhere. Paco Magi’s operatives in Hyn would be in trouble without her, as she’s got the magical equipment we need to contact Paco from a long distance.”
Sarri looked up from packing the blankets away.
“How far away is she?”
“A couple of days walk, though it would be quicker if Moonbeam could carry us both.”
Sarri nodded. “Why did you call a brown horse Moonbeam?”
“He has a tiny, white, crescent moon behind his left ear.” Fen could never understand why people did not see it.
Sarri checked, raised an eyebrow, then observed, “It’s more of a curved line than a crescent moon.”
“It is not!” Fen replied, pretending only slightly greater outrage than he felt.

She shrugged. “If you say so.” Sarri had a feeling Fen was sensitive where his horse was concerned.
“Do you want a hand up?”
“A hand up where?”
“Onto Moonbeam.”
“I can walk,” she replied, trying, and failing, to sound confident.
He looked at her with some concern. “Are you sure?”
“Isn’t that for me to decide?”
Fen stepped back jokingly. “Apologies for defying your wishes, your ladyship.”
Sarri rolled her eyes. “Men,” she muttered darkly, as Fen tied the packs onto Moonbeam’s saddle. For some reason, the ritual of packing made her feel different, as if she were part of something. Something worthwhile, and certainly something better than before. She was an apprentice to a black robe mage who worked for a great school of magic. That kind of person changed things.

I swear I've been trying. I just want to so much, but... SPANISH CLASS IS EVILLLLLLLLLLLLLLL! So, rewrite?

Hopefully you'll have it by summer? I'm getting a job at the library, mayhaps, and will most likely have loads of time. (I know how you feel, too. I've deleted about 50 whole pages from part two and STILL hate the five pages I've managed to keep out of all that. Sigh.)

*ahem*

HERE BEGINS THE LATEST DRAFT!

Please, start reading here, and enjoy.

(p.s. sorry about the formatting - I've got it indented on my computer, which doesn't translate over, and there's no way I'm going through and putting a space between every single paragraph!)

Chapter one is edited. Again!

*****

Chapter 1

The house was quiet. Not silent, just quiet. Faint sounds drifted through narrow streets from the centre of the village; laughter from the tavern and chatter from people who entered or left in small groups. A baby cried. Snatches of conversation from other homes wafted away on the air. And then there were noises of the night that few heard and fewer cared about; the hooting of an owl, then the squeak of an unfortunate nocturnal rodent. The rustle of a breeze disturbed the sleep of the fresh spring leaves, and caused a woman leaving the warmth of the tavern to wrap her shawl round her that bit tighter.
But from this house, there came no noise. The flicker of a sole candle on a table by the sole window was barely enough to reveal the silhouette of a girl, waiting. In the dim light she was almost unnoticeable, but that was the point. If she wasn’t noticed then she couldn’t be talked to, and the less people talked to her, the better. People only ever wished to snap orders or goad her.
Drunken shouting ripped through the quiet. She moved, knowing who was shouting. It was what she was waiting for. As she left the house, not bothering to shut the door, a man staggered out of the tavern. Average height, average weight, the only thing that was not average about him was the amount of ale he drank. She knew this better than anyone – except perhaps the tavern’s owner, who made much of his profit from the money spilling from this man’s hands. Two men emerged behind him, quickly followed by the remainder of the tavern’s customers poking their heads out of windows or gathering in the doorway.
‘Go on Rom, you can take ‘im,’ one called.
‘And iif hee do I’ll rip ’is throat out,’ the staggering man yelled in a drunken slur, shaking his fist.
The second of the men who had followed him out pushed lightly on the drunken man’s chest, sending him sprawling to the ground. The girl groaned, and ran towards them, holding up her long skirts so as to avoid being tripped by the fabric that stifled her legs. As she reached them one of the men laughed, shouting:
‘Oh look, Lil’ Miss Sarri’s arrived to save the day. Again!’ Their audience cackled and the fallen man looked round from where he was lying.
‘Why’s she always come and take poor Kif away when all ‘e wants to do is play?’ his companion asked, folding his arms in mock exasperation. More laughter.
‘And why’s it that when there’s trouble you’re always there, Rom Judsuril?’ She snapped back.
‘Who ‘sat?’ the drunk man murmured.
She cast an eye along his clothes. At least he hadn’t vomited this time. Wearily, almost impassively, but for a flash of something between anger and sorrow in her gaze, she began to help him up.
‘It’s me, father, it’s Sarri.’
‘Aww, don’t ‘e know who she is?’ jeered one of the women, who was almost falling out of a window in an effort to get the best view.
‘I can’t ‘elp but admire ‘im,’ Rom added, watching Kif being hauled to his feet. ‘So manly.’
That had the bystanders in fits of hysteria, including those who had just appeared on their doorsteps, spilling little pools of light onto the street.
After ensuring that her father could stand, Sarri advanced on the group, light from the doorway falling onto her brown skin.
‘You think this is funny, do you?’ Her voice was laced with pent-up wrath.
Rom smirked at the girl. ‘Don’t you, Miss mud-face? Look at you both. An old fool who can’t ‘old ‘is ale, and you who came out of a muddy mother as if you’d already been rolling about with the pigs.’
Sarri’s fists clenched. Her palms were getting hot, and she knew what that meant. Not daring to retort, she turned on her heels and stalked back to her father.
‘Who‘sat?’
Sighing, she replied ‘It’s Sarri, father, it’s your daughter.’
‘Daughter?’
‘Yes.’
‘But I don’ have a-a daughter.’ He pushed her away as if she was a stranger. Sarri stood in silence, feeling her palms getting hotter again, not knowing what to do.
Her father’s drunken mutterings continued: ‘I ‘ave a wife, a lovely wife…but I don’…I don’ ‘ave a daughter.’ He looked round, puzzled. ‘Wh…where’s my wife? Where’s my Rosenna?’
The villagers fell silent. Kif had never before been so inebriated that he could not recognise his own kin, that he forgot his wife’s death, so many years before. Nobody knew whether to jeer or to comfort the girl. Rom nearly chose the former, but one of his companions nudged him warningly.
Sarri found herself unable to move.
‘Father,’ she pleaded.
A tear rolled down her cheek. One of the kinder villagers started towards her, then backed away gasping. Sarri’s tight fists had fallen loose, releasing the heat she had kept hidden for so long. Hot, red flames danced round her hands, like something from a bard’s legend.
Seeing the villagers freeze in terror, Sarri’s despair turned to horror. She lifted her hands to her face. The flames were so bright that most would have flinched, but not her. For a number of long, slow seconds, she held her hands there, utterly still, her wide eyes and bitten lip flickering in and out of darkness.
‘Go,’ she said softly to the flames. And they vanished.
‘Careful,’ one voice hissed to another. ‘Don’t anger her!’
Contrary to their expectations, Sarri showed no signs of anger. Instead, she continued to stand, silent as a statue, staring at her father, who was looking stupidly at the floor, apparently unaware of what he had caused. She had looked after Kif for years, since the villagers had decided that he was not worth their effort. She had worked in the fields for hours, barely earning enough to buy food, let alone fund his copious drinking. She had taken the swearing, the beatings, the blame for her mother’s death, yet still looked after her father when he returned home late at night, splattered with vomit and weeping for his Rosenna.
It was her duty to love and care for her father, so she had always been told, though the villagers themselves did not care to have any duty towards the man who had dared to love a foreign woman. No, the village refused their duty towards Sarri. When she was reduced to stealing food, they did not excuse her, as they did their children, but whipped the backs of her legs, as they would an adult. When she was younger, they refused to let their children play with her, the dark-skinned drunkard’s daughter. And now she was nearing adulthood, they refused to protect Sarri from the men who grabbed her waist and breasts and other places, but complained of her ‘wild ways’ when she proved able to defend herself.
For the briefest moment, Sarri wondered if maybe, just maybe, her powers would earn respect, even kindness from the villagers. Then she looked at Rom.
Rom Judsuril had once played chase with her in the back streets, but now was her most frequent abuser, and tried to catch her for far more sinister reasons. The hate in his eyes was base, brutal, unexplainable.
There was nothing here except her drunkard father, and hatred. Maybe the villagers would try to drown her, as they drowned wicked sorcerers in the towns. She had to go, had to get away.
So Sarri turned away from them, and ran. There was nothing else to do now. For years she had prayed for escape, held back by a coerced sense of duty, but now… It was better this way. Better to run. And keep running.

When Sarri finally stopped, she was close to a stream that ran through the nearby forest. She did not know how long she had been running, only that walking here normally took her half an hour. But she needed to speak to someone.
Closing her eyes she breathed deeply, settling into a trance that calmed her enough to concentrate. Soon, Sarri was able to reach out a tendril of her consciousness to the strange realm she visited whenever she needed advice, or a friendly voice.
Her mind dropped deep into a place that was neither part of the world, nor separate from it. Once, Eath had compared the ‘realms’ to a drawing that shows two pictures, depending on how you looked at it; they were different, but still on the same sheet of paper. Though, humans did not really ‘see’ the realm – Sarri had not understood much of the rest of Eath’s explanation, except that her powers allowed a limited perception of beautiful entwined ropes of colour.
Certainly, no human could live there. As a child, Sarri had wanted to stay forever, and been upset for weeks that she could only summon the energy to enter the realm for a few hours. But even that became a comfort. The beings she met, including Eath, were wholly different to humans, but at least they seemed incapable of cruelty or abandonment.
‘Eath,’ she called. ‘Are you there?’
‘Of course I’m there. I’m never anywhere but there,’ came the gentle reply.
Out of the colours whirling before Sarri’s eyes, a shape formed. It was human in form, but its body continually changed, melting away slightly in one place, after which a small bulge would emerge in another, to melt as soon as it had appeared. If looking carefully – which was impolite – trees or animals could be seen to make up these changing bulges. The small bumps represented every living thing on the land the elemental inhabited, no matter how insignificant. Neither male nor female, it was the spirit of the earth it protected, and it was the elemental’s nature to love all upon that earth, a doting carer for animal, plant and human alike.
‘What is wrong, child?’
‘The same thing as always,’ was the bitter answer. ‘But worse than usual.’
‘I see.’ The earth elemental, known to Sarri as Eath, made a sound like wind rushing through trees, reminiscent of a sigh.
‘‘E was drunk again and upset Rom. I tried to…to sort ‘im out, and…and…’
Eath seemed to consider this, giving Sarri a chance to fight tears back.
‘And?’
‘I got angry.’
‘Even grown humans get angry. You do not yet have fifteen years –’
‘You don’t understand,’ Sarri nearly screamed. ‘I lost control.’ Tears brimmed at the corners of her eyes.
‘You mean you lost control of your powers.’
Sarri turned her head away, not wanting Eath to see the tears that now flowed freely down her cheeks.
‘You have nothing to be ashamed of.’
‘Nothing to be ashamed of! Eath, I lost control of the one thing I’m proud of.’
‘I meant you should not be ashamed of crying. It is what you call ‘natural’ for humans to cry when events overcome you.’
Sarri sniffed. ‘Thank you.’ She took a deep breath. ‘That’s not everything though. They were so…they looked so…like they wanted to kill me. And Father…’e didn’t even remember me.’
Ripples shivered through the elemental, and it made a noise like a thousand different creatures growling.
‘I had to leave, Eath; I didn’t know what else to do.’
The elemental seemed on the verge of replying, but paused. The small bumps on the elemental’s skin briefly froze, giving the impression that Eath had stiffened. The elemental looked beyond Sarri, into (the girl knew) its territory in the human world.
‘What is it?’ Sarri asked.
‘A human I do not recognise is approaching your physical form. You may want to return to your body.’
Before Eath had finished speaking, Sarri was already doing as the elemental suggested. She had no idea what happened if you were injured while your consciousness was elsewhere, and didn’t want to find out.
Sarri felt her consciousness slip back into her body, leaving her with a lingering impression of having been deeply asleep. Slowly, so as not to make noise, she stood, ready to run if needs be. Even on the southernmost borders of Hyn there was risk of attack.
Sarri never took part in the villagers’ conversations, as they usually ignored her while working in the wheat fields and market, but she did listen to them. So she knew as well as any about the constant attacks in the north, and the raiding parties that grew ever closer to their remote village. Just thinking about the tales of destruction and slaughter told by merchant parties made a shiver crawl down her spine. A crunch behind her brought Sarri back to the real world with an unpleasant jolt. Sick with dread, she turned. A man’s silhouette was faintly visible amongst the trees.
A long minute passed, and another.
‘Who is it?’ the stranger called, just as she thought she could bear it no longer.
‘That depends on who wants to know,’ she replied, pleased that she’d managed to keep the tremor out of her voice.
Soft laughter.
‘You are wise to be cautious; there are dangers around these parts.’ The man paused, as if waiting for an answer. Sarri noticed he spoke Hyn, her language, with a foreign accent. When none came, he said;
‘I’d be obliged if you’d drop your weapons.’
‘‘Ow can I drop weapons I don’t ‘ave?’ Sarri replied, and then silently cursed herself for giving away this information. Why did she never listen when Eath told her to stop saying the first thing that came into her head? It only happened when she was nervous or angry, but that was the worst time to ‘lose control of your tongue’.
But instead of taking advantage of this information, the man simply laughed again. ‘Why do I get the impression you’re regretting saying that?’ When Sarri stayed silent, he briskly continued, ‘You shouldn’t be out here alone. If you like, I’ll escort you home.’
‘I’d prefer to see who I’m talking to first.’ Sarri said, trying to avoid admitting that nobody cared where she was, and that she could not return ‘home’.
‘Meaning that you want to make sure I’m not one of the dangers.’ He sounded slightly amused.
‘Like you said, I shouldn’t be out ‘ere alone.’ Sarri looked behind her for cover, then softly backed away. She did not want to give another man the chance to grab her.
‘No. You shouldn’t.’
‘It’s a good thing I’m not then.’
‘What do you mean?’ He asked, sharply. A small scrape came from his direction, like the blacksmith sharpening scythes…or a weapon leaving its sheaf.
‘Put your sword, or whatever on Kenah it is, away,’ she told him, stumbling over words in her haste to reassure the armed stranger. ‘All I meant was that you’re only a few feet away so I’m not entirely alone.’
He hesitated, but another scrape signalled that his weapon was safely away.
‘You have sharp ears.’ Then, with a note of amusement, ‘You should be in my line of work. And no, I’m not intending to say what that is.’
Whoever he was, the stranger was one of the oddest people Sarri had encountered. She shrugged. ‘Fair enough.’ She moved no further.
A silence followed, only broken by the man saying, ‘You should be at home. It is too dangerous for a young girl to be on her own! Especially tonight.’
‘I’m not that young, I’m close to fifteen,’ Sarri snapped. ‘And why should tonight be any different to any other night? What’s going on?’
‘I said it’s not safe, do you really need me to elaborate!? And what on Kenah are you doing out at this time anyway, your parents…’
‘What you do care?’ Sarri snarled.
The stranger was prying too much, and she couldn’t admit that nobody cared about her. Any man could be a threat, and she wasn’t going to give him an excuse the try anything. There were any number of little villages around the forest, she could make up whatever she wanted if needs be. Better to drive him off though, better to keep people away. Anger usually did that.
Apart from, apparently, with this man.
‘Why do I care? I don’t want to see someone else… Where’s your village?’
He was more than frustrated now. Sarri would almost have called him scared.
She stayed silent.
‘Gods curse it, this is important! Which of these specks on the map is your village?’
That was when they smelt it. Sharp, acrid, invisible in the night air but stealing its way into the backs of nostrils and throats until it settled like a low winter fog. Smoke. But it wasn’t normal smoke. It wasn’t even that the smell was different to usual, but something about it set Sarri’s powers on edge – something about it was wrong.
The man swore. ‘It’s begun early. Gods, what do I do with you now?’
Sarri wasn’t listening. Closing her eyes she felt for the fire with her mind.
As she found the flames, images flashed through her mind. Heat. Light. Hunger. Fire elementals were always hungry. She concentrated harder. Figures, some running. Tall person in black. Hand on sword. A woman clutching a child; cowering from the man. ‘Leave her alone! Please!’ The sword swung down towards her…
Sarri screamed in horror, breaking her concentration and snapping her eyes open. Another scream curled up her throat at the sight of a shadowy figure holding her arms, until she realised it was the stranger. It seemed that he had attempted to wake her.
‘Fire,’ she croaked.
‘What?’
‘It’s eating everything.’ Sarri realised she was trembling.
‘What is?’ His voice was gentle, but his hands gripped her shoulders more tightly.
‘The fire! A-and there are people. They have swords, and black cloaks. They’re killing her!’
He swore again.
Sarri didn’t hear him. Instead she stood, shaking the man off.
‘You should sit down,’ he told her.
‘Just now you wanted me to come with you,’ Sarri snapped. ‘Make up your mind!’
Then she ran. Ran back to the place she’d deserted less than an hour ago, fear giving her speed. But as she reached the village, she slowed, then fell to her knees in despair.
Fire was everywhere. Flames burst through every roof, consuming wooden walls and thatched roofs like a starving demon, forcing its way down narrow streets, growing and growing with every second. As Sarri watched, the house nearest to her gave up its bid for survival, and caved in. The crunch and creak as it fell was momentarily louder than the roar of the ravenous flames. But louder than anything else were the screams. Blood curdling, spine chilling screams. Silhouetted by the flames, people ran wildly, screaming, trying to escape their deaths. None managed more than a few desperate steps before the great fire consumed them.
‘No!’ She screamed. The people in that village may have tormented her for as long as she could remember, but she could not let them die like caged animals.
The heat was starting to make Sarri sweat, but she ignored it. She knew she could not burn. Heat had ever been able to harm her, though she did not know why. Perhaps it was because of the fire inside her – but she had no time to think of that, because her fire, her powers, were screaming out that the blaze before her was unnatural. No fire should ever behave like this, not when the breeze was so gentle, and the night so still.
It had to be stopped. Someone might still be alive. Maybe they would thank her.
Sarri lifted her hands, palms open. They were hot, her own powers reacting to her fear, but she forced them to cool. Picturing the destructive flames sinking, she started to slowly close her hands.
‘Go!’ The same word that had banished the flames before. Nothing happened.
Closing her eyes, Sarri concentrated hard, harder than ever before on the writhing mass of fire. Still slowly closing her hands she shouted the word again.
‘Go! Go!’
Opening her eyes a crack, she saw that nearest flames were shrinking. Sarri shouted again and again, until she was screaming the word. She walked closer.
For an eternity the girl cried at the flames. Smoke blackened her clothes, and Sarri could feel her energy slipping away, but didn’t dare stop until the fire was gone. Finally, as she slowly closed her hands, the house stopped burning. Keeping her hands closed, Sarri turned to the next house. Focusing her powers on it, she started the slow process of putting out the fire. Her head hurt, as though she had been hit repeatedly with a heavy object. Despite this, little besides the flames existed. Then a hand roughly grabbed her shoulder, forcing her to turn and ripping her mind away from the fire.
‘What’s this?’ a cold voice mocked. ‘Have my men missed a little stray?’
The hand on her shoulder pulled back her long hair, forcing her head back. Sarri let out a short, terrified scream.
‘A pity to kill you. Almost.’
Sarri stared up into his face, trying to make out some facial features from underneath his black hood.
Seeing her almost unflinching gaze, the man laughed. A cold, loud, mocking laugh. The unmistakeable sound of a sword being drawn made her flinch, then cool metal pressed against her throat. He laughed louder.
‘Stop, Ha’dar.’
Sarri looked round as she recognised the voice.
‘Help!’ she screamed.
Ha’dar laughed. ‘What makes you think he’s here to help you?’
The foreign man sighed. ‘I found her in the forest, and convinced the little fool I was trying to protect her.’
Sarri turned cold. She should not have trusted him, not even for that panicked second. What had she been thinking?
‘And she fell for it, Lieutenant Kjinli, sir?’
‘Dolt!’ was the snarled reply. ‘Did you listen to a word I said?’ Kjinli paused. ‘Maybe your ears are growing useless. I can’t help but wonder if you need them.’
‘I do, sir.’ There was a definite tremble in Ha’dar’s voice.
‘Do not answer back. Now, to business. How many were killed, escaped, and were any goods salvaged?’
‘One hundred and fifty nine killed, sir. None escaped my men–’
‘Apart from this girl,’ he interrupted. ‘And where are your men? Aren’t you supposed to be commanding them at the moment?’
‘I ordered them back to camp sir. I was just checking things over before I left. And my apologies, sir. I will personally make sure this doesn’t happen again.’
‘Good. On the matter of the girl, hand her over.’ Lieutenant Kjinli smiled cruelly. ‘The night has been disappointing; I need some fun.’
‘Yes sir. I was surprised to see you here tonight.’
‘Then you should prepare better. Now give me the girl.’
Sarri looked frantically between the two. Perhaps this was her chance to escape. But before she could conjure even the most ill-judged, ridiculous of ideas, the man drew his sword, roughly grasped Sarri, and pulled her towards him.
‘Oh no, it’s happening, it’s going to happen this time!’ Sarri thought. She felt faint.
‘Very eager for your…fun, sir.’ Ha’dar commented.
Kjinli looked into his hooded face. ‘You forget your place, Sergeant Ha’dar,’ he drawled, softly and dangerously.
Ha’dar stammered an apology as the Lieutenant positioned his sword against Sarri’s throat. She struggled weakly, whimpering, but he just held her more firmly. Realising her attempts were useless, Sarri stopped, hoping she would get chance to kick him in the crotch before it happened.
‘There is just one thing, Ha’dar.’ The tone of her captor had changed completely, losing that horrible, sneering quality.
‘Yes, sir?’
‘Lieutenant Kjinli has been dead for six months.’
With those words he pushed Sarri down, spun round, and pierced Ha’dar’s chest in one quick, fluid movement.
Looking at the sword protruding from his chest, Ha’dar breathed, ‘But how?’
In answer, the man withdrew his sword, and muttered a few words. The blood dripping over the hilt and his hand vanished. Sergeant Ha’dar fell to his knees, clasping his hands over his chest in a vain attempt to stop the bleeding. Gasping, he collapsed, and lay still.
Sarri stared at the body. What was going on? First this man was helping her, then about to rape her, then killing the man who had wanted to kill her…And where had these black-cloaked men come from?
‘Is ‘e…dead?’ she squeaked, not knowing what else to say.
The man turned. ‘Yes,’ he replied quietly. ‘I’m sorry for the way I treated you. I had to keep up the act, or he would have killed you.’
Not knowing how to respond, Sarri kept quiet. The man said something under his breath and made an odd gesture.
His face seemed to flicker; then it changed. Instead of a middle-aged, lined face, it became a young one. His hair went from a greying blond to dark brown, almost as dark as Sarri’s own hair. Pasty skin gained an olive tan. In the light of the fire that was once her village, she could even see his eyes alter. They rapidly changed from dull green to a piercing blue, bright as the sky on a clear day.
He noticed her wide eyed stare, and laughed, softly.
‘I was using a Glamour,’ he explained. ‘It changes your appearance completely, when the spell is cast properly.’
Though he seemed to think this explained everything, it meant little to Sarri.
‘Oh,’ she said.
An awkward silence followed.
‘Who are you?’ she asked eventually.
‘My name is Fen Anniafen. Yours?’
‘Sarri. Sarri Kifrosena.’
Another awkward silence. Sarri glanced over at Ha’dar’s body, and quickly looked away as her stomach turned. The first thing her eyes landed on was her village. It seemed to be determined to not be ignored. Wiping away tears she had not previously noticed, she stretched out trembling palms.
‘It’s too late. You can’t do anything now,’ Fen told her. When she ignored him, he added, more urgently, ‘You really shouldn’t do that.’
Calling on her magic, she closed her palms. Hot, burning pain shot through her body, making her gasp. It was the last thing she knew.

Seeing Sarri collapse, Fen ran the few steps to her, though he knew she was not in any danger. He had seen this happen before, and done it himself as many times. She had used up too much of her power, and her body was reacting badly to it.
‘I told you so,’ he muttered, quickly checking her for injury.
Sighing, he turned to the fire ravaged village. He didn’t even need to use his powers to investigate it these days; the spell used to create Ha’dar’s fire bombs was too familiar now. Once one village was reduced to ashes, it would expand and consume the land around it for a mile, if left unchecked. Nothing would be left alive in there. Quickly, quietly, he placed a containment spell round the village. The air sparkled every time a flame came too close, pushing it back.
He should have got here quicker. If not for those two cloaked-men he found in the forest, he might have been able to do something. At least those two men wouldn’t start any more fires; they were now ashes as that village would be. And now Ha’dar had told him the location of their camp – with much less pressure than Fen had expected – the rest of his foul little band would be dealt with. Though, the problem was much bigger… Fen ran a hand through his hair. He couldn’t think about that, not now. The important thing was to report his information, and get that poor girl to safety.
Fen looked down at her. A quick spell cleaned the soot from her clothes. He could barely believe that the heat from that fire had done little more than mess up her clothes, considering how close she had been when he saw Ha’dar grab her. It was astonishing; her powers were probably completely untrained, but they must have instinctually protected her, and she had handled a blaze that many with twenty years training would have found trying. It was the shock of such a sight that had made him pause at the edge of the forest, until he had seen Ha’dar. Fen supposed this was how people had felt about him, when he showed so much magical talent as a child. Paco Magi was going to be interested in this girl. Gods, he was interested, though he had to wonder what made someone with such spectacular powers snap at him as if he was a danger.
Very gently, he picked the girl up. The light of the flames danced across her brown skin, and highlighted dark hair. Fen realised she was tall for her age.
‘Let’s get you somewhere safe,’ he said to the unconscious girl in his arms. ‘That’s all I wanted to do originally, so don’t worry about me, I’m not that bad. I left my pack in the forest, so we’ll go there. Ok, Sarri.’
Slowly, he trudged off towards the forest, muttering, ‘Looks like I’ll be taking first watch tonight.’

Ahh, so that's how it works. razz
I'm slightly confused though - I used the little box and when I tested it, it did go straight to the post. :/ I guess I must have acidentally copied the wrong link in afterwards or something.

DK - I'm glad you liked it so much. smile I don't know how many times I must have edited through this chapter over the years, so I'm glad its paid off. Hopefully you won't be disappointed by chapter two when I've got it up!