No matter how much you bribe me with a colt (a fine animal—I must admit) for Sebby's birthday, you owe me that one, Brother.

In the glistening moonlight rose the Horseshoe Mountains above the horizon; first its white peaks of eternal snow, then the dark belly of the majestic rock formation. There was no way around the slumbering giant; not unless they rode hundreds of miles more to the east or the west.

Fox shrunk back in the saddle, accidentally touching the magician's chest.

"First time you see the mountains, son?" He put his hands over Fox's, steering the horse towards the small, meandering stream that the river Faith had become.

"Yes."

During the summer moons, Laneby's tavern was often packed with travelling merchants boasting how they had tamed the terrifying beauty of the mountain range, so he and Seb had made an unbreakable pact that they would one day head north to reach the largest top themselves.

He swallowed, feeding the welling tears to his empty stomach. If only he could tell Seb that it would take weeks to travel all the way from one side of the horseshoe-shaped border to the other. Finding out which one was the largest would be nearly impossible.

The magician yawned in Fox's ear. "It's late. Let's camp here for the night, catch a few hours of sleep before we cross the mountains."

"Aye." Leo's black mare halted on a patch of grass near the river. He patted her neck.

Phoe continued following the craggy path. Ten steps it took before the warrior's saggy eyes lit up and he squeezed the reins. With unexpected agility he jumped off the brown stallion and stretched out his arms, cracking his knuckles.

Fox winced. Father used to do the same after a long day in the smithy. Whenever he caught Fox uttering even the slightest of whimpers, he would do it again just to tease him.

Phoe only cracked his knuckles once. "I thought you were never going to stop, Katla. I haven't been able to feel my limbs since sunset."

"No feeling is better than pain." The magician muffled a groan as an icy northern wind swept over the land, shaking the willow trees that thrived surprisingly close to the mountains. "Get wood, Phoe. It's freezing."

"Sure, shouldn't take too long. The Gods have blessed us." He bent down and grabbed four twigs in one sweep.

"But you're a magician." Supported by a hand on his back, Fox climbed off the horse. "You don't need wood."

A wry smile appeared on the man's face as he inhaled an extra deep breath. "It would be terribly inconvenient to stay awake just to keep the flames up."

"Ha! Imagine us sitting all night next to your burning hands, Katla." Leo snorted, looking up from rummaging through the horse's bags. "No, save your energy so we don't get lost again. I don't wanna spend any minute longer in those mountains than needed. We got lucky on our way down. I told Ari that the storms are the true Kings of the peaks, but he didn't want to listen. Almost lost my head because of his foolish plan."

Phoe roared with laughter as he cracked a bundle of twigs into two. "Maybe His Majesty was hoping for it, so he doesn't have to invite your ugly head to extended family dinners anymore."

"Watch it, Foambrain." Leo placed some deerskins on the grass. "I may not have any claim to the throne, but my mother is still a Princess. What you're saying could be interpreted as high treason."

"You wouldn't dare." Phoe threw a bigger branch to the small pile of wood he had already gathered. "Who else is gonna do these chores? Whether or not you like it, you need me."

Fox stood there, not knowing what to do. Even with his arms hugging his body, his teeth were still clattering uncontrollably.

"Here." The magician unbuttoned his black cloak and gave it to him. "It may be too big, but it's warmer than the shirt and shorts you're wearing."

"I'm not cold." Fox quivered as the next gust of wind beated him in the chest. The man may seem friendly, but he was a murderer. There was no way he was going to trust him.

"You don't have to lie." The magician pulled his cloak over Fox's head. "Admitting that you're cold doesn't make you less strong."

"I'm not afraid of that. I just don't wanna be like you." His heart hammered loudly in his chest as he turned towards the river to avoid the discomfort of the magician's gaze.

Being brave was hard, especially when the blurry reflection in the water unveiled a painful reality. With the black hair and oversized cloak, he looked more like those evil magicians in Nick's boring books than a blacksmith's boy.

"Hey, you." Phoe dumped a pile of wood near his feet. "Instead of trembling like a useless leaf, help me arrange the wood so Katla can make a fire. I don't want my butt to freeze off."

"Maybe I do," he mumbled.

The men didn't react. While the magician tied his spotted mare to one of the willow trees, Leo laid down two more skins and a couple of bear furs. Phoe was too busy keeping his shaking hands under control.

He didn't do a very good job. 

Fox waited for the triangle construction to fall apart to roll up his sleeves. He took a handful of twigs and broke them into kindling wood. Out of the sloppily stacked pile, he picked the four biggest branches to create a stable base, then placed smaller ones in a triangle formation.

"Well, Phoe. I'm starting to think I should replace you with the little scrap." Leo grinned. "Kid seems to know what he's doing."

Phoe replied with a gruff bark, "It's unfair competition, Leo. He's a Fire Magician."

"I'm not." Fox flung the stick he was holding to the pile and sat down on one of the furs. If they were going to insult him, he wasn't gonna help.

"You're just a boy who likes playing with fire, aren't you?" The magician twitched his hand and immediately a large bright-red flame appeared in the middle of the wooden construction.

"No, I'm the son of the blacksmith." Fox's heart thumped wildly in his chest. Though the way the magician controlled the flame was almost beautiful, he wasn't going to say it out loud. Fire had killed his family. Fire had destroyed Laneby. Fire was the reason why he was all alone now.

Katla winked. "I'm sure you can do it too, son."

Fox yawned, rubbing one eye with the palm of his hand. "No, I can't."

"Why don't you sleep on it? Tomorrow is another day."

"And then I still won't be like you," he grumbled, squirming out of the man's cloak.

"Keep it." The magician touched Fox's shoulder, raising his head towards the star-filled sky. "The first frost of autumn is upon us. You're gonna need it."

"Okay." He laid down on the skin, pulling the thick fur over him until he was properly warm. He turned his head towards the fire pit. At home, he always watched the flames dancing when he didn't want to sleep yet.

"What do you say, Gents? A little nightcap before we hit the sack?" Using his teeth, Leo popped the cork of a bottle. "Taken from Ari's private stack. Not even Doe serves wine this good."

"Never say that out loud in The Antler, Leo. Not if you ever wanna drink there again." Phoe took one of the wooden cups from the log in front of the fire pit. "But count me in. Katla, what do you say?"

"Hmm... sure." The magician sauntered back to his friends. He looked over his shoulder, meeting Fox's eyes.

"Why the sullen face?" Leo smacked him on the back. "All for the greater cause. Remember?"

Phoe handed him the cup. "Here, this will help. A sad magician is a worthless one."

"Stop worrying. There are still a few happy thoughts in the back of my mind." The magician sipped the drink with a slurp. "Just the prospect of not having to see, hear, or smell you two every waking second is enough for my magical energy to restore itself."

"Aye, that's the spirit." Leo banged his cup into the magician's. "And the worst part is that we'll volunteer again next time Ari has a crazy plan."

"I dunno, maybe next time I'll take my apprentice."

"Apprentice? That's why you took him?" Leo asked. "I'm not sure that's a good idea."

"Yeah," Phoe added. "it's only been a couple of moons..."

"You don't understand. The house is too empty." For the second time, the magician glanced at Fox, making him crawl deeper into the fur. "He'll discover the strength of his powers soon enough."

Never. Fox rolled over to his other side and closed his eyes. Mother may be in the heavens now, but she was no doubt pleading to the Gods that they had to come and save her little firebug. They would have to obey her because even Lord Brandon said that there was nobody more convincing than her.

And she would never leave him behind, would she? He needed her hugs and kisses so badly...

He woke up the following morning from radiant beams of light peeking over the mountaintops. Despite the sun's warmth, the cloak, and the furs, his body was shaking from the cold. Reddish leaves swirled in the air before landing on the frost-covered grass.

The campfire had been reduced to a faint line of smoke that battled with the brutal wind. Fox's abductors were still sleeping, their snores so loud that it would even scare the most vicious bear back to its hibernation hole.

The magician's spotted grey mare was walking in circles around the willow tree, munching on a breakfast of grass and clovers. Unless the horse was a magician too, there was nobody keeping watch.

If only he knew the way back to Laneby or further, to Sundale, he could easily jump on the saddle and ride off. With the aid of the Gods, it would take hours before they noticed he had stolen the horse.

But what if they came after him and killed him? Being brave was useless if he ended up dead. That was not what Mother would have wanted.

He got up, headed towards the pit, and crouched low to dig deep into the ashes. One of the coals was still simmering. He took it into his hands and blew softly.

As a small flame kissed his frozen nose, a hoarse chuckle came from behind. "If you're not a magician, then I'm the King of The Greenlands."

"I'm not. I'm a normal boy." Fox dropped the coal, turning around to Phoe sitting upwards, his hands rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

"Sure, I'll let Leo know that I'm a royal too." He stretched his arms and rose from the bed. "Anyway, I'm hungry, aren't you?"

"Yes, hungry, but not a magician."

Phoe shrugged, grabbing a bow and some arrows that he had kept next to his bed. "Okay, normal boy, keep the fire going while I hunt."

"Keep it going?" He raised his voice, but resorted to a whisper to not wake up the other two. "It went out."

"Shouldn't be a problem, should it?" Phoe set his hand to his forehead, gazing into the distance. "There are some birds feeding on worms further downstream. Quails if I'm not mistaken."

Fox didn't like quails that much, but his tummy would be happy with any kind of food; even slugs or those nasty chicken livers that Father always wanted to eat on his birthday.

He reached for the firestones in the pocket of his pants, but only found a handkerchief. He sniffed, hoping for a nostalgic scent of home, but all he smelled was smoke and sweat.

Where were they? He rummaged through the furs. They hadn't fallen out of his pockets while sleeping either. He crawled on all fours. The last time he had used them was when Seb had asked him to build a fire for the roasted apples.

He couldn't recall putting them back into his pocket. So many things had happened that everything seemed like a blur.

He went back to the fire pit and dug into the ashes to look for other coals, or anything else that could serve as tinder. No luck.

Nibbling on a fingernail, he stared at the wood, and then his dirt-stained hand, and back to the wood. Last year during the Feast of the Dead, Lord Brandon and he had been the last ones to sit by the enormous bonfire. He had confided in Fox that his fire skills were rare and special, and that he should never brag about them; especially to strangers.

Did Lord Brandon mean that he was a magician? No, impossible. His destiny was to become the best warrior that ever lived.

Fox got up. The men could blather all they wanted; there was no way he had any magical powers, and he was going to show them just how wrong they were. He grabbed a hand-full of thin sticks from the pile of wood and threw them into the ashes. Similarly to what the magician had done, he twitched his hand.

Nothing happened. As expected.

Running around the pit, he waved his hands at the wood. He didn't care that he made much noise. The sooner the men woke up to witness his failure, the sooner their insinuations would stop.

But they didn't wake up and Phoe was still hundreds of feet away, stalking the birds on the riverbank. Fox sat down, cross-legged, panting heavily.

Even though he was sweating, his face and fingers were still numb. During the winter moons, Father always made sure their house had the largest and snuggest fire in all of Laneby. That was what Fox needed right now.

As wind flared up, his hand accidentally moved along. One by one the twigs caught fire.

No! It must have been a coincidence. There must have been a tiny coal hiding beneath the branches, that the wind lit on fire. There was no way he had done this.

He turned his head. Thank the Gods that the two men were still singing their snoring song. Had they been awake, he would have never heard the end of this.

He waited for the fire to die out, then removed all the sticks to stomp all coals to ashes. This time he was going to prove for real that he wasn't a magician.

His stomach grumbled. Oh, how he wished for a bite of Mother's delicious lamb stew. He could stare at it for hours as it braised in the pot. He twirled his hand, expecting nothing to happen, yet a jet of fire shot out of his palm.

A pair of clapping hands froze him to his spot. "Well done, son. I knew you would be able to do this."

"No, I... I... You did this."

"I didn't." He shook his head. "With the Gods as my witnesses, I was fast asleep until a minute ago. It was you—saw it with my own two eyes."

"You saw nothing. I'm not evil so I can't be a magician."

"Magic is not good or evil. It's a tool to create..." He flicked his thumb up, intensifying the heat of the flames. "Or destroy things." With a snap of his fingers, the fire died.

Fox jerked away from him as the man sat down on the log. "I've never heard of a good magician. You're all bad men who kill innocent people and steal children like me from their home. I will never be your apprentice. I hate you."

"I don't blame you." He paused, running his hand through his partly white hair. "If it helps you to think better of me, I can set you free and let you return to that girl."

"You want to release me?" Of all the reactions the magician could have, this was not the one Fox would have expected.

"Yes, if that's your wish. But believe what you wanna believe, son. You're a magician and this is The Greenlands. Are you sure you want to live the rest of your life in fear of anyone finding out what you are? Magic is outlawed. Sooner or later your friends will rat you out and condemn you to death."

"But they're my friends." Fox gazed upon the River Faith, the reflection of the black haired hooded boy resurfacing in the water. "And I'm not..."

A couple of tears rolled down his cheek, soon followed by others. Alex had called him a freak when the flames had acted all weird in Laneby. She had run away from him so fast when Leo had taken him, even after calling her name so many times. Nick hadn't spared him a glance since his hair had turned black in the forest. He had always called him a Muttonhead, like there wasn't anything he could do right. 

And Seb...

Fox tried to wipe the tears away, but they just kept on pouring out of his eyes. Seb had abandoned him. Mother wasn't coming to save him. "Maybe, if I'm really a magician, then I can't go back."

"No, but Silvermark isn't so bad. Most moons of the year." He smiled, turning his head towards Phoe, who was returning from the hunt with a brace of quails and a partridge. "You'll see soon enough."

"On the opposite side of the Horseshoe Mountains." Fox let out a sob. To get there, he would have to cross it.

Without Seb.