12.  The hunt is called.

 

  Gerald looked out the window.  The small shop was located slightly up the hill, and offered a nice view.  It felt great to just sit here, and let the frustrations and worries sit locked away for a bit.  The food was another issue entirely, and as it arrived he lost interest in much else.  The meal was fairly basic, but it was good and hearty.  Thick slabs of beef glistened on the plate, slowly roasted and soaked with the juices it had lost while cooking.  A potato that had been left in some coals, the skin burnt but the insides warm and wonderful.  A handful of carrots and apples mixed together and topped with a couple wedges of lemon, and a chewy roll that had butter and spices inside of it.  He eyed it all, and wondered if maybe he had ordered too much.  After a moment of hesitation, he decided it was alright.  It was more than he needed, but splurging every now and then made life a little more interesting.

  He ate silently, considering everything that had happened.  He had learned relatively little from the whole series of events, although Imelwain's ability still proved interesting.  He wasn't entirely sure how it worked, but he had a few theories.  Attempts to produce a similar system, binding two things together to form a new power that was generally not natural had resulted in failure over and over again, but he had learned a few interesting things.

  It was frustrating, though, to have hints of things that would be of great use left dangling in front of him with no real information on how to proceed.  The only success he had made was a rope of fire.  He supposed it was mostly just an odd way of using fire, considering how strongly air is associated with fire, but it was interestingly easy to direct if the manipulation was on the air rather than the fire.  The result had even gotten him a little enthusiasm from his teacher.  The trick was a notable improvement, and anything that was new and better got high grades from Mr. Melnin.

  The meal was gone far too soon.  He looked out the window again.  Three weeks, such a short time since the little group had gathered to remove that fiend.  He was hurrying too much.  Getting stronger took time.  Impatience was no virtue, but time was not an ally either.  He didn't know how much longer he had to get ready.  Evadel had told them of something terrible that would happen, and he wanted to be ready to stop it.

  Torches sprang to life, down along the village roads.  Not the normal ones of evening, which had already been lit, but the kind that meant trouble.  For a moment he panicked.  It was too soon!  A deep breath calmed him.  No, this wasn't what had been foretold.  None of the signs had shown up, and those had to come first.  Still, it was a chance to test his progress.

  Gerald rushed out of the eatery, leaving payment behind.  He caught up with the militia shortly.  Several were already talking to other villagers.  'What is the alert?'  He asked one of them.

  'Nothing yet.  One of the lumberjacks spotted some Skelsarin coming into the area.  Nobody is hurt, but we need to be careful and learn where the things are heading.  Just as a precaution, of course, but you should get home and stay inside tonight.'

  Gerald nodded at the man.  'Thank you.'  He turned around, but with no intention of walking home.  Skelsarin would be perfect for learning how ready they were.  It was time to get together again.  He turned and walked down the road, heading toward the theater.  Near the bridge was a rock, that rested just so atop a little hollow area.  He left a note there, and then did head for home.  The message was set, tomorrow they would meet.  He trailed a stream of fire behind him, swirling it through the air as if it was a playful pet following master home.

  Tomorrow he was going hunting.