“Hurry up, Megan!”

Michael’s voice, full of impatient energy, echoed up the stairs to her. She let out yet another sigh and yanked her door open. “Hold your horses, I’m coming!”

She tugged her robe on, snatched her wand off the bedside table, and stomped her way downstairs. When she came level with Michael, she saw Rachel and Jordan coming over from the wing that held their rooms. She wasn’t even late, she thought with a flare of annoyance. Michael was putting too much stress on her so early in the day. He was looking at her in confusion, tilting his head slightly.

“What?” She asked defensively, checking to see if maybe her robes were on backwards or something. “Why are you staring at me?”

“Hold my horses?” He said, repeating her words with incredulity. “Really? Where in the devil did you come up with that phrase? Does everyone in Jyrok talk that strangely?”

She stared at him blankly for a second, then shrugged. “Maybe. It’s just something I heard growing up. It means stop being so impatient.”

“Yeah, I got that,” he said with a sarcastic snort of laughter. “Alright, let’s go.”

Megan let the others file out the front door of the Proficient’s dorm, bringing up the rear. She silently cursed herself for the slip. She really had to keep a close watch on the idioms she used. After her strange encounter with the shadowy figure at the end of her memory, she’d started accidentally using common phrases from Earth, not realizing that Ahyans would only react in confusion. She wondered briefly if Eric ever struggled with that issue. She’d have to ask him the next time they met.

It took them perhaps half an hour to reach the dojo of Issho-Ni, which lay on the very edge of the city. Megan knew that it was the only military building permitted to exist outside of the Military District, though she couldn’t remember exactly why. In any event, it was very easy to reach, as it was placed alongside the Queen’s Road. And so after fighting their way through the late morning crowds of farmers heading back in for lunch, the finally reached the property. Even at this early hour, they could make out the raised voices and sound of wooden training weapons.

Michael led the way inside, stopping just over the threshold and stooping to remove his boots. When the others looked at him, perplexed, he paused to explain. “This is a dojo. You must remove your boots before entering.”

They shrugged and complied, Jordan and Rachel also setting down their satchels. It seemed that a class was just ending, with apprentices of varying ages and robe colors heading away from the center and exiting via the door they had just used. A few stayed behind to collect weapons, and a few others moved aside to speak with their teachers, doubtless listening to advice or corrections. Nearly forty warriors and apprentices in a single room, yet everyone moved with such unwavering purpose that it didn’t feel crowded.

“Are you the students from the College?” A deep, strong voice said, making them turn around quickly. A tall, broad-shouldered man stood there, wearing a white tunic with the Issho-Ni crest down the back. He looked tough and battle-scarred, as if he’d spent a lifetime fighting tought opponents. Michael immediately bowed to the man, and the others hesitantly followed suit.

“Yes, Master Calemviir,” Michael said. “I hope we’re not late.”

“You’re right on time,” Calemviir said. “Not sure why you wanted to do it here, but it’s all the same to us. Master Ehran will assist you with your training.”

He gave them a quick bob of his head, and they bowed once more. Megan’s mind, disconnected at the surroundings that reeked of hard physical labor, jumped back to attention at the mention of the master’s name. Ehran? Where had she heard that name before? It was so familiar, but she was certain that she’d never met a master from Issho-Ni in her life. Then the man in question appeared at Calemviir’s side, calling four apprentices over to join.

“Good morning,” he said crisply. “You’re here to take part in a mock fight, to prepare for the Exchange, is that right?”

They all made noises of assent, and he nodded. “Very well. You can leave your shoes and possessions here. Head over to the wall to grab replacements for your weapons, and wait for me to prepare my apprentices.”

They did as they were told, walking to the far end of the dojo room, where a wide selection of wooden weapons were ranged along a wall. Megan’s mind was still distracted by trying to place where she’d heard Ehran’s voice before, and she didn’t pay much attention to the excited mutterins of the others. Michael had already selected a wooden practice sword, and was busy removing his Proficient’s robe, leaving only his standard Spellblade training tunic. Likewise, Jordan stripped down to his plain black tunic, and selected a sword and shiel from the racks available.

“You’re using a weapon?” Rachel asked, her eyebrows up. “That’s surprising.”

“I got some practice when living with my family,” Jordan explained. “I’m not the best, but I figure it could help in the Exchange.”

“Maybe,” Rachel said doubtfully, biting her lower lip. “Of course, our opponents could heat it, and force you to drop them.”

Jordan shrugged diffidently. “I can counter that one or twice. Worst case, I’ll just drop them and rush in.”

“Fair enough,” Rachel replied with a smile. She looked over to where Master Ehran was speaking to the four apprentices. “Is that the one who’s never taken on a personal apprentice?”

“He’s taken on one,” Michael corrected her. “I told you this. But he died about a year ago, now.”

Megan’s jaw dropped. The stray thought that was hovering just out of reach in her mind finally dropped into place. Ehran had been the name of Eric’s dog on Earth. That strange wolf-like pup that only she and Eric seemed to be able to see. Then another realization occurred to her. It had come from Ahya! It was some byproduct of Eric’s training in Issho-Ni, when he was Ehran’s only apprentice! Before she knew what she was doing, her feet were carrying her across the large dojo to approach the Master.

“Master Ehran,” she said, her words tumbling out of her faster than she could get her tongue around them. “Are you the one who taught Eric?”

Ehran, who had been in the middle of explaining the training session to the apprentice, gave a little twitch, then froze mid-sentence. His head snapped around to face her, and he looked her up and down, eyes narrowed. He gave a quiet instruction to the apprentices, who rushed to the other wall to collect training weapons of their own. Then he grabbed her by the arm and pulled her a good distance away, where they were out of earshot.

“Yes, Eric was indeed my student,” he said, staring at her with his sharp eyes. “Are you a friend of his from childhood?”

“Err, no,” Megan said, not sure how to proceed. “I met him… elsewhere.”

He looked her up and down again, as if seeing something that she couldn’t. “You’re also from that other world. What was it called again?”

“Earth,” she answered at once, then clamped her jaw shut. Damn! She really couldn’t help herself, could she? Mentally kicking herself, she unstuck her jaw. “How do you know about it?”

“After Eric’s death, I confronted the person who summoned him here,” Ehran explained. “I always thought there was something special about that boy. It wasn’t until I spoke to Bragg that I learned what it was.”

“Oh,” she said faintly. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t sure if you knew about Earth or not, so I didn’t want to say too much.”

Ehran nodded his understanding. “Eric wasn’t very good at hiding his differences, but I just assumed that was a trait of growing up in Welsik. Now I know that he didn’t have much time to get used to Ahya.”

“I’m not sure,” she said, rubbing her arm where he’d grabbed it. She bruised easily, and his grip had been like iron. “He doesn’t remember anything of his time here, except a few names, including yours.”

A flood of sadness filled the eyes staring at her, though the rest of his face remained expresionless. Then they sharpened again. “You’ve spoken to Eric? After his time here?”

“Yes,” she replied, deciding on the spot to share what she knew with the man. “But not a lot. I just have these strange dreams where I’ll visit his home randomly, and we have a meal and talk. They only started a few weeks ago, when I learned where I’m really from.”

“You’ve only been here a few weeks?” He asked incredulously. “That’s not very long.”

“Actually, I’ve been in Ahya just over a year,” she corrected him. “Right after Eric went back home, Samuel recruited me. I’ve spent a year learning magic, and he modified my memory to make me think I was from Ahya.”

“That sound just like Bragg,” Ehran said, a flash of irritation crossing his face. “I can’t say I like the way he’s handling this. But I doubt I’d do any better. Who knows how many strange requests he has to entertain from that strange god of his?”

In spite of herself, Megan let out a quiet laugh. “Yes, he’s a very strange man. But he’s also a very good teacher.”

“So you’re taking over for Eric. I’ll have to do what I can to help you. Can you pass on a message for me, when you next get the chance?”

“Of course,” She agreed at once.

“Tell him that, if he ever wants to come back and is able to, I look forward to continuing to train him.”

She nodded, locking the message away. It had been about a week since she’d last seen Eric, so she was sure a visit wouldn’t be long in coming now. He gave her a small smile then, and the tiny expression changed his face completely. A proud teacher shined through the mask of exhaustion and indifference, and it drew a matching smile from her. Here was a link between herself, Eric, Ahya, and Earth. A link, more importantly, that was unlikely to bring her much trouble. She immediately felt a warm connection with the man. Then he led her back to the others, who were facing each other in the center of the wide sparring circle, staring at the pair with open curiosity.

“Right,” he said, with a little more energy than before, talking directly to the Issho-Ni apprentices. “So the goal here is group combat. Moran, you focus on support. Ciayol, you’re the offensive mage. Thunderborn, you assist Rainhall, as he’s your front attacker.”

The apprentices nodded and quickly shifted their positions, leaving a tall boy with broad shoulders and a longsword in the front of an extended diamond shape. A weedy-looking youth with messy blond hair stood at the very back, hands raised, ready to cast magic. Megan hurried over to her friends, quickly and quietly dismissing their rapid questions as to what she’d just been up to. Moving into position behind Jordan and Michael with Rachel at her side, she drew out her wand.

Ehran moved to the center of the circle, giving each group a quick examination. “All ready? Very well. Mages, keep the power down to a minimum. We’ll operate on touch rules. If you’re struck in the chest or twice in the limbs, you’re out. Begin!”

The weedy Issho-Ni apprentice immediately spat out an incantation, sending a bolt of air directly at Michael. It had barely passed their front fighter, however, when Megan’s Counterspell hit it, shattering the mana into nothing. The apprentice looked across at Megan with wide eyes, and she bared her teet in a challenging grin. All of a sudden, with a new ally and friend in this world, she felt a little more confident.

“Let’s show them what Proficients are made of,” she said to her friends. They all growled in agreement, and Michael lifted his wooden sword, charged with mana.

“Now you’re in the spirit. Took you long enough.”