Sira watched in the shadows as Klavon methodically attacked and weakened Norinar’s village.
“How convenient I killed him,” Klavon had said when they were first devising the plan. “And now I can use this village, with no one to defend it, to draw the boy out.”
Norinar was dead and his son was in the training fields with Barsovy, not due to be home for quite some time. It was a perfect opportunity, and Sira had to admit, his plan to test the boy’s skills was sound.
Everything was happening to her liking. Klavon’s desire to kill Darius had been thwarted, and she was curious to see how things would change once he stood at Klavon’s side…and hers.
So Klavon had come for two evenings, disguised as a much younger sorcerer. He attacked Norinar’s village and then left until the following night. No one had been killed—that would not serve his needs. If it had, Sira had no doubt there would be corpses strewn about. As it was, the town was left with a constant threat and fear of death…and no way to defend itself.
That was where Sira came in. She had been watching, and there was one who always helped, standing her ground and protecting those weaker. This girl, Alara, was just what she needed.
That night, when Klavon left—as he did every night—the white wisp floated through the door, into the small home, and circled above Alara’s bed.
“It is there,” Sira whispered. “Travel to the fallen village, and you will find the wizard’s sword and staff, left fourteen years ago.”
Alara tossed in her sleep, and Sira pressed the image of the small home on the hill into the sleeping girl’s mind.
“That is where they are,” Sira said, “and with them, you can vanquish the evil sorcerer from your village forever.”
Alara turned her head from side to side as Sira imprinted the path that would lead her directly to the small home.
When Sira was done, she left one last dream with the girl—a dream of great victory in defeating the invading sorcerer if the girl succeeded in retrieving the sword and staff.