The fields and forests of the central March are home to a species of bird that Robin had grown to absolutely hate. They begin to cry out about an hour before dawn, and continue their strident cries until the sun was so high he could not go back to sleep.

  But here in Kraag’s host, there is a new alarm clock to bring him horror. Louise slamming inexplicably loudly into his tent and shouting.

  “Wake up, good for nothing!” she shrieked as she battered against his only piece of furniture, an old chair.

  Robin reflexively sat up from his blankets, but had learned weeks before that his vocal protests were useless against her.

  “And put on a shirt, you foul lecher. Not one of us want to see your disgusting, skinny body.”

  Robin yawned and winked at Louise, prompting a loud groan from her. “I’ll be waiting outside, boy.”

  Robin climbed from his bed roll and looked around for his shirt from the previous day. He was exhausted lately from all the training with Louise. He missed spending time with Yanni, his wife, and their children. The whole family was a total joy and made this speaker business almost worth it.

  But Louise had struck their training from Robin’s schedule, replacing it with her own and it was a constant string of nightmares. None as bad as the day Kraag’s emotions had almost killed him, but Louise’s challenges were harsh and oppressive.

  And, despite what Louise would say, it was not because Robin was lazy. He knew it would be difficult to overcome the cultural barriers to understand the earthen aspects of red magic. But Louise’s screaming and hitting did not make it easy.

  The afternoons with Anya here and there were welcome reprieves from Louise’s tyranny. But even then, Anya seemed to be running out of things to teach Robin. Their times together were more about skill maintenance than expansion. They would just empathize and let Robin explain all of the emotions he was experiencing and finding.

  “Hurry up, Robin,” Louise called from outside.

  There was one silver lining in Robin’s near-death experience, though. Louise had actually begun speaking to him. He was not sure if it was a safety concern or some display of respect earned, but it made the days he spent with her much less dull.

  Gone were the days of sitting in meditative silence for no discernable reason. Arrived, instead, were days filled with swear words, hateful slurs, and critical whispers.

  Fully clothed and mentally prepared, Robin stepped out of his tent into the camp of Kraag’s host. Robin had been set up in the shadow of the god where many stone-based shamans were so that Louise “could keep an eye on him.”

  “Here,” she said, shoving a bowl of diced melon and berries to him. “Eat this. I don’t like honeydew.”

  “Thanks for the leftovers, Louise,” Robin sighed.

  “Better for you than the maggots,” she responded. “Now come. Training will be at Kraag’s head.”

  “On it?”

  “No, jackass. Below it. Learn some manners. The day you are on Kraag’s head is the day I die and you deliver the eulogy.”

  “I’ll start writing it, then!” Robin cheerfully remarked before popping a piece of melon into his mouth. The two continued to banter loudly as they took the long walk through Kraag’s shadow.

  Robin glanced up time and again, taking in the sheer scale of the elder god. He was as big as a city, and so much taller. Precious stones and jewels caught errant beams up light and twinkled like stars against the silhouette. How Robin would ever be able to “speak” for this thing was beyond him.

  When Robin and Louise finally arrived at a patch of grass some distance ahead of Kraag’s head, they took a seat. Robin looked at the god’s serpentine head, dreamily watching the two prepare for their lessons.

  “So, I’m going to be honest with you. That day you empathized with Kraag. It was terrifying, and not just for you. The god’s fear wracked our hearts as well as yours. We all felt it. I want to talk about why it happened the way it did.”

  “Because I went too deep? Bit off more than I could chew?” Robin asked. He was put off slightly by Louise’s stern, but almost compassionate demeanor all of the sudden. But he decided against pointing it out now, fearing observing it would prompt its violent death.

  “More like your jaw was too weak, Robin,” she said. “We’re out here so I can talk frankly to you. And not worry about some stupid child coming too close and interrupting us.”

  “I see,” Robin said. So her gruff personality was a front for the Host? That made sense, but was somewhat disappointing.

  “Since you’ve been working with Anya and Yanni, you must have come to realize that the delineation between the elements and emotions are not as strict as you may have once thought. Look at ice and see that water can be stubborn and full of determination like stone. Look to the firestorm and see flame’s passion met with the joy and freedom of wind.

  “But at their core, these states of these elements do not alter the fundamentals. The firestorm is passion, rage, at its heart. And the ice is still easygoing water at its heart. Once the temperature changes, it goes right back to its whimsical liquid state. So, what of mud, Robin? What about seawater?”

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  “I’ve never been to the ocean,” Robin confessed. “Only over it!”

  “Ugh,” Louise snarled. “Not the point. The point is the state of the elements. Seawater tastes salty and you can not even see the salt in it. That is the degree of stubbornness of the crystals of salt! The salt is so determined in its survival that it remains present even when it is completely consumed in the need to be flexible.”

  “And mud is the same idea. Just stone that is made to be more lackadaisical?”

  “Precisely. But how?”

  “I don’t know,” Robin said.

  “Emotional anchors. Anchors to identity. It is simple for a stone to never forget it is a stone. Even when it is surrounded by, torn apart by water it is still a stone. When water is frozen, it is still water. When fire is blown around by winds, it is still fire!

  “But for us humans? It is difficult. We can forget that we are human. Spending too much time surrounded by flames? We begin to think we are flames. In the water? We become that water. Robin, you became fearful. Much worse? You became Kraag’s fear. You transformed your entire being into the fears of an elder god.”

  “So I need to remember myself when I empathize?”

  “That’s correct, Robin. Have you heard the tale of Shi Bai?”

  “I have not.”

  “She was, or rather is, a shamaness from the misty Jade Pillars of northern Gavundar. From their border with the Frozen Wastes. She saw the beauty of the land she lived in and understood its adaptability.

  “She saw how the fires of the watchtowers pushed away the mists, and the stone pillars stood tall despite gusts and rain. She could see the rivers swirl between the pillars, carving their way through treacherous stone, and felt the wind dance between the colossal mountains, unimpeded. She was trained to dance with fire, but wanted to be in tune with so much more.”

  “So she empathized with everything?”

  “Do you want to hear the story or do you want to tell it?” Louise asked glumly.

  “Sorry, go ahead.”

  “Yes, she empathized with everything. But she did it in the way only a woman of the misty pillars could. Shi Bai climbed to a tall peak and used rudimentary stone warping red magic to make a plaza for herself. And with no knowledge and no training, she sat, cross-legged, and opened her heart to the world.

  “And the world consumed her.”

  “What happened?” Robin asked, his tone grim.

  “No one is certain. Her body was gone. Other shamans claim they felt her spirit still present in the scenery of the pillars. But she had only passion. She had nothing else. And her passion, her excitement, allowed the other elements to bowl her over.”

  “Wow.”

  “You, Robin,” Louise said, looking him in the eyes with less judgement than she had since the day they met. “You have the understanding now. You’ve learned about the elements, how they intersect and join. How they conflict. You are just missing one final piece before we can begin to expose you to your duty. Before you can truly begin to learn what it means to be Kraag’s speaker. You need to find your anchor.

  “But you are at a harsh disadvantage as a Wind Walker. You have no childhood home you will never forget. You leave your friends and family regularly, not certain if you will meet them again. Any person you meet is just someone you interact with once and then run off away from.”

  “Hey!” Robin said, his defenses springing up.

  “Settle down,” she responded, waving him off. “I’m not being mean. I’m just explaining why everything we’ve done has been so difficult for you. You need to find something, Robin. Something that gives you determination. Something to be steadfast about. That way, you don’t find yourself in situations like this…”

  As Robin listened to Louise’s voice trail off, he realized she was beginning to meditate. Her eyes, focused and harsh, began to shut. This woman was empathizing with him without even touching him. Without his participation. She was just barging into the depths of his heart. And she was dredging up terror.

  It came in waves, each one washing higher up than the last, until it was completely consuming him. He fought the urge to blink, feeling that the moment he closed his eyes, he would be lost in the same sort of empathetic visions he saw with Kraag.

  And his hunch was correct. The sting of his drying eyes and the mounting terror was too much. His eyelids fell, but there was no darkness. There was a bright orange glow, and Robin, a guest in his own mind, was being taken on a tour of his tribe’s destroyed camp.

  Flaming stones were raining from the skies, destroying everyone and everything in sight. He saw his friends, already dead and bloody, lying amongst a ruined tent. His parents, whoever they were? Nowhere to be seen.

  Robin began to desperately search for his “anchor.” He thought of his parents, but could not shake the idea that they had run away. He thought of his friends, but they were still dead. So dead, just over there.

  He thought back to the towns he visited. The lovers he had had. And to his horror, he could not remember a single name as more of those flaming stones came tumbling down all around him.

  He could not remember which restaurants were where.

  He could not remember which friends came from which towns.

  He could not remember which guides he had slept with and which he had not. He had nothing.

  “Help,” he muttered, his voice shaking and weak. He was quickly reaching the point of fearing for his life he had been at on the day he empathized with Kraag.

  And that was when he felt it. A distant, but huge, pang of remorse. When Robin felt his presence, he was overjoyed. And his joy was met with joy from that distant and massive body, as well.

  The joy quickly stifled itself. In its place came a neurotic need to double check. To make sure things were okay to proceed.

  Yes! Please! Robin pleaded from the core of his being.

  Robin was overwhelmed by confidence. By pride in friendship and by a massive assurance to loyalty. Far beyond anything he had ever felt with any of those friends he had made in all those different cities.

  In that vision of destruction was something beautiful. The hulking shape of Kraag appeared in an instant between Robin and the meteors. The god roared in triumph as the stones exploded against his mountainous shell.

  Thank you so much Robin expressed to the god.

  Kraag answered with a deeper assurance of loyalty.

  Robin found the strength of character to open his eyes, and as he did, he caught Louise beginning to open hers as well.

  “That’s just what we wanted,” she said with a smile.