Coal stood for a long time, looking up at the stage and thinking. He wasn't sure how long exactly, but long enough.

  “I'm going to London.” His voice, quiet as it was, startled him. He hadn't meant to say that out loud.

  It would be hard. The College wasn't free, there would be tuition and requirements, a uniform at least and no doubt tools and equipment he would need for his classes. And books of course. Books were dreadfully expensive, he'd often admired Priest Thomas’ collection and wondered how he could afford such a thing. And before all of that he would need to get there. He would take a coach to Tunbridge Wells and there he could board a train and…. And he was actually going to do this. He realised he wasn't thinking through whether to go, he had already skipped ahead to planning how he was going to make this work.

  It was crazy. Him, a poor orphan with no training and no kind of formal education was going to travel to London, by himself, and attempt to enrol in the best College in the country. Madness.

  He would need money. Without a licence from the Hunters guild he couldn't turn in trophies from the monsters he killed but maybe he could use his herb knowledge, there would be rare herbs and flowers and roots in the Old Graveyard, otherwise hard to get to. Many were no doubt unsavoury but beggars couldn't be choosers and he was certain Mort would still buy them, he wasn't exactly the moralistic type. He'd probably rip Coal off, like always, but if he worked hard he could still do it. He wouldn't be able to finance his entire education, of course, but perhaps he could make enough to get started, he could figure out the rest as he went.

  “What are you still doing here boy?” He heard an angry girl's voice off to his left, high and spiteful. Some town girl berating an unfortunate lad, Coal ignored it.

  The problem was he wasn't sure how much he would need. He knew, vaguely, what a ticket on a coach might cost and could guess what a train ticket would set him back but tuition? The King's College was a grand place, almost mystical. It was where the young scions of wealthy and noble family's went. It would have to be dreadfully expensive, surely fair out of his reach, but if so then why would Priest….

  “Hey! I am speaking to you and you won't ignore me!” He could still hear that annoying girl's screechy voice and scowled as he pulled his thoughts back on track. The Priest would know what the College would cost, or at least have a better guess than Coal could hazard. And he had obviously meant for Coal to go, or at least he thought so? He would go to the church early tomorrow and try to….

  “Hey!” This time the girl's screech was right in Coals ear and he flinched, stepping back and spinning to see the girl had come right up to him. She stood with hands on hips, wearing a fine dress and with blonde hair done all up in elaborate curls and pinned to her head, blonde hair that he could see had a hint of strawberry to it, now she was inches away from him. It was the Mayor's daughter.

  And she looked. Really. Angry.

  “How dare you ignore me!” The girl, Elizabeth, stared at him with blazing eyes. Eyes he could now see were deep, deep blue, almost black. Like looking into the depths of the ocean. He got a little lost in them and just stared.

  “Hey!” The girl snapped her fingers in his face, “don't just stare at me, are you simple? Standing in the square and gazing off into space like, like… like a dolt. An imbecilic fool. And you were ogling me earlier like some common wench, don't deny it, I saw you!”

  “Ummm….” Coal said eloquently.

  “Yes?” The angry girl put her hands back on her hips, “Well? I'm waiting.”

  “Sorry, I…. I'm not….” Coal was lost. He barely spoke to anyone, besides the occasional conversation with the Priest and disgruntled grunting at the old apothecary; his most frequent conversational partner was a stone puppy.

  “You should be sorry.” The girl huffed, “but I suppose I shouldn't expect more from someone like you. So, tell me, why are you here?”

  Still befuddled, Coal waved vaguely at the stage.

  The girl thrust her chin at him and harrumphed, “if that was your attempt at an explanation it was rather lacking. The speech has ended, shouldn't you be off gallivanting with your grubby friends or groping some unfortunate tavern girl?”

  Coal raised an eyebrow. He'd never done either of those things, he wasn't actually sure he knew what ‘gallivanting’ was. “I was just thinking.” He said simply.

  The girl just stared at him.

  “I am sorry for, well. For looking at you. Earlier I mean. I didn't mean to stare,” Coal could feel his cheeks burning again but he felt like he needed to say it. This was the first girl he could ever really remember talking to and he actually hadn't meant to be rude.

  Surprisingly, the angry girl blushed back. “Yes, well,” she looked away from him and twisted her hands in her skirts, “there's grace in forgiveness, I suppose.” she looked back at Coal and scrunched up her face in suspicion, “what were you thinking about exactly?”

  “The College.”

  “The College?” The girl asked, raising her eyebrows. This obviously was not the answer she had expected.

  Coal simply nodded.

  “You're not exactly eloquent are you,” she looked him over, eyeing his grubby shirt and old, scuffed boots, the mud coating them and spattering his trousers, “You're what, a Hunter's child I suppose? Got some hand me down Link from a bridge troll or some such and now what? You hear my good father's speech and you think you'll swan off to London and become a great hero, like in the stories.” The girl huffed, “it's not going to happen. Go home to your simple parents and live your simple life.”

  She turned her shoulder to him.

  “I don't have parents.” Coal said.

  She turned back, “everyone has parents.” She said, looking at him as if he was stupid.

  “Not living ones,” Coal said quietly. He looked away from the girl and back into the sky. His mind was made up, he was going to London. Contrary to what this girl said, he didn't care about being a hero. He didn't care about being a great person or being rich or famous. But he did want to see it, the great city that was in so many stories.

  “I….. well, I didn't mean….. that is to say, I wasn't aware of….” The girl trailed off.

  Coal turned to her and inclined his head, “It was nice to meet you Elizabeth. I'm going now.” Without waiting for a response, Coal turned and walked away.

  “Wait!”

  He heard the girl call out after him but ignored it. He wasn't good at talking. He knew he'd made a fool of himself but he didn't much care. She was an important person and would no doubt forget him as soon as he was out of sight.

  He turned down the nearest street and started to make his way home. He didn't think about where he was going but instead kept his mind on the future.

  What an infuriating boy. She'd noticed him staring at her in a most unchristian manner as she stepped on to the stage, he was tall this boy and he hadn't exactly been subtle, so she'd given him a look that could cut glass. And less than he deserved. He'd seemed chastised at first but then he kept looking at her, making her feel dreadfully exposed. He'd even scowled at her at one point.

  It was utterly infuriating. Not only was she the mayor's daughter and of noble blood, she now had one of the most powerful links in the country, not just a dragon link but a dual link. She and her brother both had dual trunk abilities, something basically unheard of in this backwoods town. She doubted the boy even knew what a dual link was.

  She huffed and champed her teeth as she made her way through the town, heading to her family's manor. She could hear the townsfolk celebrating in the town around her, faint cheers and shouts and laughter. She had been so excited for this announcement, it really was a momentous occasion in her life. With her and her brother's eighteenth birthday approaching, and with her freshly linked and preparing to travel to London, it was time to make her mark in this world. She'd been looking forward to this for ages.

  And that boy had completely ruined it. Ogling her like some floozy! And then, when she had approached him to deliver a righteous chastisement he had ignored her. Her! Elizabeth Elousie Dubant, daughter of mayor Dubant and one of the most important people in this whole town. And finally, when he'd deigned to acknowledge her, he'd barely said more than two words in a row. As if he was somehow above her.

  Stupid, arrogant boy! And that thing about his parents. How was she supposed to know he was an orphan? How dare he make her feel a fool for something she couldn't have possibly been expected to know.

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  “Uugghh!” Elizabeth kicked out at a stone with her delicate slippered foot, “Ow! Ooh uh ah.” She hopped on one foot and clutched at her poor, bruised toes.

  “Elizabeth?” A tentative, soft voice came from amongst her father's garden to her left. Her brother appeared from around the decorative hedges, eyeing her hopping and cursing in confusion, “what happened to you?”

  She gave her brother a grumpy look. He was still standing ridiculously straight, trying to act grown up, as if that fooled anybody. “Go away,” she told him.

  George sighed and moved over to her, taking her arm in his and beginning to lead her towards the house, “I was worried when I noticed you hadn't come back with everybody else.” He gave her a stern look, still speaking in that soft, oh so reasonable voice of his, “where were you?”

  Elizabeth huffed and tried to break free of his grip, “I wasn’t anywhere. And I’m here now aren’t I? Stop fretting like an old woman and let go of me.”

  Her brother just sighed and didn’t let go of her arm. Leading her along the path and round to the back of the building. He’d always been stronger than her, even before they were linked and she suspected his enhanced his strength further, even undeveloped as they both were.

  She could see the power in him now, through her new eyes. When she had been told one part of her abilities would be dragon sight she had thought she would be able to see heat, dragons were all about fire so that only made sense, and at first she thought she had been right. She could see colours inside people now. Lines of light, thin, running from the heart for regular people, of all different hues but usually warm, reds and yellows and oranges. Those with Links were different and she wasn’t sure how to quantify it yet. Her Brother had thin streaks of green running from the tips of his fingers up his forearms and gossamer webs of blue running from the base of his neck and up the sides of his face. It gave an alien cast to his features that she was still getting used to.

  And that boy. His had been interesting. Like a regular person, he had a source of power at his heart, sending out pulses of light to the rest of his body, but unlike regular people his had been powerful and a deep, molten golden colour. Clearly his Link had something to do with his heart. Or maybe his blood. Perhaps he has a vampire link? Though that didn't make sense. He was obviously poor and vampires were strong monsters, it would take a team of skilled Hunters to take one down and that would cost money.

  Instead of leading Elizabeth to the kitchen door, as she had expected, George led her off a ways into the back garden. They stepped along a delicate pebbled pathway, passing statues and fountains and neatly trimmed hedges. George led her to a gap in the fence at the rear of the garden and held up a hanging plank for her to pass through. She nodded at him and ducked under the gap, entering the rear of the property where the gardener's shed was. And her mother's old herb garden.

  She walked over to this quietly, looking at the overgrown plants and generally unkempt area with a sad smile. She remembered being young and helping her mother here, planting seedlings with a small trowel that seemed massive and unwieldy in her memories. Her mother smiling at her determined face as she shoveled great mounds of earth out with her small scoop.

  Her brother moved up next to her and bumped her shoulder with his, “Penny for your thoughts.”

  “I was thinking how much easier this would all be if she was here,” she shrugged, “there's so many things I never got to ask her. And I could talk to her about…. Things.” She finished lamely, blushing. She'd almost said boys. She needed to get more sleep, she was obviously delirious, letting some urchin get under her skin.

  George nodded, “I miss her.”

  Elizabeth smiled at him. Her brother was strong. Tall and healthy, he always did well at everything. His tutors praised him in class and the guards all said he was a natural swordsman. Still, he sometimes seemed so innocent to her. So young, despite them being twins.

  She lent her head against her brother's shoulder and looked over her mother's old forgotten garden.

  “Me too.”

  Coal sat on the floor of his small home, three books open and spread around him and a piece of paper unfolded in his lap. On his bed was a brown leather satchel that had been carrying these items.

  He’d gone to the church this morning, to see the priest and tell him what he had decided after listening to the Mayor but priest Thomas was gone. The matron had opened the door and ‘invited’ him in by turning and walking inside without shutting the door in his face. He’d followed her, expecting to be led to the priest's library but instead she had led him to an empty room. At first he had been confused but after a moment of discombobulation he realised he was in the right place. This was priest Thomas’ library, it was just empty. He’d turned to the matron in shock but she had just grunted and nodded back at the room. As he turned back he noticed it wasn’t empty, at least not completely. In the corner, propped up against one wall had been the satchel.

  For about the tenth time since he’d gotten home and checked the contents of the bag, he looked down to read from the piece of paper.

  Coal,

  Sorry to do this in writing lad, time moves apace and sometimes you need to step lively to keep up. If you did as I asked (which you bloody well better have!) by now you’ve heard what the Mayor had to say and have realized the alternative path you have open to you. It's up to you of course but I’d advise you to consider it. The College can open a lot of doors.

  It’ll be hard, I won’t lie to you about that. There’ll be a test, like for the guild but harder. You’ll do fine on knowledge, I have no doubt, but you’ll need to grow stronger. If you mean to do this I urge you to visit the graveyard as soon as you’re able. I know you’re a cautious lad but now’s the time to be a little brazen.

  With that in mind I’ve left you a few things that should help save you from your own stupid bravery.

  Until we meet again, good luck

  Thomas Gallant

  P.s. When you make it to London head to the Tin Penny on Cross street, I’ll send word, they’ll give you the lay of the land.

  P.p.s. If your tree gives you the option, try and choose skills that don’t make it blatantly obvious what your link is. Trust me lad.

  That was it. Barely a page long and with none of the information Coal needed. He wouldn’t get to ask how much he would have to make to pay his tuition. Wouldn’t get to ask for tips on study materials and training regimens. Just like that, the Priest was just gone. He wasn’t a friend, not exactly, but he was the only one left in Hever that Coal cared for even a little. And he was gone. Coal would likely never see him again.

  Suddenly he felt incredibly lonely.

  Shaking his head, Coal carefully folded the note and stood. He’d been here all day. He hadn’t just read the note, though it felt like it, he’d also examined the books.

  The first of the three books was the swordsman's manual that he’d so often stared at. It was called Battelle Forms of Stone. No author was listed. He’d already begun to examine and devour all of the knowledge inside but it would be a long process. There were dozens of forms and katas listed as well as extensive exercises meant to teach proper footwork. This style of swordsmanship seemed to rely heavily on stability and strength. It was all about giving and taking heavy hits. Coal wasn’t sure it was what he would have chosen, he would prefer something with a more cautious approach, but it should suit his Link.

  The second book was titled The Grand Compendium of Herbology by Margarette Lascoum. This was a truly massive book. Its cover was thick green leather and it was open to a section that covered the plants he would have a chance to find in the graveyard. There were diagrams in full colour and detailed descriptions for each herb, root or flower inside. His mother had never had a proper herbology book, she’d taught him by showing and doing. His knowledge was extensive when it came to the woods near Hever but with this he could continue his education. It would be a useful skill to have when he became a Hunter and would prove invaluable for keeping him soluble.

  The third book still sat open on the first page, as it had all day. Ever since Coal had recognised its contents. He gave the book a small smile as he turned to the bed.

  Laying on the bed, neatly lined up, were the other contents of the satchel. A leather cuirass and a pair each of leather greaves and vambraces. The leather was old, dark brown with lighter patches where it had been worn down and with scratches and a few deep gashes, like a line of three claw marks slashed across the front of the chest piece. Next to these was a folded piece of dark brown cloth. Coal picked this up and let the material unfurl until he held a long hooded cloak before him, its edges trailing along the ground. He spun it about his shoulders and secured the tie at the neck. He pulled the hood up and let the cloak engulf his body. It was thick and warm and felt expensive. He imagined he struck quite the dashing figure in it and couldn’t help striking a bit of a pose

  He felt a solid thump against his ankle and looked down to see Charlie, nudging him with his stone forehead. Coal looked about the hut and saw the sun had abandoned the day, his small home was dark and cold.

  “Alright then,” Coal said, looking down at his friend, “supper time?”

  Charlie jumped back and looked up at Coal with a wide puppy smile, his grey tongue lolling out of his mouth. Coal smiled and got to work.

  Charlie scampered around Coal’s feet as he walked to the fire and set about lighting it. Once he had a flame he did his rounds with the lamps and fetched Charlie's bowl, loading it up and setting it before his bouncing pet. Then he started on his own supper.

  He had gone shopping earlier, after his forlorn trip to the church, and had bought ingredients to start his new diet. Tonight he was going to make a stew, with rabbit and rich root vegetables. He couldn’t deny he was a little nervous about it but he needed to eat better to build strength. Besides, he would need the energy for what was to come.

  While his food cooked he moved back to the circle of books and sat down amongst them. Settling into his amazing new cloak, he reached down and picked up the third book. Still open on the first page, he looked down and read, “Sir Racomb and the slippery serpent.” The book was a collection of stories about Hunters and their quests. When he’d seen the book earlier he had been confused, why would the priest leave him this? One of the monster compendiums would have been much more factual. But as he had started to read he’d had an incredible sense of deja vu. Before he’d even gotten halfway through the first page he’d been struck by vivid memories

  This story was one his mother had told him. When he was small and sickly she’d told him this exact tale, practically word for word. He wasn’t sure how Priest Thomas had known, or even if he had, but he had been incredibly touched either way. Reading these words was like hearing his mother's voice again.

  He felt as Charlie squirmed his way onto his lap, spinning in a circle in that pointless way dogs do before settling down in a ball and grumbling out a sigh of contentment. He was incredibly uncomfortable, a big ball of bony stone, but still Coal was comforted. He may not have any human loved ones left in Hever but he still had Charlie. That was enough.

  He began to read the book aloud, as much to himself as to Charlie. He remembered nights when he was very young, curled up in bed as his mum sat beside him. Able to forget the pain and weakness and fear and lose himself entirely in the vivid world's his mum painted in his mind with her words. As he read he stopped even hearing his own voice, instead it was his mum telling him a tale, just like when he was a boy.