Aurial moved to the side, trying to step around the shabbily dressed man in front of her. He mirrored her move, remaining in front of her.

"I asked you a question lady," he leered, reaching out to set a dirty finger under her slender chin.

"And I told you to step aside," she gritted out in her accented voice, twisting her head from his touch. "I've neither time nor inclination to waste my time with your likes."

The man's gaze hardened. "You should take care of that tongue of yours, miss," he said, lowering his hand to a well-worn knife sitting in his belt. "Someone might take a slight at your fiery mouth and seek to remedy it."

She returned his glare and stepped down into the street, only to find four men dressed similarly to the one that had accosted her step out to block her path. She spun, thinking to bolt back the way she came only to find several more standing across the road. Some held small, crude truncheons while others had knives or other weapons in their hands or belts.

The man on the sidewalk stepped down, chuckling. "You see, my boys and I, we see you wander back and forth every day and we just wonder if you'd like to share a drink and a night on the town."

He motioned with his hands and she felt a hand grab her from behind. She spun, jerking her own dagger from its sheath and driving it into the thigh of the man that had grabbed her. She tried to retract her knife, but the man twisted as he fell, pulling the weapon away from her. She broke for the alley, slamming the heel of her hand into the chin of the stunned man that blocked her path.

She ran down the narrow pathway, coming out on the other side and racing for the constable's office, hoping that he hadn't started drinking for the evening yet. But, as she passed another alley, she felt an iron grip on her elbow spin her around. She tried to discern what had grabbed her when something hard struck her across the face, sending her sprawling to the ground, tasting blood.

Looking up, she saw the man that had started the whole affair glaring down at her. "Now, stabbing old Elrin wasn't needed, and you're going to pay for it." He reached down and hauled her to her feet, bringing his hand about to slap her again. This time, the blow sent her stumbling up the plank sidewalk and into a small inn. As she slid across the oak floorboards, she heard a familiar voice call out.

"Aurial, what in Halion's name is going on? Are you alright?"

She looked up to see Karl, the innkeeper, coming out from around the small bar in the taproom of the inn, only to be stopped by the sudden appearance of the ruffians.

"You just stay back there, old man. This is between us and the lady. We were just having some fun with her and she up and stabs one of my mates. Not sure if he'll ever be the same, now." He grabbed the woman and hauled her to her feet,

"You let loose of her. I'll have none of your sort of 'fun' in or around my establishment," he said, untying his apron and pulling it off. While his waist hung over his belt somewhat, his arms were tightly muscled from heaving kegs back and forth for years. The ruffians looked at him for a moment before breaking back into laughter.

"Give us a break, old man," the leader said. "You can't take us all, and calling the constable won't help, he's more for his cups nowadays than his rounds. So you see, there really isn't anything you can do." They started laughing again, dragging Aurial back outside even as Karl rounded the bar to stop them.

All sounds of levity stopped when a soft voice spoke.

"Is it the customary law in this town to badger a young lady, then to beat her when she defends herself?" The voice held a slight gravelly tone, as though the speaker wasn't used to speaking much or was weary of the world.

A hooded figure stood several yards away, handing the reins of a horse back to a young man at the livery stable. The youth pulled the horse back in as the man stalked forward, his cloaked form seeming to float in the night air. As he approached, he reached up and lowered his hood, revealing a lean face with a stern golden gaze. A neatly trimmed goatee framed his mouth, matching the dark color of his hair bound neatly at the back of his neck with a leather thong. A narrow, hawkish nose gave his face a severe look, and his eyes stared forward unblinkingly, making several of the ruffians avert their own gazes out of reflex.

The bandit leader growled. "This isn't your affair, stranger. Just get back on your horse and ride. I won't tell you twice."

The man smirked. "So, beating helpless women half your size and cowing simple farm folk is more to your taste, then?" He laughed derisively. "I've been watching your kind for years. One stern word and you crumble."

The ruffian leader stiffened. "I'll not have some drifter call me a coward." He shoved Aurial back to a follower and looked at them all.

"This is between me and him. No one interferes."

The men lined the walkway, with Karl and several curious passer-bys also gathering to watch. The leader stepped down into the street, pulling his knife from his belt and tossing it into the dirt of the street, smiling.

"Just you and me. No weapons, no interference." He laughed, fists raised and feet spread apart.

The cloaked man tilted his head. "What is that supposed to be?" he asked.

The ruffian glanced down. "What, you don't know a fighter when you see one?" He chuckled and advanced slightly, slightly shifting one fist in preparation for striking.

The cloaked man exploded, a gloved hand reaching out and grabbing the bandit's lead wrist and pulling, forcing the man off-balance. As he tried to recover, an elbow was driven back into his face, snapping his head back as his feet were swept out from underneath. As the bandit landed hard on the ground, the cloaked man took a step away.

"No, just unsure as to why anyone with any sense would stand in such an unbalanced stance." His eyes glanced around, as though watching for other enemies.

Aurial stared, awestruck. The man had struck so suddenly that by the time it registered with her, he was already moving away from his opponent. She glanced around and saw many of the spectators staring as well, some with open mouths.

The bandits started to shout encouragement to their leader. "Come on, Baz," the one holding Aurial shouted. "Take his head off!"

Baz rolled to his knees, spitting blood onto the street and stood shakily. He centered his gaze on the man and approached a little more cautiously this time. He began to shift from foot to foot, feinting, halting several small strikes suddenly. His opponent only watched, his eagle-eyed stare roving over the man as he moved.

"Are you going to dance, or are we supposed to fight?"

Baz snarled and swung hard for the man's head, a vicious left hook. He halted the punch in mid-flight and launched a kick at the man's midsection, a smug smile showing up on his face.

His foot suddenly froze, seized in an iron grip and lifted suddenly as the man strode closer, the ruffian hopping on one foot trying to stay upright. A sharp jab drove the air from Baz's lungs just before the leg was released and a hard punch sent the bandit down to the ground, wheezing and bleeding from the nose.

"Boss!" shouted one of the bandits, rushing to his leader's aid, pulling him back from his assailant. He looked up at the stranger, fury in his eyes. "Get him!" he shouted, pointing.

The man was already in motion as the ruffians streamed off the walkway to attack, drawing their weapons. Reaching up, he undid the catch on his cloak and whipped it off, throwing it into the faces of those closest and he ducked a blinded club swing. Turning his duck into a sideways roll, he stood, reaching for his hip.

Aurial watched as he pulled free an elaborately designed sword free from a tooled leather scabbard, its leaf-shaped blade was etched with vine tracery that flowed down to its crosspiece shaped like an aspen leaf. His clothing betrayed his roving nature, the tunic much worn and patched in places. A sturdy pair of pants were tucked into a worn pair of boots and several pouches swayed from his belt as he moved to parry a thrust from a knife-wielding brigand. He kicked that bandit back as he spun and stuck the sharp point of his steel into the belly of another man that had snuck up from behind. He whispered something as the larger group of the ruffians closed in, spinning to face the new threat.

And as he did, his sword suddenly burst into flames, the yellow light throwing his face into sharp relief.

An astonished gasp worked its way through the assembled crowd at the revelation of magic in their midst. Magic weapons were remnants of the Soul-Stealer's War, three centuries past. Where had this traveler come across one?

The bandits froze in shock as well, but the swordsman attacked quickly, his blazing blade cleaving through the steel of the other weapons as though they were made of wax. Those that still had the courage to attack found that the flames burned hot as the blade lanced into their flesh, lighting their clothing aflame.

Baz, meanwhile, had recovered and pulled a small crossbow from the belt of his helper, pointing it at the man as he fought off the bandits easily and fired.

"Look out!" screamed Aurial.

The man spun, a gloved hand flying out reflexively. The bolt shuddered and stopped in mid flight.

Everyone watched in shock at the hovering bolt. The man closed his fist, and, before the awed eyes of the assemblage, the crossbow bolt ignited and burned to ash.

The bandits near him backed away hurriedly. A single man they could handle. Even armed with that sword, they might be able to overcome him with sheer numbers.

But none of them wanted to mess with a mage. With a thought or an uttered word, he could destroy all of them if he wished.

The man, sweat beading on his forehead, stalked towards the bandit leader. The man scurried backwards as fast as he could but fetched up against one of the posts holding up the awning of a building. The man reached him before Baz could gain his feet and thrust the sword forward, the blazing tip just inches from the terrified man's throat.

"Go." The look in the mage's face was like that of a tiger tracking prey. "You and yours get out of town. If I see you again, I guarantee that I'll be the last to lay eyes on you."

Retracting the sword, the stranger turned, not watching as the ruffian scrambled to his feet and raced off into the deepening night. He wiped a hand across his face, shaking his head as though fighting off drowsiness. He sheathed his sword, the flames flickering and dying almost in protest as the blade slid home.

He looked at the young woman. "Are you alright?" he asked as he picked up his cloak and gave it a snap to knock the dust off.

Aurial nodded, tongue-tied at the display that had just taken place. She struggled to break this awe-struck silence.

"When you find your tongue, I'll be in the stable reclaiming my horse," the man said, fastening his cloak back around his neck. Then, he began to stride towards the livery.

And collapsed not three steps later, retching and shaking.

Aurial raced forward as he crumpled to the ground, rolling him over and scanning his face. Sweat poured from his face and he was fevered to the touch. She turned to a young boy standing nearby.

"Go get the healer!" she ordered, sending the child racing down the street.

Karl appeared beside her, lifting the man up. "He's got a room upstairs. Be best if we get him there while we wait for the healer."

She nodded, helping the innkeeper carry the man back to the inn.