Brant walked up to Lightning, who had been with him for seven years, gently stroked its white hair, then stepped on the delicate and sturdy stirrups, kicked his right leg high, stepped over the horse's back and stepped on the other stirrup, and when he was firmly seated, he pulled the horse and headed south.

Brant rode through several wide main streets before turning into a narrower and more remote alley facing the street. After driving half a mile into the alley, he grabbed the reins and turned over and dismounted. In front of him was a courtyard with a low outer wall, and when he reached out and pushed open the old and dilapidated courtyard door, he heard a 'squeak' sound in his ears. It was as if a cold wind could blow the gray wooden door down.

In the empty yard, apart from the dirt beneath his feet, there was only a tall, stout elm tree with lush foliage. The trunk of the tree is upright, the bark is dark gray, the leaves are green, and the purple-brown petals are wrapped in pale green wings. Its taste is sweet and can be eaten raw, and it also has the effect of curing insomnia and mental breakdown. Its bark treats fractures and stops bleeding, and the leaves are chewed on at the corner of the mouth to calm the nerves and strengthen the spleen. And the most unique thing about this elm tree is that it has spirituality. It is able to travel through time and space to see the past and the vague future.

A crow perched on an elm pole saw its familiar face, flapped its wings with some delight, opened its beak and cried out, "Brant, Brant." "This crow looks much older than the average crow, which means that it is not too young. Jim is a particularly clever old crow who remembers words he hears from time to time and then says them in front of the right people at the right time.

Brandt also saw his old companion, and he smiled at the human-speaking crow, and walked over to the crow. The name Jim was given to Brant as a child. He remembered that the old crow was a few years older than him, but always like a child.

"Corn, corn," cried old crow Jim. ”

Brandt put his right hand in the pocket of his trousers, then grabbed a handful of plump corn kernels, and he spread his palm to the crow and said, "Eat, it's all for you, this is the last time I feed you corn." He didn't know if Jim could understand him.

The old crow spread its wings and shook excitedly, then flew to the boy in front of him, and flapped its wings and flew around Brant, and cried out a few more times, "Brant, Earl, Earl." Jim folded his wings, carefully grasped his claws on Brandt's arm, and pecked at the kernels of Brandt's palm.

Kurant smiled bitterly, "Even you know. ”

The last corn in Brandt's palm was pecked into its sharp beak by the old crow, and then it flapped its wings with some satisfaction, and obediently rested itself on Brandt's shoulder.

Brant looked up at the 70-foot-tall supertree in front of him, and he wondered what had happened to that man. He stood quietly, his right palm opening and closing, and finally he couldn't help but reach out to the tree in front of him, his palm touching the rough gray bark surface, and then closed his eyes to concentrate.

In the darkness of his eyes, a dazzling light shuttled in, and a huge drawing suddenly appeared in his mind:

He saw a city with high walls, and hundreds of vultures hovered over it. Through the walls he saw the ruined, lifeless streets, filthy and messy with panicked figures wandering around. A group of terminally ill men, women, and children were haphazardly piled up on ox carts carrying goods, and masked coachmen drove the dying plague carriers behind the carts to the barren mountains dozens of miles outside the city, where they were handed over to the clergy of the church for cremation.

Brandt thought to himself that this was where he was going, that the city wrapped in the plague would be his territory, and those who were teetering on the brink of death would become his subjects. How can he save the city...

In an instant, another dark picture appeared:

It was a dark and damp basement, except for a few rats shuttling back and forth, and he saw a large wooden bed at the end of the stone room, and a man with a red and swollen body and pus-covered face lying on it, Brant couldn't distinguish the man's face at all, but the only thing that remained unchanged was the expectant eyes.

Sweating profusely, Brant suddenly removed his hand from the tree pole, his mental will weakened. The palms of his hands turned from delicate white to dry deep black. He didn't see the past he wanted to see, only the near future. The answer he wanted was no longer available from this spirit tree.

The frightened old crow Jim flicked his wings and flew to the tree opposite, and then perched on a thick branch, the crow staring at the boy in front of him with wide black eyes. "Brant, dagger," it cried out a little restlessly, "lion, wings." ”

The old crow suddenly uttered a few words that he rarely used.

Brant plucked a turquoise leaf from the stem and held it in his mouth to ease his uneasy feelings.

"Lion, wings," Jim murmured as he walked back and forth on the branches, "dagger, dagger." ”

After half a ring, Brandt left the crow that was still chirping and turned away, he walked through the gravel corridor of the courtyard, pushed open the door at the end of the corridor, and said in a slightly hoarse voice, "Teacher, I have come to bid you farewell." ”

The long-bearded old man in the red robe was stunned for a moment, and after a moment he slowly asked, "Where are you going?"

"Rocky Harbor," said Brandt, "my grandfather wants me to inherit the ...... The man's knighthood may not come back for a long time. ”

The red-robed archmage 'Merlin Custer' looked at the somewhat pale student, "What do you see?"

He knew what the teacher wanted to ask, "I see the future that is coming," Brandt said with some anxiety, "but I don't see his past." He wondered why the man had suddenly contracted the plague. He hoped that the old man in front of him would give him the answer he wanted.

"What was past is the past, and even if you know the truth, you can't change it. The old man said in a concerned tone, "Too much prying will hurt you even more, and at the same time, it will also add to your troubles and confusion." ”

In the face of the teacher's care, Brant said apologetically, "But I can't control my inner thoughts." ”

Archmage Merlin shook his head slowly, and said calmly, "Then try to forget about jì." ”

"I will. Brandt replied reluctantly.

The old man sighed softly, then handed a dusty box resting on the long table to the student across the table, "You can take this as a parting gift from the teacher to the student." ”

"What's in it here?" Brant was a little curious, this was the first time the teacher had given him a gift.

"Just open it and take a look. ”

Brant saw a hard brown book, he asked, "Magic book?" His black eyes looked at the old man in front of him, he was waiting for an answer.

"Think so," Archmage Merlin told him, "you can use it as a storehouse of magic. ”

"What's in there?" Brandt wondered what this book, which was only a little bigger than a palm, could store.

"Open it up and take a look. ”

Brandt took the spellbook out of the box, placed it on the table, and slowly turned the first page with his expectant eyes.

"What do you see?"

"A pattern. Brant replied, "There's a sword painted on it." He felt that the painting was exactly like the real thing, with a glowing fiery red blade, a sharp blade, and a streaked hilt.

Merlin Custer said in a flat tone, "You try to touch the hilt of the sword with your hand. The old man reminded his students, "Be careful not to touch its blade, as you will hurt yourself." ”

Brandt followed the old man's instructions and slowly reached for the pattern. The unbelievable happened, half of his palm actually sank into the book. He was surprised and said, "Teacher, my hand?"

A light smile appeared on the old man's wrinkled and thin face, "Do you feel like your hand has touched something?"

Brant nodded excitedly.

"It's a magic sword, hold it tight, and pull him out. ”

Brandt slowly pulled the sword out of the book as he grasped the hilt of his sword, only to see a dazzling blue light spill across the room in an instant. Brant held the long sword wrapped in blue flames, and suddenly felt a burning sensation in the palm of his hand.

As a child, Brant used to listen to wandering knights tell stories of mystical adventures, and the sword was included in the stories he had heard. He remembered it as a long-lost sword, forged by the late Cass Randy Master Weaponsmith. The blade is made of a black iron meteorite, and the hilt of the sword engraved with runes is inlaid with a blue spar in the shape of a water chestnut. This is a magic sword infused with fire elemental hedrons.

"Flaming Sword?"

Archmage Merlin nodded slowly, "Do you like it?"

Brant had an ecstatic look on his face, "Yes." He had some questions, "Teacher, how can this sword be here?" "Brant remembers that the wandering knight said that the magic sword had been gone for decades.

The old man did not want to recall this long-sealed past, "People are old, and some things are no longer remembered. Archmage Merlin digressed the subject and told him, "In addition to this sword, there are a few other weapons in this magic book, you should take good care of them." ”

"Don't worry, I'll carry it with me at all times. Brandt put the sword back in his book, his forehead covered with sweat and the clothes on his back wet. He looked at his sweaty palms, the sword was like a furnace, and it was about to familiarize him.

The old man said slowly, "It's not too early, you should leave." ”

Brant held the magic book, "Thank you, teacher. After bowing slightly and respectfully bowing to the old man in front of him, he turned around and left.

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