Niamh slung her pack over her shoulder and looked around the hospital wing where she had stayed for the last three weeks. Sister Hilde watched her, eyes shining with tears. Niamh forced a stoic smile. Everything had changed so quickly, but now here she was, standing on the threshold of yet more newness to come. Could she handle it?
“We shall miss you, and that is no lie. You take care of yourself, dear. I want you to come back to us if you need anything at all.”
“I’ll not be a stranger,” Niamh said. She allowed herself to be squeezed in a warm hug, leaning on her crutches with more strength than she’d have imagined possible when this whole mess had begun.
Sister Hilde drew away and gave her a fresh handkerchief with tiny vines and flowers embroidered along the edges and a canteen filled with blessed leywater.
“Source go with you, Niamh Starsong.”
“Source go with you, Sister Hilde.”
Niamh made her way to the foyer, where she found Captain Hawke waiting for her at the base of the mechanical lifts. Was it her imagination that he looked more careworn than the last time she’d seen him? She did not remember his eyes being so shadowed with tiredness.
“Good to see you up and about, Niamh.” He watched her for a moment, assessing. Something about Captain Hawke’s steady gaze nagged at her, an odd sense of familiarity she couldn’t place.
“It’s good to beup and about,” she finally managed, jolting herself out of the sudden strangeness.
“May I take your satchel?” He waited before reaching out, keeping just far enough away to allow her some space.
“I’m fine, thank you. I have to get used to this,” Niamh said with an apologetic smile.
“I understand.” Captain Hawke gave her a small nod. “Just follow me and, if you can, enjoy this fine day along the way.”
“Is that last part an order, sir?” Niamh deadpanned.
“Correct, Valiant.” Captain Hawke turned a hint of a smile her way, some of the weariness from before fading. He led her across the hospital grounds and to the nearest portal. Niamh blinked in the sunshine while they waited for the attendant to calibrate the portal focus, letting herself bask in the sun’s warmth and the soft breeze stirring her hair. Everything was so colorful, so bright.
“Does it feel good to be back?” Hawke watched her, curious.
“Yes, strangely. Almost like a dream.”
She did not want to talk about her fear of diving back into the world, especially this unfamiliar world. The horror of the Northgate had become a living thing clinging to her mind whether she slept or woke. She needed to be strong, to find a fortifying peace in the days ahead.
Captain Hawke dropped four silver crowns into the portal attendant’s hand, and their surroundings faded into the shimmering radiance of portal leymagic. When they reappeared and stepped out onto the next platform, it was at the far corner of a busy square. He led Niamh down the stairs toward a network of awning-shaded walkways, rows of houses and shops in neat lines as far as the eye could see.
“You’ve been to the garrison itself when you first arrived, but this is the Garrison District,” he explained. “These lodgings and merchants all serve the Tanahr Valiant Corps.”
“It’s so busy here. I knew the Easthaven Valiant Corps was huge, but I’ve seen nothing like this.” Niamh took it all in. Orderly rows of houses lined up neatly in all directions, with colorful market stalls circling a sunny greenway, the crenelated upper walls of the garrison itself always in the background. The scattering of buildings around the Beechwoods Garrison back home was more like a single noble’s estate here in Tanahr.
“It’s the largest of its kind, we’re proud to say. Your quarters are here in the district, but we’re allowing you to use family housing instead of the smaller barracks apartments considering the circumstances. You’ll have to live like an officer and bear it.” He glanced down at her, waiting for her reaction.
Niamh stopped, shaking her head. “Quartered, sir? I assumed I was to be discharged. That this was temporary until you could get me back to Sylvania.”
Keleth had sent a note letting her know that new mission instructions would come her way, but she’d never dreamed these orders would involve her staying active in the militia.
“Please take a right here,” Hawke urged, coaxing her to keep moving. “Why do you think I’m briefing you? You’re not out of all this so easily, Starsong. Not unless you need to be out, for your own and for Ahra’s safety.” He paused, angling an assessing gaze at Niamh. “I would, of course, offer honorable release if you thought any harm would come of your remaining.”
Niamh blinked in disbelief, off-put both by the news and the strangeness of his tone.
“I’m a one-legged soldier, which could be a huge liability. I don’t understand how it makes sense to keep me around. They would never allow this in Sylvania.”
A man pushing a merchant’s cart blundered into Niamh’s path, his face scrunching in annoyance.
“Move on or step aside, if you please,” he grumbled.
“Pardon me,” Niamh limped to the walkway’s edge, careful not to catch her crutch in a storm grate.
“I’m so sorry, milady.” The vendor stared at Niamh’s missing leg, his mouth opening and closing. “Didn’t see your…ah. Well. Take your time. Apologies again,” the man said, offering an awkward bow to both Niamh and Captain Hawke by turns.
Niamh drew herself taller, fighting away the anger crashing over her. “As I was saying, Captain.” Her words were chilly despite her efforts to be respectful.
Captain Hawke pulled off his helmet and held it under one arm. With his brown hair tousled and circles of exhaustion under his eyes, he looked somehow more vulnerable than she had ever seen him.
“Niamh, bear with me, please. This way, only a little further.” He motioned for her to continue following.
Were things so bad that this unshakeable man was faltering?
Niamh shrugged and followed without argument. Besides, there might be something in what Hawke was saying. Niamh didn’t fool herself that she was privy to everything her commanding officers knew. Hawke was a good man who wanted the best for his soldiers. Niamh’s instincts told her to trust him, and most of all, Keleth had trusted Hawke enough to put her in his employ.
Niamh and Captain Hawke walked for a time in silence, his boots tap-tapping on the cobblestones, her own step-TAP, step-TAP of foot and crutches echoing against the narrowing alley walls. Hawke turned abruptly and waved Niamh toward a quiet residential street filled with row houses and sunny little gardens.
He stopped in front of a particularly welcoming house on the corner, warm brown stone, the wooden accents all in fresh white paint. Stone flowerpots flanked the entryway, filled with sunny yellow tulips. Ribbons in what she assumed were Flower Moon festival colors adorned the columns and lampposts.
“Here you go,” he said, handing her an iron key on a blue lacquered ring.
“Sir?” Niamh asked, her frustration fading into curiosity.
“104 Phalanx Lane, your new place of residence,” Captain Hawke replied.
The entrance had only two shallow stairs, easy enough to navigate. Niamh opened the main door to see a bright, clean foyer.
“First-floor lodgings,” Captain Hawke explained.
Niamh peered around the entryway, shaking her head in confusion. Why would she be quartered in such a lavish space instead of sent back to the barracks? Even with her injuries, this seemed excessive. She shook her head, then used the key to let herself in.
“Niamh!” Moya Anders called out gleefully and jogged toward the door, a wooden crate balanced on one shoulder.
“Moya?” Niamh smiled at the other Valiant in surprise. Moya had been a good friend from the beginning and was as brave as they came. The sight of the other woman filled Niamh with the same sisterly warmth that reminded her of Sariel.
She was the one who guarded us while Jeron and the others healed me. I’ll never forget that.
“Nice to see you up and about,” Moya said, voice husky. She plunked down her crate and nearly suffocated Niamh in a tight hug.
“Is she here?” Another woman’s voice sounded from across the room.
“She is,” Moya called back. “Niamh, you remember Sage Kate. This is her family’s house.”
Niamh looked up at the familiar silver-haired woman with an ageless face, keen eyes, and her sleeves pushed up to her elbows.
“It’s so good to see you again,” Kate said. “Jeron kept us all updated on your recovery. He talks about you all the time.”
Niamh bowed her head. “Lovely to see you again as well. And Jeron has? Spoken of me, I mean?” Niamh regretted the words the moment she uttered them.
“Oh, yes. At great length, endlessly, forever,” Moya teased and rolled her eyes. “Beats hearing about his newest potions-brew or self-cleaning floor mopper.”
“Source, yes. Now, if we can get down to business,” Kate said, brisk but smiling. “This was my daughter’s home before the third baby came. They had to move to a bigger place last month. Captain Hawke is covering rent from funds granted by Premier Riva herself.”
Niamh stared at her, astonished. “Isn’t Premier Riva the leader of all Tanahr?”
“She is, and is a kind and ultimately practical woman. We briefed her on the situation, and she has given her blessing in my efforts to get you back into action,” Hawke said.
“I don’t understand.” Niamh’s thoughts spun, trying to produce an explanation that made sense. Something was not right here.
Captain Hawke set his helmet and gloves on the kitchen table. “We have some ideas about keeping you employed in a vital, non-frontline capacity. We need you. We need all of you who were there with the expedition that day, now more than ever.” He looked at Niamh, expression guarded. “I do not know for how long, but we are at least honoring your commission for the next five moons and will reevaluate. I can tell you more when you’re settled.”
“But first, a very important task. I must take you on the grand tour,” Moya said and grabbed Niamh by one arm. “Parlor. Kitchen and adjoining dining room.” Moya spun her in place, but Niamh kept her balance. The other woman pointed to a door separating the living and sleeping spaces. “Bedroom, washroom. I know it’s a lot to take in, so try not to get lost.”
Niamh gazed around at the cheerful, spotless, and cozy apartment. How could these people be so kind? How had she ended up in such a peculiar, terrible, wonderful situation?
“I don’t know what to say,” she whispered, her throat tight.
“Say thank you, Moya, for all your help, and I’ll cook you dinner tonight as payment.”
Niamh surprised herself with a laugh. “Thank you, Moya, for all your help, and I’ll cook you dinner tonight as payment. You’ll remember my under-boiled potatoes seasoned with sugar instead of salt for the rest of your life.”
“Better than in the infirmary, which is what would happen if I were the one in the galley.” Moya shook her head exaggeratedly.
Kate groaned. “She’s not exaggerating. Ale and whiskey chasers with hardtack do not a dinner make, Valiant Anders. Niamh, the kitchen’s fully outfitted—mageworked plumbing, wood-burning cookstove, and cold box. The linens on the bed are clean, and I’ve put a spare set in the wardrobe. You can send out your washing for a reasonable fee. And for food, ordering groceries from the merchant on the corner is easy. Captain Hawke assured me you’d have plenty of money to cover all sundries you need. Now come on, Moya. Loremaster Olangah needed to speak to us about our upcoming assignments.”
The silence left in the women’s wake was overwhelming. As if feeling the weight of the quiet himself, Hawke waved Niamh to the kitchen table.
“Sit, please. I’m due at the Guild Demesnes myself, so we’ll make this brief. You are getting along astoundingly well, Niamh. We are ready for the next step, and none too soon.”
“Next step, sir?”
“I know who you are, Sparrow,” Hawke said quietly. “I know what you are.”
Niamh blinked but didn’t reply.
“Finally admitting that I am Keleth brings relief, and on behalf of the Order, I’m at your service.” He watched her, expression neutral.
Niamh opened and closed her mouth, trying and failing to speak. Her breath caught sharply. Hawke—Keleth. How had she missed it? Her mind spun, retracing every conversation, every unguarded moment.
“After all this time, I can finally speak to you on even terms, face to face. Archmage Miir told me who you were before you even arrived, but I suspected. A Sylvan plant in my operation, only weeks before the most important expedition the Mageguild and Valiant Corps have coordinated in a lifetime? Of course you had to be a spy.”
“How in all of Ahra did I not see it?” Niamh blurted out, mind reeling over dozens of communications and interactions over the past weeks. “Of course you are Keleth. You know everything about Easthaven’s politics and social scene, everything about the Valiant Corps. Source, it’s too perfect. And let’s be clear. I’m not exactly a spy yet. Just an informant.”
“Mere semantics. I’m sorry I couldn’t say anything sooner. I had to be sure of you. Clearly, I had nothing to worry about,” Hawke said, a hint of warmth suffusing the words.
“I don’t know what to do with myself now. I didn’t see this coming. There were no clues, no messages or coded communications coming through the camp–nothing to tip me off that this would happen,” Niamh said, voice rough. To her horror, hot tears leaked down her cheeks.
“Nobody could have seen any of this coming,” Hawke said softly, handing her a clean handkerchief he slipped from his vest pocket. “There were no clues to see beyond what we’d been told of corruption in a few scattered leytemples.”
“What do we do now? How do we make this right?” Niamh asked, wiping away the annoying tears.
“There are plans in place, both from the Order and Easthaven. As I’ve said, we need you to be a part of the proceedings still, to help us get to the source of the attacks. But only if you’re able to face the Northgate again, and whatever it may hold. If there is any doubt you can bear to go back…” he paused.
“Of course I can do it. But why are we going back, and why me in particular?” Niamh asked, genuinely curious.
“Jeron and Loremaster Olangah told me of your dreams, visions, and what they believe you might know, at least somewhere buried in your mind. There has to be a connection, and we need all the information we can get to stop anything else like this from happening. That’s why all who were there that day and who can travel are back on active duty.”
“I suppose that makes sense,” Niamh said.
Captain Hawke nodded, expression grim. “Sage Belden’s condition is worsening and fast.”
Sage Belden. Something flickered through Niamh’s memory, but was gone before she could grasp it, lost in green fire and taunting voices.
“The plan, Niamh, is for you to join the expedition to revisit the Northgate temple site with an entire complement of Mageguild Sages and Valiants standing by. If you can trigger any memories or if any of the mages can uncover new information, we might have an edge on whatever attacked us. The return patrols reported no further attacks in the region, and we’ve had no news of unrest or violence amongst other Mechanae, but this might not be an isolated event. We have to be ready for the worst. That’s why I would like you to head out as soon as a new expedition is prepped and ready. With any luck, it will be before the late spring rains hit.”
“I know I’m repeating myself, but I’m not exactly fit for duty with the Corps or the Order.” Niamh tapped her short nails on the tabletop. It was not like her to fidget, but Captain Hawke’s news had woken something in her, a hesitant hope and a creeping trepidation along with it.
Hawke fixed her with a steady gaze. “I promise, you’ll be more prepared for duty than you might think. Jeron is working on something that he believes will help. I’ll know more about it soon.”
“What kind of something?” Niamh didn’t bother hiding her curiosity. “A healing potion?”
“It’s for him to tell you about. I assure you, you won’t be alone in any of this. Tanahr and her allies are taking this threat seriously. We are not making the same mistake twice.”
“Reinforced ranks, then?” Niamh asked, grateful to be talking tactics and not feelings.
“You’ve got the right of it. A highly coordinated force sanctioned by Premier Riva, and the Empyrean, Umbran, and Sylvanian ambassadors. We’ve even sent messages to the Archmage Council in Canrish. Nobody wants a threat like dark Kraah magic loose in our world. There will be an entire militia battalion, a detachment of leymages and healers, and even a full complement of the best portal specialists. Not to mention armored leymagic-powered carts and ballistas. And of course Archmage Miir is alerting anyone in the Order who might help. We are taking no chances.”
Niamh struggled to process all this information. Hawke had a plan to get the company back to Northgate, and she was part of this plan. The Ivory Order itself was involved in fighting this new tide of evil. Then, what? She gazed around her new home.
Home.
Something within her trembled, something fledgling. She’d never needed much in life. Two things, always: work that gave her purpose, and a home, a modest safe-harbor full of comfort and light.
There wasa third thing, one she had always considered optional.
Niamh blinked away the image of a certain face with kind, green eyes. The face of a man who would give his all to help her, not even knowing her well, who had such friends as her own Captain, as Moya.
No, it was not only a home and honest work she needed. More, a home of the heart, and a chance to know the comfort of others.
“Jeron will come back to the Northgate too,” Captain Hawke said, his voice pulling her out of muddled thoughts. “He doesn’t need to know about your unique set of skills, so it will not compromise your position in the Order. You are a Valiant, as far as he or anyone else is concerned, and that is enough. This lodging arrangement will be here for you when you get back. I promise, Niamh, you are safe here.”
Niamh watched Captain Hawke for a moment, then forced her voice to be steady and even. “As long as I’m no burden or danger to the others, I’d be honored.”
“Excellent.” Hawke grinned as he stood, the expression transforming him. He winked and added, “I’d hate to drag you back under law. Check in with me for further briefing two days from now after lunch-bells. I’ll be at Garrison headquarters; anyone can direct you. Jeron will contact you soon, and I’ll arrange for you to start training so that you’re back to readiness as quickly as is safe. I have someone in mind for practice drills. Eren-Ras, a Xereth warrior with more experience than most Valiants will ever have, and just ornery enough to get the job done. He’ll sort you out.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Captain Hawke fitted his helmet back in place and tugged on his gloves. “It’s a pleasure to help a good soldier and to serve my people, and even more a pleasure to work with another agent of the Order. I’m off. Do some exploring and to rest.” He saluted in farewell.
After he was gone, Niamh sat for a while in the sunny kitchen. She reached into her pocket and retrieved a faded square of parchment, folds knife-edged, and handwriting in even, neat lines. Jeron’s note from the expedition.
For the first time since the Northgate accident, Niamh Starsong had genuine hope the third happiness-option she’d always shoved aside might be more than star-wishes and folly.
That a home of the heart might be real.
—
Jeron sat in the Garrison Headquarters receiving room, tapping his boots impatiently on the stone floor as he waited for an audience with Captain Hawke. His nerves hummed with excitement he only experienced when making the best sort of discoveries.
He had held off on sharing his secret until he knew for sure the end product was workable, enduring a sleepless week of running tests, sketching the pieces and how they would fit, and even creating models. Now, he was as sure as he could be that it would work. He had a way to help Niamh heal emotionally as well as physically, a way to help her be a little stronger than she’d dared hope.
A prosthetic leg, his most impressive feat of engineering yet. It could never replace what she had lost, but the device would enable Niamh to move—walk, climb stairs, even fight and run—unlike anything the hospitals could provide. Nothing peg leg straight or merely decorative, but a design that would use mechanical elements, which would employ the force and weight of Niamh’s gait to store and release energy. Something practical. If it worked, others like her would benefit from such a thing, an idea that gave Jeron more joy than he could hold.
“You wanted to see me?” Captain Hawke walked into the receiving room with a brisk smile.
Jeron lifted his satchel with an answering grin. “I have the plans for you to review.”
Hawke’s eyes widened. “Already? Come with me, please.” He led Jeron back to his neatly organized office, then sat at his desk. “You must work fast. Show me.”
“Happily.” Jeron unrolled the parchment he had spent sleepless hours marking with his notes and drawings. “I’ll explain everything. Interrupt me if you have questions.”
Hawke listened, fascinated, as Jeron outlined his invention in as uncomplicated terms as he could manage.
“This is remarkable. Will it be ready before we leave for the Northgate?”
Jeron nodded, exuberant. “That was my hope. I could start today if you wish. If you approve the materials, that is. Some of them are expensive, and I might need help in speeding up the process.”
“I have all the connections you need. As Niamh’s captain, I’m clearing you to move forward. After you talk to her yourself, of course.”
“I plan to do so today, with your leave.”
“Then forward we go,” Hawke said with the widest smile Jeron had ever seen the mild-mannered Valiant offer. “In the meantime, I’ll contact Premier Riva directly and petition her for resources. Before you leave here, tell me what you need. I’m assuming your Loremaster has signed on?”
“She has, and I have both her permission and the materials list right here.” Jeron handed him a sealed letter he’d begged from Olangah that morning.
Hawke took the envelope and studied Jeron, his expression inscrutable. “Sage Wright, I must ask. Are you reasonably sure this will work?”
“Oh, it will,” he said. Because it would. Jeron was the best artificer he knew, and the design was simple. It was a winning situation all around.
Hawke exhaled, clearly relieved. “I’m pleased to hear it. I do not wish to give Niamh hope where there is none.”
“I promise I would never do that,” Jeron said, with a vehemence that surprised him.
“Thank you,” Hawke replied. “I’ll keep you updated on my progress and, well, I’m more grateful than I can say. I know it has not been simple work.”
“It’s been good work, Captain Hawke, and I’m happy to do it.” Jeron did not hesitate with his response, a vision of Niamh’s light brown eyes and soft smile flashing across his mind. “It’s truly an honor to serve.”
Lizzie Sinclaire 