1: Of Duty

One month after the Kraah attack on the Easthaven Mageguild

Moya Anders gazed out at the empty Mageguild Demesnes courtyard. She hated thunderstorms, and this one had been especially nasty. The grass shone silvery with water in the light from the magelamps, a young moon cowered behind ragged clouds, and Easthaven was eerily quiet.

The violence of the squall had felt wrong, full of angry winds screaming from the normally glass-still Greatsea Bay, ripping awnings from storefronts and shingles from roofs like scraps of parade-day confetti. Easthaven had never had storms this late in the season. It just didn’t happen. Like many Ahrans, Moya had heard tales of times past when the Worldstorm surrounding their lands folded inward, clouds and rain enveloping all nations in shadow for Source knows how many untold days.

Those stories terrified her as a child and, to this day, left her with a coldness that went beyond fear. Now that the Kraah, monsters out of the myths she had grown up with, were very much real, what other nightmares from the old tales might come to life?

“Shake out of it, Anders,” she snapped.

Thankfully, she’d be heading home soon. She didn’t have to look down at the pocket watch her friend Jeron had made for her birthday to know her duty shift was ending. She yawned widely and then rubbed the tiredness from her eyes. Right now, nothing in Tanahr sounded better than her peaceful lodgings and a hot cuppa made warmer with a big splash of Ladyluck’s Finest. She was halfway to the Garrison District in her mind when the rumble of hooves echoed into the otherwise quiet streets.

One rider, pressing fast to the main entrance. Odd for this time of night, when most everyone had tucked in, hiding from the storm. Moya stood ready at the Demesne side gate, exhaustion fading. She waited for a bit, relieved when she did not hear any alarm horns or shouting. She couldn’t handle a hullabaloo tonight. The whole reason there was now a permanent guard set on the Mageguild to begin with was from the worst sort of hullabaloo she’d ever known: a Kraah demon, supposedly an impossibility, invading this very site.

Moya startled upright as someone jogged over to her post. Kayne Stormborne, a recent Sionnach recruit to the Garrison, approached, his ears perked and tail swishing.

“Anders, I need you at the gatehouse,” he called out, voice unusually serious. “Archmage Miir is here and wants to talk to you immediately.”

“Archmage Miir?” Moya asked, shaking her head in confusion. “She knew I was here at the Mageguild and not the Garrison?”

“Apparently. She said, ‘send her to me now,’ and I think she means the five-minutes-ago sort of now,” Kayne muttered darkly.

“Let’s see what this is about.” Moya followed him over the sodden lawn. When she reached the gatehouse, a stable hand was helping a woman off a grand white horse.

“Go gently if you please. Moonflower is exhausted, even more than I am.” Archmage Miir’s familiar voice sounded more tired than Moya had ever heard it. “Ah, Moya. Glad you did not keep me waiting. It’s good to see you again.”

“And you, Archmage Miir. You are most welcome. But is all well that you’re here at this hour? Should I summon Loremaster Olangah?”

“Since you are speaking to me in the flesh and not via messenger, you can imagine all is not as it should be. Lucky for me, you are the one I need to speak to. We need not disturb the Loremaster for a bit.” Miir nodded, as if convincing herself.

“As you wish, Archmage. But I have to ask, is there any immediate danger to the Mageguild Demesnes or Easthaven?” Moya braced herself for unwelcome news of rampaging Mechanae, Kraah sightings, Dregs, and other unearthly dangers overtaking the city.

Archmage Miir sighed and shook her head, strands of long dark hair streaked with silver falling over her eyes. “Thankfully, not urgent. Not yet, anyway. This situation requires a… well, a special sort of intervention. I need your particular help, and I trust you after you guarded Sage Kate and I while we traveled to gather my supplies.”

“I see. I can meet with you after I’ve stopped by the garrison and checked in with the Captain,” Moya said. An archmage was important and demanded immediate attention and respect, but as a Valiant, she had to follow established protocols.

“Worry not. I’ve already let Hawke know I’d be stealing you away.” Miir waved her hands in a sweeping gesture. “We have much to discuss, and my business finds me in great need of tea. Now as for you,” Miir said and turned to Kayne, who was trying to be inconspicuous, though his black ears angled forward, taking in the conversation. Miir gestured to her horse. “I implore you to treat Moonflower like the queen among horses that she is. I’ll return for her soon.”

Kayne sketched a bow, offering a sharp-toothed, rakish grin. “I’ll see it done, Archmage. Moonflower will be a goddess in our care.”

Moya inhaled deeply, the earthy hay and oats smell of the stable grounding her. This was clearly happening, whether or not she wanted it.

“I can at least manage refreshments for you, Archmage. The Duskcat has a lovely selection of fancy teas, and there’s always something good to eat,” Moya said. If she needed to provide a repast for her visitor, she might as well snag goodies for herself from her favorite watering hole. Especially if she was about to get bad news.

“You had me at tea,” Miir laughed.

“On foot is fine, yes? The Duskcat is not far enough to call for a portal,” Moya said.

“I could stand to stretch my legs after all that riding. I came straight from Bounty,” Archmage Miir replied, and followed as Moya led her through the gate and along a road that skirted the Mageguild, cutting through a quiet neighborhood. They walked in the breath-held silence, their shoes tapping on the cobbles, neither speaking for a time. Finally, Moya couldn’t take the quiet.

“Were you caught in the storm?” She turned to look at the other woman, curious.

“I’ve never seen the like,” Archmage Miir replied, voice tight with worry. “At least I could shelter while it passed. I’ve heard reports of other strange weather this past month. Early heat in the Merrowlands and southern Umbra, swarms of glasswings in Sylvania, though I guess that’s not exactly weather, and flooding rains in Empyrea.” The other woman’s words faded into nothing, her brow wrinkled in thought.

“When did this start?” Moya asked, already afraid of the answer she was certain the other woman would give.

“After the Kraah attack on the Mageguild, of course,” Miir replied dryly.

“I knew you’d say that.” Chills chased up and down Moya’s arms.

“Greater minds than mine are on this problem, I assure you,” Miir said, angling a slight smile at Moya. “And you know how clever I am,” she added with a quick chuckle.

“Best and the brightest,” Moya replied with a small laugh of her own. “We’re almost there.”

She guided the Archmage through an alleyway and out onto a major thoroughfare, far less sleepy than the streets surrounding the Mageguild. Though the storm had hit as hard here as the rest of the city, there were still people milling about, the comforting light of magelamps glimmering on the damp stones and rain-splattered windows. A cascade of laughter and music spilled into the street as a party of youths, likely university students out past their curfews, burst through the wooden doors of the inn.

The firelight inside warmed Moya straight to her heart, the homey comfort of the Duskcat calming her jangled nerves. There were fewer people there than usual, making it a simple matter to secure a private parlor. Soon, she sat comfortably with a cup of starbloom tea and a plate of Melwin’s honey cakes on the table in front of her and watched Archmage Miir, her nervousness returning at the serious look on the other woman’s face.

“I have a mission for you, Moya. Specifically you, and no other,” Miir said. “A mission approved as far up the chain of command as anything can go. Captain Hawke already knows, and I have his signed writ of approval.”

“A mission? As a Valiant, you mean?” Moya asked, honey cake halfway to her mouth.

“Partly as a Valiant, mostly more. What I must ask of you is something I would not do so except in greatest need. I knowthe truth about you and your past. You are a temple guardian with experience protecting mages who cleanse corrupted leytemple sites. I also know you left that world behind after the accident you survived before you came here to Easthaven. I’m sorry about what you went through. Nobody should have to deal with such dark matters. But Tanahr needs you, and more as a Guardian than anything.”

Archmage Miir rustled in her cloak pocket, setting something on the table in front of Moya. A familiar amulet, a circle of Truesteel-wrapped moonstone on a simple golden chain. Moya’s ears rang. The raucous music of the bard on the main floor and distant laughter of the inn’s guests faded away.

“There are ways you could have known about me, but my family worked to keep the accident secret, to let me live my life as a Valiant. What is is about?” Moya asked, her voice breaking as she gazed down at the necklace on the table.

Passed down through generations of Anders, the amulet was a relatively simple thing that any of her blood relatives should be able to use with a bit of training. Just like all temple guardians and their families who owned similar relics of a distant time. The Anders family amulet had supposedly gone to Neshia, the oldest next to Moya. Now, Moya’s past lay glinting on the table, bright and horrible.

This was not just an amulet, not after the hell Moya had gone through while it was around her neck. She forced herself to meet Archmage Miir’s gaze.

“I’m a Valiant now. Why would you ask this of me when my sisters are actively available to serve? Why would anyone ask me to go back to guardianship when what happened almost cost me everything?”

Archmage Miir sat for a moment, brows knit, fingernails tapping against her teacup in the tense silence that hung between them. Finally, she shook her head. “Because I’m certain you are the only one with the right experience for this job.”

“That can’t be true,” Moya said, unable to keep despair and fear from her voice.

“I believe it is, though, and I’m not an Archmage of Tanahr without good reason,” Miir countered, more firmly than Moya had ever heard the other woman speak. “I don’t make my decisions lightly. It took me a long time to come to this conclusion. You already know Duskmere from your recent travels. And though you did not have time to meet the mage you’ll be working with, I know you are the best guardian for him. Trust me, I saw the signs, and they led me to you.”

“More than signs led you to me, if you’ll pardon my boldness,” Moya said, her fear making her reckless. “You clearly found out about me. There is a hidden purpose to all of this.”

“There is nothing for me to hide,” the other woman said tartly. “You have uniquely relevant experience. And my dear Moya, it’s my job to know things.”

“I’m supposed to be comforted by that?” Moya shot back.

Archmage Miir pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed. “No, I suppose not. I’m not handling this well, am I? I can try to comfort you by saying I would never, ever put your life in danger needlessly. And that I’ll give you everything you need to stay safe during the mission. Trust that, if nothing else.”

“It doesn’t matter anyway. I’m honor-bound. I could not refuse if I wanted to ,” Moya said.

“I don’t plan to force you. Not if your past would compromise your ability to do the job.”

“It won’t,” Moya said, crossing her arms over her chest.

“I know it won’t. You’re an incredible soldier who many people rightly trust with their lives. Now, are you going to take your necklace back and order us food that is not cake, or will my belly be fated to grumble into the morning?”

“I… of course. Melwin has a good spring harvest stew that should fix at least that problem,” Moya said, resigned to what promised to be an increasingly unpleasant evening. She pocketed the amulet, then stood, took a steadying breath, and walked to the door, cracking it open to relay her order to the serving boy she knew who was waiting there. When she sat back down, she fixed the other woman with a hard gaze.

“Food is on the way. So are you going to tell me more about this mission, or will you just sit there and sip tea and be cryptic?”

“As much as I enjoy sipping tea and being cryptic, I’d be rude not to tell you more,” Archmage Miir said. “There’s a leytemple that is in a bad, bad way. The sort of bad you’re unfortunately familiar with,” Archmage Miir said, a tinge of sadness in her voice.

“How did I know something like that was coming?” Moya’s lips twisted in a scowl, but before she could say more, Archmage Miir spoke quickly.

“While the type of corruption is like what you experienced, we have no reason to believe what is happening has anything to do with your accident, Moya. It’s not the same situation, at least beyond how the corruption is manifesting.”

A knock sounded on the door, and Moya let in the serving boy, who offered a tray with two full-to-the-brim bowls and a plate of buttered and seasoned flatbreads. Moya took the food and set the table, and Miir offered two shiny Tanahr crowns to the boy, who smiled excitedly as he left the room. Archmage Miir sat back down, tore a piece of bread in half and looked at Moya, waiting for a reply.

“I see,” Moya offered simply, trying not to look as panicked as she felt. That last leytemple had almost killed her. Facing her fears was one thing, but going back to what could be utter destruction was something else.

“None of the leyline corruption has moved beyond the temple itself,” Archmage Miir pressed on, tone gentler than before. “After the Northgate incident here, the Duskmere leytemple showed signs of corruption, which is not surprising since it sits along the same primary leyline as the Northgate.”

Moya had traveled to Duskmere recently with Sage Kate and Archmage Miir after the horrible accident that had killed two Valiants and cost her friend, Niamh Starsong, her leg. She didn’t want to think about that tragedy any more than she wanted to remember her own troubled past.

“The leymage I’m sending you to help is the best in Tanahr, maybe in all Ahra, at dealing with this kind of corruption. And your talents as a Guardian, I know, are not exaggerated,” Archmage Miir added with unexpected warmth. “It’s why I’m asking, even begging, for you to hear me out on this.”

“I understand,” Moya said, voice heavy with resignation.

Temple guardianship was Moya’s family’s heritage, and what she had been trained for from girlhood before she had joined the Valiants Corps under Captain Hawke’s command. She had left the Guardian’s life far behind her, she’d thought. But the past didn’t matter. She should be able to manage a little upheaval for the greater good. Besides, she was honor and duty bound in a capacity that eclipsed even her commission with the Valiant Corps. Temple guardians must always answer when called to duty for the safety of Ahra. That was the way of things.

“I’m willing to do as you ask,” Moya said.

“Oh, thank the Source.” The other woman spoke in a rush, her voice husky with emotion as she sagged in relief. “I was worried I’d have to fight you on this.”

“I would not wish to fight you. I mean, if you’d let me arm wrestle you that’s one thing, but you mages are tricky. I just…” Moya’s voice trailed away to nothing as another rush of panic washed over her.

“You are afraid. Afraid the same thing will happen, and that you’ll be hurt again. Especially after the whole Kraah attack nightmare.”

“Were you just reading my mind?” Moya asked.

“Did I not tell you? I’m a gifted mind-reader. Especially when what the person is thinking is all over her face.” Miir cocked her head, reminding Moya of a clever crow.

“Archmage and virtuoso face-reader,” Moya joked weakly.

“Absolutely I am,” Archmage Miir said, and sunk a hand into the travel purse she’d kept close to her side through the conversation. “I promise you’ll be fine. You won’t be going into this unprepared, either. All your travel, except that last stint from Porthaven to Duskmere, has been taken care of. Your little jaunt over the Greatsea Bay might even be relaxing. You should be able to hire a horse or zalith for the trek to Duskmere, and guides are available if you need. I’ve brought some tools to help you out: maps and a brief history of the temple site, names of places where you’ll be given all the supplies you need, and a couple of letters. One for you to keep in your own records: the official writ of excuse from Easthaven Valiant’s duty. Also, a letter of introduction from the mage you’ll be guarding, who I bullied into the job just like I did you, which he took with his normal good graces.” She withdrew two envelopes and slid them across the table.

Moya pocketed the official writ then smoothed her fingertips over the satiny paper of the second envelope. The missive was sealed with the green Tanahr Mageguild device, which she’d seen often on correspondence from her friend Jeron. Next to that was a second, smaller seal, a seven-pointed star pressed into a blot of purple wax. The violet seal shimmered with delicate leymagic, shot through with tiny illusory meteors and dotted with constellations.

“You should know, Moya, that this leymage, Ahndras Frost, is a remarkable man. Since Duskmere is his home, he’s uniquely qualified for this posting. You’ll be in excellent hands. I know he is eager to do everything in his power to keep our world safe.” Archmage Miir spoke without hesitation, eyes soft.

“That is high praise,” Moya replied as she gazed down at the miniature night sky caught in wax.

“As with you, his praise was well-earned. Captain Hawke assures me that your company will understand that Tanahr needs your services as a Guardian, especially after the attack on the Mageguild.” She paused, watching Moya carefully.

“I’ll do my best, I promise,” Moya said. “So what happens next? Will you be joining me there?”

“I won’t be able to go with you, since my duty is to investigate leylines west of the Northgate, nearer Sylvania. I’ll communicate with you via sending stones on a set schedule, outlined in the information I’m giving you. I’ll have someone from the Mageguild meet you near the Porthaven portal by mid-morning bell two days from now to drop off the stone, since it still needs calibration, and I’ll need to brief Loremaster Olangah. That should give you time to gather your supplies and speak with your friends. The rest of what’s on the list I’ve requisitioned in Duskmere, which should make travel easier. That’s where you’ll meet Ahndras. It’s best that he stays close by the temple until then, just in case things get worse. Will this work for you?”

“Yes, it all sounds fine,” Moya said with confidence she didn’t feel.

“I know it’s a lot, but I stick by my conviction that you are the best for the job. Now, you look tired as I feel. Perhaps we should call it a night?

“That’s not a bad idea. I need some time to sit with this, if you don’t mind,” Moya replied.

“I understand. Get some rest, and I’ll see you in two days, yes?”

“I’ll be there, ready to go,” Moya said.

Archmage Miir stood slowly, bowed, then took her leave, the silence in her wake ponderous.

Moya glanced down at the table. The leymage’s letter sat there, beckoning. Curious, she pried open the wax seals with a fingernail, first the green, then the night-sky violet. She stifled an ‘eep’ of surprise as a shower of illusory stardust sparkled in the surrounding air.

“Mages and their frippery,” she muttered, but Moya was impressed and more than a little pleased at the simple beauty of the spell.

Her pleasure faded as she read.

With warmest greetings—I hope this finds you well, Valiant Anders. I’ll say right off that I have heard wonderfully reassuring tales of you, and I know I can believe them as Archmage Miir is careful in her compliments. I’m glad that someone so practiced will help me in my labors restoring the leytemple nearest Duskmere (it is on maps as Nightstar Leytemple). The energies in the nearby leylines are showing only the earliest signs of corruption, but I have no intention of letting the situation worsen, especially considering recent events. In high hopes and in best wishes, I feel I must note that my leymagic affinity, though unorthodox (it’s aether, which I’m sure means something to a Guardian), is effective and safe, and I’ll give my all to aid Ahra in the work ahead. That might sound like over-selling, but I hope you’ll forgive any quirks in light of my competence. Aether can, in the right hands, be a powerful force for good. I believe this strongly. I’ll begin making preparations for your arrival immediately. May the light of the Source be with you in your travels, and I look forward to working with you.

—Ahndras Frost

Moya folded the letter, then crammed it into a pocket. Of course, it had to be aether leymagic. Dangerous, haunted and unstable, siphoned from the void itself.

Her heart pounded against her ribs, and her hands shook. How could she ever put aside the fact that the last aethermage she’d served had nearly destroyed an ancient leytemple and almost killed Moya in the process? That foul woman had not even apologized for her arrogance.

Evidence she’d left behind pointed to her involvement in a dark mystery cult, but nobody had ever found out which one, or why she had corrupted the leylines so thoroughly. The horrible creature had just disappeared, leaving Moya to clean up the wreckage. Six years had done nothing to dull the pain of the incident. Archmage Miir would surely know all of this. How could she be so cruel?

Moya would directly violate her vows as a temple guardian if she refused the assignment. Such a violation would cost her family dearly and ruin any chance she might have of returning to the Easthaven Valiants Corps. She had no choice. Despite Ahndras Frost and his stupid aethermagic, she had a job to do and was the only one to do it.

“Source help me keep my temper,” Moya growled to herself and struck out into the night to go home and likely lay awake all night, exhausted and confused.