Ahn laughed until his stomach hurt, and Moya slumped against a tree, wiping her eyes. He inhaled, ignoring the stitch in his side, and surveyed the clearing. Now that it was over, his head pounded, and every muscle in his body cried out for rest. What in all the hells had just happened here?
“You exploded those Dregs into a million pieces. I’ve seen nothing like what you did. How are you even standing right now?” Moya looked at him with a new expression on her face. Surprise, curiosity, even awe…but that couldn’t be right. He was an aethermage, and she did not trust his magic.
“I’m standing thanks to years of training, plus the best restorative potions gold can buy.” A beam of late afternoon sun broke free of the remnant storm-clouds, filling the clearing with wholesome gold. As if on cue, birds resumed their song, insects their industrious buzzing as if nothing had happened, and suddenly all was well.
Ahn closed his eyes, reveling in the sun’s heat and the mundane sounds of Moya digging potion bottles and canteens from their packs. He felt the air stir as she drew up beside him. She walked in close, not smiling, but not scowling at him either. She was a tall woman, lean but strong, and she moved with the easy sureness of an athlete or soldier. Yet as steady and well-trained as she was, the Dregs had shaken her to the point of near inaction. Ahn’s thoughts swirled, indistinct and restless, his mind swinging from hysterical laughter to tension and worries.
Were they in over their heads?
Moya interrupted his ruminations, nudging a bottle into his hand. “You were saying something about the best restorative potions.”
Ahn huffed out a weak chuckle and popped the cork, drinking deeply of the reddish-brown contents. This brew was a standard health tincture he’d augmented himself and tasted of hyssop, pepper, ginger and honey. The strong flavors and surge of healing magic cleared his head and steadied his mind.
“Do not forget to have some water when you’re done with the potion,” Moya said, brandishing a canteen.
“Thanks, mother,” Ahn replied dryly. “Those things were powerful. Far more powerful than I’d imagined possible. I don’t understand what happened, or how the corruption is already so bad.”
“I don’t know,” she said. “But let me help you just in case they decide to come back. I’m betting you used more of your power than you’re used to. I’ll perform the Rite of the Guardian,” Moya said.
“I would not have asked such a thing of you so soon, but I wasn’t expecting this. Source, I’m worried. Worried we are up against far more than we bargained for.” He could not hide the relief in his voice. He had not dared to hope she would perform the Rite, even if she was his guardian.
“You’re not the only one who is worried. I don’t think Miir had any idea, either. Now, please sit, and do your best to let your mind go still.” They both lowered to the ground, far enough away from the clearing that any remnant dark magic would be out of reach. Moya placed one hand on the amulet at her neck, inhaled deeply, then spoke, her voice warm and full. “As your guardian, I offer my light in service of The Source. I offer healing touch in good faith, being to being, in service of The Source. I offer my strength to you, Ahndras Frost.”
She pushed at his robe sleeve with her free hand, shoving the fabric away, then fastened the inner flaps of the sleeve so that it held in place, rolled well above his elbow to bare his skin to the sun and his guardian’s touch. He felt her repeat the motion with his other sleeve. The sunlight warmed his skin and—so gently he could barely feel it at first—Moya pressed her right hand to his forearm. Her left hand clutched the glowing amulet at her chest.
“Light to light, soul to soul; I pledge my aid in service of The Source and all who seek goodness.” She spoke the traditional words of a guardian to their leymage charge, keeping a connection between them until the golden light from her necklace faded.
Waves of strength and peace surged through Ahn’s body in time with his heartbeat, warming his limbs, dancing chills up and down his spine. Moya’s amulet glowed like a miniature star as her power added to his, giving him confidence that they could face the evils ahead together and come away intact. He opened his eyes to see Moya in front of him, perched on her heels, observing him.
“Thank you,” he said, voice strong. “Archmage Miir did not in the least exaggerate your talents.”
Moya smiled.
It was the way of things, leymage and leytemple guardian. Comfort and light to recharge magical reserves depleted by directly tapping into leylines. He was never supposed to take this attention personally.
But it feels more intense than any rite I’ve ever known. It’s her—her presence, her strength, and her skill. She is different, he thought, a strange feeling nagging at the back of his mind.
What if he ended up hurting her the way she’d been hurt before? What if she abandoned him, like his guardians in the past had done?
“There is something I must ask, Valiant Anders. Are you sure you’ll be able to work with an aether leymage? I need to know now. What is happening here is too dangerous for any uncertainties from either of us.”
He waited in silence for a reply, his words stretched taut between them. Moya looked down at the ground for a moment, brow furrowed. When she again caught his gaze, her brown eyes were unreadable.
“I do not know if I’ll ever be comfortable around aether leymagic. Not with what I’ve seen and gone through. And it’s all I can do not to think about the others I worked with who used aether, especially when they were downright evil. But…” She paused, then sighed. “It’s my duty to serve, and I promise you I’ll do it gladly. And after today, it’s clear you are not an ordinary aethermage.”
“I don’t know that I’m an ordinary anything, but I’m glad you’ll stay the course. I serve all of Ahra with my power, and that includes doing my best to keep us both safe.” Ahn’s voice was rough with emotion. “I’d better take one last look around this place. Make sure it’s clear for now.”
Ahn stood with more energy than he’d had all day and walked around, inspecting his surroundings. No scent of rot, no sign of movement, no unearthly magic. He quietly cast another revealing spell. The splotches of corruption had faded, leaving just weak impressions of darkness behind.
“How does it look?” Moya asked from where she stood watching him, hand close to her quiver.
Ahn heard the tremor in the soldier’s voice and circled back to her. “I do not see an immediate threat, but I can’t be sure. Your arrows are mostly gone, I’m afraid,” he said, frowning to himself. There were pockmarks and pitted places in the dirt, and one or two stray arrows lodged in scrubby grass, but any that had hit the Dregs were gone—vaporized as if they’d never existed. Moya stared at the area where the creatures had been when Ahn had destroyed them.
“How do they just disappear like that? The Kraah demon did the same thing when we fought it.”
“A little thing called anathema. Certain beings are not meant to exist in this realm. Whatever gives them power is… beyond. Not here among us.” Ahn’s lips twisted in disgust. Corruption-called creatures were horrific nightmares daring to walk in the light.
“‘Beyond’ as in where aether leymagic comes from?”
Ahn could not help noticing how Moya looked away, as if not wanting to know the answer to the question.
“Perhaps. That’s not the prevailing theory, though, since it calls into question why aether is so good at fighting corruption. The real danger is if these creatures were to manifest in force. We don’t know what they’re capable of.” Ahn let the words hang in the air.
“I see.”
For a time, Moya didn’t reply. Ahn gave her some space. He approached the mile-marker and placed his hand on its surface, then closed his eyes, tuning into the energies of the stone and feeling only blessed silence. He slid his fingers away from the cool, rough-hewn rock.
He understood why Moya feared him. Why they all did. Aether was the most unstable leymagic, and the rarest affinity of all. It was also one of the few things strong enough to counter creatures so corrupt that they held the power to undo more wholesome magic. Like Moya’s arrows—treated with air leymagic spells to guide them true to their target and with fire essence to damage lesser evils. If those arrows and their spells just faded out of existence, the threat to Duskmere was beyond what Ahn had dreamed. This was now a threat to all Ahra.
“I almost don’t want to ask, but if the Dregs were here because the temple leylines are corrupt, then what is waiting for us in the temple itself?” Moya spoke into the silence.
“In truth? I don’t know.” Ahn shook his head. “I’ll ward this clearing stronger than ever. After that, we should travel back to town and alert my people to the situation, then get some rest. We can set out for the temple first thing tomorrow morning.”
“Fine by me. I’ll be glad to put this place behind me.” Moya shuddered.
“At least today will make for fantastical stories to tell when I get back, surrounded by rapt friends and tasty food. I will request sugared fruit candies.”
Moya blinked at him, confused.
“Just making light of an unpleasant situation,” Ahn said, grinning. “Though I was not joking about the candy.”
“Your sense of humor is different,” Moya said, looking relieved. “In fact, I think you are the first aether leymage I’ve met who has any sense of humor at all. And a sweet tooth.”
“I’m honored to hear it, and yes, sweets are both my joy and nemesis. Let us be off, Valiant Anders.”
“Moya, you mean.”
“As you say, Moya the Muddy.”
“Oh, ha, ha, ha,” she grumbled, but her eyes were warm and she smiled. “Lead the way.”
—
Moya followed Ahn through the town gates and to a cluster of long, low-roofed dwellings interspersed between knots of trees. The scent of fresh water and spring blossoms blew sweetly over her. The lake itself was several miles from the town in most places, with an extensive floodplain, wildlife-rich fen and network of small creeks between the bulk of the town’s population and the lake’s shores.
“Sweet Source, it’s good to be home,” Ahn said. “We can take the rest of the day to recuperate and plan. I’m thinking we might need reinforcements. And a far too late lunch.”
“I can’t argue with you on either count.” Moya stepped away as a woman barreled toward them, a head shorter than Moya and with a crooked blond horsetail the same gold as Ahn’s.
“What are you doing here, Ahn?” the woman asked, brows raised in surprise. “Weren’t you supposed to be at the temple by now? Is something wrong?”
“Well, hello to you too. We had an incident along the way,” Ahn replied, pulling a face.
“That sounds ominous. This is your new guardian?” She stared at Moya, not bothering to hide her curiosity.
“Moya, this is Willow, my very concerned cousin and Captain of the Duskmere guards,” Ahn said. “Willow, this is my new guardian, Moya the Mud—”
“Don’t you dare say it, mage,” Moya cut him off, shaking her finger. “Moya Anders, Easthaven Valiant and temple guardian at your service.”
“It’s good to meet you,” Willow said, grinning. “I think you’ll both be wanting to clean up, yes?”
“How did you know?” Ahn said, smirking in Moya’s direction as she sent him a warning glower. “And then, a debriefing. I’ll catch you up on what’s happening, the bad, the awful, and the worse.” Ahn’s expression darkened.
Willow’s eyes widened. “So it is ominous. Well, I’ll get everyone together in the great room, scare up some food. Moya, this way to a hot bath. And I’ll get you something to wear since your bags seem to have suffered the same fate you did.”
A short time later, Moya clutched a bundle of clothing as Willow led her through a winding neighborhood nestled in a grove of trees. The cozy wood and stone homes were quite a way from the town center, separated from the walls by an impressive expanse of mature evergreens.
“This room is yours for as long as you’re here. I’ll give you time to bathe, then one of us will swing around to nab you for food and planning.” Willow waved goodbye for now and left Moya to explore.
A simple bed covered in cloud-white blankets beckoned, and a copper tub tucked away by the fireplace looked like heaven itself. Moya could have twirled in a pirouette of pure joy as she engaged mage-worked plumbing to fill the tub. Moments later, she sank into the hot water with a long, happy sigh. Steam rose in lazy curls, and the air was sharp with the pungent spice of restorative herbs from the petal-studded cake of soap left for her.
Relaxing, though, was not an option. A knock cracked through the silence.
“Moya. Are you ready?”
He’s back already?
“No, not at all—” she scrunched down with a splash, only her head sticking out of the water. “Not even close. Willow said I’d have time to bathe.”
“Oh, right… That whole ‘muddy’ thing. I’ll come back in a couple of days—I mean half an hour.”
Moya might have imagined laughter in the words. In the silence that followed, she luxuriated in the blissfully hot water, healing herbs soothing her aching body. Despite her cozy surroundings, though, her mind would not keep quiet.
Urgent misgiving tickled at the back of her thoughts. Everything that had happened since even before she left Easthaven felt uncomfortably connected. The violent storms and wildly changing weather, the oddly quiet acolyte who had helped her, and then the nightmare at the waypoint all sat like a rotten meal in her gut. Talking to Ahn and his people might help make sense of it—at least, that was her hope.
“Well, I guess that’s enough relaxing for now,” Moya grumbled.
She clambered out of the tub, dried off on towels Willow had set on the bed, and unfolded the clothes she’d unceremoniously plunked on the side table. Smallclothes and undershirt, wide-legged pants, and a tunic woven from soft, light cotton—perfect for late spring, and best of all, not a speck of mud to be found.
Moya shrugged into the tunic, the belled sleeves almost covering her fingers. The trousers tied in front with a woven belt, and they fit well, soft against her skin. She patted down her hair with a towel and tied the braids back into a tail with another ribbon, dried her face, then sat down onto the bed to wait.
If what had happened at the Mageguild had been a Kraah incursion, then what was going on here? Archmage Miir needed to know everything. And Loremaster Olangah needs to know about all this, too. There might be a connection to the attack on the Northgate and the Mageguild incident her friend Niamh Starsong had thwarted.
A torrent of emotions washed over Moya. Nothing would be the same, not after these recent weeks.
Another knock. “Are you ready now?”
“As I’ll ever be.” She opened the door to find Ahn waiting. Early afternoon sunlight splashed over his face. He had switched out his travel-stained robes and footpads for a green tunic, loose breeches, and soft leather boots. He looked different. Rested, stronger.
“Tell me, are you five pounds lighter now all that dirt is gone?” Ahn asked.
“Only four pounds lighter, thank you very much.” Moya leveled a mock-glare at him.
“My apologies,” Ahn said, offering an elaborate bow. When he looked at her again, his expression was grim. “I hate to move us to far less pleasant matters, but we need to adjust our plans. I considered requesting aid from our own forces in traveling to the site, but Duskmere’s guard is not large, and I want them here protecting the townspeople. It’s my hope Archmage Miir can summon help from Porthaven if things get too out of hand. Is securing added forces necessary before heading to the temple, or would that take too long?”
“Not sure and curse it all, I never got my sending stone,” Moya admitted, frowning thoughtfully. She was not due to contact Archmage Miir for several days, so the other woman would not even think about the possibility of anything amiss. “We do not know what we’re dealing with. How many people could we travel with from here without taxing the town guard?”
“We can certainly count on two others besides us, and both of them are seasoned warriors.”
“That might be enough for now. We should at least check with the Herald’s Guild to see if Miir somehow got a message to us, or if there is news from other cities. Then, we could go to the temple with your two warriors in tow. Does that seem reasonable?”
“Utterly and completely,” Ahn said, looking relieved. “It’s good to have a plan. Thankfully, the warriors I mentioned will join us at the Pig and Pickle for food and planning.”
“I’ve heard the inn has some divine treats—” Moya started.
“Way ahead of you. Willow already nabbed a private room. And just so you know, they have sugared fruit comfits today—I guess wishes come true.”
“A veritable miracle,” Moya said, and followed him through the waning afternoon into the town.
Lizzie Sinclaire 