Ahn leaned back in his chair and watched as his friends and new guardian sat eating, planning, and getting along famously. It had taken no time for Moya to fall into easy conversation with the others, a skill he had never really learned himself.
“So you are from Empyrea?” Moya asked Zander.
“Indeed. And I’ll have you know that not all Empyrean elves are as handsome as I am, just in case you should ever find yourself there, and disappointed,” Zander replied with his normal jesting swagger. Well, at least partly jesting, if Ahn knew his friend. The man knew he was absurdly good-looking, but he wasn’t normally so brazen. With dark brown hair that sprung in waves from his proud brow, and a spellbound smile, Zander could pass for a prince among his kind or any other.
“Truly? Then I’m most sorry for the state of Empyrean elves,” Moya volleyed back, not hesitating to tease Zander with equal audacity.
“A hit straight to the heart. You wound me, soldier. Are all Easthaven Valiants so cruel?” Zander placed a hand over his chest, pretending to weep.
“Not cruel. Just honest,” Moya laughed.
“I like this one, Ahn,” Willow piped up, jostling him on the shoulder from where she sat next to him, her horsetail lopsided, her eyes bright with laughter.
“How did you come to be in Tanahr, anyway?” Moya asked, fixing Zander with a curious gaze.
“Ah, well, that’s not really a story for this moment—” Zander started, shifting in his seat.
“He’s never told us either. My bet’s always been on a sordid tale of lost love,” Willow interrupted him, earning a shove from Zander.
“We have not yet discussed tactics,” Talli said, her voice raised enough that both Willow and Zander stopped their bickering. She frowned, light gray brow crinkled, a lock of sleek black hair slashing over her cheek. “I have scouted beyond the gates and found nothing, but my instinct tells me we are not safe.”
“I knew you’d be the party-pooper, Talli.” Willow pouted exaggeratedly, but the concern in her eyes was real.
Ahn sat straight, pushing his half-full plate away. Even the Pig and Pickle’s excellent seared lake trout with seasonal greens could do little to assuage the knot in his stomach.
“Talli’s right, I’m afraid. After the Dreg attack, Moya and I decided that going into town proper to stock up and get some information might be the best way to start. She can try to get a herald’s message to Archmage Miir, and we can see if anyone else has met problems related to the corruption.”
“We need to know what we’re up against,” Moya added with a nod.
Ahn felt a little swell of pride when Moya agreed with him. She fit in well here—it was hard not to notice. Her boisterous laugh, her ready jests and guileless demeanor had in the space of one evening won over Ahn’s closest friends. He was relieved, pleased and…
What? What was that other, less comfortable sensation nagging at the back of his mind?
Ahn shrugged it off, slipping back into problem-solving mode. There was no time for doubt or dark feelings. His home, and even all of Tanahr, needed him at his best, and he would not disappoint them.
—
Moya gazed around the private room where she sat with Ahn and his companions. All of them were clearly warriors in their own way. She didn’t have to see them in action to know. Willow and Zander were both official town guards, so would have standard militia combat training, and probably some field experience with bandit incursions and border patrols. There was something sly, dangerous hiding behind Zander’s nonchalance and banter. An elf from Empyrea, taller and longer-eared than the Sylvan elves Moya had met, Zander’s rakish attire and joking demeanor hid something deeper. And then there was the Xereth warrior, Talli, her gaze as sharp as steel. Though her silken black hair was swept up in an elegant topknot and the amethyst tunic she wore looked soft and luxurious against gray skin, the other woman exuded an air of danger…the careful quiet of a predator.
A terrifyingly gifted aethermage and a complement of seasoned warriors would prove to be a solid defense against any nastiness at the temple site.
“I have this nagging feeling we should not wait until Archmage Miir arrives,” Ahn said, catching Moya’s gaze.
“Is there anyone here you trust enough to check in with, see if they’ve noticed anything out of the ordinary?” Moya had her own informants at her customary watering hole, The Duskcat Inn. This place surely had its own sources of gossip or tell of goings-on.
“I’ll go find Aelin,” Willow said, up out of her seat and to the door before Ahn could answer. She returned moments later with a voluptuous blond woman wearing a starched white apron over her checkered dress padding softly behind.
“Aelin, it’s good to see you,” Ahn said warmly, rising to greet the woman. She grinned widely at him, going in low for a sudden hug with surprising force.
“It’s good to see you all,” she said, backing away so she could turn the smile on each of them. “And a new friend. Are you the guardian?”
“Moya Anders, at your service,” Moya replied with a nod, not sure how to feel about the woman’s warm reception of Ahn, or easy kindness to a newcomer.
“We were wondering,” Ahn said, motioning Aelin to the chair Zander was already pulling away from the table, “is there any news of the strange sort from the last few days? Anything at all, mind you, no matter how trivial it may seem.”
“Hmmm,” Aelin hummed thoughtfully, twisting a finger in the blond braid looping below her right ear. “I haven’t seen much of anything. Been right busy with the upper room renovations all week. But Panna—that’s my wife, you see, so you can trust her, Miss Moya,” she added, nodding at Moya for a moment. “Panna said something that struck me as odd. Something about a girl from the Porthaven Mageguild asking around a couple of days ago, things like wanting to know who sells certain types of herbs in town, and who all takes care of the temple. She asked after you, Ahndras—was curious who to talk to about the temple. Other than that, I can’t think of anything.”
Moya froze, tankard halfway to her mouth, finally remembering to set it down.
“This young woman. Did she have red hair and seem kind of… How do I put it, expressionless?”
Aelin considered. “I can’t speak to looks, but Panna said there was something off about her. About her eyes, or something. Panna’s out at the Obarth farm, but I can talk to her when she gets back.”
“What’s wrong, Moya?” Ahn asked, frowning.
“The Mageguild apprentice you sent to escort me from the ferry to the portal. She was strange, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. It was like there was a wall between what she was thinking or feeling, and what she was saying. It sounds like the same person.”
“Moya, I didn’t send anyone,” Ahn said. “I left messages with Willow and the crew.”
Willow set down her fork, frowning. “It was the morning watch. A girl came around asking after the resident leymage. I said he would be meeting his new guardian—she wrote names and everything on a scrap of parchment. I assumed Archmage Miir sent her.” Her voice trailed off, and she stared into her drink, troubled.
“We can’t wait. We need to get to the portal now, to search the town and see if we can find anything else,” Ahn said, pushing his chair away from the table.
“I’d feel better if I had proper gear,” Moya said.
“I can take you to the armory, Moya, and Ahn, you can head to the portal,” Willow piped up. “I’ll do everything I can to help.”
“Thank you, and good plan. Moya, I’ll see you shortly,” Ahn said with a faint smile.
“And here I thought you’d get a little rest, and we’d have some time to get to know each other,” Willow grumbled, as she led Moya out into the afternoon. They wound through a neighborhood filled with squat but cozy houses, past a lush garden and to a long, low-roofed building with dirt-floored yards lined with practice dummies and targets.
“I don’t think you should go into whatever this is with waterlogged armor,” Willow said, motioning Moya to the building.
“I would be grateful for any supplies you can spare,” Moya admitted, remembering the sheer amount of mud she’d got lodged between the scales of her hauberk.
“You look to be about the size of Yewan. I do not think she’d mind if you borrowed her gear.” Willow cast an appraising look at Moya, then nodded, satisfied. “Yes, that should do. I’ll just be a moment.”
The other woman bustled around the armory, choosing pieces as she hummed faintly. She was slender in the shoulders but strong and agile. Her long hair was the same pale gold hue as Ahn’s, and her eyes shone with his mix of solemnity and playfulness. Moya could see a familial resemblance.
“So, what brought you to Duskmere, or have you always lived here?” Moya asked, making conversation to fill the quiet.
“I hail from Porthaven, originally,” Willow said, tossing a pair of armguards back onto a shelf with a resounding clank. “Our family has been there for ages. Ah, these should do. Ahndras came here a few years ago to help Archmage Miir in supporting the leytemple, since it’s so close to an important leyline and my cousin is the very best at what he does. He recommended me for the captain of the guard post when the old captain retired. I really do like it here,” she added with a soft smile, then walked over and clunked a pile of gear onto a bench near where Moya stood.
“This place is one of a kind,” Moya agreed. She took the padded under-armor that Willow handed her, then they geared Moya from head to boot. Everything fit well, though the hauberk was wider about the chest than Moya was used to. “I was wondering… What is Ahndras like normally?” She blurted out the words before she could stop herself. “I mean, I’ll be working with him, and I’m curious. He seems pleasant.”
Willow tilted her head, thoughtful. If she was offended or put off by Moya’s question, she gave no sign.
“Pleasant is not the word I’d use to describe that cousin of mine. More, a dreamer.”
“Dreamer?” Moya echoed, more than a little curious.
“Well, yes,” Willow said. “He sees the potential for good in everything and thinks of ways to make that potential into reality. He is ever hopeful. Or was, at least until—” She broke off, expression suddenly chagrined.
“Until what?” Moya pressed.
“It’s not my story to tell, but another leymage betrayed him, and it nearly cost him his life.” Willow looked away, her face drawn in sadness. “I’ll just say that ‘pleasant’ doesn’t do Ahn justice. He’s too good sometimes.” Willow helped Moya with the buckles under her arms and at her sides. “We should make haste. They’ll be wanting to set out soon.”
“Thank you,” Moya said carefully, “for telling me about him. I’ll guard him well, I promise.”
“I’m pleased to hear that. He deserves only the best. Oh, and your weapons,” she added, handing Moya her quiver, sword, and bow. Someone had cleaned away all the mud and grime and oiled them in the fleeting time she’d been here, and Moya nodded her appreciation.
“Ready?” Willow asked, already walking towards the door still open to the practice yards, bars of early sunlight flooding in, spearing through the dust that hung in the air.
Moya paused. She hadn’t asked what she really wanted, the question that had plagued her since she first gained consciousness.
“His magic. Is it as good as he is?” She asked, hoping Willow could somehow understand what she was getting at.
The other woman paused, arms crossed over her leather and scale chest-plate.
“If you are asking if my cousin does awful evil things with his aethermagic, I’d have hoped you would see the truth by now,” Willow said, an edge to her voice. “Ahn is a better person than I could hope to be. Than most any of us could hope to be. And he’s a jelly pastry with a sweet center to boot. I’ll not have his character coming into question. Not on my watch,” she added, lips twisting in a scowl.
“I’m sorry. So sorry. I really didn’t mean to offend.” Moya broke off, shaking her head. “An aethermage was almost the death of me, so I wanted to make sure I’m the right person for this posting.”
“I could ask the same thing,” Willow said. She sighed, then her expression relaxed. “Archmage Miir sure thought so, and I’ve never known her to be wrong about anything this important. Now, are you coming or not?”
“I… yes,” Moya said and followed Willow into the waning daylight.
—
Ahn waited for Talli and Zander, trying not to fidget or look otherwise ill at ease. He and his guardian didn’t even have time to get to know each other before the world had gone haywire. Moya was powerful, and well-suited to guardianship, he could tell, but well-suited to aethermages like him was another matter. It didn’t help that the situation at the temple was so much worse than he had feared. He gazed around, taking in the soft rustle of fresh green leaves, the nodding cherry blossoms, and the quiet path leading toward the town center.
How was he going to make this work?
Footfalls sounded behind him, but not the light steps of a Xereth scout or his elven friend.
“You’re ready before me? That must be a first.” Willow’s laughter rippled through the air as she led Moya to meet him. The women now both wore the armor of Duskmere guards. He couldn’t help but notice that the deep purple and silver accents woven through the hauberk’s leather and on her cuffs and ties suited Moya.
“If it’s a first, then relish it,” Ahn said. “Victories where you can find them, and all that.”
“Oh, hush, you.” Willow bumped into his shoulder with a playful shove. “As you can see, I’ve outfitted your guardian.”
Moya nodded from where she stood behind his cousin. “Willow has earned my eternal gratitude. I’d almost forgotten that armor could feel so light and clean.”
“I’m sure not stomping around like a mud golem helps,” Ahn said, a hint of dry humor creeping into his voice. “Zander and Talli should be here any time now. I figure the four of us might have a chance against whatever we’re walking into, at least until we can enlist more help.”
“I count at least three soldiers, you should know,” Moya said, patting the hilt of her sword.
“I don’t doubt that,” Willow agreed, looking at her appraisingly. “I’m glad you’ll be keeping that cousin of mine out of trouble,” she added.
Before Ahn could say anything, Talli and Zander strode up to his side.
“Armed to the teeth, and ready for a jaunty little stroll through town and preparing to tangle with horrifying monsters, as one does.” Zander grinned in greeting.
Talli just waited at Zander’s side, her expression unchanging. Willow snorted and Moya cackled at Zander’s words.
“Ready for tangles is good,” Ahn said. “Remember, if anything attacks us, try to use mage-treated gear. Daggers, arrows, whatever weapons you have that have been leymagic imbued. I’ll have spells at the ready, of course.”
“Your delightful little aether-shadow minions, I hope?” Zander asked. “Because those are the strongest in your arsenal, much as they unnerve me.”
Ahn’s face fell, and he fought a wave of frustration away. He had not even used those with Moya. What would she think of him if she saw that manifestation of his leymagic?
“Those shadows save lives and harm nothing I do not command them to. I promise you they’re safe,” Ahn said, trying not to sound affected.
“I know, I know, friend,” Zander conceded, patting him on the shoulder. “I did not mean offense.”
Ahn nodded, not trusting himself to speak. Moya watched the exchange, her face blank, all traces of earlier laughter gone.
Aethermages were, as far as leymagic went, the rarest of affinities. That was a good thing. A disproportionate number of aethermages in Tanahr’s history, and all Ahra, had done terrible things. Aethermagic tested a mage, wavering at the shadowy edge of light working.
Ahn could not help that the aether had called him from birth. He did not want to help it—not when he could use his power to help so many. He exhaled a quiet sigh, squared his shoulders, and turned a solemn gaze to his cousin.
“Keep watch for anything out of the ordinary,” Ahn said. “And if you don’t hear from me or things go south, summon help from Porthaven by any means necessary. Now, shall we go?”
“Yes,” Talli replied in her silky way, silver eyes unreadable.
“Lead on, brave shadow-wrangler,” Zander added with a mock salute.
Moya just nodded. Ahn ignored a twinge of hurt at her reaction then struck out, head high, mind and heart heavy.
Lizzie Sinclaire 