Moya gathered three fresh bottles of restorative in her satchel, then guided Ahn and the new aethermage, Emrhys, to the leywater font. Her mind buzzed furiously, head full of stinging-wasp worries. Strangers portaling in from another land, a cloaked would-be assassin or thief breaking into the leytemple and attacking her, a whole school-room full of wounded children, and now the growing sense of wholeness she felt in her very being after Ahn’s spell… It was so much. Too much to grasp.
“Here are cushions, Miss Moya,” Seshka said, appearing suddenly with an unwieldy stack of kneeling-pillows.
Moya smiled down at the girl in wordless thanks, taking the cushions before gently nudging her away again. She had instructed Lenore to take the children and hide in the library, hopefully out of range of dangerous magic. The man called Corvus—a dangerous and capable man, if Moya had ever seen one in her years of service—hauled the robed stranger just outside of the temple, tending his wound in the light of a magelamp.
Everything was in place, and Moya prayed there would be no more surprises. She approached the font and arranged the cushions in a semicircle and then knelt on the middle one, waiting for the others.
“Thank you,” Emrhys murmured, kneeling gracefully to Moya’s left, Ahn at her right side.
“You’ll both need a guardian for this,” Moya said. “Allow me to ground and center myself, then I’ll grant you both the Guardian’s Blessing.”
She did not wait for an answer, folding both hands over the amulet at her neck. Soft golden light suffused the surrounding air, gentle and steady, unlike the eerie, pulsing glow emanating from the leywater font. She called on the Source, her ancestors, her own training. Peace flowed through her like warmth from a hearth, and she placed one hand on Emrhys’s narrow shoulder, the other on Ahn’s broader one.
“I offer my strength in service of the Source. I offer my protection, in service of the light. I grant you my courage, if yours should fail. In the name of all that is holy, so be it,” Moya intoned, voice even and confident. The guardian amulet’s golden glow expanded, surrounding the mages flanking her. “Good luck,” she added in her normal voice and took a deep breath.
Ahn plunged his hand into the brackish water, Emrhys following his lead. The lightning-blue radiance of aether leymagic entwined with her guardian’s gold, growing so bright it hurt to look at. As if in answer, the shuddering green radiance in the water pulsed with painful intensity, filling the air with a buzzing sound and the stink of decay.
Moya repeated her blessing, voice gaining power as Ahn and Emrhys’s chanting swelled through the leytemple foyer. Blue lightning forked between the two leymages and into the water, leaping over, but not touching Moya. The crackle of energy fizzed like bubbly spirits, and her ears rang from all the magic surrounding her.
With a crack like thunder from a miniature storm, the aethermagic the two mages were generating arced and danced over the water, converging in a single strike that seared the backs of Moya’s eyes. Everything went silent, the air growing warm. She looked around her and saw that both Ahn and Emrhys were awake and uninjured, and that the oily film polluting the leywater font was gone, her view of the mages’ hands merely distorted by the clear rippling water within. Ahn leaned forward, fishing around, and dragged something out of the font. Spiky, asymmetrical sigils in faded red and white decorated a small box made from smooth, dark stone.
“Those sigils,” Emrhys whispered, her eyes wide. “I saw those in my father’s work. In Felsin’s experiments. Kraah magic,” she added, looking sick.
“Whatever it is, the spell protecting it shattered. There are scorch marks everywhere,” Ahn said. “I’m going to open it. Moya, Emrhys, guard me, please.”
Moya stood and moved closer, placing one hand on Ahn’s shoulder and the other on her sword hilt. Emrhys raised her hands, fingertips flickering blue. Carefully, so slowly he was barely moving at all, Ahn pried the lid from the box.
“What the—” he started. His lips twisted in disgust as he held it out for the others to see.
“That’s… That’s a finger-bone,” Moya muttered.
“A reliquary,” Emrhys whispered, understanding dawning over her gaunt face. “This was one of her fingers. Larkwing. Someone brought this here to tie her to the temple, to seed corruption in the leylines. I’ve seen this magic before.”
“Ahn,” Moya said, gripping his shoulder tightly. “My friend Niamh—the one who defeated the Easthaven Mageguild Kraah—she was touching the Northgate when it all went wrong. She talked about seeing a woman. Maybe that’s how it happened. Scholar Belden planted one of those things there at the Northgate to try to summon Kraah. You know what this means, right?”
“That there are more reliquaries out there. More spots to sow corruption and summon the Kraah.”
“It means the world is in terrible danger,” Emrhys said quietly. “The man you wounded and tied up, he knew about the power of this relic, and what its corruption meant. We must interrogate him and learn more,” she added, her voice hard.
Outside, a familiar voice called out for them. “Ahndras? Moya? Wait, who are you?”
“Willow?” Ahn called out in answer. He placed the lid back over the box and held it to his side as he headed toward the temple’s exit, motioning Moya and Emrhys to follow. “Seems our reinforcements are here,” he added with a wry smile.
“Thank the Source,” Moya replied, and followed him out into the soft blue night.
—
“Ahn? Moya? What in the seven hells is happening here?” Zander jogged up to Ahn, Talli following with her peculiar silent grace. Several town guards followed, standing in position, and waiting for orders.
“I hope you’re not having a garden party without me.”
“How did you know?” Ahn replied with a grimace. “Zan, I don’t even know where to start.
“Is everyone safe?” Talli asked, her silver gaze sweeping over the courtyard.
“Yes, for now. And we have a lot of new company,” Moya said, just as a crowd of children led by Lenore and Seshka burst from the library.
Ahn lifted a hand in a gesture of invitation, gazing at everyone. “Now, please everyone listen, as this concerns the fate of all of us.”
Moya blinked in surprise at the command in Ahn’s voice and manner. Zander and Talli drew closer, both quiet, and Willow motioned her guards to fall in.
“The Kraah are more of a threat than any of us could have imagined,” Ahn said, eyes bleak. “And that threat grew, brought to our very doorstep by those who seek to control others. This concerns us all, and we all must act or be accountable for the consequences. Now, it seems, fate has given us just the chance. That said, please meet our new guests and… that filth, who we will deal with later,” he added, turning cold eyes on the robed man.
“This should be fascinating,” a familiar, rusty-gate voice sounded through the clearing. Archmage Miir doused the remnant magelights from a portal focus so small it fit in her palm. “I can’t count how many sending stone messages I received. Loremaster Olangah and half of the Easthaven Mageguild worked to forge this perfectly tuned, single-use portal, and I got here as soon as I heard.”
“I have never in my life been happier to see you, Archmage,” Ahndras managed through a lump in his throat. “So I’ll get this over with as quickly as possible. Let me know if I’m not making sense.”
He relayed the entire ordeal, pausing now and then when the others chimed in. His and Moya’s dealings with Larkwing. The children and three Dominion adults’ trials at the hands of Larkwing’s protege. The lasting, resounding and impossible impact this terrible magic had upon those it had harmed. A cultist in their midst, seeking cursed relics with the power to corrupt entire region’s worth of leylines. And worst of all, the knowledge that there were more of these relics out there, poised to bring a terrible doom upon the peoples of Ahra.
“What in the world are we going to do?” Moya said, voice shaking.
“I do not know. It feels like the world is ending,” Ahn sighed.
Miir frowned. “I have no simple answer.” She shook her head, looking suddenly worn and ancient. “Even we of the Ivory Order did not see this coming.”
Ahn gasped, and Moya cursed aloud in surprise. Archmage Miir was involved with an ancient guild of spies and warriors rumored to have altered the course of history repeatedly?
“Yes, I’m admitting my involvement in the Ivory Order, and I’ll demand your silence on this matter, at least among those we do not know or trust. I can and will turn you all into mud toads. Order informants have suspected for some time that a threat existed in the Dominion—though, we did not know to what extent or that it had spilled into other parts of Ahra. You are brave and strong to have come here, and planned and acted as you did,” she added, turning a shrewd gaze to Seshka. “That kind of thinking would do the order credit.”
The girl simply bowed in reply. She looked so childlike now; the emptiness gone from her eyes, replaced by exhaustion and fear.
“We won’t abandon you to those who would harm you,” Ahn said, gazing around at the orphans, and the Dominion refugees. “We are in this together now.”
“I know how terrible it is to have someone try to control you, to scratch at your soul,” Moya murmured, voice harsh with disgust. “I’ll ask for protection from Captain Hawke and the Loremaster when we return to Easthaven. They may have some insight into what to do.”
The black-haired man—Corvus, Moya recalled—looked up in surprise. “I was told to find a man with that name. That he would be sympathetic to a Dominion defector would grant me an audience. I want to help. I want to make the torment we endured mean something.”
“I’m a skilled leymage,” the white-haired woman said, edging to Corvus’s side. “And Corvus is the highest-trained of Dominion soldiers. We know things, and we have ways to help you prepare for whatever is coming.”
“Now that we have our souls back, or are at least cleansed of that woman’s evil,” Corvus said, the words heavy.
Archmage Miir lifted her hands in a gesture of disbelief. “I never thought it would come to harboring the so-called enemy,” she said. “Or that this so-called enemy would be Dominion refugees and a small army of orphans gathered from all four corners of the world,” she added, expression softening.
“In all seriousness, what do we do now?” Moya asked. “This is miles outside my duties as a Valiant or guardian. We need to let Captain Hawke, the Loremaster, and everyone know, right?”
“That we must,” Archmage Miir said. “And I may be befuddled now, but I have some ideas on where to go from here.”
“Before anything else, I would like to finish our work here at the temple, surveying the site.” Ahn gazed around the dark courtyard. “I need to make sure that no traces of Larkwing’s magic remain in the leylines, stone or anywhere.”
“I’ll stay and help you,” Moya said with a brisk nod. “You’ll definitely need your guardian for that.”
“If I may make an absolutely useful suggestion,” Zander started, flashing his customary grin. “Allow me to guide the children and guests back to town. Talli and Archmage Miir can come with me, make sure everyone gets medical care, a delicious meal and maybe even some sleep before packing off to Source knows where. Ahn, Moya, you join us when you can, and send word if you need anything, yes?”
“My, my… that is all clever thinking,” Moya answered, grinning in appreciation. “Are you sure you’re really you, Zander?”
“Thank you, my friend,” Ahn said, patting Zander on the shoulder. “And thank you, Seshka, and all of you, for being so brave.”
“I would not have hurt you, you know,” Seshka murmured, her eyes filling with tears. “Even with only half a soul, I would not have hurt you. I just needed you to believe so.”
“I think I knew that,” Ahn said, leaning down to grip the girl’s shoulders. “Now, go in peace, all of you. You’ll be safe and well cared for in my home.”
“I insist on keeping some of my guards here, just in case,” Willow said, and there was no jest in her voice. “It would be unwise not to.”
“And I’m grateful for it,” Ahn replied.
“We will help look after the younger ones, I promise,” Lenore said. She and Lenore each took the hands of the children nearest them. Willow, Lenore, Zander, Archmage Miir, Corvus and even Talli reached out until they’d reassured all the children.
“We shall see you soon,” Zander said, and the strange procession made its way along the winding temple-garden path, through the gates, and out of Moya’s sight.
“This has been the strangest day of my career as either a Valiant or a guardian,” Moya said, shaking her head. “And that’s saying something.”
“Though with any scant luck,” Ahn said, grinning ruefully, “it won’t get any stranger.”
“What in Ahra is this luck you speak of?”
“A myth, I’m sure. Ready to finish our cleanup duty?” Ahn offered her his arm, ignoring his exhaustion.
“I think that’s wise,” Moya said, locking her arm in his and matching his pace as they made their way back toward the leytemple.
Ahn was exhausted down to his very soul’s bones, but didn’t mind. Not when he had, with the help of his new and wonderful guardian, just saved the lives of nine children and a group of Dominion adults doomed to a terrible existence. He glanced at Moya, who knelt at his side while he evaluated the temple’s leywaters. Ahn sensed only clear, untainted energy, no sign of corruption anywhere and nearly crumpled in relief. They next walked through the gardens, checking the buildings and soil for any residual corruption. The grounds were sleepy and soft with the sweet scents of spring, jasmine, and moon flowers—no rot, no evil magic.
He knew he should be terrified about what had just happened—about the far-reaching implications. Ahra was in more danger than any of them had realized. But at this moment, there was only peace. The peace of clean and vibrant leyline energies, untouched by Kraah curses. The peace that came from helping others. That came from the warm, steadying presence of the woman at his side. Of his new friend.
“It’s clean. All clean.”
“I’m so glad,” Moya said with a tired smile. “It’s been a day and a half, hasn’t it?”
“I’ve never known the like, and I hope I never will again. I could have done none of this without you, Moya.”
“I’m simply doing my duty,” she said, looking away.
“No. There was nothing simple about this. Nothing easy. You trusted me against everything your instincts told you.”
“Well, not everything,” Moya said quietly. “My instincts told me you were kind. From the very beginning, I sensed you had a good heart.”
“Any mage would be lucky to have you as their permanent guardian,” Ahn said. He sat back on his heels. “I almost wish…”
He couldn’t finish that sentence. He had not known Moya long enough to even suggest such a thing. To ask her to work with him again, to leave her life and Valiant’s career in Easthaven behind. It was madness, utmost selfishness to have even thought about it.
“What?” Moya asked, interrupting his guilty thoughts.
“Nothing. Nothing at all. Think it’s safe to close shop, head back to Duskmere while we can still walk?”
Moya’s hand slipped away from his arm. He felt the absence of her touch, shivering a little.
“Be honest with me, mage. Were you going to say you wish we could still work together? I need to know.” She dropped her gaze.
“And if that is what I was going to say, why does it matter? It would be incredibly selfish of me. Unforgivably so.”
“Those people, Ahn. Seshka. What would have happened to them if we had not been there? If you had not been exactly who you are, and… and if I’d not been there to help you? What happened today will happen again; I’m sure of it. If Larkwing and the others knew about that terrible Kraah soul magic, well. You get the idea.”
“No, they can’t be not the only ones. This is Old Guard magic that lives against all odds. And I’m sure there are more broken by such darkness. Like poor Seshka,” he added softly, thinking of the haunted emptiness of her eyes before the ritual, then the fledgling joy afterward.
“If you and I can continue to work together like this, if we can actually search out corruption instead of waiting for it to take over…” Her tone was an entreaty, even before she continued. “Is that something you might consider?”
Ahn stood, offering her a hand. He grabbed his pack and staff, cast one last look around the peaceful leytemple with its clear, sparkling waters, and sighed.
“I might have some ideas about what to do next. Very new, obviously, but Moya?” he spoke her name, feeling strange.
“Yes, Ahn?”
His name in her voice—velvet and sunshine—strengthened his resolve. “It will mean my using aether in ways with which you might not agree. In ways that might scare you.”
Moya crossed her arms over her chest, a flicker of strong emotion flashing in her eyes. “I might have been afraid of your magic at first, yes. But not afraid of you. You have proven yourself to be more powerful than any darkness.”
Ahn smiled, a grin he could not have tried to hold back. That she would even consider this…
Am I dreaming?
“There is no need to rush anything. We can speak of it back in town, after we’ve slept on it.”
Moya nodded. “Oh yes, after a delicious meal and the longest bath ever. Even longer than my post-river stallion mud-removal ceremony. Just… Ahn, there are other people who can be soldiers. Valiants like my friend Niamh. Like your cousin Willow. But guardians? We’re the only ones who can do what we do. I think that might be something I really need to take seriously.”
Moya slung her pack over one shoulder, looking strangely sheepish for a moment. Ahn offered his hand, fighting to hide the surging tide of joy that coursed through him at the prospect of working more with Moya the Muddy.
Lizzie Sinclaire 