Matabar

Ardi patted the old bay horse on the neck, checked to make sure his bedroll was securely tied to the saddle, and tightened the laces of his cloak. In the prairies and steppes, the most important thing was not to rely on the warmth of the sun and to ensure that you always had dry and warm clothing ready in advance.

“They should’ve been here by now,” one of the members of the unit muttered nervously. Ardan hadn’t caught his name, and aside from his cross-eyed gaze, the man didn’t stand out from the group.

“Calm down,” Yonatan said curtly, calmly rocking in his saddle. Unlike him and Gleb, everyone else had dismounted. “It’s been a week of rain. The ground is soaked, and the coaches are moving slower. We can wait.”

For four hours now, they had been riding along the edge of the prairie. Just as Cassara had warned him, Yonatan was indeed obsessed with punctuality. You could practically set your clock by him. Every thirty minutes, he would reach into his pants pocket, pull out a watch on a long chain, click open the cover, and then jot something down in a travel notebook.

He was likely keeping a log. Or maybe a diary. Or perhaps...

Ardan shook his head. He was trying to occupy his mind, which felt starved after a month without puzzles or magical seals. And Gleb, who was riding annoyingly close to Ardi, was unlikely to loosen the bag with the prisoner’s books and staff that was tied to his saddle.

And so, the few belongings Ardan currently possessed consisted of two sets of seasonal clothing sewn for him by his mother and packed into saddlebags strapped to his horse, a leather travel cloak and a wide-brimmed hat given to him by the unit — so he wouldn’t stand out, apparently — a pair of work boots that were still sturdy but would soon require some maintenance, a wallet with a handful of exes hidden in his boot, and an old work knife.

Around his neck hung a leather cord with Ergar’s fang and a small oak figurine on it, and on his wrist was a bracelet of black silk with white Sidhe runes woven into it. Whenever the sleeves of his jacket rode up, exposing Ardi’s wrist, he could feel Gleb’s watchful gaze on it.

In the past month, Ardan had exchanged at least a few words with every member of the expedition. They were a diverse group, varying in age and even gender — besides Cassara, there were two other women in the unit — but they all shared one thing: a complete indifference to their prisoner/cargo. Only Gleb had shown Ardi open hostility mixed with something that could only be described as greed.

“Just hold on a little longer,” Ardan whispered in the language of the beasts, stroking the horse’s mane. “Soon, we’ll be on our way, and you’ll be able to stretch your legs.”

“Food,” the bay horse replied, nibbling on grass and flowers. “Tasty. Calm. Run… run. No run, food!”

Ardi smiled. He wondered if he had sounded like that to others when he’d first tried speaking the Imperial language. Unfortunately, domestic animals didn’t quite understand the language of wild beasts. It was like speaking the same language but different dialects. It sounded similar, but the details were hard to grasp.

Ardan double-checked that the girth was still tight and gave the stirrup strap a tug — if the seams split, it would be the most bothersome part of the saddle to repair. And yet… he couldn’t resist and turned back to look.

There, to the north, rose the familiar mountains that tightly embraced his home. Their mighty peaks loomed like ancient warriors, guarding the life he had left behind. He’d known that this sight would awaken a mix of melancholy and longing in him, threatening to consume his soul entirely, but he still couldn’t tear his eyes away.

Once again, he was overwhelmed with deep regret for all the moments he had missed, for the times he hadn’t hugged his mother or shared in his brother’s joy. These fleeting moments, flickering in the depths of his consciousness like the last glimmers of a dying star, had once seemed like a given to him, but now they were the most precious things Ardan carried with him.

Suddenly, above the peaks, among the stately clouds, an eagle appeared, soaring effortlessly against the azure sky. Their eyes met, and the lord of the skies cried out, his call echoing through the air like a plea for Ardi to return to where he belonged. But Ardi only turned away and averted his gaze.

He couldn’t go back… Now his path lay onward, into the uncharted expanses of the prairies and steppes.

With a heavy heart, Ardi turned away from the mountains, and the weight of that simple, fleeting gesture settled on his shoulders like the yoke of a thousand sorrows. In that moment, he felt the very concept of “home” dissolve into the realm of memories, becoming an elusive phantom.

The pain of realization hit him like a sledgehammer. Pure and unclouded, it spread through his chest, threatening to tear it apart. And yet, somewhere within that agony, a small cub that had once crawled over the rocks of Ergar’s cave in search of water let out a short, but fierce growl. A growl full of determination to carve out a new path and start a new life, even as the cherished memories of home faded into the mist of days gone by.

Spurred on by these thoughts, he abruptly lifted his head and boldly met Gleb’s gaze.

The mage didn’t manage to look away in time and couldn’t pretend that the moment was just a coincidence.

“What do you want?” He hissed through clenched teeth.

“Me?” Ardan pointed to himself. “Nothing. You’ve been glaring at me like a wolf for a month, though.”

At the mention of wolves, the man grimaced and tightened his grip on the reins. Thanks to Cassara’s slip, Ardan had known he would react this way.

“Back off,” Gleb snapped.

Ardan might have wanted to follow this command, but something told him that if he did, nothing good would come of it in the future. Fully aware that an Imperial mage, especially one with three Stars, was no mere troll, Ardi nonetheless stepped forward.

Immediately, a dozen pairs of eyes turned in his direction. Cassara opened her mouth to speak, but Yonatan shook his head.

“You have my books and staff,” Ardan said firmly.

“And?”

“Give them back.”

Gleb snorted, then glanced at his superior. Yonatan just shrugged.

“We agreed that they’d stay with me for now, kid,” Gleb’s tone was haughty, but his gaze was hungrily fixed on the bracelet around Ardi’s wrist. “So, I’ll tell you one last time —back off.”

“We agreed it was only for the time being,” Ardi insisted.

Their gazes locked, but Gleb didn’t flinch. Not even when Ardan, out of habit after arguing with cowboys for so long, bared his teeth slightly and squared his shoulders.

“And what was that supposed to be?” The mage nearly laughed. “Kid, you seriously think you can scare me? I’ve kicked the asses of creatures that would make you piss yourself just hearing about them. I’m sorry to say that you wouldn’t even make it onto the waiting list to meet them.”

Ardan knew this well enough — after all, he was facing a member of the Second Chancery. But still…

“Give them back,” he repeated.

“Again, we agreed-”

“A month has passed,” Ardan cut him off and approached his horse — an aging gray mare that the man was riding.

“Time is a flexible concept,” the rider shrugged. “I’ll give them back when we get to Metropolis.”

Ardi narrowed his eyes. Just like when he’d stood next to that stream before the five wolves, or in that gorge where he’d found himself alone with the troll, Ardan knew he had encountered someone out of his league. And if he were to strictly follow Ergar’s teachings right then, he should retreat. Prepare. And only then should he attack. But there were exceptions to this rule, and his teacher had taught him that Ardi would know when it was right to break the law of not attacking someone stronger than himself.

Maybe Ardan was making a mistake. Maybe none of this was worth it. But that staff and those books were part of his memory of home. Part of what connected him to his mother, father, great-grandfather, and brother. And he couldn’t allow someone else to take control of his light.

“For the third time, I’m telling you to give those back. They’re mine.”

“A third time? Am I supposed to be convinced by that? I am telling you to back off before I explain it to you in a way you’ll understand.”

Only Cassara, upon hearing this, cursed and shook the folds of her cloak so that her hands could easily reach the handles of her revolver and saber.

Ardan placed his hand on the mare’s neck and spoke briefly in the language of beasts: “Throw him off.”

Unlike Ardan’s horse, which Yonatan had bought for him the day before they’d set out, all the other mounts had belonged to their riders for a long time. If the bond between the mare and Gleb had been stronger than just that of owner and animal, the trick wouldn’t have worked. The mare simply wouldn’t have harmed her friend. But this animal had no affection for her rider.

A wild neighing rang out as the mare reared and jerked from side to side. Gleb, clearly not expecting this, was thrown from the saddle, nearly getting tangled in the stirrups, and tumbled to the ground amid the laughter of the group.

Ardan, stepping over the recovering mage, approached the horse, patted her mane, and began untying the bag of books from the saddle when his instincts made him duck. He couldn’t avoid the blow entirely, but instead of the iron-capped staff striking his temple, it merely tore a strip of skin from his head and, after grazing his ear, bounced off the saddle itself.

Ardi leaped aside, and drew his knife with a swift motion, growling menacingly.

“Filthy animal,” Gleb spat, raising his staff. Made of iron and nearly two meters long, it was topped with a clawed hand clutching a murky Ley-crystal. “I’m sure command won’t mind if we bring you in without your eyes and ears.”

“They might not,” Yonatan suddenly interjected, “but I would.”

That last word was spoken with great emphasis, and Gleb hesitated slightly.

“He attacked me,” Gleb said more calmly. “I am an officer of the law and-”

“We’re not on an official mission,” Yonatan quickly reminded him.

“Damn it, lieutenant!” Gleb shouted. “Whose side are you on? Mine or this animal’s?”

Yonatan swore and adjusted his hat.

“I’m on the side of common sense, mage,” he spat on the ground. “We’ve got at least a month of the prairie and then a train ride with this kid ahead of us. I have no desire to worry about you two trying to kill each other the whole time.”

“Trying?” Gleb’s eyes flashed with contempt. “What’s there to try? He’s as good as dead right now.”

There was the click of a cocked revolver. Surprisingly, it wasn’t Cassara’s, but Yonatan’s.

“Here’s the deal, Davos,” Yonatan said smoothly, like a predator ready to pounce. “You’re from high society, right? So, let’s settle this the way you fine folk do.”

“What are you suggesting, lieutenant?”

Yonatan tapped his hat and winked.

“Normal folks call it a brawl,” he said. “In your circles — demons only know what it’s called. A duel or something.”

“A magical duel? With this beast?”

“Are you hard of hearing, mage?” Hissed one of the women — a seasoned warrior with a scarred face who carried a long rifle with a telescope mounted on top. “The boss already explained it to you. Either you settle things with the boy now, or we leave you here.”

“Yeah,” someone else chimed in. “No one’s interested in dealing with this. We’ve got enough problems already.”

Gleb swore, then looked at Ardi, and suddenly, he smiled widely. It was a nasty, arrogant smile.

“Untie your staff, pup,” he sneered. “And take your book.”

“Davos, you-”

“Shut up, vampire,” Gleb barked, muttering to himself under his breath. “Just what I needed in my life — being forced to listen to a dead thing. Damn scum… if it weren’t for that bastard major, I wouldn’t have to put up with your lowborn ignorance.”

It was unlikely that anyone else besides Ardan heard this, but at that moment, he wasn’t concerned with the finer points of the relationship between the mage and Yonatan’s unit. He was trying to maintain an outward calm while untying his staff from the saddle and retrieving his grimoire from the bag.

Thanks to reading a lot of Atta’nha’s books and scrolls, he knew of Aean’Hane duels, but they rarely involved combat. The contests usually involved giving the competitors a single name or word, and the one who could hold on to their power and maintain concentration the longest would win.

But something told Ardi that this would be different. And there was no turning back now. He had started this himself, but…

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“Damn it!” Gleb shouted, thrusting his staff toward his opponent. “He doesn’t even know what to do! Lieutenant, you’ve lost your mind if you think-”

“Your problem, mage,” Yonatan interrupted in a calm tone. “You took his trinkets, so now explain what to do. And don’t damage my cargo. You’ll be held accountable.”

Davos cursed for a while, then closed his eyes and began breathing steadily, trying to calm himself. Regaining control, he opened his eyes and looked at Ardan with that same, silent mockery from before.

“How many?”

Ardi was prepared for anything but this question, so he hesitated.

“How many rays in your Star, whelp?” Gleb clarified. “Two, three? How many?”

Ardan glanced quickly at Cassara, who gave a barely perceptible nod.

“Seven.”

Someone whistled, others clicked their tongues, and there were even a few restrained claps, and Yonatan himself raised an eyebrow slightly as well. Only Gleb looked as if he had stepped in a cow pie.

“According to Imperial law,” Gleb began to say reluctantly through clenched teeth, “if no lethal satisfaction is declared in a magical duel, which is prohibited without seconds appointed by the Magistrate, then the duel is conducted as a shield contest.”

Ardan understood about as much of this as… nothing, really, but he kept his composure. At least he hoped he did.

“You conjure a shield, and I either break it or shatter it,” Gleb rolled his eyes. Was that gesture not exclusive to human women? “Then I conjure a shield, and you break it. And so on and so forth until someone runs out of energy. The use of any means to restore our rays is prohibited.”

Ardan began flipping through his grimoire. Somewhere in the middle, a few pages were devoted to one of the few combat spells he’d found in the unknown Aean’Hane’s textbook.

“And how long am I supposed to keep waiting, kid?” Gleb shouted. “In the time you’ve wasted, I could’ve already made you rot from the inside and shit out your guts!”

Ardi paid him no mind. Finding the necessary seal, he scanned the runes and description of it:

[Star: Any

Number of Rays: 2 or more

School: Defensive/Elemental

Element: Universal

Maximum rune combinations: area/height/density/absorption]

“A simple universal shield.”

In the center of the multicolored circle rested five triangles that seemed to be chained down by runic script, under whose bases lay a pentagon pointing downward. If you looked closely, it really did resemble a shield. And each ray had the color of its element, symbolized by its corresponding rune. Earth, water, fire, air, and Ley energy — these were the elements from which, according to the author of the textbook, everything was formed.

“Alright, I take back what I just said. In the time you’ve spent fiddling with that book, I could’ve fathered two kids.”

“No one doubts your speed in that department,” one of the women snickered.

“That’s not what I… Damn it… Hurry up, whelp! This is just ridiculous! What kind of mage takes half a minute to set up a shield? Didn’t they teach you that a shield should appear instantly as soon as you think of it? That’s basic knowledge!”

Gleb kept talking and talking, his voice oozing more and more smugness with each word. Ardi, however, calmly and thoughtfully studied the seal. Of course, he suspected that in the time he’d spent contemplating, even a common house cat could have sent him to his ancestors, but the rules Gleb had stated had mentioned nothing about time limits. So, Ardan calmly considered the fact that he probably wouldn’t have the strength to break Gleb’s shield.

After all, although the man was only three rays ahead of Ardi, that was far from insignificant, and besides, most of those rays belonged to Stars of a higher order. Based on the knowledge he’d gleaned from the textbook, it was easy to conclude that even if Gleb used just one ray from each of his Stars, Ardan, with his limited arsenal, would never be able to break the resulting spell.

And so, the only thing he could hope for was to force Gleb to expend all his strength, after which he could use another loophole in the stated rules. His games with Skusty had taught him that it was far more important to notice what hadn’t been said than what had.

And Gleb hadn’t mentioned that their shields could only be broken with Star Magic…

Mentally rewriting the runes so that the shield would draw upon the maximum amount of energy, Ardan took hold of his staff and lifted it slightly off the ground. In his mind’s eye, the seal formed, and then threads of energy began to pull from the depths of his soul, directly from the center of his blazing, scarlet Star.

“Finally,” Gleb laughed as the tip of Ardi’s staff began to glow faintly. “And what, am I supposed to wait just as long while you form it?”

The process was long and difficult. For the first time ever, Ardan was forming a seal not for research or curiosity’s sake. He’d certainly never done so while trying to alter the structure of the spell and channel all his energy into it, either.

The threads kept threatening to snap and break the formation of the spell, but Ardan’s will was strong. He held them firmly, occasionally checking the book, and little by little, he traced the necessary patterns in his mind. Then, when his Star dimmed, he struck his staff hard against the ground, forcing the Ley energy to surge through the artifact and into reality.

For a brief moment, the pattern of the seal flashed before him, and then a shimmering rainbow veil appeared around him, like a soap bubble. It enveloped the young wizard in a sphere, causing the world outside to warp into waves and mirages.

Ardi barely resisted the urge to reach out and touch the thin membrane. How strange it was…

“I thought I was going to go completely gray,” Gleb sighed, then raised his staff above his head and brought it down sharply.

Immediately, a miniature, fiery seal flared on the mage’s staff, and its twin, much larger and now under Gleb’s feet, made the sky above Ardan blaze with orange light.

“Ard!” Cassara shouted. “Be careful!”

Everything happened in less than a heartbeat. Gleb formed the spell faster than even the quickest cowboys could draw a revolver from a holster, and sometimes, even that was impossible to follow. And then, from above, with a crack and a roar, a pillar of fire descended upon him. Twisting into a tight spiral, the flame snake struck his shield and spread across the surface of the veil, cutting Ardan off from the outside world.

All Ardan could see before him was blazing fire devouring his shield. In places, it was covered in a web of long cracks, and in others, it had been pierced, with tongues of flame already trying to reach Ardi’s clothes. And yet, he still stared in fascination at the raging element, as if there was no threat to be found in what was happening.

Then, with a soft, crystalline sound, the shield shattered into pieces, and the fire whirled around Ardi. The heat, comparable to what he had felt near a volcano’s crater, almost caused his skin to melt before everything fell silent. The flames vanished as suddenly as they had appeared, and Gleb waved his staff again, igniting a greenish seal. Immediately, a veil appeared around him, resembling transparent scales.

It was as if some spectral asp had coiled around the mage, its emerald, diamond-shaped scales occasionally flickering. Unlike Ardan’s shield, the asp’s coils never stopped moving and were constantly shifting.

“I forgot to mention this, kid,” Gleb’s lips curled into a predatory smile. “Technically, you challenged me to a duel, and as the challenged party, I have the legal right to demand satisfaction. My demand is this: if you lose, your books and staff become my property.”

Gleb couldn’t contain a series of low, rasping chuckles. The mage’s eyes gleamed with a sickly light, practically oozing the same greed for power that the Ley-wolves had exhibited. And Ardi’s heart skipped a beat. He had no spark left in his rays, and even if Gleb was now in the same situation, it wouldn’t matter.

There was only one hope left…

Ardan suddenly realized that his knife had somehow lightened. He glanced down and, to his surprise, found that the blade had melted into the grass, leaving only a charred hilt in his hand.

Gleb no longer bothered to conceal his triumphant laughter.

Ardi looked in his direction, then closed his eyes. If not the knife, then… They hadn’t said what kind of magic would need to be used to break the shield.

Atta’nha had never told her friend and student how he should use the few abilities of a Speaker that he had managed to learn. She’d always insisted that Ardi was free to choose what to do with them.

He opened his mind and heart to the world around him.

Ardan stood on the edge of the vast prairie, its endless expanse stretching before him like a canvas painted with the greatest of nature’s beauties. The land, bathed in the vibrant hues of blooming meadows, was like a sea of flowers dancing under the gentle caresses of the winds.

A modest breeze whispered through them, carrying with it sweet scents and the promise of freedom. It brushed against Ardi’s skin, sending shivers down his arms, flowing deeper still and coursing through his veins, rekindling that deep, primal longing for the wild freedom that lay beyond the horizon.

But none of this was what he sought…

Ardan ran further along the paths of the wind, higher and higher.

He found what he’d been looking for in a place where dark clouds gathered, filling with the inevitable ferocity of the storm that was brewing in the depths of their brooding hearts. The air grew heavier, crackling with the sparks of the tempest unfolding high above, and it seemed like reality itself was holding its breath in anticipation.

Ardan felt the treacherous, sticky claws of fear pierce him as he gazed upon the swirling vortex of roiling darkness threatening to engulf the fragile beauty of the prairies. And yet, amid the terror, a determination as fierce as the storm itself was born within him — a burning desire to stand against the gale and show what he was capable of, not just to the untamed forces of nature, but to the depths of his own soul as well.

He longed to face the tempest, to let the rain and wind lash at him, as if they were the embodiment of the fear he had fought against since childhood.

“Is that… rain?”

“Today was supposed to be clear weather…”

And in that darkness, Ardan heard a name. He reached for it and stood beside it as an equal. Defying his own fear and doubts, Ardan took the name and placed it into his staff. Then he opened his eyes and held it before him, swinging it forward as he spoke words that had no sound.

The wooden tip of his staff flared with a bright, white light, and slicing through the downpour that had suddenly struck the prairies, an icy bolt of lightning shot toward the bewildered Gleb. It struck his shield, causing the emerald scales of it to buckle but not break yet. Ardan, knowing he couldn’t maintain his concentration for long, swung his staff once more, and the icy bolt, obeying his will, bent into a whip before soaring a few meters upwards and, like Gleb’s own pillar of fire from earlier, came crashing down in a swift, vertical strike.

Gleb’s shield cracked, then shattered into hundreds of tiny shards that instantly dissolved in the air, and along with them, the lightning turned into a stream of water, drenching the already soaked riders further.

Ardi staggered backwards, gasping, and leaned against his horse. Streams of sweat poured down his face and body, and he breathed heavily, knowing that if not for the mare, which was holding him up, he would have collapsed to the ground.

“Fucking half-blood!” Gleb shouted as the crystal embedded into the tip of his staff glowed with a greenish light.

A dark shadow flickered.

A blade flashed, pressing against the mage’s chest.

“Don’t forget who you serve, vampire,” Gleb hissed. “If I give the order, you’ll slit this bastard’s throat yourself.”

“You’re right, human,” Cassara spoke with that same mundane calm as always. “And I won’t even threaten to kill you. Why would I? Years will pass, Davos. Decades. You’ll forget what happened here. But I’ll remember. And I’ll wait. Maybe twenty years, maybe longer. I’ll wait until you have children. But I won’t kill them either, why bother? I’ll wait longer. Until one of them becomes the most precious thing in your heart. Wait until he or she thinks up a name for their child. And then I’ll carve it out of its mother’s womb, along with both their hearts, and bring them to you. And you’ll know that it happened because of you.”

For a moment, Gleb stared into the vampire’s eyes, then abruptly turned away and walked past Cassara toward Ardi. Without looking at him, the mage untied the bag that still had his other book in it from his saddle and tossed it to the ground before climbing back into the saddle.

“Approach my horse again,” he muttered quietly, so that only Ardan could hear him. “And believe me, that dead whore won’t save you.”

A gunshot rang out.

Startled, Ardan fell to the ground. Shouts echoed around him, horses neighed, triggers clicked, and next to Ardan, lay Gleb Davos. His gray-streaked hair was scattered across his face, which now bore an expression of utter surprise. And it would do so forever, because with a bullet hole between his eyes, from which thick blood flowed, and judging by all those bloody chunks scattered across the grass, he was unlikely to ever display any other emotion.

Ardan, still lying there, looked over at Cassara. The barrel of her revolver was still smoking, and with a deft spin around her index finger, she returned it to its holster and closed her cloak.

“Damn it! By the Face of Light! Demons and angels! Star dust and dead whores!”

“Why dead whores?” Someone in the unit asked.

“Because I said so, damn it!” Yonatan shouted, then turned to the vampire. “Cassara! What the hell? What’s going on here?”

Ardan noticed that the unit leader was clutching some kind of medallion in the shape of a skull with several runes on it. They were clearly in the Sidhe language, but it was impossible to make them out due to the rain.

“He wouldn’t have stood down,” Cassara said in her customary emotionless tone. Her beautiful face was a mask of indifference as she approached her horse, ran her hand over its black muzzle, and mounted it. “In the end, it would have led to a much less humane duel between him and Ard. Do you want to anger the higher-ups and ruin the future Emperor’s plans because of some mage? Our necks would be the ones in the noose then.”

Yonatan cursed, this time more profanely.

“Be honest, vampire — was it because of his insult? You’re not the only one here with sharp hearing, you know.”

“Maybe,” Cassara replied in that same flat tone. “But that doesn’t make me wrong.”

“It doesn’t,” Yonatan agreed. For a while, he alternated his gaze between the medallion and the unruffled Cassara, then swore a third time and turned to the unit. “Anyone have any complaints about what Cassara just did?”

There were chuckles and smirks.

“Davos had it coming for a while.”

“Can’t stand arrogant mages.”

“And nobles! This one was both.”

“I was thinking about sharing some lead with him myself.”

“You’re a bloodthirsty bunch of bastards,” Yonatan muttered, not without a hint of pride, drawing more laughter from them. Then he turned his gaze back to Ardan. “You. Overgrown half-blood. Strip anything valuable off him that a mage might carry. Strap it to the saddle. Leave the body — the beasts will take care of it.”

Ardan sat up, still feeling too weak to stand. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the corpse, its head sporting a bullet hole and its eyes glazed over with no remnants of life.

“Hey! Kid!” Yonatan barked. “The marshals are already on the horizon. I’m not in the mood to explain why I’ve got a corpse here. Move it!”

With great effort, Ardan forced himself to look away and, using his staff for support, got to his feet. His legs trembled like a brittle birch tree. He looked down at the body and barely suppressed the urge to vomit. He had seen death before, and as Ergar’s apprentice, he had even caused it on more than one occasion. But that had been during a hunt. This was different.

He had never witnessed a murder before. And this…

“What are you waiting for?” Yonatan demanded.

“I… I… I…” Ardan shook his head, trying to regain control. “I don’t know what might be valuable.”

“Use your analyzer! Anything that contains Ley energy is valuable!”

“I don’t have an analyzer.”

Ardi had given the child-sized one issued by the Empire to his brother when the boy’s old one had broken, and getting a new one had seemed unnecessary at the time.

“What have I done to deserve this gift from the Face of Light?” Yonatan groaned. “Take his belt, rings, bracelets, earrings, and necklace. Any personal items. Tie his staff to the saddle and put his book in a bag. Why the fuck do I even have to explain this…”

Ardi desperately wanted to point out that he had never before engaged in looting, and technically, he wasn’t Yonatan’s subordinate, but rather, his prisoner, but he held his tongue. Doing his best not to touch the corpse, he removed two rings with multicolored stones, slid off a chain with runes visible between the links, then unbuckled the dead man’s belt and placed everything in the same bag as Gleb’s grimoire.

Securing the staff to the mage’s mare, Ardan took her reins and tied them to the horn of his own saddle.

“At least he can manage that much,” Yonatan exhaled, earning a few approving chuckles, and waited until Ardan mounted up. “Alright, kid, our official mage got lost somewhere in the Alcade Mountains. Maybe he couldn’t resist the temptation of exploring old sanctuaries.”

“And his belongings?” Someone from the unit asked.

“What belongings?” Yonatan shot back with a steely look. “Exactly, kid,” he added, glancing back at Ardan. “Those aren’t Gleb’s things. We found them in an old cache while thoroughly searching the mountains for our missing mage. Got it?”

Ardan nodded, his mind still reeling from what had just happened.

“And another thing — you got our mage killed, so now you’re taking over his duties.”

“But-”

“Not interested, kid!” Yonatan snapped. “I said you’ll do it, so you answer with a, ‘Yes, sir.’ That’s the whole conversation. Whether you can or can’t, know how or don’t know how, I care about that shit as much as Davos cares about tomorrow’s weather. Now, get moving, everyone. We’re going to meet the marshals soon, and I don’t feel like explaining how a lost mage’s body fell from the sky right into our laps.”

“Must’ve been brought by an eagle,” someone quipped.

“Katerina, next time you feel like cracking a joke, just don’t. Just… don’t.”

“Why, what’s the matter with-”

“Hiya!” Yonatan whipped his horse into a gallop.

The others followed suit. Ardan exchanged a quick glance with Cassara and spurred his bay on as well. He squinted through the thinning rain at the horizon, but saw no one. Still, Yonatan was leading them in a specific direction, which was enough to set Ardan on edge. Either the lieutenant had known all along where the meeting point was, or he had better eyesight than a Matabar half-blood.

Both possibilities made Ardan nervous, though perhaps not as much as the fact that he was leading a dead man’s horse.

One thing was clear: whatever lay ahead, he was far from home now. Adventures awaited him — the kind he’d hoped to escape from in his childhood. And yet, they had found him again.

Ardi shook his head sadly.

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