Karav loosened the straps on his sword and trotted to the tent where the mage waited. Pushing open the entrance, he signaled her. She read the urgency on his face, pulled up her hood and hurried to him.

Tieran brushed by them into the tent. Karav waited with the mage a short distance away, observing the activity of the camp. He had thought the men gone but soon saw they were sleeping. The two guards went down each line of tents and pounded on the thick canvas. Mercenaries dressed for battle with mussed hair and sleepy eyes exited the tents.

With a glance around, Karav realized the warriors were not yet ready to face the enemy barreling over nearby hills towards them.

“Wait here,” he told Sela.

Karav broke into a trot then a dead run. He freed his broadsword and a short sword as his long strides swallowed the earth. He ran to the top of the hill to the west, reaching it just as the marauders did. With a battle cry that terrified most men, Karav whirled and chopped, severing the head of the first attacker’s horse clean off. The animal’s body dropped, and its rider stumbled out of the saddle.

The rider’s head was the next to go. Karav quickly assessed these were not his enemies. They were mounted Inlanders, not mage-warriors or priests bearing the sigils of their kingdoms on their chests and shields.

Karav chopped down several more horses and men, until there were too many for him to stop. He loped towards camp, slashing through horses’ legs and riders’ bodies as he ran.

The men of the camp clashed with the invaders. Horses bowled over a few of the first men to oppose them, and Karav took up a position in front of the camp, hacking and slashing. He fell into a rhythm and left the connection between him and the mage open, so he would know if she was in danger. She was scared but calm in the back of camp.

“The mage, she refused to move!” Tieran shouted to him as he joined him.

“I forbade it,” Karav replied.

“She is not the master she claims to be!”

Karav said nothing, maneuvering to watch the younger man fight. Tieran moved with grace and agility, his blows as strong as Karav’s. He was ruthless, fearless, and brutal. He fought like an Inlander: disciplined but without any sort of honor or mercy in how he struck down his opponent. He gutted men and left them to die agonizing deaths. Trained for civilized warfare from a young age, Karav would never treat his enemy to anything but a quick, merciful death.

Still, Tieran fought with skill and speed Karav was unable to match.

Invaders on horseback flanked the camp.

“Go to the mage. Take her to the pond,” Karav commanded Tieran.

“You go to the mage!”

Karav bit back his response. Tieran had yet to understand his duty was to Sela first, his kin second. After chopping down two more men, Karav retreated through the camp. The camp would be surrounded soon.

“Come!” he barked as he trotted by the fidgeting mage.

Sela scrambled after him. The mage remained far enough not to find herself on the wrong end of his sword but close enough for her to dart beneath his swinging sword arm if someone came for her. Karav paused beside the waterhole. It was of moderate size. He did not know if it held enough magic for her to use.

He motioned to it. Distressed by the largest battle she had ever been involved in, Sela dropped to her knees on the bank and stretched for the water. The first of the horsemen reached them, and Karav turned his back to her to fight. The hilt of his sword grew warm as the stone within it responded to her summons.

More and more horses poured over the hills, and Karav wondered in passing what Tieran’s chieftain uncle had done to draw these numbers of enemies. Droplets of water splattered onto his head, and he glanced up.

The murky water of the pond rose and gathered above the camp, swirling and flowing with the graceful ease of smoke.

“Karav!” his mage cried suddenly.

He whirled, chopping down the rider headed to her. He snatched her against his body. She didn’t resist and moved with him as he whirled and slashed before releasing her in an area free of attackers. Sela spun away and lifted her gaze to the water.

Arrows fell around him. Irritated, Karav pointed to the six men on the hilltop picking off men in the valley.

The mage responded, and tendrils of water snaked from the floating pond overhead towards the bowmen. One by one, they were snatched and dragged into the swirling water above, rendered unconscious, and then spit out into the muddy hole beside Karav. When the archers were gone, the water began plucking men off their steeds to incapacitate and deposit in the hole.

Sela did not kill. It was not in her nature. Karav had also forbidden it in order to protect her from the ugly nature of war.

“Karav!” Tieran’s shout came from the direction of one of the lines of tents. Horses and men trampled the tents and overran the camp.

Tieran and his blond cousin broke free of the fight, slashing off the body parts of invaders as they hurried towards Karav.

Karav turned as the warrior reached him. Tieran’s gaze went to the bodies collecting in the hole. He looked up at the suspended water then uneasily towards the water mage nearby.

“You wish to fight or stare?” Karav demanded, hacking another attacker in two.

“My uncle has ordered us to fall back. There is a fortress near here, due east, one of his strongholds. Take –”

“You take her,” Karav snarled.

“She will not leave you.”

“Then you make her.”

Dread crossed Tieran’s expression. He moved away, towards the mage. A moment later, Sela cried out in protest. Karav did not look. She had to learn.

“Fall back, Karav!” Tieran shouted.

Karav gave a stiff nod to show he heard, intent on remaining until the last of the survivors was out of the camp. He did not worry for himself. He never did. He glanced back to see the men gathering behind a perimeter of warriors. The perimeter grew smaller and smaller as their enemies pressed forward.

Tieran had managed to haul his ward in front of him onto the withers of his horse. She was struggling, but he locked one arm around her while raising his sword to fight off invaders with the other. The water above snatched up those attackers around her and Karav. Karav waited until he saw Tieran’s horse break free of the attackers before he returned his full attention to the battle.

Gods, how he missed battle! Without the mage to worry him, he unleashed every ounce of pent up anger and sorrow, including the heartfelt emotions she conveyed to him through their bond. When she was far enough away not to be in danger, the magic fled and the harmless water above rained down upon them. Karav chuckled and continued to fight long into the night alongside the chieftain, whose untiring skill with the blade was worthy of Karav’s admiration.

Grudgingly, as the night progressed, Karav admitted that the Inlanders – despite their many flaws – made valiant and worthy allies in battle. Not one of them ran, even the wounded that chose to be chopped down in place instead of retreating. They fought like a people accustomed to fighting and who had nothing to lose.

At long last, the battle became too costly, the loss of life too great, for both parties. The horsemen fell back, and Tieran’s chieftain called the remaining warriors to retreat to the point Tieran had mentioned.

Karav’s horse remained, and he mounted it, riding abreast of the chieftain. The fortress was not far, no more than five leagues from the camp.

The chieftain’s men lowered a drawbridge to the squat, stone fortress with thick walls. Karav rode through and dismounted in the bailey, senses picking up on Sela. His ward was scared but not in danger, simply uncomfortable, angry and cold.

If she was angry, she was safe.

“Come, Karav,” the chieftain ordered. “Tieran will want to speak to you, and then we must feast.”

Karav obeyed, trailing the middle-aged man who fought like someone half his age. The hold was crowded and too warm after the moons Karav spent journeying and sleeping beneath the stars. He found himself glancing up to see the sky despite knowing he was inside.

After several sets of stairs and corridors that all looked alike, the chieftain stopped in front of a wooden door. He knocked loudly then opened it without waiting.

“You left before the battle was won, coward,” he boomed at the younger man within. There was affection in his voice.

“Only giving our enemy a chance to challenge you,” came Tieran’s dry response.

Karav entered behind the chieftain. The mage sat in a corner opposite Tieran, and he knew why the new mage-warrior kept his distance. Tieran was fighting her draw hard. It was in the air, a magic tension that crackled and burned to those capable of feeling it. He had thought Tieran strong enough to last three days. Nay, Tieran would fold in one. The bond would be strong, stronger than any Karav had ever seen.

Unable to feel what only the mage-warriors could, Sela started to rise at the sight of him, her face brightening. Karav looked purposely at her hands, which were tied with rope. She rolled her eyes. It was enough of an admission of guilt to tell him she had earned her place and circumstances in the corner.

Karav approached the two Inlanders. The chieftain was recounting the battles while Tieran placed his wired body with his back to the woman. When there was a lull in the discussion, Karav addressed Tieran.

“She ran.”

“She tried,” Tieran said.

“This little whore?” the chieftain asked, noticing the woman for the first time. “She will serve you well this night.”

“Can you savages not understand? I am not a whore! I am a mage!” she snapped, rising to her feet.

“This is your mage?” The chieftain looked at Tieran, who ignored her. With great effort, Karav assessed.

He chuckled. Nay, Tieran would not last a day. As much as he fought, as strong as he was, their bond would be like none other.

“It’s near dawn,” Tieran said in response to Karav’s amusement.

The chieftain looked between them.

The mage’s anger fled, replaced by fear.

“It’s time for me to leave,” Karav said.

“You would drive out our greatest warrior?” The chieftain raised an eyebrow at Tieran.

“I choose to leave,” Karav said. “I have served my purpose here and now I must go.”

“You are leaving her?”

Karav glanced towards the corner. The chieftain frowned.

“It’s more of a curse, do you not agree?” he asked.

“Aye,” Tieran responded. “She is my curse.”

“Very well. I will give orders to have supplies arranged,” the chieftain said to Karav.

“I’m grateful, but I do not need them,” Karav replied.

The chieftain held his gaze. Understanding crossed his features. He said nothing more but clapped Karav on the arm and left the chamber.

“Karav-” the mage started.

“Do not leave your corner!” Tieran ordered.

“I wish to say farewell.”

Tieran snatched his sword belt.

“Please,” she added in a whisper.

“Accompany us outside,” he snapped.

Sela hurried to Karav. He sliced her hands free. She was gazing at him in disbelief, as if still hoping there was a chance his mind would change, and he would take her with him. Karav stepped into the hall. Sela stayed by his side, her arm against his. Their bond was a comfort to her as much as to him. He did not move away, and neither spoke as they awaited Tieran. She pulled up her hood.

Tieran left his chambers, meeting Karav’s gaze briefly. There was too much anger and tension in his frame for him to speak. He walked down the hallway instead, through the maze of the hold.

Karav had not thought the battle to last as long as it had. When they reached the bailey, dawn was already lighting up the sky. The sun would soon peek over the horizon, and one of his final days would begin.

The chieftain waited with his horse near the gate leading out of the bailey and into the rolling plains. Karav approached and offered a bow of his head.

“The horse is for my mage,” he told him. “She must always have a strong, swift steed.” These words were for Tieran, who was even tenser outside, as if he, too, shared the mage’s fervent desire that Karav would remain or take her with him.

Tieran’s arms were crossed. He nodded to confirm he heard.

Karav unfastened his cloak and slung it across the saddle then stripped off his weapons. He placed the daggers, short sword and throwing dirks in a saddlebag then pulled the bag free and handed it to the chieftain.

“You may sell these,” he said. “The daggers will fetch a good price. This will pay for my mage’s food and boarding for as long as she must remain among your kinsmen.”

Sela watched him, devastated. She said nothing. She did not move.

Karav unstrapped the broadsword at his back and hefted it across both hands. He presented it to Tieran. For a moment, the Inlander did not move, and Karav knew he fought himself. When Tieran reached out to claim it, the blue gem in the hilt flared to life.

“I’ve never seen a Moonburrian blade,” he said, fascinated.

“You know the tale? About how the Moonburrian blade is the only sword that can kill a dragon?” Karav asked.

“Dragons!” Tieran’s uncle laughed. “I have heard it all.”

Tieran smiled, but his thoughtful gaze was on Karav.

“They exist in the land of Draco,” Karav said grimly. “The sword in your hand can never be defeated by man, beast or magic. The gem is blue, for the water mage. This is the first blade ever forged by the first Moon King, and blessed by the Moon God.”

“More gods and kings,” Tieran said and shook his head.

“The sword is forged from a single piece of metal. It will never break and will never need sharpening or polish. As long as you hold it, you will have the magic of the ancient mages and the Moon God to guide your strikes.”

Tieran’s gaze went to the sword. He hesitated then pulled it free from its plain scabbard, hefting it to check its weight and balance. His expression turned pleased then impressed by the lightness of the magic sword. He sheathed it.

“It’s the most decent blade I’ve seen,” Tieran said. “I don’t know if I believe in your gods and kings, but this sword might convince me the Moonburrians know how to make a sound weapon.”

“The price of such a blade, and my horse, is that they must be used to safeguard a mage,” Karav said.

“A woman mage,” the chieftain said in a voice that left no second thought as to what he thought.

“The price is high,” Tieran agreed and eyed the gem in the hilt. He shook his head and slung the broadsword in place at his back, as Karav had carried it. “We will walk you through the gate.”

Tieran’s face was flushed and his eyes were fevered, as if he needed air. When Karav was far enough away, he would laugh.

His mage walked beside him. He felt the emotions, many too intense for him to identify. She was struggling, too.

Through the gates and across the drawbridge, they walked together one final time. The journey seemed longer than the fourteen moons they’d traveled through the kingdoms of Biu and Iliu.

Karav stopped not far down the dirt road leading away from the fortress, aware Sela would go as far as he allowed. The chieftain and Tieran paused behind them, speaking quietly.

Karav faced his mage. She stood before him, silent. He pushed her hood down to see her face. She was ashen, her blue eyes flat and unblinking. Her appearance was one of someone who knew the man she loved as a father was walking to his death.

“I know you well enough to know you will test him,” he said, a small smile on his face. “Do so carefully. He does not have my patience or my wisdom.”

Her lower lip quivered.

“You are all I leave behind here,” he added. “Be strong. If you are asked to fight for someone you do not respect or trust, then it is better for you to disobey. Our king and his priests may not always be just, and their orders need not always be followed, if they go against your heart and what you feel to be just. You must think for yourself now. I cannot advise you on how to act. Trust your mind and heart to guide you. Do you understand?”

Her eyes watered. Still, she said nothing, and he felt her struggling to control the overwhelming emotions within her. Karav turned away. The road led up a hill and then disappeared over the crest. He began walking, at peace with himself, even if not fully convinced his ward would be safe.

He had walked halfway up the hill when Sela finally called out.

“Karav, wait!” Her footfalls came quickly as she ran after him.

He stopped, and she circled him, breathing uneven. Sela stood toe-to-toe with him then wrapped her arms around him tightly. Karav groaned as her pain became his when they touched. He returned the hug and nuzzled her hair, breathing in her familiar scent one last time.

“Please don’t go,” she whispered.

“I must.”

“Then please take me with you.”

“I cannot.”

“Please, Karav,” she begged in a hushed voice. “Please!”

“Make me proud,” he replied in a whisper.

“I love you.”

“I love you, daughter.” He released her, his chest aching. The memories in his mind were of the first time they met, when she was but a child. “Now, go to your new master.”

She refused to move. The panic in her gaze warned him she was likely to make her new warrior’s life hell for a few days, if not longer.

“Tieran,” he called out over his shoulder. “Come claim your mage.”

Tieran closed the distance at once and gripped her arm. The mage did not resist as he pulled her out of Karav’s path. Karav walked forward, over the hill, leaving the mage and world behind him. Only once did Sela cry out, and then her suffering was felt, not heard.

Farewell, Sela.