Prologue

Five thousand one hundred thirty-two years earlier...

The ceremony was brief but well attended.

The young woman’s parents and sisters had come to show their support, along with all the current members of the Mage Knights and several former members who’d been serving as instructors.

There were also a number of High Guard soldiers and quite a few young civilians Hera didn’t recognize—most likely friends of the guest of honor. Ariadne, if she remembered the name correctly.

Hera quietly greeted a few of her comrades, then stood at the back of the chamber, not wanting her presence to distract the attendees. Today was meant to celebrate the girl’s achievement. Hera had suffered through more than enough celebrations of her own in the weeks since the war had ended.

A wave of whispers rolled over the room when Bear appeared, lumbering in through the door and taking a seat on his haunches in the middle of the central aisle. He was too large to fit between the rows of chairs. Every soldier and knight in the room stood and bowed to him, but Bear merely let out a grunt and watched the stage intently, making it apparent why he’d come.

His presence, though unexpected, prompted the ceremony to begin. The new leader of the Mage Knights, Captain Thedan, inducted Ariadne into the order, the young woman wearing Hera’s own panoply and bearing her longsword.

The ceremony brought back memories. Hera had conducted it herself a dozen times in the seven years she’d led the order. Many of those recipients were dead now. The rest were with her in the audience.

It was strange to watch the proceedings from this end, and she felt naked without the equipment she’d borne for the past sixteen years. Unfortunately, mirrorsteel was expensive, and the enchantments used to construct a Mage Knight’s equipment were difficult and time-consuming. The order itself only owned a dozen complete sets, each of which was passed down from one bearer to the next. Hera was still considering whether to requisition a new suit of armor and a new sword from the shaper wizards and the enchanters. With the rebuilding efforts having barely begun, it might take years before her requests reached the top of the list, but wardens did have certain rights.

After the ceremony, she waited for the crowd of well-wishers to die down, then stopped the young woman before she could leave the hall.

“The armor looks good on you,” Hera said. “How does it feel?”

Ariadne’s eyes went wide when she realized who’d stepped in front of her. The two of them had only spoken once before. “Captain!” the girl said, standing up straight. “It adjusted itself, like the instructors said it would.”

Hera gave her a ghost of a smile. “Not a captain anymore, and that’s not quite what I meant. You wear it well, but how does it feel now that you bear the panoply?”

“Today was the first time I wore it in public. A woman came up to me and thanked me for ending the war. I had to tell her I wasn’t there.”

“You’re a symbol now. You represent something greater than yourself.”

“I promise I’ll bring honor to your blade, Captain Hera.”

“I’m sure you will.” Hera was about to take her leave, but then decided to ask a question which had been troubling her. “Why did you do it?”

“Do what, Captain?”

“You burned out your gift of wizardry, even knowing your elementalism was too weak for you to be seriously considered as a candidate. You had the potential to be a promising wizard, but you chose this instead.”

In the heat of a melee battle, every second counted. Mage Knights burned their arcane spells into their minds so they could cast them instantaneously and eliminate interference from metal armor, but it came at a steep price. They lost much of a wizard’s flexibility in learning new spells.

Ariadne had gone through the entire process, even though, in normal times, she’d never have been selected for the order at all. But the Mage Knights had suffered heavy losses during the war, and Ariadne was the last trained candidate left. Even now, there’d been talk about leaving one spot open, but the king had worried that doing so would show weakness at a time when they needed to project strength.

A flash of pain crossed the girl’s face. “My brother was stationed at Tir Nok when it fell. Heavy infantry.” There was no need to say what had happened to him. “I made my decision seven years ago, during the worst of the fighting. If the Mage Knights hadn’t chosen me, I would have joined the High Guard as a war mage. My abilities would have still been of use on the battlefield. A war mage doesn’t need a mirrorsteel blade.”

“And now that there are no more battlefields?”

“I will stand ready until I’m needed.”

Hera nodded. The girl was determined, at least. She was also a talented arcane mage ... and an incredibly weak elder mage. She might make a good choice for Hera’s first bondmate. Her training to master one magic would help when learning the other.

But the war was over, and there was no need to rush into anything. Hera would have to get to know her first. It took effort and luck to find bondmates who could be tolerated as the centuries passed. Hera was a warden now—she had all the time in the world to make her choices.

The bright lights of the World Fountain livened up the courtyard, but they no longer held Hera’s attention as they once had. She hurried past and stopped along the totem walk just long enough to give Owl a quick bow. It was only a statue, of course, and didn’t respond, but today of all days, it seemed appropriate to pay heed to Wisdom.

The guards standing at the entrance to Fortress Central didn’t stop her, or even question her. They recognized her. These days, everyone seemed to recognize her.

In the council chamber, she started toward her normal seat before she saw Thedan already sitting there. Of course. Hera would be on the other side of the table now. A new chair had been added for her to the right of Demea, the next-youngest warden.

Youth was relative, though; Demea was over four hundred years old. Hera had to push down a quick burst of anger at that. Other than Thedan and Ephrenia, who were bonded to wardens, the remaining Mage Knights were quite young. The war hadn’t been kind to their numbers. The wardens—who’d almost single-handedly won the Second Demon War—had seldom placed themselves at risk during the Third. Instead, they’d allowed the High Guard, the Mage Knights, and sometimes even their own bondmates to fight and die in their place.

In fairness, Demea was no fighter, but after four hundred years, it seemed like anyone could have learned enough to be helpful.

Even Pallis himself, the greatest warrior the people had ever known, had seldom taken to the battlefield this time around. He’d insisted the wardens were working on something too important to delay—some new magic that would end the war, end all wars.

And then Hera and her Mage Knights had won the war for them, defeating Vatarxis and his lieutenants, while the remnants of the High Guard, bolstered by refugees from Tir a Tir and Tir Ankara, had fought the demon forces to a bloody standstill.

Hera hadn’t killed Vatarxis—she wasn’t even sure if that was possible—but somehow, after hours of single combat, she’d forced him to yield. She couldn’t help but feel he’d been secretly laughing at her while she’d insisted on the terms of surrender, but so far, he’d held to them. It had been nearly a month and there’d been no further incursions. The People had gradually begun to realize the fighting was finally over.

It had been a major embarrassment for the wardens, but when they’d announced that they’d learned how to control the Choosing and would be selecting a new member for their order, Hera herself had been the only choice the people would accept.

Some of the wardens had taken it with better grace than others.

She had to cease her ruminating when King Argyros called the meeting to order.

At the far ends of the table, two Sendings were activated. Boreas’s and Iris’s illusionary heads appeared, looking down at everyone else. The two wardens were away from Tir Yadar.

Argyros skipped over the pleasantries and went straight to the matters of the day. “What news of the refugees?” he asked in a tired voice. Fifteen years of war had aged him.

It was the seneschal who answered. “The Ankarans have begun returning west, but the Tirians are requesting further aid. Tir a Tir was razed to the ground. They have no foodstores and won’t be able to build sufficient shelters before the weather turns.”

General Straton frowned. “We’ve barely begun to rebuild Van Kir,” he said.

“We can spare ten shaper wizards,” Prince Lydos told him. “It’s either that or we need to try to find room for them all here.”

The king nodded. “What about crops? Can the elder mages speed up the growing cycle any further?”

“It would be difficult, Sire,” Demea said. “Most of the farmland in Van Kir is either already accelerated or it was ruined by the fighting. Perhaps with the Staff of Life...”

“The Staff would kill you, Demea,” Iris said, her voice coming through the Sending clearly, despite the haziness of her face. “What a pity that someone sent away all the druids.”

“You insisted on new forests for the vasta, Iris, and that’s what I gave you,” the king said. “It’s away from our own lands as well as any known demon incursions into Aravadora, just as you requested. You grew the damned forest yourself!”

“Yes, I wanted new forests. I didn’t want you to forcibly remove my people from their old ones!” The tree bond made it difficult for the elven people to show much anger, but Iris had been a warden for a long time. She’d learned from the best.

“What’s done is done. It got them away from the fighting, didn’t it? They would have died if they hadn’t been evacuated, and Tir Illia was the only destination that made sense. We’ll send the remaining archer companies over as soon as enough ships are available. Unless you want me to send them your way instead?”

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