Aether and Honor: Ahran Archives, #3

By Eliza Sinclair

A soldier scarred by her past and a mage with fearsome power must join forces to defeat awakening evil and discover that trust and hope can heal even the deepest wounds.

Moya Anders, a brave and capable soldier, has sworn to protect the people of Tanahr to her last breath. Behind that record of service is a hidden and even greater duty—a vow to guard the sacred leytemples of Ahra when called, even if it means leaving all that she loves behind.

Ahndras Frost is a man living with the ghosts of his past, and with the dark magic he never asked for. His only desire is to safeguard Tanahr and its people despite those who look down upon his void born aethermagic. As a new threat creeps through the leylines of Tanahr, Ahn must put aside his doubts and give in to his power—the only power that can vanquish such evil.

Moya, scarred by her experiences with aethermages, comes face to face with the horrors invading Duskmere, barely escaping with her life. Ahn's wits and aether save her life, and Moya vows to stay by his side and complete her mission, finding more than she bargained for in the process—hope amidst dangerous trials, and a burgeoning affection between two very different souls.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Eliza Sinclair
• Release date: May 23, 2023
• ISBN: 9781945249143

Book preview

Aether and Honor

Ahran Archives

Book Three

Eliza Sinclair

Dedication

To those who never forgot how to daydream—the world is lovelier because of who you are!

Copyright Page

OMG, writing is work. A lot of work. Since it is so much work (done out of the author’s love of the words and worlds she builds), it would be really mean to steal her books. TL:DR? Stealing books is bad. Thank you for not being a book-stealer and thank you for reading!

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Aether and Honor

Ahran Archives, Book Three

Copyright © 2023 by Eliza Sinclair

ISBN: 978-1-945249-14-3

All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be used, transmitted, or reproduced in any manner or form without written permission from the author, except for short quotations excerpted for critical articles and reviews.

First eBook edition: February 2023

elizasinclair.com

Cosmic Cat Publishing

10013 West 50th Terrace

Merriam, Kansas 66203

A soldier scarred by her past and a mage with fearsome power must join forces to defeat awakening evil and discover that trust and hope can heal even the deepest wounds.

Moya Anders, a brave and capable soldier, has sworn to protect the people of Tanahr to her last breath. Behind that record of service is a hidden and even greater duty—a vow to guard the sacred leytemples of Ahra when called, even if it means leaving all that she loves behind.

Ahndras Frost is a man living with the ghosts of his past, and with the dark magic he never asked for. His only desire is to safeguard Tanahr and its people despite those who look down upon his void born aethermagic. As a new threat creeps through the leylines of Tanahr, Ahn must put aside his doubts and give in to his power—the only power that can vanquish such evil.

Moya, scarred by her experiences with aethermages, comes face to face with the horrors invading Duskmere, barely escaping with her life. Ahn’s wits and aether save her life, and Moya vows to stay by his side and complete her mission,  finding more than she bargained for in the process—hope amidst dangerous trials, and a burgeoning affection between two very different souls.

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Chapter One

One Month After The Kraah Attack On The Easthaven Mageguild

Moya Anders gazed out at the empty Mageguild Demesnes courtyard. She hated thunderstorms, and this one had been especially nasty. The grass shone silvery with water in the light from the magelamps, a young moon cowered behind ragged clouds, and Easthaven was eerily quiet.

The violence of the squall had felt wrong, full of angry winds screaming from the normally glass-still Greatsea Bay, ripping awnings from storefronts and shingles from roofs like scraps of parade-day confetti. Easthaven never had storms this late in the season. It just didn’t happen. Like many Ahrans, Moya had heard tales of times past when the Worldstorm surrounding their lands folded inward, clouds and rain enveloping all nations in shadow for Source knows how many untold days. Such darkness, and a gloom that engulfed the land…

Those stories terrified her as a child and to this day left her with a coldness that went beyond fear. Now that the Kraah were real, what other nightmares from the old tales might come to life?

Shake out of it, she snapped.

Thankfully she'd be heading home soon. She did not have to look down at the pocket watch her friend Jeron had made for her birthday to know her duty shift was ending. She yawned widely then rubbed the tiredness from her eyes. Right now, nothing in Tanahr sounded better than her peaceful lodgings and a hot cuppa made warmer with a big splash of Ladyluck’s Finest. She was halfway to the Garrison District in her mind when the rumble of hooves echoed into the otherwise quiet streets.

One rider, pressing fast to the main entrance—odd for this time of night, when most everyone had tucked in, hiding from the storm. Moya stood ready at the Demesne side gate, exhaustion fading. She waited for bit, relieved when she did not hear any alarm horns or shouting. She couldn’t handle a hullabaloo tonight. The whole reason there was now a permanent guard set on the Mageguild to begin with was from the worst sort of hullabaloo she’d ever known: a Kraah demon, a creature supposedly the stuff of fairytales, invading this very site.

Moya startled upright as someone jogged over to her posting—Kayne Stormborne, a recent Sionnach recruit to the Garrison approached, his ears perked and tail swishing.

Anders, I need you at the gatehouse, he said, voice unusually serious. Archmage Miir is here and wants to talk to you immediately.

Archmage Miir? Moya asked, shaking her head in confusion. She knew I was here at the Mageguild and not the Garrison?

Apparently. She said, ‘send her to me now,’ and I think she means the five-minutes-ago sort of now, Kayne muttered darkly.

Let’s see what this is about. Moya followed him over the sodden lawn. When she reached the gatehouse, a stable hand was helping a small woman from a grand white horse.

Go gently if you please. Moonflower is exhausted, even more than I am. Archmage Miir’s rasping voice sounded more tired than Moya had ever heard it. Ah, Moya. Glad you did not keep me waiting. It is good to see you again.

And you, Archmage Miir—you are most welcome. But is all well that you’re here at this hour? Should I summon Loremaster Olangah?

"Since you are speaking to me in the flesh and not via messenger, you can imagine all is not as it should be. Lucky for me, you are the one I need to speak to. We need not disturb the Loremaster for a bit." Miir nodded, as if convincing herself.

As you wish, Archmage. But I have to ask, is there any immediate danger to the Mageguild Demesnes or Easthaven? Moya braced herself for unwelcome news of rampaging Mechanae, Kraah sightings, unearthly dangers overtaking the land.

Archmage Miir sighed and shook her head, strands of long dark hair streaked with silver falling over her eyes. "Thankfully, not urgent. Not yet, anyway. This situation requires a… well, a special sort of intervention. I need your particular help, and I trust you after you guarded Sage Kate and I while we traveled to gather my supplies."

I see. I can meet with you after I’ve stopped by the garrison and checked in with the Captain, Moya said. An archmage was important and demanded immediate attention and respect, but as a Valiant, she had to follow established protocols.

Worry not—I’ve already let Hawke know I’d be stealing you away. Miir waved her hands in a sweeping gesture. We have much to discuss, and my business finds me in great need of tea. Now as for you, Miir said and turned to Kayne, who was trying to be inconspicuous, though his black ears angled forward, taking in the conversation. Miir gestured to her horse. I implore you to treat Moonflower like the queen among horses that she is. I’ll return for her soon.

Kayne sketched a bow, offering a sharp-toothed, rakish grin. I will see it done, Archmage. Moonflower will be a goddess in our care.

Moya inhaled deeply, the earthy hay and oats smell of the stable grounding her. This was clearly happening, whether she wanted it or not. I can at least manage refreshment for you, Archmage. The Duskcat has a fantastic selection of fancy teas and there’s always something good to eat, Moya said. If she needed to provide repast for her visitor, she might as well snag goodies for herself from her favorite watering hole. Especially if she was about to get bad news.

You had me at tea, Miir laughed.

On foot is fine, yes? The Duskcat is not far enough to warrant a portal, Moya said.

I could stand to stretch my legs after all that riding. I came straight from Bounty, Archmage Miir replied, and followed as Moya led her through the gate and along a road that skirted the Mageguild, cutting through a quiet neighborhood. They walked in the breath-held silence, their shoes tapping on the cobbles, neither speaking for a time. Finally, Moya couldn’t take the quiet.

Were you caught in the storm? She turned to look at the other woman, curious.

I’ve never seen the like, Archmage Miir replied, voice tight with worry. I’ve heard reports of other strange weather this past month—early heat in the Merrowlands and southern Umbra, swarms of glasswings in Sylvania, though I guess that’s not exactly weather, and flooding rains in Empyrea… The other woman’s words faded into nothing, her brow wrinkled in thought.

When did this start? Moya asked, already afraid of the answer she was certain the other woman would give.

After the Kraah attack on the Mageguild, of course, Miir replied dryly.

I knew you’d say that. Moya said, chills chasing up and down her arms.

Greater minds than mine are on this problem, I assure you, Miir said, angling a slight smile at Moya. "And you know how clever I am," she added with a short chuckle.

Best and the brightest, Moya said with a small laugh of her own. We’re almost there. She guided the Archmage through an alleyway and out onto a main thoroughfare, far less sleepy than the streets surrounding the Mageguild. Though the storm had hit as hard here as the rest of the city, there were still people milling about, the comforting light of magelamps glimmering on the damp stones and rain-splattered windows. A cascade of laughter and music spilled into the street as a party of youths, likely university students out past their curfews, burst through the wooden doors of the inn.

The firelight inside warmed Moya straight to her heart, the homey comfort of the Duskcat calming her jangled nerves. There were fewer people there than usual, making it a simple matter to secure a private parlor. Soon, she sat comfortably with a cup of starbloom tea and a plate of Melwin’s honey cakes on the table in front of her and watched Archmage Miir, her nervousness returning at the serious look on the other woman’s face.

I have a mission for you, Moya. Specifically you, and no other, Miir said, expression neutral. A mission approved as far up the chain of command as anything can go. Captain Hawke already knows, and I have his signed writ of approval.

A mission? As a Valiant, you mean? Moya asked, honey cake halfway to her mouth as she struggled to wrap her mind around what she’d just heard.

Partly as a Valiant, mostly more. What I must ask of you is something I would not do except in greatest need. I know the truth about you and your past. You are a temple guardian with experience protecting mages who cleanse corrupted leytemple sites. I know you left that world behind after the accident you survived—the same accident which brought you here to Easthaven in search of healing and respite. I am sorry about what you went through. Nobody should have to deal with such dark matters. But Tanahr needs you, and more as a guardian than anything.

Archmage Miir rustled in a pocket, setting something on the table in front of Moya. An amulet—a circle of Truesteel-wrapped moonstone on a simple golden chain. Moya’s ears rang. The raucous music of the bard on the main floor and distant laughter of the inn’s guests faded away.

How did you…I mean, there are ways you could have known about me, but my family worked to keep it secret, to let me live my life as a Valiant. So, why? Moya asked, her voice breaking.

It was just an amulet, passed down through generations of Anders, a thing that any of her blood relatives should be able to