Page 19 of The Malice of Moons and Mages (The Broken Bonds of Magic #1)

Nineteen

Lua

L ua prayed to Silence as it rose above them. His god hadn’t spoken to him since the Mirren , but absorbing the moonlight left Lua feeling better than he had in weeks. He savored it like a rare wine or a deep kiss. It kept him from drawing on Audra too much. The food over the last few days was renewing her strength, but she’d still be useless if he had to use a larger spell. That would make them both vulnerable.

The argentava that had been stalking them for several hours, circled above. Its twenty-foot wingspan momentarily blocked out the moon before it dove into the trees in the distance, reemerging a few minutes later. Whatever wriggled in its talons was unidentifiable. Another bird rose to meet it. They circled each other, cawing in familiarity as they flew toward the mountain tops. Lua hoped that was the last of them.

Audra dozed on her horse. He’d already caught her from slipping off the saddle twice. The second time, he took the reins from her hand and let her drape across the mare’s neck. They’d have to stop soon. The horses were tiring. Though he could force them on, it would be foolish to risk all their lives for his impatience .

It was more than Audra’s disposition that frustrated him. That she was equal parts easy-going and demanding and held as many secrets as he did, made their conversations awkward. But when he’d tried forcing the truth from her by tightening the thread, there’d been resistance. It could be her strong will, or possibly the jade.

There were legends that spoke of advantages the Western mages had over the other tribes. He doubted she knew much about the jade or where it came from. Audra would have been a child during the Moon’s last assault.

The Rajav had made it his life’s mission to destroy the Western mages, their monasteries, and the dragons. And over the course of his long life, he’d damn near succeeded.

There weren’t many detailed accounts of the western artifacts. Where the Moon tribe was secretive, the Westerners were downright covert. Their spells were written in ancient script, most of which they’d destroyed rather than sacrifice to their enemies. Even after decades of slaughter, the remaining populace refused to cooperate, either feigning ignorance or choosing death instead of sharing their knowledge.

Audra’s need for the relic sparked his curiosity. She’d been honest about her brother. Those feelings were deep and authentic, but there was much omitted. He didn’t think the jade could break a spell. His father said that dragon’s eye was used to enhance Western magic, not break it. But Lua doubted what he knew.

His anchors spent ten years in study and meditation to strengthen their minds and ability to focus while controlling their emotions before even being considered for the position. Never mind the expected physical training. They’d each been steady, predictable, unwavering streams of energy.

Being anchored to Audra was like breathing beneath a waterfall. She was a constant chaotic rush of fluctuating emotions. How could one person feel so intensely all the time? Severing their bond would be a blessing. He’d never again take for granted the boring anchors he’d grown accustomed to. He tried not to think about what would happen at the monastery. Her fate wasn’t his concern or responsibility. A twinge in his gut told him that was a lie.

When the terrain steepened, making nighttime travel more treacherous, they found a clearing between two trees to camp in. Audra curled beneath a blanket as her mare stamped down the grass and nestled into slumber. The gelding stood nearby, swaying. Lua leaned against a trunk and closed his eyes. Only for a moment, he told himself.

Panic ripped him from a dream of fire and beating wings. It took a moment to understand what he saw.

The screaming mare was suspended five feet above the ground. Audra clutched one forefoot, yelling, and cursing as the horse’s legs kicked. An argentava’s talons ripped through the horse’s abdomen. One hoof skimmed the top of Audra’s head, but she stubbornly held on. She stood on her toes as the bird’s wings threw dust into Lua’s eyes. The bird screeched and snapped its razor-sharp beak.

As another hoof brushed the top of Audra’s skull, Lua flew toward her. His arms wrapped around her waist as the bird began to pull them skyward. The horse’s cries escalated as the talons pierced deeper. Blood painted the ground.

“Let her go,” he said, sending a command along the thread. Audra’s fingers softened for a second before clutching the leg firmly. “Let go!”

Her body was taut against him. “Save her!”

The horse was doomed. A spell would drain them both. He shook his head. “Audra?—”

“Save her, damn you!”

Energy surged into Lua’s arms where he held her. Heat coursed through him, cascading over his skin and perching behind his ribs. A silver band whipped from his hand. It cracked, raking the argentava’s wing. The bird screeched, one claw releasing as Audra screamed again. A second thread lashed from his fingers, slashing across the bird’s neck. The force sent it hurtling backward to the ground. It bounced twice and lay broken in a cloud of dust, unable to rise.

Lua pulled Audra away as the mare crashed down. The horse kicked twice, crying piteously as blood gushed out.

The pulse of Audra’s heart moved through him. He held her, the warmth of her body pressing into him. Their threads snugged.

She broke from him and dropped beside the gasping mare, mindless of the blood that stained her clothes. Her hands pressed against the deepest wound, but blood leaked through her fingers and slipped beneath her palms.

“No, no, no, no, no,” she pleaded. She looked up at Raia and whispered. Lua knelt behind her. His exhaustion was held at bay only by the rays of both moons upon his skin.

“Audra,” he said softly, trying to settle her. Tugging on the thread caused her to turn large eyes on him.

“You can save her,” she said. “Please.”

“That’s not how my magic works,” he said simply.

“But thirteen stars. You can. You must.”

“There’s no saving her.” His gut wrenched with the anguish that came from her. Lua held her gaze. “The only mercy now is to end her suffering.”

Audra sucked in a breath. “You’d kill her?”

“She’ll be dead in an hour,” he said, his eyes trained on the downed bird. “Less, if we are kind.”

He started toward the bird, trying to block the mix of unfamiliar emotions that suddenly chafed his insides. Foreign tears leaked from his eyes. “I’ll let you decide.”

The argentava snapped and squirmed at his approach. Long indigo feathers scattered across the ground, shining in the moonlight. One wing was torn awkwardly. Blood blackened the ground, pulsing from a neck wound that closed and reopened as the bird thrashed. Lua placed a steady hand upon the wing. The bird snapped once before Lua pulled the life from its body. Energy coursed through him as the bird stiffened. Feathers fell from its crumbling husk.

He searched for the gelding, who’d raced away when the bird attacked. After a few minutes, his magic found the beast trembling a few hundred yards away, trapped between fallen trees and brambles. Lua reached a tender thread out and coaxed it back.

Audra whispered into the mare’s ear. He couldn’t hear her words but knew her intent. Mercy. A terrible kindness.

“I can—” It was over before he finished his words. Her blade caught the light as it fell.

The mare’s eyes went empty. The blood dripping down the dagger added another crimson layer to Audra’s hands. Her lip quivered as she stroked the horse a few more times. Then she stood, the strength of her will suppressing her grief. Lua wondered if she did it to avoid crying more before him, or if it was something she was accustomed to.

A ragged sigh shivered between them. Blood and tears wearied her face. Her expression nagged at him, as if he should say or do something. But for all Lua’s stolen years and high education, he had no clue what that something was.

He cleared his throat at the sudden constriction and turned away. “We should go.”