Page 21 of The Malice of Moons and Mages (The Broken Bonds of Magic #1)

Twenty-One

Traq

T hough the morning was pleasantly crisp, Traq’s mood was somber as he stepped from the Lightness onto the dock. Examining the corpse had revealed nothing more than they’d already determined. The arrow had severed an artery; the villager died quickly. No hints of magic at all, just a talented archer.

Traq was almost off the pier, planning the quick route to the barracks when a familiar sigil caught his eye. A small boat bobbed at the far end of the public holds. It had been there when they’d departed, but he’d not paid any attention to it. Wren paused behind him.

“Aren’t those the same markings we pulled from the water?” he asked.

She inhaled and brushed past him. “Good eye, Tresa.”

According to the guards at the pier, the boat had been there for days, that they didn’t know specifics was unsurprising because of their rotations. They’d been waiting for someone to claim it so they could collect the docking fees but were beginning to think it was abandoned.

There was nothing on board, no trace of magic or spell casting, only some half-eaten rice balls left to rot in their palm leaves. This was the missing boat that prompted the villagers’ search, only to find their doom.

What happened to the men on this boat remained a mystery. Traq ran a thread over the rails once more and found nothing. Not even the thin sails offered their secrets. If magic were used it had already dissipated.

Wren called him from the dock, white braid trailing over one shoulder. She’d inquired with the local guards about any unusual activity over the last few days. Nothing too out of the ordinary for a port town this size—a few items stolen from street vendors, a horse that couldn’t be accounted for, and a finer clothier who reported a break in.

“What was stolen?” Wren asked the shopkeeper, Mirza Hansin. They’d already visited the vendors and were heading to the livery next but had yet to find a lead. Though Wren insisted some of these events were likely related.

Mirza Hansin wore floral-embroidered silks tied at the waist. Her painted lips went thin. “I already went over this when I made my report.”

Traq’s smile disarmed her. He leaned across the counter, exuding warmth. “Please, mirza. We’re trying to help.”

She blushed beneath her rouge. “A couple of outfits. Nothing flashy or bold. The most expensive thing they took was a pair of boots, left a rank pair of sandals to stink up the store. I suppose I should be grateful they didn’t grab the silks. Probably just urchins, but I’d like some sort of compensation. With the economy the way it’s been, anything would help.”

“You said ‘they.’ What makes you think it was more than one person?” Wren asked.

“One set of clothing was smaller, the other larger. Why would one person steal separate sizes?” she asked.

“Colors?” Wren asked.

“Green and blue robes. I’ve already given a description of the clothes to the man who was here the other day.”

“Is there anything else you can think of?” Traq asked. “Anything unusual?”

She glanced between the two mages. “They left their clothes behind. I tried to give them to the other guard, but he wasn’t interested. One set of rags just dumped on the floor, the other in the alleyway out back.”

“Do you still have them?” he asked.

A few minutes later, Wren stepped outside with the filthy clothes placed kindly in a linen bag. Mirza Hansin gripped Traq’s arm nervously after the door closed, holding him back a step.

“Why are you with them?” she asked.

It was a question he was used to. Enlisting with the Starlings was an act of betrayal. Every Westerner harbored justifiable distrust of both Moons and Starlings, but the southern tribe had been more covert in their atrocities than the northern one. He leaned toward her. “I’m doing what I can.”

Her eyes went suddenly glassy. Painted lips trembled. “They stole my mother when I was young. My sister twenty years ago. All dragged south.” Her breath shuddered. “Do you know what they’ve?—”

“Everything all right?” Wren asked, leaning in the doorway.

Traq patted the woman’s hand once before prying her fingers away. “Yes, I’m coming.” He nodded to the woman as he left.

She wiped her eyes and turned away.

Wren spread the clothing out on a long table in their barracks and examined each shirt, a slight furrow between her brows. “Interesting,” she said. “Matching blood stains on the sleeves. Anything on the pants?”

He shook his head. “Just dirt.”

Wren wrinkled her nose, drawing the bloody sleeves closer. She sent a small magic thread out and watched as the dried blood moved on each corresponding sleeve. Teased by her small influence, drops rose in the air and moved toward each other. A silvery, thin fiber spun between them, latching them together.

She gasped and stepped back.

Traq leaned in curiously. “What is that?”

“A bonding,” she said. “Advanced magic, forbidden to even speak of until we get close to our tenth star. Lord Ijion won’t even discuss it.” Her eyes slid to his. “It’s dark stuff.”

Something in his gut gnawed. “I’ve never heard of it.”

“It allows a mage to use another’s life to strengthen their magic,” Wren said .

“Does it kill them?”

She shook her head. “Not necessarily. A bond combines life energies, doubles the impact of every spell, depending on the individual strength of those bound.” Her eyes widened as the blood drew toward each other in the air. “I’ve never seen evidence of one before. This was at least a ten star mage.”

Traq chilled. Other than Lord Ijion, he wasn’t sure how many other members of the senate held a ten star ranking. “We should tell Senior Monk Altho.”

Wren stared at the blood, wearing a strange expression. “You could do a lot with a bond like that. Defeat whole squadrons. Create spells that last for years. Live forever.”

“What do you mean?”

“In theory, and this is only what I’ve read in the archives, a strong bond lengthens the life of the mage well beyond what’s natural.”

“What about the other one?” Traq wasn’t sure what to call the person being used and didn’t stop to question why Wren would be researching such a thing to begin with.

Her jaw tightened. “The texts weren’t specific about that, but according to a Moon folktale, one mage had seven bonds simultaneously. Do you know who that was?”

Traq shook his head.

“The founder of the Moon tribe. Yueliang himself. Supposedly, he lived for six hundred years. Thank the stars that Taiyang saw the truth and led our people to the light.”

Every tribe had different stories about Yueliang and Taiyang. In the north, Taiyang was called the Great Betrayer . The Starlings called him the Great Redeemer . But the truth of the brothers’ division was lost in time. And while Yueliang’s life and death was well documented, Taiyang’s fate was unknown. The Western monks had assumed he’d perished in the desert sands after teaching the southerners the ways of magic.

Sometimes Wren’s words passed devotion into zealotry, but the seduction of power could sway anyone. Traq swallowed. “But each person they were bound to had to die. That sounds sad.”

Wren huffed. “Moons don’t care about that. They don’t feel the way we do. Another monk told me that the Rajav Li-Hun Koray is rumored to have bonded to a dragon once.” She shrugged. “No proof, of course, but nothing the Moons do would surprise me. May Starling blaze our path and remind us to be grateful for Taiyang’s guidance. Only those that walk in the light have real strength.” She saw the look on his face at the second mention of the Starling founder and sighed. “But you should probably tell Senior.”

“Me? They’ll know I didn’t find the bond.”

She rested her hand on his. “You’ll be testing soon. They’ll want to see your ambition. You need to do this.”

He didn’t pull his hand away, but a nagging question snuck into his brain. “What color did Mirza Hansin say the stolen robes were?”

Her eyes narrowed slightly. “Green and blue.”

Traq stared at her, hoping she wouldn’t remember the clothing Audra and Chon wore at their meeting.

Wren withdrew her hand and cut her spell. The two drops of blood flew together and sparked green and silver before vanishing. Her voice turned cold. “Tell Senior now. We need to prevent them from killing more innocents.”

Traq’s throat tightened. “Yes, Septra.”