A horse whinnied, and an uncovered wagon filled to overflowing with wheat and corn, rolled to a stop beside them. “Hey,” the man shouted. “What are you kids doing way out here?” He removed his straw hat and wiped the sweat off his brow with a sleeve. “The Core has been sniffing around all night.”

  “This is no place for children,” he said, eyes narrowing at Salamin as Lane propped him up. “What’s wrong with the boy? He looks like death warmed over.” He paused and grimaced. “Get in, I’ll give you a ride to town.”

  Salamin’s legs burned now, and breathing was becoming more difficult. It was like a heavy vise crushed his chest.

  A horn blew in the distance, and the man’s face went ashen. “It’s the Core,” he said, gripping the reins tight. “Hide under the hay, don’t make a sound.”

  Lane climbed up a wheel to the top of the wagon and reached a hand down for Salamin. “Hurry,” she said. “Stay quiet.”

  Salamin slid down on the lower boards and Lane covered him up, and lay beside him, her eyes fixed between the slats.

  The wheels creaked forward, and Salamin focused on the rhythmic sound of the horse’s hooves on the dirt. Then once again, they came to a stop.

  “I haven’t got any money,” they heard the man say. “I’m just taking this to market. Nothing you lot would be interested in.”

  There were murmurs around them. “The Order has placed a request,” a man said. “There is a young woman they are looking for. Long, dark hair. Devold scum” he sneered. “There’s a pretty coin for getting her back.”

  Salamin felt Lane tense beside him.

  “Haven’t seen anything like that,” the man said. “I’ll be sure to keep my eyes open.”

  There were a few more mumbled words, and the wagon started up again, rolling back and forth on the road, and lulled Salamin into a deep sleep.

  Lane poked him in the arm, and Salamin opened his eyes. Dusk approached, and the first few stars flickered overhead. It had been many years since Salamin had seen this city. He remembered the impressive, jagged peaks rising on either side, but the town below had changed. Farmland had turned to sprawling businesses and homes.

  Oil lamps lit the main part of town, and boisterous laughter rose from the nearby taverns as workers returned from the mines.

  Mages in long robes filed down the walk in a single line.

  Lane handed the man on the wagon a few coins, and he tipped his hat appreciatively.

  “This way.” Lane threw an arm around him for support. She pointed towards an alleyway. “Aleda should be home for the night.”

  The lights blurred in Salamin’s vision, and dizziness swept over him. He could make out a sign on the stone building before him: The Foghorn Inn. The flag of Argor hung proudly at the entrance, and Salamin tensed.

  “It’s okay,” Lane whispered. “She has no love for the Order.”

  You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

  “Side door,” Lane whispered, and helped him into the dark alleyway.

  “Aves Aleda?” Lane opened the door a crack, motioning for Salamin to keep back. “Aves?”

  Silence greeted her, and Lane hesitated, then helped Salamin to a chair. It was dark, save for the crackling fire in the hearth.

  “Ta’Lane?” Another door creaked, and a woman entered in flowing black robes. “Ta’Lane!” She took Lane in a tight hug. Short white hair glistening in the firelight. She took Lane by the shoulders and looked her up and down. “I thought I lost you. How did you?” She stopped, and her eyes darted back to Salamin. “Who is this?” she whispered in the shadow tongue.

  “Please, Sacera, he’s been bitten. He saved my life.”

  Deep black eyes met Salamin’s., and he squinted at him. Salamin opened his inner sight.

  [Moonpath}

  His intent was cut off by a wave of Aleda’s hand. “That is rude,” she chastised. “The mages sense the use of magic, and I am not having them come tonight.”

  Salamin nodded, feeling the heat rise to his face.

  “You are both safe. For now. I feared the worst when I heard they were looking for you. Ta’Lane.” She hastily closed the curtains on the front windows.

  Salamin did as instructed, and Aleda motioned for him to sit near the hearth. For a moment, she just stared at him with slitted eyes. “Where is the wound?”

  He raised his tunic and noticed her wince at the red lines and raw open skin. “Lane, we’ll need some herbs from the market. Hurry before they close.” She pointed to a white hooded cape on the hook. “Wear my cape.”

  Lane inclined her head and threw on the cape. The door closed, and Salamin heard Lane’s footsteps outside.

  Aleda held up a hand and closed her eyes. “You’re lucky to be alive.” She looked into Salamin’s eyes, squinting, and using the gaze.

  At last she released his eyes then frowned. “Who are you?”

  He sensed she’d read a lie easily. “You wouldn’t believe me.”

  She gazed down at his right hand and raised a brow. “What happened to your hand?”

  Salamin raised his right hand, and the exposed tendons and charred skin flexed. “A spell,” he said. “One that I couldn’t escape from.”

  Aleda nodded, her eyes far away. “That burn is from a powerful curse. Not one I would expect one so young to encounter.” Her eyes met his again, searching.

  Raising her chin, Aleda continued to gaze at him. “You are not who you appear to be, that much is certain. There is a veil I can’t penetrate, but…” Her fingers were lightning quick and reached into Salamin’s pocket before he could protest.

  She extracted the orb and held it up to the firelight. Inner sparks turned red at her touch. It held her gaze for an endless moment. “Ah, I see now,” she said at last. She drew in a ragged breath and inclined her head to him. “You hold a sacred object. The path of the Paladin has only been given once on the moonpath, a long, long time ago.” Her face fell as she gazed at the intricate pattern within the orb and nodded to herself.

  “I don’t understand,” Salamin said.

  “There are not many of us left. The goddess is not dead as many suspect, but she is weakened.” She gazed back at the door and lowered her voice. “It’s Haldar. He has taken her power and is using it to unleash darkness. They are using sacrifice to increase his hold, and more than anything he wants to control the shadowlands.”

  Haldar was a traitor. Salamin let the bitter hatred come, and he released it. It was done. And yet, there was still a chance to stop him. “How do I gain power on this path? I can’t access magic.”

  “But how do I gain power on this path?” Salamin asked. “I can’t access magic.”

  “You’re marked as Paladin.” She shook her head. “That is a variant I don’t know. The moonpath is forbidden now, an apostasy. Our history destroyed. Most of us have been hunted down or passed of old age. But the goddess is flowing, capricious. Her power waxes and wanes even more so with Haldar’s influence.”

  Red lightning continued to flicker within the orb. “This is your connection to the goddess,” she continued. “Keep it safe, and guard it with your life.”

  “Your answers lie back with the Order. The goddess calls to you to find what has been stolen and repair what has been broken.” She held the orb in her palm and offered it back to Salamin. “You’ll find the answers you seek within the Order.” Again, she locked eyes with him and handed him back the orb.

  Salamin took it and gazed at it in his palm, the red flashes turning white at his touch.

  “Lane is in trouble. They know her face and are looking for her. She can’t go near the Order again.” Her voice fell silent when the side door creaked open. Lane had returned.