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  Living gave him a chance to recover what he had lost. Trell could not remember anyone who loved him, but he knew they existed. He felt it in his heart, echoes of warm smiles and gentle touches from people who were now little more than ghosts in his head.

  Landra brushed his cheek. “You owe nothing to me. To heal is my calling. The woman you should thank is Kara Tanner. She dragged you a considerable distance to bring you here.”

  The name Kara seemed familiar. It felt like friend, or sister — a concept independent of any single memory. Who was she?

  Landra had said his memories could return. He decided to take her at her word. He was a patient man, or at least he felt like one.

  “I am grateful,” Trell said. “Can I meet her?” Had he met her before?

  “You should not move about yet. Can this not wait until tomorrow?”

  “Please. She may know ... perhaps she knows something that will help me remember.”

  “Kara insisted on speaking with you as soon as you waked. You need to rest, but I won’t deny you both.” Landra sighed and rose. “How is the pain?”

  “Less.” The inside of Trell’s head pulsed with each breath, like hands pushing at his skull from the inside. “I will live.”

  “Good. Call me if the pain returns. You needn’t suffer.”

  “I feel fine.” He had taken more than enough from this woman.

  Landra slid open a thin panel in the side of the room. “Then relax. I will summon Kara. When I return, you’ll need to sleep again.”

  As the panel slid shut, unwelcome silence tested Trell’s fragile calm. Sweat beaded his forehead and his world spun. He had lost so much of himself and had to focus on what he still knew.

  He looked fit and strong, so he must exercise regularly. His palms and fingers were calloused, so he must work with his hands. This room was more humid than he liked, so perhaps he hailed from a dry climate. He clung to these revelations. Little things.

  The panel of the healing room slid open and a woman with sun-kissed skin and long brown hair entered the room. She had a self-assured stride that was well short of arrogant. Trell knew immediately that this was the brave woman who had saved his life.

  She was tall with well-muscled arms and an athletic frame. She wore a gray shirt with lines sewn across it, a pattern unlike any Trell had ever seen, and her pants might have been leather — yet Trell could not even be sure of that. The material hugged her legs, thinner and more flexible than any leather he had ever seen.

  Her brown hair fell to the middle of her back, braided and wrapped in bands. Soft cheekbones complemented her slender nose and rounded chin. Her irises were bright, clear, and orange.

  It was not a natural color, not even close, but her eyes fit her bearing, fit a woman this confident and strong. She smiled at him, and it felt like they had known each other forever.

  “I’m glad you came.” Trell sat up. “Kara? I owe you my life.”

  Kara walked to his bed as a hint of a blush colored her cheeks. She sat down beside him and looked him over, like a healer would examine a patient. Concern or curiosity? Trell had no idea.

  “Yes, I’m Kara Tanner. Landra is a level-headed sort, but she does embellish things on occasion. All I did was drag you here. Landra and her healers saved your life.”

  Trell smiled back. Both Landra and Kara had saved him, but neither felt he owed them for it. He focused on that, on good people who were willing to help him. The rarest kind.

  “Even so, I’m here because of what you did for me. Thank you.”

  “That’s a lovely place to leave it. May I ask who you are?”

  “Trell.”

  “Just Trell?”

  Trell hesitated. “I do not mean to be rude, but I cannot remember much. Landra told me whatever hit my head … a rock? … it must have damaged my memory.”

  “You’ve lost your memory.” Kara’s brow furrowed. “I don’t suppose you remember how you broke your leg?”

  Trell glanced down at his legs. Both were fine. “No. I’m sorry. I don’t remember that.”

  “Landra fixed it. She can do some amazing things. She even fixed that porthole in your head.”

  “I see. You said there was a porthole. In my head?”

  “Sometimes, I embellish things too.” Kara leaned close. “You really remember nothing of what happened? How you sustained your injuries? Nothing about trees?”

  “Trees?” Her intense gaze left him feeling vulnerable, trapped. “No, not really. The last thing I remember is a town in the sand. Faces. Voices. Not much else.”

  “You’re Tellvan, then.”

  Trell thought about that.

  “You mentioned sand, and there’s a lot of sand in Tellvan.”

  “Perhaps you are right. But why can’t I remember?”

  She huffed softly. “I wish I knew.”

  The healing room panel slid open and a man of many years entered the room. When she saw him, Kara hopped off his bed and stood up. Trell’s gaze snapped to the newcomer.

  The man wore a deep crimson robe that matched Landra’s in design. A golden, rounded sun hung from a silver chain around his neck, glittering with a corona of platinum. Spiky blue tattoos ran up his cheeks, surrounded his eyes, and wound down the sides of his nose to his dimples. They framed a short black beard.

  “Elder Halde.” Kara bowed.

  Trell stood as well, but before he could bow his legs gave way. Kara caught him, arms tense, and Trell stared at her. She was stronger than she looked.

  “Please, stay seated,” Halde said. “We need not stand on ceremony.”

  Trell pushed with trembling legs, embarrassed and conscious of how warm Kara’s hands felt clenched around his arms. She grunted as she helped him back onto the bed, mouth quirked.

  “I know you have had difficulty with your memory, Trell,” Halde said, “but we must still discover what we can tonight. Your presence could be considered inconvenient.”

  This was an academy for mages. Trell was an interloper here. “I can leave—”

  “You will. Once you can stand.” Halde’s faint trace of a smile mirrored Kara’s. “First, we must discover where you came from. Otherwise, where will we send you?”

  “Of course. If there is anything I can do to repay you, you have but to name it.”

  “All we ask is you help us find your home. I know what Kara has told me, and I know you were attacked. Who attacked you, and why?”

  Trell felt a compulsion to answer, a desire to speak that was not wholly his own. Magic. It was an odd feeling, a weight on his shoulders as heavy as a damp tarp, but the memories simply wouldn’t come. It seemed even magic could not recall his past.

  “I’m sorry, respected elder. What memories I have all blur together. Landra said I must have fallen into the Layn, and I do remember water, but I remember little else.”

  Halde crossed his arms and raised one hand to his chin, stroking his short black beard. “There was a recent skirmish at the Layn River ... a dust up of sorts between an invading force of Tellvan soldiers and the Mynt garrison at Layn Keep.”

  Trell saw Kara grimace out of the corner of his eye. She hadn’t known. He wondered how far they were from Layn Keep.

  “The Leader of Armies arrived almost a week ago with a large force of soldiers. Had he not done so, the Tellvan would have crushed Layn Keep. His cavalry and footmen routed the Tellvan, and many remained days after to repair the fortress.”

  “You think I was involved in that battle.” Trell leaned forward and tried to picture it, him fighting Tellvan or Mynt soldiers. “You think that’s how I was injured.”

  Both provinces were familiar to him, Mynt’s great mountains and Tellvan’s endless sands, and it seemed impossible that he could remember that while not remembering so much else. He forced his thoughts to the Layn river, to the fortress built on its bank.

  New images surfaced in Trell’s mind: a row of catapults, lines of soldiers in brown armor, and a thick stone bridge. The Layn flowed un
der it, and its stones were slick with blood and viscera. It felt real, and Trell knew he had pulled yet another memory from the void.

  “You’re right. I can almost see the bridge.” Trell remembered the ring of metal on metal, the shouts of soldiers fighting and dying. “The man who led Mynt. This ‘Leader of Armies’. What is his name?”

  “Prince Beren. He is known to you?”

  “I’m not sure.” Another image surfaced in Trell’s mind, a soldier in golden armor. He had a deep scar down the right side of his face and short black hair.

  “Prince Beren is scarred.” Trell knew he was right about this, and the certainty thrilled him. “On the right side of his face.”

  Halde showed no reaction, but Trell did not miss it when Kara looked down. One palm splayed as her fingers pressed the bed.

  “I understand,” Trell said. “You think I attacked Layn Keep with that Tellvan army.”

  “We don’t know that,” Kara said.

  “But it makes sense.” Trell looked past Halde, at the thin door, and wondered if he could get past the man if he needed to. “Yet if I’m your enemy, why heal my wounds?”

  “You are not our enemy.” Kara gripped his hand, and his eyes leapt to hers. She stared at him and did not look away.

  “Trell,” Halde said, “Solyr takes no part in the wars of the provinces. You have no enemies here. The color of your skin does not necessarily mean anything.”

  Kara squeezed his hand before letting go.

  “A Lunyr apprentice can hire out in Mynt,” Halde continued, “and a Solyr apprentice can hire out in Tellvan. There are only so many teachers available. Border skirmishes will never change that.”

  “This Prince. Beren.” Trell focused on what memories he did have. “I remember him. He may remember me. Would he grant me an audience?”

  “The Leader of Armies has returned to Tarna.”

  “How far is that?”

  “Our capital city is just under a week’s ride, and I must be clear. If you did fight for Tellvan, and Prince Beren knows this, you will be taken as a prisoner of war.”

  Trell imagined a prison made of gray bricks and rusting metal bars. He imagined dripping water and rats. He tasted stale bread and slept on hard stone and all of it, every indignity and slight, was preferable to the alternative. To a life without a past.

  “Dangerous as it might be,” Trell said, “Prince Beren may be the only person who can tell me who I was. I will go to Tarna. I must have my life back.”

  “Your determination is admirable. In exchange for your care here, I would ask you a favor.”

  “Name it.”

  “Kara is planning a journey to Tarna soon, where she will apply for the position of royal apprentice. I don’t want to send either of you on such a long journey by yourself, not in a time of open war. I would like you to make the journey together.”

  “I would be honored. So long as you have no objections, Kara?”

  Kara smiled at him, and it made him feel warm all over. “No objections at all, provided you can leave tomorrow. My plans are rather set in stone at the moment.”

  “Tomorrow, then?” Halde asked.

  Trell tested the thick sore muscles of one arm. They worked. “I will be fit to travel by midday.”

  “Excellent,” Halde said. “I’ll have horses ready.”

  This was a good deal. Trell would have been hesitant to travel alone even at full strength. He doubted he could even navigate to Tarna without Kara’s help.

  “I must leave you now.” Halde was now standing by the door, but Trell could not remember seeing him move. “Rest. Apprentice, I will see you before you leave tomorrow.”

  “Yes, respected elder.” Kara bowed her head, and Trell remembered to do likewise. When he looked up, Halde had vanished.

  “Busy day!” Kara plopped back down on his bed. “So it looks like we’re taking you to jail. Traitor. I promise I’ll visit.”

  “Kara, tell me something. Why do you trust me?”

  “What?”

  “All signs point to me being Tellvan. It’s very likely I was injured fighting the people of your province, yet you spoke for me without hesitation. What made you do that?”

  Kara laughed, but it felt forced. “I’m a good judge of people, and I don’t judge you a threat.”

  “I would not hurt you or this academy.”

  “Look at you, fussing like a mother hen! I believe you. One way or another, we’ll get you to Tarna. We’ll get your memory back.”

  “Thank you. For your part in saving my life, your trust, and your vow to help me.”

  “See? It’s as easy at that.” She rose. “Now I’d best shove off. You need sleep. You look like you’re about to collapse right on the bed.” She raised an eyebrow. “Or on me.”

  “I am tired. So. Tomorrow?”

  “I look forward to it. Halde’s favor is not an imposition?”

  “No.” Trell collapsed in the warm space Kara had vacated. “It is the least I can do for one who has done so much for me.”

  “You’re sweet.” Kara squeezed his arm. “Five guard your soul.”

  “Five guard your soul.” Trell heard the sliding panel open, then close. His bed swayed and rocked like a river had swept it up. His head pounded. The panel slid open once more.

  “Are you ready to sleep?” Landra asked softly.

  Trell nodded.

  “Then relax. I must scribe a few more healing glyphs. They will help you regenerate your strength and ready your body for tomorrow’s journey. Allow your mind to drift.”

  Trell abandoned his struggle to remember. He let his mind go. Sleep took him the moment Landra’s hands touched his skin.

  KARA HURRIED UNDER the freestanding arch leading into the Memorial Garden. Little bigger than four student rooms put together, the garden nevertheless held life of great beauty. Purplish ivy, glowing with the light it had stored during the day, wrapped around the shimmering mage stone columns at each of the garden’s four corners. Kara had known she would find Halde here.

  Boxed rows of roses and sweet-smelling honeysuckle bordered the garden. White tile with inset diamonds of obsidian led to its center, where a single white marble monolith stood alone. It bore the names of all Solyr mages who had given their lives to thwart the enemies of Mynt. Halde sat in front of it.

  “Well?” Kara asked softly. “What’s our course?”

  Kara stopped beside him and ran her eyes across many names, stopping on the ones she recognized: Lared, Cantrall, Torn. She knew their names, stories, and deeds as well as she knew her own. Torn’s legacy, ending the All Province War, would live for all time.

  Halde said nothing. Kara settled herself cross-legged by the memorial, beside him, and leaned back to rest her hands on the cool tile. “Visiting Cantrall?”

  “It is an odd time to think upon him, isn’t it? I haven’t been here in more than two years.”

  “That’s not odd at all. I’m sure he knows the responsibilities you face in running this academy. If anything, he’d want you to get back to work.”

  “Sometimes, I wish you’d known him better.”

  Kara winced. Halde’s twin brother had been burned alive ten years ago, murdered in an inferno of hostile phantom fire that no mage had yet traced. Cantrall had died, shrieking, before his brother’s eyes. The gruesome sight had thrown a Selection Day ceremony into chaos and sent vengeful Solyr mages riding to all corners of the Five Provinces, searching for answers. They searched for years. No one found anything.

  Cantrall had been the initial point of contact for the fledgling students at Solyr, guiding them all with firm and steady hands as they scribed their first glyphs. Cantrall had taught them how to take the dream world. He had been a kind man and a taciturn leader with a sense of humor similar to Halde’s, and many still missed him.

  In the ten years since Cantrall had died there had been no resolution, no claim of responsibility. There had been no peace for anyone. Scribing his name on this monument was the o
nly comfort Halde had. Though Halde had hidden it long and well, Kara knew his memory of his twin burning haunted him to this day.

  “I’m going to be blunt with you, elder,” Kara said. “I don’t like lying to Trell. He didn’t lose his memory by banging his head on some rock. When he found me, there was a battlemage right on his heels. If something happened to his memory out there, if that mage did something to wipe it away, we should tell him.”

  “I do not dispute that,” Halde said. “Yet from your description of the dream lines involved, I cannot really tell him anything.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “His selective amnesia does seem unlikely, but glyph-wrought? Landra is the best Bloodmender at this academy, and she’s found no trace his mind was tampered with.”

  “His memory’s the least of it. When I first met Trell, he was moving like the walking dead.”

  “I know of only two types of glyphs that could account for the green lines you saw. The first has not been seen since the All Province War, and cannot guide the living. The second…” Halde glanced at her. “You are certain those dream lines were green?”

  Kara opened her mouth and then hesitated. “Right. I might have been seeing things. I was anemic when I took the dream world, and most color was gone … but that green was bright as day, cloaking his dream form as he fought those wolves.”

  Halde sighed, and Kara only then noticed his drawn face, the bags under his eyes. She had never seen him so tired. She wasn’t sure what to think about this new Halde. He seemed … broken.

  “Kara, I don’t doubt you. I just don’t know what to tell you.”

  The admission surprised Kara, but it only increased her respect for him. Elder Halde might be one of the most powerful people at Solyr, but he knew his limits. Even elders had days when they didn’t want to get up in the morning.

  “I appreciate you even trying.” Kara looked to the monument. “Yet one thing I don’t doubt is the five-sided stars inside those graybacks. They were sent to kill us.”

  “Beastly madness is a simple glyph. Tellvan battlemages have taken animals as familiars in many battles, yet you must understand how this is different.”