“You too, then?” Brugo asked, kneeling beside the fallen men and turning one of them over.

Anaya had silently let the vines slip back into the ground, and now she stood at a distance, her brows knitted together with concern.

“I should’ve told you before,” she said softly.

“Why do you sound sad? That was amazing! Do you think you could teach me?” Harpyn rattled off, bouncing at Anaya’s side.

Brugo grunted. “You don’t owe me any explanations.”

Anaya watched Brugo as he unstrapped the man’s armor and tried it on himself. She couldn’t help but wrinkle her nose at the sight of the blood, still oozing and sticky on the silvery surface. She turned away, looking out into the darkness, unable to stomach any more death for the night.

The darkness remained unbroken. No one moved along the road in either direction, not even by torchlight. It was just the three of them, and the bodies of their attackers, all alone out here.

“We should get going,” Anaya said, mostly to herself. “Those men don’t look like highwaymen. They belong somewhere, and someone will notice them missing by morning. We should put some distance between ourselves and this place.”

Brugo rose, having taken everything he could from the men. “You’re right. Though I imagine they have a cache somewhere around here. They didn’t travel all this way without supplies. I’m going to take a quick look around before we go. You two stay here.”

Harpyn and Anaya watched him go reluctantly. Neither of them felt especially safe, despite their attackers being quite dead. However, Anaya was so shaken by the ordeal and Brugo’s reaction that she didn’t care to follow him either. At least Harpyn understood the part of her that wielded magic.

She sat on a stump, resting her chin on her fist and thinking.

“Cheer up. You saved us.”

She glanced at Harpyn and rolled her eyes. “I panicked. But that’s not what I’m worried about.”

“What is it then?”

“Did you hear what that man said? He said he thought the Makara had been rounded up. What do you think he meant by that? Who would be rounding up the Makara?”

Harpyn shrugged. “I don’t know, but you’re right. He seemed to think there would be a bounty for turning you in. You’ll need a disguise, something to hide your hair and… well…”

Anaya looked down at her colorful skirts and nodded grimly. “Yeah, I get it. Maybe at the next township we can find something. I just don’t know what to do. If someone has my grandmother, I’ll kill them!” She clenched her fist, slamming it down on her knee angrily. But her anger quickly turned to sadness as she continued. “I should’ve been there. What if I never get to see her again? What if she never gets to hold the rods for herself? I’ll have failed.”

Harpyn shifted uneasily at her mention of the rods, but he didn’t speak. He only stared at his feet, deep in thought.

Anaya toed at the ground, drawing up tiny flowers and then letting them recede into the dirt again. Those flowers always reminded her of her grandmother, they made her feel connected. But now, they only made her worried.

Brugo arrived a few minutes later, apparently having found a cloak and a few other supplies along the way.

“Are we ready?” He asked. Anaya thought he looked like he was standing taller than usual.

She got to her feet and gestured for him to lead the way. In the darkness, the only sounds were their boots on the road and the sporadic cries of nocturnal beasts calling out to one another.

After a while, Anaya began to relax. Neither of the men seemed interested in talking. Glancing around, Anaya reached into her pouch and brushed her hand across the rods, calling to the harpies.

What difference would it make? Brugo and Harpyn both knew she possessed magic, and sooner or later, they would see the strange beings with their own eyes. At least now she could show them without risking anyone else seeing.

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Their little party was bathed in a soft yellow light as the two creatures emerged. They fluttered about Anaya’s head, chasing one another playfully before settling on her shoulders.

Brugo stopped abruptly, turning around to scold her about having a torch, but his eyes went wide and his mouth fell slack. Harpyn gasped in awe but remained where he was.

“Before you ask,” she began softly, looking at the golden harpy on her right, “I know as little as you do. They just started appearing when I took the rods. I have figured a way to call them, but it doesn’t always work, and I know nothing about their power or how to control them. Either way, I believe there is a reason they are here, and they must have some tie to my ancestors.”

Brugo’s face was set in stone. He turned to Harpyn. “And you? What strange creatures are you hiding beneath those robes?”

Harpyn held up his hands defensively, shaking his head. “None. I swear it! I… Well, it seems that I possess only a fraction of the magic that Anaya does.” He voice dropped off as he finished his sentence, the disappointment lingering long after his words.

Brugo grunted, obviously not believing the young mage. “Well, that’s some good news at least.” He turned to Anaya, surveying the creatures distrustfully. “Their light will make it easier to travel by, but when we draw near to civilization, you will have to do something with them. And keep your wits about you. I don’t want them giving us away.”

Anaya didn’t argue. She already knew these things and had given them consideration before she’d called upon the creatures. Brugo, at least, seemed satisfied with this and turned away, shaking his head in disgust as he continued on.

Anaya let him get several paces ahead before she followed. She did not wish to make the big man uncomfortable, but for some reason, the presence of the harpies calmed her. They had become familiar to her in last few weeks, and she found that they brought both light and warmth to her heart as she walked.

Beside her, Harpyn continued to stare, amazed.

“So, they’ve never tried to um… kill you?” He asked, finally breaking the silence.

Anaya shot him a look. “You mean other than inside the vault? No. I don’t think they wish to harm me.”

“What about others? Do they attack?”

Anaya shrugged. “I do not know. I suppose I have never asked them to. I’d prefer to keep it that way.”

Harpyn chewed his lip thoughtfully, hurrying along at her side. After a while he looked up again.

“Do they have names?”

This was something Anaya had never given any thought to. Of all the stories she’d heard when she was little about the ancient warriors and their mythical weapons, she did not recall ever hearing about the harpies, and certainly not any names that they might answer to.

“For now, I will call them Dahiya and Jusqua. Perhaps when I find my grandmother, she will know their true names.”

“Those are good names,” Harpyn agreed. “And… we will find your grandmother and the rest of your people. They have to be out there somewhere.”

She gave him another skeptical look. “What about Yaal and the mages?”

He smiled up at her. “I’ll just drop in and let them know about the whole situation with Geor, and that’ll be that. I don’t think the great mages of Yaal will need my help to get the situation under control. I’ll be free to help you wherever you may go!”

His face was practically lit up with optimism and Anaya couldn’t help but smile back. She had never had a friend quite like this, if that’s what Harpyn was, but she was starting to enjoy the idea of it. A friend… someone who would stick by her side.

“Well, if we don’t find them before we reach Yaal, I’ll make sure the mages listen to you. Then we will be on our way.”

“You do have a penchant for forcing your way into mage towers, don’t you? One day I’d love to know how you did it.”

Anaya’s smile widened. “Magic,” she answered bright.

The two of them broke out in laughter, a sound that bounced through the cool night air like chimes on the wind.

Brugo looked over his shoulder at them, eyeing them curiously before apparently deciding he did not want to know the source of their mirth.

“You’ll raise the dead if you keep on like that,” he scolded.

Anaya and Harpyn clapped their hands over their mouths, stifling another fit of giggles as the big man turned away and grumbled something about young nuisances.

And so they walked long through the night, until the sun was just beginning to lighten the horizon and the first township was just coming into view. Lazy curls of smoke rose from a handful of chimneys and Anaya spotted some early risers already heading out to their fields.

With a word, she dismissed the harpies, sending them back to their magical plane. She understood so little about them, but they seemed to appreciate the freedom she offered them, and although they occasionally took wing and flew about, they often returned to settle on her shoulders, their keen eyes darting about as she walked the long road behind Brugo.

Up ahead, a cloud of dust appeared, and Anaya picked up the unmistakable sound of hoofbeats before the dark form of a single horseman took shape. There was a shout from the town, carried on the wind, and a flash of lightning, streaking sideways across the field. The horse reared up and the horseman wheeled, glittering sword in hand and sent another bolt of lightning lashing toward the townsman. Then, he kicked the horse and sent it plunging into the fields on the far side of the road, tall stalks of wheat trampled underfoot.

Brugo, Anaya and Harpyn watched all of this unfold, speechless.

“Catch him!” One of the townspeople cried, pointing out into the field where the horse had disappeared.

Brugo looked after the horse and then at his companions. “It seems that our ill luck has followed us this far,” he said with exasperation.

Pulling his hood up over his head, he strode toward the town.