Viora left to return to the Altar of the Sun, leaving me with Vasily. The old man stared at me for long moments in silence, then rose to his feet.

“Thank you for your time, Ionat,” he said simply. “I’ll see you at the Highsun meal.” He turned to leave, and I stared at him in surprise.

“Wait, are you really this mad at me for saving your people?” I asked, confused.

“No, of course not,” he replied in a neutral tone. “I’m grateful that so many could be saved, in fact.” He looked at me seriously. “It’s how you did it that concerns me. I’m afraid that you’re bringing death to my village, Ionat, a surer death than even the hungering.”

“Then I should leave,” I rose to my feet. “After the close moon, I’ll go.” The thought of leaving the village didn’t really bother me. It wasn’t my home, and it wasn’t going to become my home. The people here were nice enough, but they weren’t my friends. Besides, I needed to leave the village, anyway. I wasn’t going to figure out a way to stop the guy who wanted to lasso the sun or whatever from the border village of Borava.

“Could you at least explain why you’re so worried, though?” I asked. “If this is a real danger, I should know about it, so I don’t bring it to other villages on accident.”

He looked at me for a long, silent moment, then nodded. “Fair enough,” he said. “Come with me, Ionat.” He opened the door to the back, and I followed him into his home. It wasn’t anything fancy. A short hallway ran toward the front and back of the house. Toward the back, a half-closed door opened onto what looked like a bedroom. We headed toward the front, past what looked like a very small bathroom with a toilet that was a stone seat with a hole in the center. The hallway opened into a room with a desk, a pair of wooden chairs, and a bookshelf that covered one wall.

“My study,” the man said, waving to a chair. I sat in it as he pulled out a rolled-up piece of paper and laid it out on the table before us. My eyes widened as I realized that it was a map, a map that showed a large chunk of the world of Soluminos.

A single, large continent dominated the map. It was long and narrow, filling the top half of the map and stretching from east to west in a sort of U-shaped crescent. A large peninsula bulged from the western side of the crescent, and an island floated off the western coast, clearly labeled, “Vutana”.

“How much do you know of the Himlenrik Empire?” he asked.

“Practically nothing,” I said with complete honesty.

He nodded. “That’s how the nobility prefers it. Unless you’re one of the Raji – or a scholar, like me – you’ll probably never hear anything except how evil that Empire was. Except that it wasn’t, not really.”

He touched a bump of land in the southwest corner of the map, obviously just the top edge of a much larger landmass. “This is the Empire of Larjeen,” he said. “The Six Kingdoms all originated there, long ago. That Empire was old and powerful when the inhabitants of Novilad…” He touched the larger continent. “…lived in wattle huts and used stone tools. In fact, that’s the state we were in when the Larjeeni reached our shores – at least, according to the histories.” He chuckled. “Of course, the victors write the histories, so it’s likely we’ll never know the true state of things. According to the Larjeeni who invaded, they came not as conquerors but as liberators, freeing the Noviladans from the yoke of the mooncursed. They built us cities, raised schools, taught us to read and think – and how to use solar magic.”

He stood straight, his face thoughtful. “That’s something that most scholars believe is true. Excavations on pre-Larjeeni sites only reveal altars to the moons, nothing devoted to the sun. For whatever reason, our forefathers only practiced lunar magic, not solar. How they did so without being driven mad, no one knows, but…”

“Driven mad?” I echoed.

The man nodded. “Mad,” he confirmed. “Eventually, every Lomoraji goes insane, Ionat. Something about the nature of lunar magic being incompatible with rational thought.” He shrugged. “The Sorvaraji could give you a better explanation than I can.

“However, it does seem to be true that our forefathers could use lunar magic safely, at least judging from the Moonstone Altars that we’ve excavated.”

“That, or they worshipped the moons but didn’t using their magic,” I pointed out.

“Possible,” he acknowledged. “Although if that’s the case, it begs the question: how did they survive the close moons? With no technology and no magic, the mooncursed should have overrun the entire continent, but they didn’t.”

He shook his head. “It doesn’t really matter. What’s important is that the Larjeeni arrived, and they conquered what would later become the Kingdom of Vutana.” He tapped the island off the coast of the continent. “They built cities here, the roads that still link the kingdom, and cut a path through the Sunclaw Mountains that split the kingdom from north to south. They taught us to make iron, then to make steel. They showed us how to raise the Altars of the Sun and to harness solar magic.

“It took them a century to pacify the land and two to build it into a new nation called Nylarjeen. From here, they moved out onto the continent, first landing at what would become the Kingdom of Pieta.” He touched the northwestern crescent. “They spread out, creating new cities all across the continent, first to the south in Isafured, then to the east in Valany, and finally to the north in Hasrovo.” He touched a second island off to the east. “They even established a colony in Prydanka, although the tiger-warriors there made life hard for them.

“For five hundred years, they built and grew, expanding their holdings and raising the natives out of barbarism into civilization. The old lunar altars fell into disrepair, and the ascendancy of the Sun began. And then came the Himlenrik Empire.”

He shook his head and moved his finger back to Vutana. “By this time, Nylarjeen had become a small, unimportant kingdom. We have plenty of iron and sunstone from the Sunclaw Mountains, but back then, no one could harvest the Darkwood, and even then, the western Fellwood was a dangerous place, mostly shunned. We exported stone and ore in return for food and lumber, but as more ore deposits were found across the continent, we fell by the wayside. Yes, our iron is better, but it’s also harder to mine and has to be shipped across the Depthless Sea, which makes it much more expensive.

“In this small kingdom, though, almost two thousand years ago, a man came to power, a man with a dream of Empire. His name, as most recall, was Florin Mocanu, soon to be called Emperor Florin the First. No one knows much of his origins. It’s assumed that he served in the army, for he had a keen mind for tactics and strategies. It’s also assumed that he was one of the Adel, the nobility of Nylarjeen, because he had money and influence.

“What’s known for certain is that he was one of the – if not the – most powerful Raji who ever lived. He wrote entire libraries of spell books and magical research. He raised the entire city of Mihabag on the Sun Lake, created it in a day from the stones of a nearby sunstone quarry. He started schools where he taught a generation of Raji how to use their powers – and formed them into an unstoppable army.

“He renamed his kingdom Hilmenrik, the Empire of the Heavens, and with his army, he invaded Pietra. The defenders there had foreseen his coming and built a wall along their shore – Rafal’s Wall, the ruins of which can still be seen today. They manned the wall with their armies, shored it up with spells and covered it with iron, and they watched and waited as the Sunboats of Hilmenrik sped across the Depthless Sea.”

Vasily shook his head. “Their defenses, built over years, didn’t hold up for an hour. The records of that battle are disjointed and fragmented, but we know that Florin struck first with spells that shattered the wall, then built bridges across the sea, allowing his armies to march into Pietra and slaughter the defenders.

“The Pietrans resisted, of course, but the Hilmenrik army was unstoppable. They fought with sun-blessed steel, with tactics and precision they’d trained for a decade to master, and with powerful magic that the Pietran Rajis couldn’t resist. Within a year, the Pietrans were conquered.”

Vasily leaned forward and gave me a grin. “And guess what the Empire did then, Ionat? The evil Empire that you and everyone else has been raised to fear?”

“Killed the firstborn son of each family?” I guessed. It seemed like a suitably biblical punishment, after all.

“No. They took the Pietrans – and trained them, as well.” He laughed. “Florin cleared the city of Radonik of omeni, razed it to the ground – and rebuilt it in a day, better and stronger than it was, formed of the granite that it rested upon. He fixed their roads and built new schools, and he taught the Pietrans magic and warfare. He made them part of his Empire, not as servants but as equals.”

“Doesn’t sound very evil,” I noted.

“It doesn’t, does it?” he chuckled. “Over the next twenty years, Florin’s armies rolled across Novilad. They conquered every nation except Prydanka and brought them all into the Empire as equals. Vutana was the Emperor’s homeland, but its inhabitants received no special treatment, no better quality of life than anyone else in the Empire.

“Peace reigned, the Keserfred that lasted for three centuries. War ceased. Technology flourished, and the science of magic expanded enormously. Even the mooncursed were held at bay, thanks to the Totkrigers, the true followers of the Sun who could drive off the mooncursed and bar them from an area.” He took a deep breath.

“And then, within a single decade – the Empire collapsed.”

“That quickly?” I asked.

“That quickly. No one knows what happened. Florin died and passed on his mantle to his most trusted and powerful follower, who did the same when they died, and so on. There were no warnings, no signs of discontent or rebellion, no plagues or famines. All seemed well – and then, war swept the Empire, the nations broke away from it and rebelled, and the followers of Florin were hunted down and killed, to the last seed and root.”

I stared at him. That felt like a pretty drastic thing to just happen, after all. “No one knows why?”

“I’m sure they did, but most records of that time were destroyed, along with all of Florin’s teachings, his schools, and anyone with knowledge of his magic.” He shook his head. “Someone went out of their way to make sure no one would know what happened, Ionat.”

“Something must have survived,” I protested.

“I little. We know that a new Empress was named, Miksa the First, an Isafuredan by birth. She delivered something called ‘The Proclamation of the Sun’. No copies of it exist, but it signaled the start of the purges. Florin’s teachings were outlawed, and his followers arrested and executed. The Vanatori Order rose, and they stamped out those who fled or resisted.

“Without the power of those Rajis and the strength of arms of their followers, the Empress couldn’t hold her territory. Some great disaster befell Novilad, and the Empire broke apart. The Six Kingdoms were formed, and any who held to the dream of empire were hunted down and destroyed.”

He sat down and rolled up the map. “To this day, Ionant, rumors of Imperial holdouts exist. A thousand years have passed, and the Vanatori now hunt Lomoraji rather than Imperialists, but even the hint of one such will bring their ire, and they’ll burn an entire village just to be sure to kill one Imperialist family. Now, do you understand my fears?”

I nodded. “I used a power that was part of that Empire,” I said slowly. “If the Vanatori find out about it, they might think that Borava is an Imperialist holdout.”

“Exactly.” He leaned back. “And that doesn’t touch how you managed a feat that’s been lost since the time of Empire. You’re a stranger, here. Who’s to say that you weren’t raised in an Imperial Stronghold, taught their lost magic, and then escaped – or were the only survivor or a purge? You could bring disaster on my village, Ionat. I honor what you did for us, but how you did it?” He shook his head. “I wish that had never happened.”

“Viora wants to replicate it,” I said quietly. “Wouldn’t that cause more problems?”

“Probably not,” he shook his head. “The Sorvaraji is above reproach. No one would ever suspect or accuse her of Imperialist leanings. And if they did, a simple oath under the Sun’s Peace would reveal her lack of duplicity.”

He rose to his feet once more, and I did the same. “I think what you said before is best. Once the close moon has passed, you should move on, Ionat. I bear you no ill will, and I thank you for what you did for us – but your presence is a threat I can’t ignore.”

“Agreed,” I said. “However, in the meantime…” I looked around at the books longingly, and he laughed.

“Yes, as my thanks for saving us, my library is open to you while you are here,” he said. “You have earned your keep here, and that no one would argue. Still, there are tasks that need doing, and with Emilina’s death…”

I nodded. “I’ll go help Tedor and the logging crew,” I agreed. “I can read tonight, assuming the hungering stay away.”

“That would be appreciated,” he said with a sigh. “Ionat, I truly wish it were otherwise, but…”

“But you have to care for your village first,” I agreed. “I understand that, Vasily, and I don’t blame you for it in the slightest.”

I extended my hand, and he gripped it firmly. Then, I turned and walked out of the study and back into the commons, where Estera, the woman from the bathhouse, was waiting with some food. I wolfed it down quickly, my stomach grumbling as I did, then set off to go find Tedor and his crew.

The man didn’t say anything when I arrived, just handed me an axe and pointed to a felled tree. I nodded and set to work, swiftly falling back into the rhythm I’d set with Emilina the other day – a rhythm that felt wrong without her filling the other half of it. I turned my mind away from that and considered what Vasily had told me – and what he hadn’t.

For some reason, the Hilmenrik Empire that had been built with Florin’s magic – whatever that was – turned away from it. Not only did they turn their backs on it, they outlawed it and made it a crime to follow it. That didn’t track logically, as far as I could see. People wouldn’t just toss three centuries of tradition overnight, not unless there was one hell of a reason to do so. Vasily didn’t mention some sort of disaster or tragedy, but then, with all the records of that time purged and destroyed, that didn’t mean much.

The Vanatori formed, and it seemed like they were tasked with hunting down Florin’s followers. Only, how could they hunt down people who had magic more powerful than anyone else’s, people who had conquered an entire continent in less than a century? Realistically, Florin’s people should have destroyed their enemies, reclaimed power, and put the Empire back together again. They didn’t, though – which suggested that maybe they couldn’t. Either they’d become weaker for some reason, or everyone else got stronger. That second one seemed unlikely, since it sounded like Florin was some kind of mega-wizard. That meant that his type of magic grew weaker, or his people forgot how to use it correctly.

A notification flashed in my eyes, one that told me I’d earned 54 XP for my Scholar profession, presumably just for hearing Vasily’s story – and thinking about it, most likely. That was nice, but really, it was the only nice thing I’d heard that day. There was a Lomoraji in the Darkwood – apparently the name for someone who used lunar magic – and they were probably either insane or going insane, according to Vasily. I’d drained the altar of power, and it would take at least two days to fully charge; if the hungering attacked tonight, the village wouldn’t gain Viora’s powers to assist them. And I was being tossed out of the village on my ass once the close moon passed. Vasily hadn’t said it like that, of course, but there it was.

I didn’t blame the old man in the slightest, to be honest. It would be foolish of him to risk his village by allowing me to stay. True, it wasn’t likely that anyone in the village would report me, but I knew how rumors worked. Some kid would mention something to a passing merchant, who would report it to a guard, who would inform these Vanatori, whoever they were. They almost sounded like a combination secret police and SWAT team, to be honest, and I wasn’t excited to meet them. It sounded like Vasily wasn’t, either.

It was definitely best for me to be on my way, but while I was here, I would learn what I could, train my skills with Tedor and Renica, and maybe figure out some magic with Viora. That would give me some time to figure out how I was going to find this guy who wanted to squash the sun, and…

A loud, barking roar echoed through the trees, a cry that I felt as a physical pressure deep in my gut. An instant later, one of the loggers screamed in fear as a huge, shaggy, canine figure bounded into the clearing and smashed into him. The man fell beneath the attack of the four-foot-tall cairnik, an almost perfect copy of the one that followed Renica around in the forest. I hefted my axe and moved to help him, but a flash of movement caught my eye, and I whirled to see another of the creatures rushing through the trees, headed directly for me.

My body reacted swiftly, bringing the axe up before my chest. I slammed the haft forward, and the cairnik seized it in its heavy jaws, trying to tear it from my grip and bowl me over at the same time. I shifted sideways, twisting my hips and the axe at the same time, and the heavy creature stumbled as I drove its head toward the forest floor. It let go of the axe and scrambled to its feet, but I was already swinging it, bringing the heavy blade around in a smooth arc. The cairnik yelped as the axe head slammed into its side, bouncing off its ribs but opening a long slash.

The creature lunged at me again, and I danced out of the way, bashing the blunt side of the logging axe against its skull to push it away from me. It snapped at the weapon, trying to grab it with its jaws, and I thrust it into its nose. The flat metal edge didn’t do any real damage, but it forced the creature back a step and allowed me to regain my footing.

I readied the axe as the thing lowered its head, wishing I had my war axe on me. The longer weapon would give me more power and reach, allowing me to attack the cairnik’s legs. With the shorter wood axe, I had to aim for its head and body, and the creature was too tough for that to be effective. I had what I had, though, and I needed to make the most of it.

The canine rushed at me, and I smashed the blunt end of the axe into its head, sliding back to avoid its charge, my hands wide on the haft. I jerked the weapon up, sliding the axe blade along the dog’s chin and throat, then cracked the top of the axe against its muzzle, feeling a few teeth break as I did. The cairnik stumbled back, and I brought the weapon around in another wide blow. Once again, the axe sailed smoothly in my grasp – and again, it smacked against the beast’s side, opening a long, thin slash that bled but didn’t inflict much damage.

I swore as the thing charged me again, and I narrowly avoided its jaws by smacking the blunt back of the axe into its skull, then kicking its side to push myself away. It shook its head as if to clear it and focused on me again.

“Any ideas, Sara?” I thought grimly. I knew I could kill this thing, but it was taking too long, and I was worried about another one sneaking up on me from behind.

“Maybe,” she said hesitantly. “Try – try relaxing, John.”

“Relaxing?” I repeated. “What, so it doesn’t hurt when it eats me?”

“No. Just relax and feel the sunlight shining on you, the way you do when you’re working. Feel the warmth on your skin.” She hesitated, and I simply watched the cairnik readying its next pounce. “Trust me, John. Have I steered you wrong, yet?”

She hadn’t, but the idea of relaxing in a fight – it felt strange. I took a deep breath and let my shoulders drop, let my axe sink a bit. I felt the sun on the back of my neck, warming my shirt and hair. That warmth sank into me, relaxing my muscles and easing my worries.

The cairnik lunged, but I moved swiftly, dodging to the side with ease. As it soared past, my axe swept back and around almost without my thought, slamming down onto the creature’s side. This time, the weapon didn’t rebound. Instead, it sank in, shattering a rib and plunging deep into the thing’s body.

The cairnik yelped in pain as I jerked the weapon free, and it stumbled, staggering from the wound in its side. I swept the head of the axe sideways, knocking its muzzle away from me, and I felt the jaw crumble beneath my blow. It fell to the forest floor, and I swept the axe around in an overhead arc that ended with the blade thwacking into the creature’s skull. The cairnik twitched as its forehead cracked and the blade sank in, and I slipped the weapon free and looked around.

Another of the beasts lay atop the other woman in the group. She’d managed to do as I had and jammed her axe handle in its mouth, keeping it from savaging her, but it shook its head ferociously in an attempt to tear the weapon free, and its claws slid along her skin, opening up shallow but painful-looking cuts. Her partner stood beside her, his axe falling onto the canine’s back without opening up more than a superficial wound.

Still filled with the warmth that wrapped around me, I stepped forward, the axe swinging, and brought my weapon down on the back of the cairnik’s neck, just behind its heavy ruff. The creature dropped as my blow severed its spine, and the woman grunted as its weight fell onto her. I ignored her and glanced at the clearing, seeing where I was needed next.

Tedor and another man faced a third cairnik, but they had it well in hand. The creature limped, holding up a leg that had obviously been crushed, and its face bled from numerous deep gashes. Over to the side, another pair of loggers used one of the darkwood trees to hold off the last creature, one of them grabbing its attention and dodging around the tree while the other hacked at its legs and sides, then switching roles as the creature shifted to attack the second man. That group, I decided, could use some help.

I reached down and slipped my hatchet free of its sheath and lifted it up in front of me. I brought my arm back, then stepped forward and whipped the blade down, hurling it at the beast. The dog yelped as my hatchet slammed into its side and buried itself in the thing’s ribs. It staggered, and as it did, one of the lumberjacks smashed their axe squarely down on the thing’s skull. It shuddered and dropped, and I walked over to yank my hatchet free.

“Thanks,” the man who’d killed it said. “Nice throw, by the way.”

“I was aiming for its head, so lucky throw,” I grinned. That wasn’t true – I was aiming for center mass, the smartest shot to take when you aren’t sure you’re going to make it – but it didn’t hurt to make them think I got lucky.

“We were all of us lucky,” Tedor spoke, and I turned to see that he and his partner had dropped the last of the creatures. “Four cairniks, attacking by surprise…” He shook his head. “We should all be dead.” He looked at me and inclined his head, and I nodded in return. He didn’t need to say anything else, which was good, because I got the feeling that he wasn’t about to – at least, not about my assistance.

“Let’s load up and get these back to the village,” he went on. “Constansa, you’re too wounded to help. Head back to the village and get someone to bring the wagon early.” He looked at me. “Ionat, keep your weapon out and a sharp eye, just in case there are more of these things.”

“We’ve still got hours of the day left, Tedor,” one of the men protested, but the big man shook his head.

“We lost Emilina yesterday, and now Constansa’s wounded, Boian. If we have another attack like that, we could lose someone else.” He looked out into the trees. “The forest isn’t safe,” he admitted. “Until we can figure out why – none of us will be coming out here, at least not without guards.” Boian opened his mouth to speak, but Tedor glared at him.

“That’s my decision, Boian, and it’s final. Each of you is more important than another log of darkwood. We head back to the village.” He looked at me. “Hopefully, someone will get to the bottom of this sooner rather than later.”

Subtlety obviously wasn’t Tedor’s strong suit.