When a plague ravages his village, the shaman Cian sails to the land of the dwarves for a cure. During the voyage, he meets and allies with Thanyan, a beautiful male elf who is a bard. Upon reaching the dwarven cleric whom Cian has been tasked with consulting, they uncover a dangerous secret: the plague resulted from blood magic. To undo this forbidden magic, they must travel to the island nation of the centaurs and visit The Amphitheater of Souls, the ancient temple where the blood magic was cast.
Cian and Thanyan hire a female dwarven warrior, Loquin, as a bodyguard for protection against the instigator of the plague. However, they still find themselves stalked, assaulted with magic, and tangled in secrets. On the voyage to the island, a sea serpent attacks, nearly destroying their ship, and when they arrive at the island, the spellcaster launches further attempts to kill them so they can’t lift the blood curse causing the plague. With the help of centaur priestesses, the group fights to untangle a dark affair that is revealed to span decades.
As Cian and Thanyan become embroiled in this dangerous mission to capture the rogue spellcaster, they grow to love each other. But with their lives at risk, can they save the village and live out their lives together in love?
In the morning, Cian and Thanyan ate a hearty dwarven breakfast and walked back to the Five Abbeys. Rokemak awaited them. He opened the door as soon as Cian knocked.
Cian bowed. “Good morning, Esteemed Cleric Rokemak.”
“Yes, a good morning indeed. Do come in.” Rokemak swerved through the stakes of books and the three cats, each of which tried to trip him as he walked.
Cian and Thanyan followed Rokemak inside.
“Does this mean you’ve discovered something more about our quest?” Thanyan asked.
“I have information, yes.” Rokemak picked up two letters from his desk, both with a wax seal. He handed them to Cian. “The first letter is to Etena, Priestess of the Western Temple of Equatusa. The Western Temple is where you’ll need to go to access the Amphitheater of Souls. I’ve met and spoken with her before. She’s even-tempered -- for a centaur, anyway -- and will hear you out.”
Cian glanced at the first letter. “Will the city guards permit us to enter if I show them this letter?” The outside was addressed to Etena from Rokemak.
Rokemak snorted. “They will test your strength first. Typically, centaurs are like the stereotypical night elves: They hate tourists, and they hate weaklings.”
“Great. So I’ll have to practice fighting with Loquin, or I’m doomed.” Cian wished now he’d kept up his skills after his elder sister had trained him. He held up his arms, which were slender, not muscular. “I’m a druid and an apprentice shaman. I have no interest in fighting.”
“Centaurs prefer physical strength,” Rokemak said, “but they accept there is more than one kind of power.”
“Druidic power?” Cian raised an eyebrow. “The skills of a shaman?”
“Think about what you can do that others cannot,” Rokemak said.
“I don’t know of another person besides my gran and Shaman Shaeya who has visions,” Thanyan said. “That is a rare gift from the deities. I don’t suppose you can have visions deliberately?”
Cian cringed and let his gaze hover on Rokemak’s longhaired white cat napping in the sunlight pouring through a window. “Shaeya and Adeen have both mastered inducing visions at will, but I have not. I am able to scry for information using water or fire. If centaurs find divination useful, it’s one of my top skills. That and healing spells.”
“Healing spells are useful everywhere,” Rokemak said. “In fact, among the night elves, healers have the most respect afforded them of any magic user.”
Surprised by Rokemak’s even tone of voice when discussing night elves, Cian glanced back at him. Humans usually hate and fear night elves. Apparently dwarves do not.
Thanyan glowered at the mention of the night elves.
“Above all, centaurs prize honor.” Rokemak stooped to pet the zebra-coated cat swiping his legs. “Don’t forget that.”
“Very well.” Cian knew little about centaurs, so he took the priest’s word at face value.
“Above all else, dwarves are honorable, and Cian is a most honorable human,” Thanyan said. “He is willing to sacrifice himself for his village. If anything, Cian could use slightly less honor.” He slanted Cian a look. “However, if this impresses upon the centaurs the dire importance of the quest, then all is well.”
Cian held up the second envelope. “And this letter?”
“That is to the high priestess Gordina.” Rokemak straightened. “You need to ask Etena to take you to see Gordina. She’ll first bite your head off, but if you persist, she’ll agree to be interviewed. From there, convince her to do the spell you need.”
“And do you know which spell we need?” Cian asked.
“Not precisely. Only that it must reverse the blood magic spell.” Rokemak’s brow furrowed. “Only Gordina will know which one will work. She can deduce which spell was cast, or, if you are lucky, she’ll have a record of the spell.”
Cian stowed both letters in his bag. “Thank you for the invaluable advice. You honor Shaeya with your friendship, and I am deeply grateful.”
“Oh, none of that.” Rokemak flushed lightly. “This is my final piece of advice. Equatusa is a goddess of the centaurs. Her statues are obvious because she’s portrayed as a centaur with wings. Each time you see a statue of her, incline your head, bow, or otherwise salute her. The centaurs will take it as a sign of respect to them and their culture. Now off to the docks with you! The daily ship to Valcalla leaves soon.”
“I will pen you into my epic about our quest favorably,” Thanyan said with a grin.
Offering final bow, Cian allowed Rokemak to usher them away.
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