Circle Remade

Summary: Less than one year since "Magic Steps", Discipline cottage gets a few more residents. Three new young mages come to Winding Circle in unorthodox ways, adding to the young weaver mage who moved in after Sandry left. Though they come form different lives, they will have to remake a circle formed long ago with their predecessors if they want to save their new home…

Disclaimer: Don't own. Don't sue.

Chapter One: New Faces

Sage grinned. Finally, back from a campaign in civilization! She grabbed a proffered mug of cider and drank deeply. Being twelve and still a, what her group called, "virgin soldier", she wasn't allowed any alcohol. But warm, sweet cider was good enough for her.

The young girl looked around the bar over the rim of her mug. Even though she was young, even by normal standards, she still knew how to use a blade and defend herself. Woe to whatever man thought that her brown, almond shaped eyes and slim figure made for an easy target. She had given out more than her fair share of insults and been in more sword fights than she could count. Not to mention more knives hidden on her person than most men owned in their entire lives.

The low-lit tavern rang out with yells and good-natured insults. She looked over the shoulder of Garis to see him playing cards. "You know what Captain will do when he sees you gambling." She said to him. It was more of a shout, but in the roar of the inn, no one noticed.

"I don't plan on losing my hard earned wages." He shouted back at her. She rolled her eyes. No one planned on losing, that's how you made money. Being part of a mercenary band hadn't taught her much, but that was one of them.

"Looks like someone's going home without a shirt!" Garis whooped, and laid down his cards. A straight flush.

"Oh no, my friend, I believe I am the winner." A tall stranger sat in the shadows, his hood pulled all the way up. He lay down is cards. "I think that all of you owe me a considerable amount of money."

Sage narrowed her eyes. Suddenly, she reached out and grabbed the stranger's wrist. Before he could react, she had pulled out several cards, all in the top half of the deck.

"Cheat!" She screamed, and drew her sword. The other members of the card game stood up quickly, drawing their belt knives accordingly.

The stranger glanced from face to face; then kicked the table over. Garis was pinned under it, but she didn't notice. She went after the cheater. Unfortunately, so did about every other man in the bar. Most things were tolerated, but cheating a man out of his wages was not one of them.

Captain waded in and started pulling out those of his company. Sage dodged his arm and ran out after the man. Time for her to prove herself and earn a surname! The fight came outside, after the fleeing man. She dodged many blows aimed at random, coming up alongside the man.

He ran hard, faster than most other men in her company. But she was young and fast, and hadn't been drinking ale for most of the evening. She jumped on top of him, tackling him to the ground, reaching for his purse.

Then, a searing heat erupted from her shoulder. She gasped, and the man pulled his purse, and himself, out from under her. She grabbed her shoulder and winced. A knife was imbedded a little higher than her armpit, and was as deep as the handle. She bit her lip, trying to muffle a scream.

The man bent down and picked up her fallen sword. He grabbed her long black braid, ignoring the spiked wire she had braided into it. "Say goodnight, interloper." He snarled. Then, blackness.

xxx

Alida Falstaff gazed at the novice steadily. He shifted uncomfortably. This wasn't supposed to be his job; he was an apprentice to Gorse, the head cook, not a welcome committee! She could feel his uneasiness from where she was standing, halfway across the room. She could see him tug his gaze away from her and back to her aunt and uncle.

"She's your problem now!" Her uncle picked up her trunk and shoved it into the hapless novice. "Running away was the last straw. We can guarantee her a good education here, and that's as far as our generosity to shirkers goes!" He turned and walked off, leaving her aunt to scurry after him, and the apprentice to look at her awkwardly.

"Welcome to Winding Circle temple, miss." He said apologetically.

Alida gave him a small smile. He would change his tune soon enough. Everyone did. Besides, she didn't plan on staying here for that long. Before she finally ran, a traveling Master Violinist had promised her an apprenticeship if her guardians would agree. Seeing as she didn't have any anymore, that didn't seem like a problem.

The novice raised his arm. Alida winced automatically, taking a half-step away from him. He gave her a strange look and finished the motion, beckoning for her to follow him outside. She gave herself a mental slap. Not everyone is like that, she told herself. This is a temple, re-lax! No matter how many times she told herself that, she knew those wounds would never heal. As long as the thin, white scar shown on her arm, she would still fear any hand raised, even if not in anger.

The novice half carried, half dragged her trunk out the door. Not that it was that heavy; Alida had been shuffled around enough times to never have accumulated too many possessions. Her bright green eyes squinted in the sunlight, tawny hair whipping around her face in the sudden breeze.

"Lark!" He shouted, relieved. Alida turned to see a dedicate in green robes coming up the path.

"This is a new student, Alida Falstaff. Could you show her to the dormitories? I was supposed to fetch some fresh herbs from Dedicate Crane but then…" He trailed off.

"Of course, Darian go ahead head, I'm sure Crane will be more than happy to share his newest sprouts with the rest of the temple." The woman said.

Darian snorted. Alida could sense his disbelief. Was this Crane mean? She wondered. It wouldn't have been the first time she thought she was going someplace safe, only to find yet another reluctant caretaker.

He ran off, leaving Lark with Alida. "Well, I'm sure you've had a rough trip, let's get you over to the dormitories." She smiled at Alida. Alida stared her down until she cleared her throat awkwardly. "I'll get your trunk then…"

"Wait!" Alida cried, and ran forward. She opened the trunk and dug out her violin. "I'll carry this." She said.

Lark raised her eyebrows, but didn't say anything else. She picked up the trunk and started walking.

xxx

Eldred fa Ashe was falling over on his horse from exhaustion. Riding for two days, no rest except that which could be gotten by sleeping in the saddle or watering the horse, was taking its toll on him. If you had told him a fortnight ago that Earl Candelas would be laying siege to the stronghold of the fa Ashe family, he would have called them insane.

And yet, here he was, riding as hard as he could, trying to reach Duke Vedris as quickly as possible and get him to send aid to his besieged family. The family that had taken him in when he was a baby left on the doorstep of the keep. The family that had adopted him formerly, the family that had made him their own after their own son had died of the pox.

His horse stumbled and fell over. He dropped from the saddle and landed in the dirt. Tears streaked down his face. Three hundred mile in two days, on horseback. Fifty miles left to go. He hurt everywhere. How nice it would be not to ever get up. To fall asleep and find out the past week had just been a nightmare, he would have given anything to believe them and make it true.

But he couldn't. He had to get up. For everyone. Everyone who had risked their lives to get him out, everyone he would let down if he gave up. Everyone that would die if he didn't get to Duke Vedris soon.

It took every ounce of strength in his body to stand up, and then he leaned against a tree for support. He looked over and saw that his horse would never get up again. He also realized that he couldn't carry the trail packs the last fifty miles. Not unless he really wanted to kill himself.

This was it. He would either have to make it, or die, along with the rest of the five hundred people that were relying on him to get help.

Time to be strong, Eldred. He told himself.

Two nights ago, his father, Nathilred fa Ashe had woken him from his hard pallet in the entry hall of the Keep. The pair of them had shared sentry duty, along with the rest of the few guardsmen that had been deemed necessary for the small fiefdom in Northern Emelan.

"Our supplies are dwindling, Eldred. More importantly, if we do not get more soldiers, Candelas will merely have to wait until he gets enough soldiers to surround us and overwhelm our forces." His father had told him. Eldred was still blinking sleep out of his eyes, but his mind was on high alert. His father had taken on the tone of voice he used when dealing with something serious.

"Here is a pack. Inside is a letter to Duke Vedris, calling for aid. The capital is about three days riding away. A small group of our men will ride out, providing a distraction for you to get away. Take a horse off of the enemy's lines and ride hard; don't look back."

Eldred was still comprehending all of this when he turned to go away. "Eldred." His father called to him, using his most serious tone. Nathilred looked him in the eye. "Don't make their sacrifice worthless." Eldred nodded. A small force, riding out into the dark, toward a company of hardened battle-fighters was suicide. But they would do it, to give their friends and families a chance to see the sun again.

He grabbed the pack with the letter. It was his turn now.

xxx

Comas came out of his meditative state to find that he had weaved a yard of cloth in one sitting. He smiled and carefully cut away the cloth. A fortnight ago, he would have had to ask Lark to do it, but he had recently mastered weaving simple designs and removing a finished piece from the loom. It was good too, because Lark was out at the moment, and asking people had never been a strong suit. Or even talking, for that matter.

Comas sat back on his heels. Approaching people still gave him the jitters, but with Lark's help, he had trained himself not to run at the first sign of a visitor. Especially when Lady Sandrilene fa Toren came to visit, as she did every now and again.

Unconsciously, he felt for the tiny thread of power leading to Lark. He had discovered this recently as well; the ability to create a small thread of magic connecting him to another mage. He supposed it could work with a person with no magic, but he never had any contact with anyone who wasn't a mage. He hadn't even ventured outside Discipline since the incident with Dedicate Crane.

He shivered at the memory. Earlier that year, Rosethorn had sent him along with some tomato cuttings to Dedicate Crane's greenhouse. Only the fear of Rosethorn had made him face his fear of the outside world. He had arrived without incident at the greenhouse, handed off the cuttings, but had been so intimidated that he tried not to make eye-contact and kept his head down. Staring at his feet, he hadn't noticed where he was going until he had already knocked over a tray of plants, which created a domino effect until almost the entire greenhouse was wiped out. He had slipped away from Crane, who was so distracted by yelling at his novices he wouldn't have noticed if a cannon went off outside room. Comas hadn't emerged from his room for a week after that.

Lark kept telling him his shyness was crippling him, but at least she wasn't yelling at him to 'be a man' and show more maturity as a twelve-year-old. An age where he should have been taking his manhood rights, if he had stayed in his small village on the Eastern frontier of Emelan.

A small thread of power trickled toward him. He smiled and gestured. The power, extra energy from some spell in the temple, came towards him like a puppy to owner. He condensed it in his hand and placed it into the cloth, weaving it seamlessly into the fabric. The magic must have come from a spell against fire, which were often used in the kitchen, and was now placed into the weave, making the textile impervious to flame of a certain extent.

He had discovered this talent not to long ago too. He could also see threads of magic in the air, but he hadn't told anyone, even Lark, afraid that he would have to be moved. He had just gotten comfortable here, and he wasn't about to leave anytime soon. Dealing with it himself had given him more headaches than imagined, but he was still at Discipline cottage, so he didn't let it get to him.

A strengthening of his connection to Lark told him she was coming. He was ready for her in the kitchen with a mug of tea.

Note: Sorry to die-hard Tamora Pierce fans if I don't use some of the words from Emelan, but I'm going purely on what I remember from the books. I don't know if there is a violin in that world, but that's why it's called fan FICTION. Thanks, and remember to review.