Below the Moon

by Alexis Marie Chute

  “Naiu was not the only one that spread its wings through the expanse before it formed consciousness on marbles of earth and sent them spinning. There was another, perhaps many others, though the one we found was the playmate of Naiu. She was called Finnah but has gone by many names since.”

  Ella bristles at Archie’s side, while she listens intently.

  “Like Naiu,” Callisto continues, “Finnah once flew with wings; she had no need for legs or feet or toes as there was nowhere to land. Together, Naiu and Finnah batted their feathers through the velvety expanse of peaceful black nothingness, curving around each other like strands of a braid. Their flight was the first dance.

  “Finnah observed Naiu spinning time and giving of itself in reckless creativity. Finnah warned Naiu that time was not a toy and that creation was a responsibility, but Naiu turned its eyes away, lost in delight and with no foresight of what might come.

  “When Naiu crashed onto Jarr-Wya, forming Baluurwa, it perished in perceivable form except in the shadow of all it has made, and most tangibly in my sisters. Finnah was in mourning. Without her companion, the vastness seemed icy and unfriendly, but for the worlds and derivative dimensions that looked—unknowingly—to Finnah for guidance and protection.

  “Finnah was tender and wise. She knew what she must do. She shut her eyes tightly, inhaled the expanse, and burst apart into flecks of light that scattered broadly. Finnah has swollen into suns and frozen into moons for each orbit, seeking to give order to the worlds, and their sunsets, sunrises, and the pacing of time, disciplining the seconds—though they often rebel, running away or falling behind. What we call stars on Jarr and on Earth is Finnah watching over us. Many human years ago, we sisters discovered Finnah, her primary consciousness, living as a sun in a faraway world, her fingers spread out across the galaxy.

  “We told Finnah of the change of heart in Naiu and the beginnings of its withdrawal from the universe, which was barely perceptible then, even to us. Naiu believed goodness was dead in the worlds, thus true death should follow.

  “Through all the sunsets since the creation of the mother and derivative worlds, Finnah has observed. She has watched from afar, noticing the restraint of a child to spare the wounded spider, though she could easily crush its fragile legs beneath her foot. Finnah has seen the passion of lovers, thoughtful gestures, sacrifice, the magic of skin’s touch, the heart’s swell of love.

  “Finnah has seen the creativity that is the birthright of all Naiu has formed—creativity untarnished, released in purity and joy, in art and music and invention and movement and song. You have seen the striking glass formations of the Olearons. You have partaken in the ingenuity of Rolace, who weaves enlightenment into a web so all whose will is strong and heart is brave may blossom into the fullness of their being. Even in the Bangols, Finnah witnesses the magic of creativity through their stone-made inventions and architecture.

  “Finnah believes that what Naiu created is good, despite the pain, the hard lessons, and the early evolutions of these worlds as they seek order out of disorder and fail in the process. Yet failure is not forever. It opens each race to new dimensions of the Naiu in them—the good in them.”

  Archie emboldens himself to ask, “What will happen once Naiu is gone?”

  “If Naiu continues to recoil from all worlds,” Callisto answers, “our magic, our potential for life and love, will be stolen away. It will be the first death, an invisible death. We will remain like a body but without a spirit. In some places, in the far reaches, the life force of Naiu has already disappeared. These places need saving, but not yet. We sisters see this, and so, too, does Finnah. Their time for salvation will come.

  “The first to be saved is Naiu itself. It must be convinced that the worlds are worth redemption. That must take place here, on Jarr-Wya, where Naiu collects itself.”

  Azkar clears his throat. “And how might that be done, Callisto?” His voice trembles with gratitude.

  “When we Steffanus sisters found Finnah in the corner of the galaxy where her heart dwelt, we implored her for help. Finnah suspected what was happening even then; she sensed that Naiu was growing stronger in the core but abandoning its creations on the periphery.

  “Finnah regretfully said goodbye to its closest world, leaving it in chaos once more. She soared between the orbits, around the spheres of blue and emerald and ocher and magenta, where races were left to fend for themselves without their stars. Finnah pulled back her fingers as she traveled toward Jarr, gathering her strength.

  “At first Finnah planned to crash into Jarr-Wya to snuff out Naiu, her friend through all the ages. She hoped that what love remained in the galaxies would remain where it was so that some worlds could live on. In the last second, however, as she streaked through Jarr’s sky, Finnah changed her mind. She conceived of a trickier course, but one that could save all.”

  “Let me get this straight,” Nate says, scratching his blond crew cut. “Finnah is …”

  “The Star,” Archie finishes.

  Ella shivers from her feet to the tangle of her hair, but keeps her mouth shut tight.

  “You see,” adds Callisto, “it is not the Star that is poisoning our land. The Star, Finnah, is here to convince Naiu. It is the withdrawal of Naiu—growing greater with each passing sunset—that leeches life from Jarr-Wya, our home. In its absence, the Olearons, Bangols, sprites, and even we sisters grow conflicted at the true meaning of peace, believing it can be won through bloodshed. And as for the ill-formed Millia—”

  A sneering voice cuts through Callisto’s like a serrated blade. “I wondered,” the gravelly voice begins, “when you’d turn your story to us, to us.”

  Archie forgot how Senior Karish repeats himself in the pompous puff of his words. That is the only thing he failed to remember. He turns his head and sees the golden form of Senior Karish, the mouthpiece of the Millia sands, mimicking the form of a mammoth sasar. Archie recalls what Olen, the now-dead Olearon warrior, told Tessa, Ella, and him about the Millia. Olen said they were once the shells of the sea creatures who desired the Star and dove deep, though they could never reach it. Their bitterness at their unfulfilled mission bled their wickedness into their shells. At the creatures’ deaths, these shells broke apart into millions of grains of golden sand on the southern shore. It was sand so corrupt that it formed a village, made of itself, and continued in fruitless toil after its only love: the Star.

  Archie witnessed the cruelty of Senior Karish and the hive mind shared by the enchanted sand. It transformed itself into a beast, biting into a female passenger of the Atlantic Odyssey. It stabbed sand-formed claws through the belly of an Olearon. A sandstorm shattered part of the Olearons’ glass ship. Worst of all the memories is the nightmare that stalks Archie whenever he closes his eyes: the Millia’s demand for blood and the way they blew through the humans, shredding them only to suck every drop of their blood from the crimson-stained beach.

  Archie pushes Ella and Luggie behind him as the golden sasar descends upon the company.

  Chapter 30

  Archie

  You foolish Olearons and equally dim winged women. Foolish. Dim,” snarls the beastly form of Senior Karish. His long golden tongue licks his sandy face. “You talk as if this island is worth saving. Ha! You talk, and talk, as if one of your races could ever be worthy to rule Jarr-Wya.”

  The Lord of Olearon wears a robe of fire. “If not our races, then who?” he asks coolly, betraying his composure with his flames.

  “Is it not obvious?” Senior Karish howls with laughter.

  Jarr-Wya begins to rumble. Huge footfalls are felt on all sides, except the north, where erratic waves slap the shore with the broken discipline of the storm. Out from the eastern, southern, and western maze entrances bound a dozen Haaz headed for the heart of the fortress. The blind giants move their meaty legs with vigor, the fastest Archie has seen them run.

  “What are they afraid of ?” Lillium asks. She slips low in Archie’s pocket, where she chatt
ers to her Wingies and Gobo.

  “I don’t know—” Archie begins, then stops. Peeking just above the tops of the maze walls, he can make out waves of glittering gold, tearing through every turn and finally spilling out of each of the three entrances. The sand curves in a wave, bouncing off the muddy earth to rise up once more.

  The Haaz pack leap into the cavernous earth, where the Bangols’ Tillastrion once churned, and cower in the mud. Sand trickles over the edge of the gorge in golden falls that taunt the sightless beasts.

  “You see, you see,” begins Senior Karish once more, interrupting the whimpers of the sprites. “This blasted storm has done wonders for us. No longer are we contained to our southern shore. No longer do we remain at sea level, which changes by the day … have you noticed? This crazed wind has blown us across Jarr-Wya and up Baluurwa, and even here, where we are more than delighted to stumble upon this gathering.”

  Nameris bites his bottom lip. “This is terrible news,” he whispers.

  Azkar clenches his fits, his bold knuckles cracking with loud pops. He sets his body aglow and stalks up to the sandy creature. “Return to the south, or we will return you ourselves.”

  Again, Senior Karish howls, spewing silt in Azkar’s face. “I cannot imagine how! Are you going to collect us one grain at a time? Best of luck to you, best of luck … You will need it in this tornado!”

  The golden sasar stands on its back legs, towering two feet above Azkar’s dreadlocks. The Olearon warrior is unmoving, blackening the ground with a charred halo around his feet. Senior Karish moves his front paws toward Azkar, who does not back down, and at the last moment before they collide in flame, he retracts his deadly claws.

  The claws enter Azkar’s fire, sparking and solidifying. Senior Karish rests back on all fours. He inspects the change to his claws, which cool to melted glass. “That’s better, much better,” he says. “These will do the job.”

  Archie stutters, “Wh-what job?”

  “Well,” begins Senior Karish as the Bangols’ fortress continues to fill with sand, as if there is no end to it. “We will kill you all—we have been craving human blood since that derelict ship crashed on our beach—and then sink the island.”

  Luggie says, “Sink Jarr-Wya?”

  Ella calms him with a touch, though the Bangol’s teeth remain bared.

  “Why would you do that?” Junin growls, her lit body simmering in the rain. She moves to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with Azkar. Islo and Ardenal do the same. Together their flames overpower the downpour and glow orange and blue in one unbroken wall of heat.

  “It will take a little time,” Senior Karish says, “but we can drown the island in sand and in water. Since the arrival of the Star, new pockets of desert have appeared; I presume you have noticed. There is the one to the east, which grows by the sunset, and another that chokes out much of the blue forest in the south.

  “And for the water, well, have you forgotten where we originated? We Millia began as the shells of mighty shellarks and other deep-dwelling creatures you have only imagined in nightmares, in wicked nightmares. We Millia remain friends to ocean dwellers. Even as I speak, the shellarks and drowned wyverns maneuver seaweed ropes woven a human’s height across, connecting them to the crust of the island. Already they pull downward, anchoring Jarr-Wya deeper and deeper.”

  “You will crush the Star! Not collect it as a treasure. You will bury it alive!” says Callisto. Tears fall from her silver cheeks.

  Senior Karish ignores Callisto and continues. “Have the Steffanus sisters not told you, Lord of Olearon? Within Baluurwa, they have tunneled to the island’s deepest crusts. These wicked women might have drowned you all already, were it not for their enchantments. Even now, there are weary sisters at each of these lower caverns, standing guard over the magic that holds back the sea.”

  “Everything we do,” shrieks Callisto, “is to guard and protect the Star and Naiu and Jarr-Wya. Even if it means the death of our sisters. But you! All you lust for is your imaginary treasure.”

  “Oh so dramatic! So dramatic, Steffanus!” Senior Karish mocks. “Do not worry about the Star, or Naiu, or the island. You have other more pressing matters to concern yourself with.”

  The Lord and Callisto exchange a glance before their eyes turn back to the writhing sand. Senior Karish is joined by other golden sasars that flare retracted claws and piercing fangs. The company, Olearons, sprites, and Steffanus sisters back away slowly toward the Bangols’ amphitheater.

  “It is only a matter of time, a matter of time. Our plan is already under way. We Millia have been patient long enough, long enough. We will ride Jarr-Wya through the sea to the Star.”

  The Haaz pack, once only whimpering, begin to bellow until their voices are choked out, along with their lives.

  Chapter 31

  Ella

  Everything happens at the speed of red lightning.

  Luggie pulls me up into his arms. Grandpa leads us through the Bangols’ fortress, always only a step ahead of the Millia. Our company flees the evil sand, which has morphed from sasars to a giant octopus with too many arms for me to count as I peer over Luggie’s shoulder and am jostled about. The Steffanus warriors weave among us, along with the Olearons from the glass city. All the red bodies look alike, which makes it hard for me to spot Dad.

  There he is! I know the way his black hair falls past his shoulders and the shape of his back.

  Dad’s a touch shorter than the other Olearon men, about the same height as the women. It’s like he hasn’t fully grown into his new skin. I get it. I’m always the shortest one because my body spends all its time fighting cancer, neglecting my need for height.

  Dad is running backward, his face turned away from me. He’s staring squarely into the hundred gold eyes that cover the sandy face of the octopus. Fireballs glow like burning roses on his palms and grow into black holes of heat and malice. He throws them at the eyes, melting glass tunnels through them. He calls the tall grasses from the distant blue forest, and they sail to him, aglow with orange light. Dad directs these flying slivers of flame with his fingers, tangling them around the Millia’s tentacles, binding them briefly.

  The Steffanus warriors fight as they run, jabbing daggers into sand and breaking apart the form of the monster, only to have a tentacle crash to the earth in tiny pieces bearing no resemblance to what it once was. Then the sand reforms somewhere else. The sisters unfold their wide wings—lovely pinks and teals and sunshine yellows with splatters of silver—and beat the air till they stand on the staggered roofs of the Bangol fortress. They are eye-to-eye with the sand creature. From the building tops, they catapult loose boulders, which crash through the octopus but do nothing to slow it down.

  Luggie shifts me to Grandpa’s arms. Grandpa Archie sprints—unnaturally fast—past Luggie, and I scream for him, a silent scream, releasing fifty green birds that are shredded to pieces by the mammoth gold beast. The sand spills streams of blood. My poor green birds. As much as I hate them, they are a part of me.

  Even as we reach the band shell’s stage, I reach back for Luggie, but Grandpa won’t let me go. My eyes feel clouded with liquid fear that streaks my cheeks and dampens my bomber jacket, which Grandpa gave me back on Earth. Our company—and the sprites, Olearon warriors, and Steffanus sisters—gather here. Nameris and Nate tinker with the Tillastrion, which still looks to me like an odd collection of garbage.

  I’m blubbering now. We can’t leave Luggie behind! I grip Grandpa Archie’s shirt and shake. I point from Luggie to Nate and Nameris, again and again, but either he doesn’t want to acknowledge that we’re leaving Luggie behind or he’s thinking up a plan. I hope it’s the latter.

  Luggie stands fixed in the fortress. His arms are spread at his sides, his fingers whitening with tension. In the corner of the band shell, where Grandpa shields me from the attack—amplified by the storm crackling through the sky—I can see flashes of Luggie’s grey face. His cheeks flush and crack open, dripping his strange-colored
blood. Only adult Bangols have cheek-stones. Through his torn skin, sharp edges of newborn rock emerge. I’m watching Luggie grow up before my eyes.

  Luggie summons the Naiu in him, wielding his Bangol power over the earth. He crumples four-story-tall structures. They topple in a landslide of boulders that explode through the gold octopus and sprays sand into the murky morning like the petals of an immense yellow chrysanthemum.

  That’s when Grandpa Archie leaves me. He leaps from the stage and dashes to Luggie. I can hardly believe his courage—and his strength. He swings Luggie onto his back and races through the rubble and charred earth cratered with fireballs that billow lilac smoke.

  Lilac smoke … I remember it from the Atlantic Odyssey. When the Olearons first boarded our cruise ship, the magic purple gas was how they subdued us, incapacitated us.

  The voice of Senior Karish rumbles. “You think you can lock us behind your wall of purple?”

  A woozy tentacle parts the lilac curtain, the enchanted smoke taking effect. The Millia’s speed begins to lag, though Senior Karish continues to threaten and curse, slurring his wicked words. Translucent slugs slip across the hundred eyes of the octopus, but the massive creature moves onward, unblinded, seeing with every grain. Tentacles flail, looting the dense smoke for bodies big or small, though finding none.

  Painfully, I push myself up from the stage and shuffle through the buzzing sprites and icy winged sisters to Nate and Nameris. Their hands are busy and Nameris mumbles about “desire” and the “right combination of things,” but it’s all futile. Their frustration is my salvation. I cling to the sleeve of Nate’s shirt and pull like an impatient toddler yanking on my occupied parent. I don’t care. Plus, Nate isn’t my father. Finally, I capture his attention and point to the Millia monster, to the place where Grandpa and Luggie disappeared in the silky folds of lilac clouds.