Circle of the Moon

by H. P. Mallory

  The fire crackled over the silence. It popped and sizzled, interrupting the otherwise silence within the room. Slowly, Mathilda’s eyes opened. A touch of absent warmth returned to the room.

  “I really couldn’t say what the Abyss is or isn’t; I have never been there. As I mentioned, it’s a place that exists mainly in our oral tradition—and barely even there—on the outskirts of myth, not even a wives’ tale really, but I have heard a story...” Mathilda looked troubled, unsure of whether or not to go on. “Stories of a place in Faery called Azuria, something like the Christians’ image of heaven…”

  The memory of the meadow’s sunbeams warmed my skin as she spoke.

  “... but Azuria, a beautiful legend itself, is said to cast a vile shadow.”

  I remembered the shadow that fell over me for a moment when I laid in the poppies. The shadow’s chill struck me again. Like I was back in the meadow, with a strange hollow feeling—gone as quickly as it came.

  “A vile shadow?” I asked.

  “Azuria’s dark counter place,” Mathilda said. “A place called the Abyss.”

  A violent shiver racked my body.

  “Azuria is said to be the embodiment of all that’s good in Faery. It brings out the best in people and fills them with incredible happiness. But there’s said to be a place on the other side. An exact inversion. It brings out the worst in humanity. It drowns its prisoners in darkness …”

  “The Abyss,” I repeated. “Why did you never tell me about this place before? When I was searching in Faery, trying to find Jolie…”

  “I didn’t know to tell you,” Mathilda responded as she faced me. “I was not even certain the Abyss was a real place and if I had imagined Jolie was there…” Her voice faded.

  “You would never have told me,” I finished her thought.

  She nodded. “I could never have lived with myself if I sent you to your potential doom.”

  “I need to know, Mathilda,” I said and stared at her. “I need to know everything you know about this place, about the Abyss.”

  There was a faraway look in Mathilda’s eyes. She stood up suddenly and walked away. She kneeled at a tilted bookcase beside the fire. Her index finger skimmed the outer bindings.

  “Ah! There you are!”

  She snatched a volume from the shelf. She sat back down, carrying with her a massive dusty book. It was dark blue, old as hell, and heavy by the looks of it. I tried to read the front cover, but it was too faded to make out the intricate silver script.

  “This book contains all known knowledge of the lands of Faery,” Mathilda said. “All the wisdom the fae has to offer. I can’t guarantee you’ll find any answers in here but…”

  I hugged her gratefully and dropped to my knees in front of the book. “Thank you, Mathilda,” I said.

  “I’ve never managed to read all of it, but perhaps it could be of some use to you.” She sighed. “For myself, I don’t know much of the Abyss.”

  We finished our tea by the crackling fire. I said goodnight and hugged her again, the blue book of the fae and their lands hooked under my arm.

  “Get some rest,” she said. “You could use it after the night you’ve had.”

  “I will.”

  We both knew I was lying, but I wanted to put her mind at ease. She laid her palm on the side of my face, love simmering warm in her eyes. I’d never had a mother, or one that I’d known, but Mathilda’s love felt as true and maternal as any.

  “Goodnight, Bryn.” She closed the cottage door.

  Walking briskly, I started back to the main house.

  I flipped the book open on my forearm and read the title page by moonlight: The Plains Beyond: The Abyss.

  An old adage popped into my head, something Sun Tzu said in the Art in the War: “To know your Enemy, you must become your Enemy.”

  FIVE

  MORSE

  I woke hard, pressed against a lithe body, soft hair feathering one side of my face. It took me a few seconds to remember just where I was and what woman lay against me. Too pale to be the slavemaster, Ermolai. Instead of peachy-orange skin, this woman’s bare shoulder was the color of cream and looked like it would taste just as sweet.

  My gaze swept up to her face, and I found myself studying the planes of it. Just as before, I was struck by her beauty. Even in the low light, her hair seemed like fine gold filigree. Her plump, pink lips were slightly parted, gentle breaths easing out of her. Her chest rose and fell in an easy rhythm, pushing at my hand braced just under her breasts.

  Jolie Wilkins, she called herself. This had been her idea after I’d claimed her under my protection. Sleep with me, give the others the impression she was mine, though no sex actually occurred. She’d been quite explicit on that front. She’d black both my eyes if I tried anything. I believed her.

  It was a damn shame because she was a fine woman. Slim, athletic, her physique earned by time and trial. Still, there was something about her eyes. Big and blue and full of something so innocent, it hurt me to look at. I had lost my innocence a long time ago. I wasn’t even sure I had it in me to begin with.

  This was our third day in this hellhole, and every time I woke like this—with an erection straining against my kilt. The impetuous little fucker ought to have been satisfied, as Ermolai dragged me to her bed every night, fucking me in every conceivable position until I crawled into my cramped sleeping quarters completely spent. No thought of making love to Jolie in the evenings, when we curled together in the cold and damp. But come morning, I was hard, pressed eagerly into her firm backside, longing to slide my fingers up to cup one perfect breast, trace my fingers along her peaked nipples.

  And they were always peaked. This place... Fatalia... or whatever the fuck they called it, was always frigid. It was a wonder me balls didn’t fall off.

  Aye, ‘twas fruitless to wonder what her breasts tasted like. She was not mine. Never would be. From the sounds of it, she had a lover, a husband she’d called him. That first night the words just seemed to pour forth, like a river bursting its dam. Apparently the lovely girl had not seen a living, human soul for ten years.

  The Abyss was a big place, and it was possible for a newcomer to wander the endless fjords, marshes, and mountainous ranges that dominated most of the place. I’d just had the ill-luck to land myself in one of the few populated areas, full of hard men and harder conditions. One didn’t survive the Abyss without having a spine of iron or finding someone to shelter behind that did.

  Jolie was made of strong stuff, but never seemed to lose an edge of feminine softness, despite it. She said she used to be a queen, a powerful woman with an equally powerful husband and a girl babe of her own. She hardly looked old enough to be a mother, let alone to a girl who would be a teenager by now. Then again, the Abyss was funny that way. Time didn’t seem to pass in quite the same way as it did in the world above.

  Jolie stirred, and her round ass brushed against my cock. I hissed in a breath. Gods, but I wanted to be inside her. Wrong, to want her. We were strangers, even if she had told me her life’s story over the three days we had shared, locked as we were in this prison.

  I wondered if my fascination with her was owing to the fact that she was the first human woman I’d come across in years? Or was the reason for my fascination simply owing to her—with those compelling blue eyes and the aura of... life that clung to her.

  Her eyelids fluttered, brushing her cheeks a few times before they opened. Her pupils dilated as they fixed on me.

  Shite, I normally moved my manhood away from her before she woke. Wouldn’t do to scare her away.

  “Me apologies, lass,” I mumbled. “I cannae help it.”

  She giggled and ‘twas a right, pleasant sound. “It’s alright, Morse,” she said, voice thick with sleep. “I understand men’s needs first thing in the morning.”

  She caught sight of my expression and her face split into a wide grin. A laugh bubbled out of her, and something in my chest clenched at the sound.

&
nbsp; “I have nae business touchin’ ye, all the same.”

  She sat up and stretched. I let my hand fall away. Her chains rattled. A manacle on each wrist and one on the right ankle. I wasn’t sure why the bloody Veits didn’t restrain her the same as me, tethered at four points. At least there was enough slack we needn’t sleep upright.

  We lapsed into silence then, the mirth draining away as we were once again reminded of our situation. There was the tromping of boots in the adjacent hall. The guards were coming.

  When the shapes rounded the corner, I noticed two males, one a head taller than the other, both wearing the leathers and chainmail that seemed standard in this place. The shorter of the two knelt and slotted a key into our manacles, undoing them one by one, his other hand lovingly stroking a blade. The message was clear: if we resisted, we’d be gutted like squealing pigs.

  Jolie straightened with a sound of relief, stretching her aching muscles. She smiled a little, despite the circumstances. I didn’t smile. ‘Twould be a difficult day’s work ahead, and I’d struggle to do my share of it and Jolie’s. She’d protest, quietly, lest we attract the attention of the guard, that she could do the work herself. We compromised, with me taking the heavy barrels, Jolie taking the somewhat lighter chamber pots.

  The second guard hurled a pair of dark, cylindrical shapes at us. My hands shot out to catch them on instinct, before one of them could hit Jolie in the face. She sucked in a surprised breath as my arm was thrust so near her face. I imagined I couldn’t smell pleasant.

  The shapes swung a little in my grip, the bits I’d grabbed were long, thin, and metal. I felt along their edges, tracing the contours until I got a good idea of what they might be.

  Buckets. What the bloody hell were these for?

  “You’re in the eastern tunnels today, slaves,” the younger Veit, Brottor, barked. “You will be harvesting. When you fill these, you are to report back, empty them, and return. Failure to harvest an adequate amount will result in punishment.”

  Punishment equated to whipping.

  “Understood,” I ground out. “I wish to inquire after me companion who was captured with me,” I started as I looked at both guards. I was referring to Scrote, the man who had accompanied me into the cavern and had been abducted, same as me.

  “He’s dead,” Brottor responded with no emotion.

  “Dead?” I repeated.

  “Scrawny, useless thing?” Brottor asked, as if to make sure we were referring to the same man.

  “Aye,” I answered, for it was a fair assessment of Scrote.

  Brottor nodded. “Dead. Those who are deemed useless to us are killed,” he finished with a shrug.

  I swallowed hard. Red, hot anger burst within me but I had to keep it subdued. I had expected as much—Scrote was more burden than relief. Even so, this news hit me hard.

  “Can ye show us to our post, masters?” I asked and drew out the word mockingly. No one owned me. I belonged to myself and soon enough they’d bloody well learn that.

  The guards bristled at my tone, but they didn’t strike me, as I half-expected. Brottor bared his teeth at me, took a step forward, and pushed until we were chest to chest.

  “Watch yourself, slave. Or your woman will suffer the consequences.”

  His words burned me.

  “Brottor,” the older Veit, called Adrik, said. I had realized he had a soft spot for Jolie when I had watched him serve us our dinner a night or so prior. Now his gaze lingered on her.

  As regarded Brottor, I was quite certain he had noticed Adrik’s interest in the blonde warrior woman as well. And I was afraid he would use Jolie against Adrik. I was just worried as to how.

  Though Jolie was a strong and powerful woman and very capable with a weapon, she wouldn’t go unmolested without a protector. Too beautiful, and surrounded by too many louts. Perhaps I wasn’t a strictly honorable man, but I was better than those surrounding us. Truth be told, I was her best option in this wasteland.

  I took a step back from Brottor, swallowed my pride, though it was like gargling with glass to do so, and tucked my chin, avoiding eye contact.

  The man snorted and muttered something in his strange language. Perhaps it was me own Gaelic blood, but I thought it sounded suspiciously like the word for ‘pussy’.

  We were both pushed, and I steadied Jolie when she stumbled. She looked a little irked, either at herself for needing the help, or me for offering it. She’d suffered some kind of injury before arriving that resulted in a limp. I was no doctor, but I wondered if her foot was broken and had healed wrong. I knew a lad back in the shithole town who could re-break bones to set them straight. I doubted the Veits would allow for the time it would take her to heal though. I could only hope they wouldn’t cut her throat and dismiss her as dead weight.

  But as long as Adrik drew breath, I doubted such would be a reality.

  “I can walk,” she hissed under her breath.

  “Aye, ye can. But you’re goin’ to have an achin’ back when the day’s through. Nae sense in addin’ skinned knees to your list o’ injuries, lass. Cannae ye let me help ye for once?”

  For once, she didn’t argue, which meant she was more sore than I first guessed. I knew the feeling, where the muscles burn and seize and it’s all one can do to stand straight. Discreetly, I place my hand on her slender waist and allowed her to lean against me. She walked a stubborn few yards before taking the offer of help, letting out a sharp exhale. I almost smiled. I liked the independent streak within her, her fierceness. I’d never liked my women timid.

  Not that she was my woman.

  But... could she be? ‘Twas a dream of mine to return to the world I had left behind so many years prior, but the more I considered it, the more I believed there was no escape from this wretched place. Would it be so awful to have companionship for whatever time we had left? Ten years might have passed above. Maybe twenty. A hundred or more. I’d no fucking clue. For all I knew, the people we had left behind were dead and naught but dust now.

  I didn’t share the thought though. It seemed only thoughts of her husband, her daughter, and her sister sustained Jolie thus far. ‘Twas not my place to steal her strength.

  The corridors we found ourselves moving down were wider than the rest, enough to ride a cart or two through, at least. They were as dark as the rest for a time, and only the bobbing lantern that Adrik carried wielded any light on our surroundings. Many times I was forced to duck, lest I be smacked in the face by a low-hanging stalactite. Brottor snickered when I did hit one and came away with a smarting nose.

  I wanted to gut him for it, but I was strangely warm when Jolie reluctantly joined in. She tried to stifle the giggle behind her hand, but I could see the twinkle in those beautiful blue eyes. I allowed the moment to pass.

  We eventually came to a stop in the widest tunnel yet. There was more light here, provided by fat, wide-capped mushrooms that grew on the walls and ceiling, even covering a few of the stalactites. It illuminated what must have been a large field of some sort, but I couldn’t recognize at least half the plants. Some of the tubers looked like potatoes, though whatever violet fruit was growing on the thick green vines, I didn’t want to contemplate.

  We were chained again, with thick iron collars wrapped ‘round our necks. We had been given enough chain that we could move about the tunnel as we pleased. We would get no further into the tunnel than say, a half-mile, which was more than enough to allow us to harvest the food we were after.

  “Remember your instructions, slaves,” Brottor hissed, stroking his blade suggestively. He wanted to thrust it into me—I could see the truth in his eyes. And I also knew exactly what he wanted to thrust into Jolie. It was there—in the way he scoured her figure, digesting her whole comely picture. I could only hope Adrik could keep Brottor in check.

  I was feeling a bit violent at that point. Perhaps I could use the chain to my advantage. There was enough to hang a man if I had the inclination and a sturdy perch from which to hoist him.
Brottor must have seen it in my eyes too, because he retreated a step, finally jerking his gaze away from Jolie.

  “You will stop at sundown. Do not touch the fungi, unless you want to be poisoned,” he said, then turned on one heel, striding away. Adrik fell into step behind him and they muttered to each other in that inexplicable tongue I could not decipher.

  I plunked our buckets down the second they disappeared and stooped for the earthen field. The soil was loamy, not good for growing food. I wondered how they made anything grow in this shitehole. Perhaps it was witchery? Jolie believed as much. She, herself, was a witch, though she hadn’t done magic for a long time, since finding herself in this wasteland. Too much fatigue, not enough proper food. Magic took a lot of energy. She had exhausted her supply within the first several years in the Abyss.

  “I’m sorry to hear about your friend, Morse,” Jolie said as she faced me.

  I nodded and dropped my eyes to the ground. “Scrote was a good man an’ his death will be avenged,” I answered with firm jaw.

  The tubers were to go first, impacting the bottom of the large bucket with hollow thumps. I waited to hear an echo of the sound from Jolie’s bucket, but the echo didn’t come. I shifted my eyes this way and that, but I couldn’t see her. Then her chain rattled, and I caught sight of her further inside the cave. She had padded away silently, so fleet-footed I didn’t immediately notice her absence. She was crouching near a stalagmite, squinting at the glowing fungi. It figured the defiant woman would disobey orders the moment our captors were out of earshot.

  “Get back here, lass,” I hissed, worried for her. “Do ye wish to get a beating?”

  “Shhh,” she said, raising a finger to her plump, pink lips. “I think...”

  She pressed the tip of one fingernail to the cap of a particularly fat mushroom. I bit back a shout. What the bloody hell did she think she was playing at?

  “Jolie!” I said as loudly as I dared.

  “What part of shhh don’t you understand, Morse?” she tutted, glaring at me.

  “The part where you’re touching a poisonous mushroom!”