Moon

by Aaron Ehasz

  The bigger challenge would be locating his little brother in the vast castle. His brother had an uncanny ability to mysteriously disappear at point A, only to reappear later at point B without anyone knowing how he got there. Callum traipsed down the corridors with his ears attuned to any scratches or scrapes inside the walls that might lead to a small boy and his pet glow toad.

  And then, a sudden tingle jolted Callum’s senses. Was that the shuffle of a foot on the castle rugs? A faint whiff of damp trees passed under his nostrils, and a shadow glinted in the corner of his eye. This wasn’t Ezran playing a trick on him, he was fairly sure of that. It couldn’t be a castle guard either—they weren’t so slippery.

  Callum did an about-face and called out. Maybe it was Ezran, after all?

  “Ez? Is that you?”

  But there was no response. He tried again.

  “Hello?”

  Something wasn’t right. Callum flattened his back against a nearby wall and edged toward the corner where he’d seen the shadow. He couldn’t decide if he was following some mysterious presence or if it was following him. He faked a turn around the corner, quickly rotating back the way he came.

  “AHH!” Callum nearly dropped his backpack—he was face-to-face with a slim, white-haired creature about his age! She looked awfully tough too.

  “So …” the creature said from beneath her cloak. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

  Callum swallowed. The creature had on a sleek black-and-green suit that stretched from neck to ankle. The triangles of violet face paint under her eyes reminded Callum of dragon teeth. Callum had never seen a Moonshadow elf in person, but he was pretty sure he was standing in front of one—one that was holding two immense, gleaming silver blades inches from his face.

  “You’re … you’re not who I thought you were,” Callum stammered, slowly backing away from the blades.

  The elf glared at Callum and removed her hood.

  “That’s far enough, human,” she said. She lunged forward, sticking one of her blades toward Callum’s chest. “If you just stay still and cooperate, I won’t have to hurt you. I’m looking for someone in particular.”

  “Oh, is that so?” Callum said. His eyes darted to a couple of guards standing fifty yards behind her. They didn’t appear to be looking in Callum’s direction and he was reluctant to make any sudden movements. He tried to signal to them by raising his eyebrows wildly.

  “What are you doing?” the elf asked.

  “Nothing,” Callum said. “I just, uh, don’t want you to get hurt either.”

  “What in Xadia are you talking about?” the elf asked.

  “Them!” Callum shouted and pointed to the guards, who finally took notice of the intruder. “Help!” he yelled. Then he turned and ran, leaving the elf behind.

  Rayla whipped around and faced the guards, who were coming at her with their swords. But ill-prepared human guards were little more than a nuisance to Rayla. She ricocheted from wall to wall, swiping at the guards with her blades, then landed right between them.

  The guards foolishly thought they had her cornered. As they lunged at her from either side, Rayla sprang up into the air. It worked perfectly—the guards slammed into each other and collapsed, unconscious.

  Down the hall, Callum heard the crash of armor, then light footsteps behind him. He raced up the stairway toward Viren’s office. Lord Viren might not be his favorite person, but if anyone knew how to deal with this strange threat it would be him. With a bang, Callum burst through the doors.

  “High Mage! I need your help,” he shouted.

  But the office was empty.

  Moments later, the elf bumped Callum from behind and knocked him to the ground. He lost his grip on the scroll from King Harrow and it rolled underneath Viren’s desk.

  “What do you want from me?” Callum asked the elf.

  “I’m an assassin,” she said, looming over him. “But you don’t have to die. That is, so long as you help me. I’m on a mission and there are only two targets tonight.”

  “Wait, two people have to die? What for?” Callum asked. There should at least be a rationale behind a killing.

  “I’m the one asking the questions around here,” the elf said. “I’m here for the evil king, and for his son—Prince Ezra.”

  “It’s Prince Ezran,” Callum responded impatiently, not really knowing why he felt the need to correct a stranger, much less an assassin. “But why? It’s not fair. Why would you hurt someone who’s done nothing wrong?”

  The elf was undeterred. “Humans cut down the king of the dragons and destroyed his only egg, the Dragon Prince,” she said. “Justice will not be denied. Your king and prince will pay for what the humans have done.”

  Callum’s eyes filled with indignation. This was so wrong. Ezran would never harm an animal, much less the egg of one. But this crazed elf clearly could not see reason. Callum knew there was only one way to protect his kid brother now. He looked the dangerous assassin in the eye and steeled himself. He needed to say each word with crisp clarity so the elf would believe his lie.

  “I see. You found me. I am Prince Ezran.”

  Rayla paused. She hadn’t expected such a ready admission. She’d always thought of humans as immense cowards. “You’re awfully brave to tell me the truth, Prince Ezran. Awfully brave and awfully stupid.” She raised her blades for the kill, for the deed that would earn back her place among the other assassins.

  But she at least owed this young prince an explanation, right?

  “I have to do this,” she said. “I’m sorry. I don’t actually want to, but I am duty bound.”

  “Why?” the prince protested. “Who is making you do this? You know this is wrong.”

  “An assassin doesn’t decide right and wrong. Only life and death.” Rayla parroted the mantra Runaan had so often repeated. She did not know if she was reciting the words to convince the prince that his fate was sealed, or to convince herself to seal it.

  “That’s very clever, but c’mon, really? How does this solve anything?” Callum asked. Though he was terrified for his life, he found himself strangely emboldened to argue with his would-be killer.

  “This is justice. Humans attacked us unprovoked,” the elf said.

  “So, it’s okay for you to do the same thing?” Callum prodded.

  “Well, no, it’s not the same thing,” she said. “Because we are attacking you, provoked.”

  “Then it’s a cycle,” Callum said. “You hurt me, someone will get revenge against the elves. It won’t end.”

  Callum felt his words had little effect on the elf; she practically embodied determination. He closed his eyes and prepared himself for the end. Would he feel pain? Or would it happen so fast that it would just be over, and then … nothing?

  “Callum? Hey, Callum?” a high-pitched voice called out. It sounded like Ezran.

  Callum opened one eye. There was a blade very close to his face, but he was pretty sure he was not dead yet.

  “Callum!” The whisper was more urgent now and seemed to be coming from behind a large painting. Callum cursed his luck. This was exactly the wrong time for him to finally locate his brother, who was inside a wall, as usual.

  “Go. Away,” Callum said, trying to keep his lips from moving.

  “I found something,” Ezran continued.

  “Are you talking to that painting?” the elf asked. She lowered her blades slightly.

  “Uh, why would I do that?” Callum said. Then he faced the painting and loudly whispered, “It’s not a good time.”

  “Is that because you’re with a girl?” Ezran whispered back through the painting.

  The elf clearly decided something was amiss. Keeping her eyes and her blades pointed at Callum, she went over to the painting, grabbed the thick golden frame, and gave it a yank. Slowly, the painting swung open on a hidden hinge—it was a secret door!

  Ezran was standing in the opening of a long, dark passage. He held Bait in one hand and a jelly tart
in the other.

  “Kid, get outta here,” Callum yelled at his brother, still trying to bluff. He hoped Ezran would take the cue, sense the danger, and run before the elf could figure it out.

  “Callum, what’s going on?” Ezran asked.

  Callum tensed. The young prince had always been too trusting.

  “Callum? Who’s Callum?” the elf asked. “I thought you were Prince Ezran,” she said to Callum.

  But Callum had barely opened his mouth when the elf’s face turned a deep shade of purple.

  “You lied to me!” she shouted.

  “How is that worse than trying to kill someone?” Callum retorted.

  Finally grasping the magnitude of the danger, Ezran gulped down the last of the jelly tart and held Bait out in front of him. He loved when his pet got a chance to use his secret weapon.

  “Do your thing, buddy,” he said to the toad.

  Ezran closed his eyes—and hoped his brother did too—while Bait expelled a brilliant flash of light from his body. (While most of the time glow toads emitted a subtle mood lighting, the grumpy species had developed an intense flashing ability as a defense mechanism to blind would-be predators. The flash was usually used just as the predator’s eyes grew widest with hunger.) The elf staggered backward, crying out in surprise.

  “Callum,” Ezran said when the light had faded. “Follow me. I have to show you something.”

  He pulled Callum into the dark passageway and slammed the painting shut behind them.

  Viren returned to his office gripping the basket stuffed with the useless snake—the incredibly rare, one-in-a-billion, magical, useless snake. If King Harrow had behaved according to plan, Viren would be amid one of his greater magical achievements—exploiting the twin-headed soulfang serpent to channel the king’s soul into the body of another.

  But no. King Harrow had selected today to develop a moral code. He had thrown safety to the wolves and there was nothing Viren could do about it. Claudia trailed behind Viren, questioning him incessantly. Her nonstop inquiries addled Viren, but he wore a mask of stoicism in front of his daughter.

  “I don’t understand,” Claudia said. “The switching spell will save the king’s life. Why would he say no?”

  “King Harrow is a principled man,” Viren responded evenly. It didn’t matter that he agreed with Claudia; outwardly he would maintain a united front with King Harrow.

  “You mean he’s stubborn,” Claudia said, with a roll of her flashing green eyes.

  “Watch your tongue, young lady,” Viren said. “But yes, he is hardheaded. Usually about the right things, but about this …” He trailed off.

  “Are you worried, Dad?” Claudia asked.

  Viren placed the wicker basket on his desk and leaned over it with a sigh. His intentions were good—he wanted to protect his king. But if the king rejected dark magic, Viren couldn’t see a way out of this threat. He stared hard at the gold-framed painting hanging in the most prominent position in the room.

  “You look so happy in that portrait,” Claudia said, sensing her father’s sadness.

  In the painting, King Harrow and Viren stood side by side, young, strong, and hopeful. The king wore full armor and their faces were not yet lined with the stress of the recent years and war.

  “I was happy,” Viren said. “We posed for this painting a few days after King Harrow’s coronation. He insisted I stand next to him for the painting. Because he knew I would stand by him through anything.”

  “And you have,” Claudia said.

  “So far, yes,” Viren replied. As he stared at the painting, Viren remembered the man he used to be—a fiercely loyal and reverential high mage. So much had happened. But had he changed? Or was he still the same mage he saw in the painting? “I have to stand by him through this too. I need to be the man he once believed I was.”

  “What does that mean, Dad?” Claudia asked. Her father’s face had hardened in the way it always did when he had made a final and important decision.

  “It means, there’s one more thing I can do to convince him,” Viren said. “I have one last idea to save his life.”

  “That doesn’t sound good, Dad. What, exactly, are you planning to do?”

  “Claudia, if I told you, you would try to stop me.”

  “Doesn’t that mean I should just try to stop you, then? Even without knowing …”

  “Goodbye, Claudia,” Viren said. He left the room, snake basket underneath one arm, and closed the door firmly.

  The goodbye sounded unusually formal and final to Claudia. What was her father up to?

  The slamming door had created a breeze, and something rustled on the floor near Claudia’s feet. When she looked down, she saw a scroll had rolled out from underneath her father’s desk.

  She placed one dainty toe on the missive to stop its trajectory and bent down to examine the seal. It was King Harrow’s: thick red wax imprinted with the two uneven castle towers.

  Claudia picked up the scroll and placed it in one of the many hidden pockets in her gown, then looked around the office to see if anything else was out of place. A hideous painting her father kept of a gnarled shepherd and three adoring sheep protruded slightly from the wall. She examined the frame and noticed a sticky substance that looked remarkably like a handprint. She sniffed it. Jelly.

  “Aha!” Claudia pulled on the painting’s frame and it swung open. She peered into the depths of the dark passage.

  Claudia snapped her fingers and a long bright ray of light sprang from her hand, illuminating the space before her. She started down the path.

  “Hurry up, Callum,” Ezran yelled.

  Ezran and Bait were yards ahead of Callum, anticipating every twist and turn of the secret passage. Callum couldn’t believe how adept his little brother was at navigating the dark passageways—Callum himself had never even laid eyes on them. The secret tunnels were cold and crypt-like. Loose stones and a strange dim lighting from glowing crystals made the winding paths even more chilling.

  “What are these passages even for, Ez?” Callum panted as he tried to keep up.

  “I’d love to tell you all about it, Callum, but maybe now is not the right time,” Ezran said.

  “Good point, let’s keep moving,” Callum said.

  “Also, I have no idea about most of them,” Ezran admitted.

  The elf’s voice called out from behind them. “You’re only making this worse on yourselves!”

  “I don’t see how that could possibly be true,” Callum replied.

  “This way!” Ezran yelled. The two skidded to a stop in front of a stone wall.

  “Oh no!” Callum said. “It’s a dead end! What do we do now?”

  But Ezran appeared shockingly nonchalant. “Relax, Callum. It’s time for a puzzle.” He gave Callum a quick smile. Then he turned back to the wall and started to tap out a pattern on some of the loose stones in the wall. After what seemed like forever, he stepped back.

  “Wait for it,” Ezran said.

  A moment later, the floor beneath the boys began to grumble and creak. Callum realized the code had initiated some mechanism and now the stone floor was grinding apart, revealing a long spiral staircase to an even lower level!

  The princes raced down the stairs, and at the bottom Ezran quickly dashed over to a small statue of a unicorn’s head. He grabbed hold and turned it ninety degrees to the right, then pulled the horn down like a lever. The lever triggered the staircase to rise back up into the rocky ceiling. It shut with a loud kerthunk.

  “You sure she can’t follow us down here?” Callum asked.

  “Positive,” Ezran said with a cocky grin. He strutted across the room with his hands on his hips. “She’d have to press exactly the right combination of stones and rocks. It took me months to figure out that pattern. That elf would have to be Xadia’s greatest brain genius to even have a chance of—”

  But before Ezran could finish his sentence, the sound of rocks grinding resumed, and the staircase mechanism started u
p again. The elf appeared at the bottom of the stairs, unscathed and looking quite proud of herself.

  “How—how—how did you figure it out?” Ezran asked. His arms had dropped to his sides in astonishment.

  “Why don’t you wipe that dazed look off your face,” the elf said. “And while you’re at it, you might want to wipe the jelly off your hands. Those sticky handprints showed me which rocks to press.” She smiled a little.

  Rayla walked toward the boys, her blades lowered now, taking in the secret room. Rickety wooden shelves lined the stone walls. The shelves were covered in dust and cobwebs and strange, unpleasant artifacts—animals preserved in jars, mysterious magic diagrams, live spiders with eerily pulsing abdomens in terrariums. Rayla looked in horror at bat wings pinned to the wall. It didn’t help that the room smelled of mold.

  “What is this place?” she said. “It’s horrifying. Is that a diagram for butchering a baby deer? Who do these bones belong to? This place is disgusting.”

  Callum and Ezran followed the elf’s eyes around the room. Both felt faintly ashamed at the sight, as if the elf had discovered a horror they themselves were responsible for.

  Rayla glared in judgment. “Humans are terrible. Runaan was right. There’s nothing in humans worth sparing. This place is a twisted abomination.” Whatever small glimmer of empathy she’d developed for the boys had disappeared. “Time’s up,” she said, raising her blades once more. “Humans destroyed the egg of the Dragon Prince. There must be justice.”

  Callum jumped in front of Ezran. “You’ll have to get through me if you want to hurt him.”

  “Really,” the elf said. She did not look overly concerned. Callum might have been insulted in a different situation.

  “Wait, please! You need to see something,” Ezran said.

  “I’m not falling for any more of your tricks, human,” the elf said.

  “There’s no trick,” Ezran said. “Look over here.” He pointed to an oblong shape covered in a dusty white sheet. “I’ll uncover it.”

  With one hand, Ezran quickly whipped the sheet away, like a magician performing his big reveal. Callum gasped. The elf seemed equally shocked.