Moon

by Aaron Ehasz

  A translucent egg as big as a human head shimmered and sparkled from the pedestal. Its iridescent blues and pinks and golds and greens lit up the terrible room with a soft, magical glow.

  “It can’t be,” the elf said. She looked at Callum meaningfully.

  “The egg of the Dragon Prince?” Callum said in awe. “So … it wasn’t destroyed.”

  In the world above, the last light of day descended beneath the horizon. With the sunset, the crown guard escorted King Harrow across the courtyard and up to his defensive position high in his tower. Soon the moon would rise, and death would come.

  This changes everything,” Rayla said, marveling at the egg’s sheen and sparkle. Her anger had melted in the face of the beautiful object.

  “So, this is it? The egg of the Dragon Prince? The cause of all this fighting between elves and humans?” Callum asked.

  Rayla shook her head in disbelief. She had pledged herself as an assassin to avenge the egg’s destruction, for while the death of the Dragon King was terrible, the Dragon King was grown and powerful and had committed questionable acts of his own. The egg was innocent. It was its destruction that had set the fires of anger and hatred in the hearts of Xadians.

  “I can’t believe it,” Rayla said. “If the egg lives …”

  “Maybe it could stop the war,” Callum finished.

  “Exactly.” Rayla knelt close to the egg, gazing at its bright colors.

  “It’s doing okay,” Ezran said. He ran his hand lightly over the shell. “I can feel it moving in there. I think it’s healthy.” He beamed.

  “But I don’t get it,” Callum said. “Everyone believes the egg was destroyed. Why wasn’t it?”

  The question hung in the air, though no one expected the answer that came.

  “Because my father saved it.”

  Rayla jumped at the raspy voice. There was a human standing at the bottom of the spiral staircase, glaring at her. She held a glowing crystal orb in one hand and appeared poised to cast a spell in the direction of the egg. Rayla’s gentle kindness faded in an instant. She didn’t hesitate to jump forward and draw her blades, blocking the human from the egg.

  “Give me a break,” Rayla said. “Your father didn’t save the egg, he stole it.”

  “That’s a lie,” the human said. She leaned forward and her eyes narrowed. “And one little elf doesn’t intimidate me. Callum, Ezran, get behind me. I can protect you.” Claudia held her hand arched in the air, primed to draw a magical rune.

  But Callum didn’t move. He wasn’t sure who to trust. Of course, he’d known Claudia forever and she’d never tried to harm him or Ezran. But it seemed that Claudia had been lying—or at least keeping a very important secret. On the other hand, the elf had admitted she was at the castle to kill Ezran.

  Callum placed himself between Claudia and the elf. Ezran remained behind the elf.

  “Claudia,” Callum said. “If your dad didn’t steal the egg, why is it here in his … uh … weird second office?”

  “My father took it to protect us, Callum. So the elves and dragons couldn’t use it.” Claudia stepped closer to the egg as she spoke.

  “What are you talking about?” the elf asked. She pointed a blade directly at Claudia’s forehead. “How could we use it?”

  “Don’t play dumb. You know it’s a powerful weapon,” Claudia said impatiently.

  “It’s not a weapon. It’s an egg!” the elf said, her voice rising to a shout. She seemed mortally offended at the idea of anyone exploiting the dragon egg.

  But Claudia was done talking with the elf. They had nothing to learn from each other; her goal now was keeping the egg under human control. “Ezran, don’t be afraid. Walk toward me, and if she moves even an inch …” Claudia began to draw a magical rune in the air. It was whitish blue and crackled and sparked with energy. A great tempest inside the primal stone surged, ready to release magical violence through the rune. “Just bring that thing here, Ez.”

  “It’s not a thing,” the elf interrupted. “It has a mother. And it needs to go back to her.”

  “You’re right, it does want its mother,” Ezran said, stroking the shell. Like this elf, he resented any animal being called a “thing.”

  “Ezran, please be careful,” Claudia said.

  Ezran looked at Claudia, who he’d known all his life. Then he looked at the elf, who was on a mission to kill him. But when he stroked the egg, he knew it was the stranger he should trust. This egg had to be returned to its mother. It was the right thing to do.

  “Follow me!” Ezran said to the elf as he grabbed the egg. He turned and sprinted down a passage, away from Claudia. The elf didn’t hesitate to run after him.

  Should Callum follow? He still wasn’t sure who to trust.

  “Don’t worry, Callum, I won’t hit Ez,” Claudia said. She looked as if she was preparing to unleash a powerful blast of magical energy.

  Callum started toward the passageway.

  “FOOL—” Claudia’s voice was loud and commanding.

  Callum paused. Had his supposed good friend just called him a fool for worrying about his own brother? That was it.

  Callum raised his arm and knocked the primal stone out of Claudia’s hand, then thought fast. He grabbed a rusted iron chain hanging from the ceiling and quickly snapped a manacle shut around Claudia’s wrist. The chain wouldn’t hold her forever, but it should at least give Ezran and the elf—and the egg—a head start.

  “Callum, what are you doing?” Claudia pleaded. She looked at him like he’d lost his mind.

  “The right thing, I hope,” Callum said. Then he scooped up the primal stone off the floor and sprinted after Ezran and the elf, yelling, “I’m sorry, Claudia,” as he ran.

  “Uuugh!” Claudia let out an angry sigh that echoed in the stone chamber. She couldn’t believe Callum would betray her like this. He had always been such a sweet boy. Maybe he was just confused or under some spell cast by that elf.

  No matter, though. Claudia’s dark magic was as strong as any elf’s primal magic. She would get out of this predicament and recapture the egg. She would make her father proud.

  Claudia looked around the room for anything of use. She spotted a deep red, slightly melted candle within arm’s reach. She knew it was a rare and powerful relic crafted from a dragon’s earwax and the blood of a moon phoenix. The wick was something rare and unusual too, though she couldn’t remember exactly why … But never mind that! A candle like this wasn’t something to use lightly, but this was an emergency.

  With a snap of her fingers Claudia lit the wick. On a nearby shelf she spotted a wooden container filled with the ashes of wolves who had died beneath a full moon, which she sprinkled onto the flaming candle. The flame turned a deep shade of purple and leaped at the air with magical potency. She held the candle up to her face.

  Claudia muttered the cryptic words of the spell in a deep, throaty voice, and the whites of her eyes began to glow a purplish hue. She could feel the magic taking root in her body, twisting and turning through her organs. It began as a slow burn in the pit of her stomach, a throbbing, swelling bubble that rose into her head, taking over her eyes and breath.

  At the final moment, she exhaled the magic over the flame and watched as the smoke and fire transformed into two shadowy wolves. The smoke animals took off down the passage at breakneck speed.

  As soon as the wolves had fled the room, Claudia sank down to the floor, exhausted. It was the feeling she always had after dark magic, an aching void, a hollowness in her very soul. Her eyes faded to a deep, empty blackness. The wolves would do her bidding now, but each time she exploited these powers she felt it took her just a little bit longer to recover.

  Callum hadn’t yet caught up to Ezran and the elf, but he was getting closer. Just a few more paces …

  Aaarrrooooooo.

  A haunting howl rang out from behind Callum, then snarls.

  Callum glanced back over his shoulder and saw something coming around the bend. Were th
ose … wolves?

  If so, they were unlike any Callum had ever seen, dark as the tunnel but somehow also glowing purple.

  “There’s something after us,” Callum yelled. He could feel the hot breath of the beasts just feet behind him.

  Rayla turned around to face the smoky threat and whipped out her blades. “Keep running,” she said to the boys, ready to take a stand against whatever sorcery the human called Claudia had sent their way.

  Ezran continued down a passage he knew would lead them to safety but then Callum took an unexpected turn.

  “Wait, not that way,” Ezran shouted.

  Callum turned back to look at Ezran. “Why not?”

  Thump! He ran directly into a wall.

  “Because it’s a dead end,” Ezran said. He couldn’t completely stifle a laugh, even with the impending danger.

  Callum stood and rubbed his head. The elf was at the other end of the passageway battling the magical wolves. She jumped and flipped and soared through the air. She took perfect aim with her blades and drove both into one of the wolves’ hearts.

  But the wolf was unaffected. These were smoky, incorporeal shadows, and blades couldn’t touch them. One wolf turned its head and bit down on the elf’s arm. The bite sizzled, leaving black burn marks on her pale skin.

  “This is useless,” she said. “I can’t stop them—they’re just smoke. My swords pass right through.” She stepped back toward the princes and looked around desperately for a way out. But they were all at a dead end together; there was nowhere to run.

  Callum looked at the primal stone in his hand and remembered the spell he’d seen Claudia cast earlier that day in the courtyard. It seemed so long ago, when they sat together toying with Soren’s hairdo using that wind-breath rune. The shape of the rune flashed in Callum’s mind.

  “There might be something I can do, but I don’t know if I can do it,” Callum said. What did they have to lose?

  “Is this a guessing game?” the elf asked. Clearly, she had run out of patience. “Whatever you’ve got—just do it.”

  The wolves were growling with their heads down. They stamped their feet on the ground, preparing to make the final charge.

  Callum tried to ignore them as he held the primal stone out in front of him and focused on its swirling interior. Then he traced out the angles and curves of the wind-breath rune, and to his surprise it seemed to be working—glowing lines and shapes appeared before him in the air, floating and shimmering.

  Now, what was the word Claudia had said? Callum struggled for a moment to recall it and then it came to him.

  “ASPIRO,” he yelled, and blew the rune directly at the oncoming wolves.

  A stiff, swirling whoosh of air emerged from his lips and enveloped the smoky predators. In a matter of seconds, they had disappeared into thin air. The tunnel was quiet.

  “You did it, Callum!” Ezran exclaimed. He looked at his brother with new admiration. “You saved us.”

  “You never mentioned you were a mage,” the elf said, sounding impressed. “This is an interesting turn of events.”

  “Who me? I’m not really anything.” Callum shrugged.

  “Um, you just did magic,” Ezran pointed out.

  “Yeah—that’s what a mage is,” the elf said. “A person who does magic. You’re … a mage.”

  Callum couldn’t believe his ears. After a lifetime of being terrible at just about everything he’d ever tried, Callum had done magic—and done it well. “Wow,” he said. “I’m a mage! I’M A MAGE!”

  “Shhhhhhh,” the elf said. “Nobody likes a loud mage.”

  “Sorry, sorry,” Callum said, lowering his voice. Then he whispered, with equal excitement but much less volume: “I’m a mage.”

  Callum, Ezran, and the elf breathed a little easier as they walked through the passages, though their relief was mild. They had survived the smoke wolves, but surely someone or something else would be after the egg soon enough. The elf stopped and looked hard at Ezran.

  “Listen, I need you to give me the egg. I have to get it to the roof right away,” she said.

  “What? Why do I have to give it to you? I’m keeping it safe.” Ezran pulled the egg a little closer to his chest.

  “Would you just trust me?” she pleaded, reaching her arms out to relieve the prince of the egg.

  “Heyyyy, sure,” Callum interrupted. “That makes a lot of sense. We should totally trust you. Since we go way back … Remember that time like fifteen minutes ago when you chased me through the castle trying to stab me? Good times!”

  Ezran gazed thoughtfully into the elf’s eyes. “I want to trust you. But we don’t even know your name.”

  “Assassins do not share their names,” the elf balked. Then she sighed. “You may not realize it, but I’m trying to help you. Any minute now others will be arriving. Others like me. And they will not be so understanding. They are deadly and determined.”

  A look of understanding passed over the older prince’s face. “Other assassins,” he said.

  “Yes, more assassins. Older and deadlier than I am—well, maybe not deadlier but definitely older. But they are only on a revenge mission. They believe that this egg was destroyed. If I can show the egg to my leader, I can stop them from making a terrible mistake. Just give it to me. Please.”

  But Ezran shook his head no. Although he believed the elf wanted to help, he didn’t completely trust her yet.

  “Ezran, if you want to live, you need to give me that egg now,” the elf said.

  “Hey, are you threatening him again?” Callum asked, starting to get angry.

  “It’s okay, guys,” Ezran said. “I’m going to hold on to the egg, but I’ll take you to the roof.”

  As Ezran led the way, the elf took a deep breath. “Rayla,” she said. “My name is Rayla.”

  Viren climbed the spiral staircase to King Harrow’s bedroom, a look of quiet determination on his stony face. He held his staff in one hand and the wicker basket in the other. He didn’t know if King Harrow had meant it when he said he’d rather lose his life than do this spell. But having decided to sacrifice himself, Viren felt a great sense of relief. Perhaps his life would serve a purpose.

  The king’s door was heavily guarded. Soren stood at the center, brandishing his sword in preparation for the assassins’ arrival.

  “So, what’s in the basket, Dad?” Soren asked.

  “Something that will protect the king when all your swords have failed,” Viren said.

  Soren looked at his father in confusion. “I’m not worried about my abilities, Dad, but you’re not exactly inspiring confidence in the rest of the king’s guard.” The nearby soldiers were staring at the ground.

  “Should they fail,” Viren continued, “I am prepared to do anything to save the king. Absolutely anything. I hope you will understand.” He hovered over Soren and gave him a weighty look. He did not expect Soren to comprehend now, but he hoped his son would remember these words later.

  Soren stared back into his father’s eyes but said nothing. Then he opened the door to King Harrow’s room and let his father pass inside.

  King Harrow sat slouched on his canopy bed, his gray robe spread out over the covers, his crown beside him. He held a small, framed painting in his hands.

  “It doesn’t seem like it was that long ago, but I felt so young then,” King Harrow said, gazing at the painting. He hung his head mournfully. “I was young, and happy, and naive.” He spoke the last words with more than a hint of bitterness. Then he waved Viren over to the bed.

  “Ah, that old painting,” Viren said with a smile. “A lovely young family. May I?” He reached out and King Harrow handed over the portrait. In the picture, a young King Harrow stood proudly next to his beautiful wife, Sarai. His arm was draped around her shoulders, and Sarai cradled baby Ezran in the crook of her elbow. Her other hand gripped the small hand of a very young Callum, who smiled broadly.

  “The future I imagined for us …” King Harrow trailed off. “It
was so much simpler than this. I thought I would be lucky enough to have a long, boring reign. I wish I could go back.”

  “Times were simpler,” Viren agreed. “But you should know that as a father, you’ve had only successes. Those boys love and admire you. You did everything you could to help them through Sarai’s death.”

  “I certainly tried,” Harrow said. He’d brightened a bit at Viren’s words, but then his shoulders slumped. “My life has run its course, and I deserve what’s coming to me. But Callum and Ezran? Tonight, I’ll leave those young boys without any parents. Who will guide them through that?”

  “It doesn’t have to be that way,” Viren said softly.

  King Harrow took the picture back from Viren. “What do you mean?” Then he saw that Viren had that basket beside him. His face flushed with anger.

  “I’ve given thought to what you said earlier, My King,” Viren said. He took a deep breath and prepared to make the ultimate offer. Saying the words was harder than he’d thought it would be.

  “Oh, you’ve given it some thought, have you?” King Harrow asked. “Then why did you return with that abomination?”

  “Yes, I’ve brought the soulfang,” Viren said softly. “I have a proposal. Let me explain.”

  “Go on,” King Harrow said.

  Viren could tell the king’s fuse was short tonight. Time was running out. And yet, he was having trouble being direct. He wanted simply to offer his life for Harrow’s, but he wanted him to understand that this was more than just a sacrifice of a subject to his king. This was personal. “You are my king. But you are also my friend,” he began.

  “Your friend?” King Harrow asked, his eyebrows arched with suspicion.

  “Yes, my friend,” Viren said softly. He knew that over the years he had come to King Harrow with so many clever tricks and schemes, and he sensed that even now Harrow suspected an angle. Viren closed his eyes and took a deep breath. If he wanted the king to understand, he would need to be straightforward. He wanted to say simply I love you and I will die for you.