Moon

by Aaron Ehasz

  Viren looked the king directly in the eye. “Right now, I do not come to you as my king. I think of you as my brother.” A strange euphoria swept through Viren as he spoke the words. A lifetime of ambition and struggle suddenly meant nothing compared to this moment of sacrifice and love.

  But King Harrow wasn’t having it.

  “I see the problem now,” King Harrow said. “It’s that you believe you are special. Better than everyone else. Above the laws of this kingdom.” With each word, Harrow’s anger mounted. How dare Viren come to him in his final hours and lecture him about how they were equals. He pounded his fist against one of the bed posts.

  “That’s not what I am trying to communicate,” Viren said. “Please, listen.”

  But there were too many worries swirling in King Harrow’s head. “Assassins are coming to murder me tonight and you’re wasting what precious time I have left,” he barked.

  “No, Harrow—”

  “Just stop,” King Harrow said. He held up his hand to silence Viren. “In fact, if you’re going to speak to me at all, you should address me correctly. How about ‘No, Your Highness.’ In fact, let’s try ‘Yes, Your Highness,’ for a change.”

  Viren’s face went white with rage. He’d come here with the best of intentions, prepared to give his life, and the king was too stubborn to even listen. He curled one lip up. “Oh, are you sure you wouldn’t prefer ‘Your Royal Highness’? Or ‘Your Esteemed Inimitable Majesty’ perhaps?” Harrow didn’t deserve the loyalty Viren had been prepared to offer.

  “I have tolerated your arrogance long enough,” King Harrow said, standing. “Maybe even encouraged it. But if today is my last day as king, you will know your place.”

  “And where, exactly, is that place?” Viren demanded.

  “Right here, on your knees,” King Harrow commanded, pointing at the floor. “You are a servant of the kingdom of Katolis. You are a servant.”

  Silent, Viren bent to his knees.

  He’d been stupid to even consider making this sacrifice. The king didn’t consider him a brother or even a friend. In the king’s eyes, he was worthless. He was nothing.

  Viren’s heart turned as cold as the stone beneath his knees. If he wanted to defy his former friend one last time, he’d have to do it tonight.

  High above in the darkening sky, the moon was full, bright, and stunning. Rayla stood very still, alone atop the battlements. She closed her eyes and listened for her mentor’s presence. Her sense of sight would do her no good tonight, for Runaan would undoubtedly employ the ability for which their kind was named—Moonshadow form. Under a full moon, the skill allowed a Moonshadow elf to shift their appearance so that it perfectly matched the light and shadow around them, rendering them completely invisible.

  Rayla opened her eyes only when she was sure she heard a soft footfall. Clouds were drifting across the moon, leaving the battlements bathed in an eerie and gauzy glow.

  “You’re here. I know you are,” she said. “I can sense your presence.”

  “Rayla,” Runaan responded.

  Even though she was expecting him, Runaan’s deep, stern voice came as a surprise. He materialized as if out of the thin air and approached her slowly.

  “Rayla, you defied me.”

  Rayla walked toward him, her hands up in a position of surrender but her voice urgent. “Runaan, you need to call off the mission,” she said.

  “You’ve lost your mind,” Runaan said. He scoffed and shook his long white hair.

  “Please listen to me,” Rayla begged. “I’ve found something. The egg of the Dragon Prince!”

  “That’s impossible,” Runaan said. He looked away from her.

  “Instead of destroying the egg, the high mage stole it,” Rayla continued. “He was going to use it for dark magic, but one of the human princes found it. The princes are trying to help me return it to its mom.”

  “Humans are liars. This is a trick and a trap,” Runaan said. “You’re a fool, Rayla.”

  Rayla opened her mouth to defend herself, but another voice beat her to it.

  “She’s not a fool,” Callum said. He stepped out from behind the wall where Rayla had left him and Ezran hiding. This wasn’t exactly when they had agreed he’d reveal himself, but there wasn’t time to think about that. Rayla and Runaan turned toward him. “What she’s telling you is true,” Callum said.

  “You’ve made a terrible mistake, human,” Runaan said. He removed an arrow from his quiver.

  “Ez!” Callum called out. “Show him … NOW.”

  Ezran stepped out and removed the blanket from the iridescent egg. It shone brightly in the dark night.

  “It’s … beautiful,” Runaan said softly. He stood still, seemingly stunned by the majesty of the egg. He lowered his bow and arrow.

  Rayla saw her chance. “Runaan, how can we take vengeance for an act that never happened? Now that you’ve seen this you have to call it off …”

  Runaan paused for a long moment. Had Rayla gotten through to him?

  But then he shook his head and held his wrist bindings out in front of him. “Rayla, you know it doesn’t work that way. We bound ourselves. There’s only one way to be released from this commitment.”

  “Runaan, please, that doesn’t make any sense,” Rayla pleaded. “There must be another way. This is a miracle and a chance for peace.”

  Runaan shook his head again. “The humans struck down the king of the dragons. Justice will not be denied. Now, give me the egg …” Runaan extended his hand and advanced toward Ezran.

  Rayla knew that look in Runaan’s eyes. It was no use arguing now. She drew her weapons and blocked him from the boys.

  “Callum, Ezran—take the egg and go!” Rayla ordered.

  “But—” Callum started to protest. It was just long enough for Runaan to shoot an arrow directly at him. He froze in fear.

  But Rayla sprang into action. She unfurled her blades and smashed the arrow’s shaft in midair.

  “GO!” Rayla repeated. “Just keep that egg safe.” Callum and Ezran scampered down the battlements. With them safe, Rayla turned all her concentration to Runaan, whose face was filled with fury. In an instant, Runaan disengaged a mechanism that split his weapon into two parts, transforming his great bow into two elegant blades.

  The clouds seemed to take the elves’ face-off as their cue and parted once again, revealing the full moon. Runaan began to transform, and Rayla followed suit. Their bodies became nearly transparent: translucent shadows outlined by a soft green glow. Rayla rarely used her Moonshadow form and found it somewhat disorienting, but she knew she could not allow Runaan even the slightest advantage. She raised her blades and took a deep breath.

  “Don’t do this, Rayla. I WILL kill you,” Runaan said.

  “Probably,” Rayla replied, refusing to back down. Then she raced toward Runaan as he came at her.

  Their weapons clashed in the air. Rayla went in for another swipe but Runaan beat her to it and she was forced into defensive mode. She blocked swipe after swipe.

  “You’re better than this, Rayla,” Runaan said between swipes.

  “No, not really. You’ve had about twenty years more training,” Rayla said as she backflipped away from him.

  “Not your fighting skills,” Runaan said. “I mean your character.” He delivered a hard blow to Rayla’s torso. She blocked it but it sent her flying backward. Rayla decided to try using words as weapons one more time.

  “You saw the egg, Runaan. There’s no need for vengeance tonight.”

  All at once, Runaan stopped attacking. Rayla again wondered if she’d finally gotten through to him.

  “You’re just trying to stall me,” Runaan said.

  Okay, maybe not, Rayla thought. Time to change tactics. She leaned casually on one of her blades. “Interesting theory, Runaan. Care to discuss?”

  Runaan glared at his young apprentice and folded his blades. “You laugh. But your behavior is treasonous.” He shook his head. “I never believe
d you were doomed to turn out like your parents. But look at you. You’ve inherited their seed of weakness. Your justice will come later.”

  “I am not weak!” Rayla shouted, all humor gone from her voice. “How dare you accuse me of that? I’m nothing like them!” She angrily threw herself at him but it was too late. Runaan had turned away and leaped down to the courtyard.

  Rayla seethed. Runaan hadn’t killed her, but he’d stabbed her right where it hurt most.

  Callum, Ezran, and Bait left Rayla to battle her mentor and dashed down the stairs in search of a hiding place. In one corner of the deserted courtyard they saw an old wagon filled with hay.

  “Over here, Ez,” Callum said. “This should work.” He hoisted Ezran and Bait into the wagon and covered them up as best he could. “You need to stay here—hidden. Keep the egg safe.”

  “Get in with us, Callum,” Ezran said.

  But Callum shook his head and looked up at the tower. “I’ll go talk to the king. Tell him about the egg.”

  “Callum, why don’t you just call him Dad?” Ezran asked.

  Callum smiled. Ezran was always noticing little things, even when there were bigger—much bigger—things at stake.

  “Because he’s the king,” Callum said, then paused. “And because I’m his stepson.” He looked down at the ground.

  “So what?” Ezran asked. “I think he would want you to call him Dad. I mean, if you wanted to.”

  “I don’t know about that,” Callum said. But he smiled at Ezran. “I’ll think about it. Now, stay silent as a mouse and I’ll be right back.”

  Ezran waited for Callum to get out of earshot. Then he looked over at Bait and said, “I’ve met more than one mouse who could create a racket if he felt like it.”

  Bait grumped in agreement. He hated when humans made assumptions about animals too.

  Callum hurried up the spiraling stairs to the king’s tower, brushing past a number of guards. But Soren intercepted him at the door to the king’s chamber.

  “Whoa, slow down there, Step-Prince. The king is pretty busy right now. Trying not to die and stuff,” Soren said.

  Callum was undeterred. “You’re not stopping me, Soren.” He reached for the door, but just then someone pushed it open from the inside. Viren emerged and Callum gasped—his eyes were the color of soot. Viren slammed the door behind him and glanced at Callum. His eyes faded to their normal steely gray.

  “You should not be here,” Viren said to Callum.

  Callum looked around. Had anyone else seen the high mage’s creepy eyes? This man had stolen the precious dragon egg—what dark magic had he been up to in the king’s chambers? Callum was filled with a hot fury.

  “I know what you did,” Callum said. “You stole the egg of the Dragon Prince. We found it and we’re keeping it safe.”

  “ ‘We’?” Viren said with a mocking smile. “And just who, exactly, is this ‘we’?”

  “You think you’re so intimidating,” Callum shouted. “But the king will have you in shackles when he finds out about this.”

  “What makes you so sure he doesn’t already know?” Viren said evenly. “Guards, grab him.”

  Callum panicked but Soren spoke up.

  “But, Dad, he’s the prince?” Soren said. Viren gave a fleeting dark look at his son, who immediately backed down and followed his father’s orders.

  “Do it!” Soren said. The guards obeyed.

  Once the guards had restrained Callum, Viren slammed his staff on the floor. “Now tell me,” he shouted, “where is the egg?”

  Viren seemed to be losing his cool, and Callum decided that meant the king actually didn’t know about the egg. He shook off all his fear of the high mage and looked him in the eye. “Let me go, or I’ll call out to the king! I’ll scream.”

  “Go ahead,” Viren said. He had known someone would want to scream tonight, and he was ready for it. He reached into the leather pouch tied around his waist and removed a tiny black claw of a mummified cat. He folded it into his own fist and began to chant as his eyes turned purple. The claw began transforming into a putrid green mist.

  Callum’s eyes grew wide with fear. “Hel—” he began to yell, but he only got the first sound out. The green mist was now an ethereal claw. It swirled in the air toward Callum’s open mouth, where it reached in and yanked his voice from his very body; a glowing ball of light appeared in the clutches of the phantom claw. The claw carried Callum’s voice back to the mummified paw in Viren’s fist.

  Callum continued to yell but no sound came out. He gasped longer and harder to fill his lungs with air too. The look on his face was pure fear.

  Viren felt back in control. “You impudent little mongrel,” he snarled. “You were spoiled and given everything! And that has left you weak and helpless. Tonight, your world is changing and there is nothing you or anyone else can do about it.” He squeezed his fist tighter, marveling at how effective his simple trick was.

  Just then, a howling wind blew through the staircase, deep and strange and oddly warm. One by one, the sconces and torches fizzled out, leaving the entire tower in sudden darkness.

  Soren shivered. “They’re here,” he announced. “Defend the doors.”

  He went to move into position, but a loud whoosh whipped down the corridor. Soren pushed Callum aside without a thought, taking his place, and not half a second later, an arrow stuck in his shoulder plate. Callum stared at Soren with unbelieving eyes.

  “Oh, quit it,” Soren said. “Just doing my job, Step-Prince.”

  More arrows suddenly flew from all directions, and shadowy assassins jumped from wall to ceiling. Not that Soren could see much—the elves were nearly invisible in the darkness. How many were there? They seemed to move like spirits and with the speed and freedom of the wind itself. Soren’s heavy armor suddenly felt awkward. Still, he and the other soldiers did their best, swinging and blocking against the barely visible attackers.

  Callum tried calling out, but his voice was still trapped in Viren’s strange spell. Finally, in the confusion, a guard bumped Viren’s hand and the enchanted claw fell to the floor. Callum’s voice surged back into his chest.

  “King Harrow!” Callum shouted toward the king’s door. But by now, the entrance was blocked by a flurry of guards and elves. The shadowy figures were killing off the soldiers one by one. The bodies were piling up, each having given their life for the king.

  For Callum’s father.

  “DAAAADDD!” Callum called out.

  But there was no response. The only sounds were the clashing swords and the cries of the wounded.

  Then Callum heard a small voice in the distance.

  “Calllluuuum. Calllluuum. Where are you?” It was Ezran.

  Callum glanced out a tower window and saw Ezran in the courtyard searching for him. But how could he leave the tower when the king was in so much danger?

  Callum tried to think of what the king would want him to do.

  “I’m coming, Ez,” he called out the window.

  He gave one final look back at the door to King Harrow’s chamber, then bolted to the spiral staircase. He took the stairs two at a time, trying not to look at the dead bodies strewn on the way to his little brother.

  “Callum! Did you talk with Dad?” Ezran asked, when Callum was safely in the courtyard. They were hugging tightly.

  Completely out of breath, Callum just shook his head no.

  Out of nowhere, the elf—named Rayla, Callum now knew—leaped down from a wall. She looked at the boys and confessed, “I couldn’t stop him.”

  Callum nodded. “I know. I just came from the tower.”

  Rayla’s eyes filled with concern. “Say the word and I’ll go back into that tower with you,” she said. It seemed a genuine offer to take sides against her own, to defend what was right.

  Callum gazed at the tower where chaos and bedlam ruled. Then he looked back at Ezran with his wide, innocent eyes and his arms clutching the egg. Everything felt suddenly quiet. Suddenly clear.


  “No. It’s up to us now,” Callum said. “We must return this egg. We have to keep it safe and carry it to Xadia.”

  “And find its mother,” Ezran added.

  “If we return this egg, we could change things,” Rayla said. “We could actually make a difference.”

  “Just the three of us,” Callum said.

  An unpleasant, grumpy snort interrupted the bonding moment. Bait was staring at Callum, his usually yellow skin flushed a deep, angry red.

  “I meant the four of us,” Callum corrected, and Bait returned to his usual golden hue. “Come on, let’s go.”

  They scrambled out of the courtyard, slipping through the castle gates. On the castle bridge leading to the forest, Ezran suddenly stopped.

  “Callum, do you think Dad will be okay?” Ezran asked as they turned back to look at the tower one last time.

  Callum didn’t want to lie to Ezran, but he didn’t want to distress him even further. After a long pause, he said, “Our dad has the finest guards in the kingdom defending him.”

  “Yeah, that’s true,” Ezran said, sounding relieved. “Yeah, of course things will be okay.”

  Rayla gave Callum a look. Certainly, the finest guards were defending King Harrow. But both of them knew that might not make a bit of difference.

  Under the full moon, the brave women and men of the Katolis crown guard fought valiantly to protect their king. Many laid down their lives. But when the battle faded as nighttime ebbed, the balcony doors of the king’s tower opened. A wounded survivor stumbled outside and collapsed onto his knees. One of the white bindings on his wrist turned a deep shade of crimson, as if it were magically soaked in blood. It loosened and fell to the ground.

  With his last bits of strength, Runaan secured the blood ribbon to the arrow crafted by Ethari, its head carved in the shape of a bird of prey. He tightened the knot, and the jeweled eye of the bird suddenly shone as if alive.

  “Regina draconis,” he called out as he released the arrow. It flew off into the sky, sprouting red, smoky wings. The arrow would carry the message of the king’s death across the continent, to the queen of the dragons.