Moon

by Aaron Ehasz

  Rayla consulted Callum’s drawing, which was remarkably realistic. Not a thing was out of place.

  “Well, it’s not bad,” Rayla said to herself. Getting the cube should be easy enough with this drawing, now that I’ve eluded those idiot guards.

  She found the small treasure chest Callum had mentioned and emptied its contents onto a table. A bunch of old keys fell out … and a cube with a different rune on each side.

  “Huh,” Rayla said. She had never seen anything quite like the cube. But before she could examine it, she felt a warm breath on her neck. She turned around just as a huge shield came crashing down on top of her.

  Rayla’s training kicked in and she backflipped away from her attacker. She barely had time to whip out her blades though; the soldier—it was that general who seemed to be related to the princes—came running at her with the enormous shield again.

  Rayla defended herself against blow after blow, hardly believing the warrior was handling that heavy, cumbersome weapon with such grace. The shield was so solid it made Rayla’s butterfly blades look like playthings. And the general’s reflexes were quicker than she thought humans’ were supposed to be. So fast, in fact, that she knocked one of Rayla’s blades from her hand.

  Shocked to be left with a single weapon, Rayla did the only thing she could think of—she ran. The general followed, smashing furniture and columns in her pursuit of Rayla. A moment later though, the soldier stopped in the middle of the room. Was she surrendering?

  Amaya stood motionless in the center of the game room. She’d had enough of this wisp of an elf. She held her shield in one arm, and with the other hand beckoned the elf to come attack her.

  The elf took the bait. With a running start, she leaped up into the air and descended on Amaya. Amaya easily blocked her and sent her flying against a wall, where she pinned her. She drew her sword, prepared to vanquish the assassin. But as she steadied herself for the kill, Amaya caught a change in the light. Someone had entered the room behind her. Keeping the elf pinned to the wall, Amaya turned around to see Gren.

  “General Amaya, the princes have disappeared,” Gren signed, a look of panic on his face.

  Amaya glared at the elf. It was one thing to attack a king, but these monsters were attacking innocent children. If Moonshadow elves had kidnapped Callum and Ezran, it might be better to keep this elf alive for the time being. She backhanded the elf with her heavy gauntlet, and the elf went limp.

  Rayla’s pounding headache was matched only by the hollow ache in her jaw. She opened her eyes and regained focus; she was in a dark basement with the general called Amaya looming over her and two guards nearby. The guards were holding her confiscated blades. Rayla twisted and struggled, but her wrists were tied with ropes.

  “How did you do it?” Amaya signed. Gren stood beside her, translating her signals into common tongue for the elf.

  Rayla thought quickly. “How did we do what?”

  Amaya’s eyes narrowed. “ ‘We’? How many of you are there?”

  Rayla suppressed a small, sly smile. She thought her trick might just work after all. “Did I say ‘we’? It’s just me. I’m alone.”

  Amaya tensed as if she might strike Rayla again, but at the last minute, she stood upright.

  “Liar,” she signed to Rayla. She turned to the guards. “If there are more of them, the princes are in danger. Do not take your eyes off her.” Then she left the room.

  Rayla watched the guards watch her. One of them examined Rayla’s confiscated blades, trying to figure out how they worked. Rayla barely suppressed a laugh as the guard accidentally jerked the mechanism, flipping one of the blades open and startling himself.

  “Careful with those,” Rayla said. “Wouldn’t want to lose a finger. I mean, can you imagine going through life with only four fingers?” The guard stared back blankly. “Get it? Because …” She wriggled her four-fingered hands.

  Just then, a screeching sound came from the wall across the room. Both Rayla and the guards turned to see an old dumbwaiter descending down an open shaft. It was moving at an agonizingly slow speed, so slow that the guards seemed mesmerized by it. Rayla squinted in the dim light, trying to get a better look at what was on the platform.

  Finally, finally, the full platform came into view.

  It was Bait!

  He gave Rayla a meaningful look and she realized that a plan had been hatched for her escape! The guards weren’t so quick to follow. They blinked at the strange creature.

  “Have you met Bait?” Rayla asked the guards. “He has a special talent. He may not look that smart, but he’s actually very bright.”

  Slightly offended but taking his cue, Bait flashed his brightest glow and blinded the guards. They staggered around, shouting and swinging their weapons. Rayla took the opportunity to angle the ropes binding her hands toward their wildly swinging weapons.

  “A little to the left,” she said as she maneuvered the ropes into the path of one of the swords.

  Snap! The ropes broke and Rayla was free.

  “Thanks!” she said. Then she tripped the guards, snatched back her blades, and sprinted up the stairs. Halfway up she stopped though. That grumpy glow toad had saved her life; the least she could do was save his. She dashed back into the room and scooped him up just as Callum and Ezran came tumbling from around a corner. She shoved Bait into Ezran’s hands and ran past them.

  “Come on, they’re distracted, we’ve got to get out of here now,” she yelled.

  The three of them ran through the lodge and out the front door, soldiers in pursuit.

  Rayla was surprised to see it was nighttime outside. How long had she been unconscious?

  “This way! To the river,” Callum yelled, running toward a bridge. But just as they reached the bridge, three soldiers appeared on the other side. Callum turned every which way looking for an escape route, but they were surrounded by Aunt Amaya’s troops.

  “Stop right there, elf,” Gren yelled, translating Amaya’s orders. “Callum, Ezran, come here.”

  But the boys didn’t move. Aunt Amaya looked at them quizzically.

  “Callum. We should tell her,” Ezran whispered.

  “Boys. Don’t make me say it again,” Aunt Amaya signed. “Get away from her.”

  Callum didn’t know what to do, but the choice was his to make. He looked from his brother to Rayla, then followed her gaze to Amaya. The elf and human were staring each other down, their eyes full of hatred. He suddenly had an idea.

  “We can’t move, Aunt Amaya,” Callum said while he signed. “She’ll kill us if you come any closer! She said if anyone tries to stop her, she’d drink our blood!” Callum did his best to ignore the hurt on Rayla’s face as he spoke. “She’s a Moonshadow elf! She’s a monster!”

  Callum’s idea seemed to be working. The soldiers looked terrified, and even Aunt Amaya lowered her weapon. Callum widened his eyes at Rayla, silently begging her to play along. She refused to return his gaze but seemed to take the hint.

  “That’s right, humans,” Rayla said. “I dare you to take another step. I haven’t tasted blood in days.”

  “See? It’s too dangerous,” Callum said. “She told us if you let us leave, she’ll abandon us safely in the woods tomorrow. So, it’s best for everyone if you just go.”

  “Don’t be fooled, Callum,” Aunt Amaya signed. “Elves are liars and she won’t keep her word. There’s only one way to deal with this type.” She turned to Rayla. “You know what that is, elf.”

  Then Amaya turned to her bowmen, who stood poised and ready. “Do it, take the shot.”

  As commanded, the bowmen loosed their arrows, which raced straight for Rayla’s head.

  Still reeling from Callum’s words, Rayla was slower than usual but still managed to unfurl a blade and deflect one arrow. She turned to dodge the other, but it caught her braid, severing the white plait and pinning it to a tree several yards away.

  Rayla put her hand to her head where the braid had been. A hot fury bo
iled up inside her.

  “Go ahead, take another shot. But the next time I swing my blade, I’ll end both these boys in half a second.” Rayla’s heart was pounding but she locked eyes with Amaya and grabbed the princes by their shoulders, as if they really were hostages.

  There was a long pause. As the seconds ticked by, fear, hurt, and anger raged inside of Rayla. Even she didn’t know what she’d do if further provoked.

  “Stand down,” Amaya finally signed to her troops. They lowered their weapons.

  “Move, humans,” Rayla shouted. She poked Callum in the back with her blade, and the boys started walking. “What now?” she hissed at Callum.

  Callum led them out of sight of the soldiers to the fishing boat docked at the river’s edge and shook off Rayla’s grip. He and Ezran (and Bait) climbed in.

  But Rayla lingered at the edge of the water, watching the boat rock side to side with the boys’ weight. She didn’t like where this plan was going.

  “Uh, I don’t think a boat—” she started.

  “Just get in!” Callum whispered.

  Gren’s voice shouted Amaya’s stern warning from the distance. “If you lay a hand on those boys, I will hunt you and the rest of your wretched kind to the ends of Xadia!”

  Rayla glared at Callum but stepped into the boat and cut it free with her blade. The strong current grabbed hold of them and swept them down the river.

  Callum looked back at the Banther Lodge and exhaled a long sigh of relief.

  “That worked! I can’t believe it,” he said.

  “I can’t believe you’re such a jerk,” Rayla said.

  “What?” Callum was confused. “Rayla, stop. What’s wrong?”

  But Rayla wouldn’t look at him.

  “Leave me alone,” she said. Her voice wobbled a little and she turned away from Callum.

  “I don’t understand,” Callum said.

  Rayla spun around. “Of course you don’t. You have no idea how it feels to be called a monster. Or looked at like you’re some kind of animal.”

  Oh. Callum got it now.

  “I didn’t mean any of it!” he said. “Aunt Amaya’s the one who hates elves. I was just using that against her.”

  “Well, it worked. Now every one of those humans is even more convinced that all those stories of horrible bloodsucking elves are true.”

  “I’m sorry,” Callum said. “I just didn’t think about it that way.” The words had saved Rayla’s life, hadn’t they?

  Rayla sighed, apparently done with the conversation. She dug into her pocket, and when she pulled out her hand, she was holding the rune-etched cube.

  “You found it!” Callum said. A little spark ignited in his belly.

  “It’s a toy,” Rayla said. “Probably a die from a children’s game. I hope it was worth it.”

  She tossed it to him then hunkered down where she was sitting in the boat.

  Callum felt like he might burst. He plopped down near Ezran and rolled the cube on the floor of the boat a few times. He wasn’t sure what he was hoping for, maybe that his newfound mage-ness would unlock some secret power of the cube or something.

  But the cube remained unchanged, and the spark in Callum’s belly lessened. Had he risked everyone’s life for a silly toy?

  Frustrated, he tossed the cube to the side. It landed near Bait and suddenly one side flickered with a pale, yellow light.

  Callum dove for the cube and grabbed it, but the light dimmed and went out. Huh.

  He paused for a moment. Maybe the primal stone could help. He reached into his cloak and withdrew it, then held the cube up to the sphere. The cube’s Sky rune glowed a bright blue. Interesting!

  Callum pulled the objects away from each other. The cube stopped glowing.

  That spark inside Callum’s belly grew again. He didn’t know what the cube was or exactly what it could do, but he had every intention of finding out.

  Amaya and Gren watched the boat as it disappeared down the river.

  “Don’t worry, Amaya,” Gren signed. “We’ll follow them. We can catch them if—”

  “No,” Amaya signed. “If the elf realizes we’ve followed them, she’ll take the princes’ lives. I have another plan.”

  “Very good,” Gren said.

  Amaya turned to the soldiers and signed as Gren translated. “Corvus!” A cloaked man with a stern expression emerged from the gathered troops. He was tall and muscular but stepped lightly. “I trust your expertise in this,” Amaya signed. “Track the princes, but stay out of sight. And when you see an opportunity, free them.”

  Corvus nodded, his dark eyes glinting. This was the type of mission he relished. “I won’t lose them,” he said with utmost confidence.

  Amaya nodded and turned back to her troops. “The rest of you—ride with me.”

  It was the second dawn since King Harrow’s death, and the sun ascended the mountaintops as it always had. Despite the fact that he’d barely slept these past two days, Viren felt fresh and rested. The kingdom was headed in the right direction for the first time in a long time.

  But one look in the mirror and Viren felt defeated all over again. Years of dark magic had taken a toll. The darkened circles around his eyes were now permanent, and his face was marked with lines of stress and aging: deathly pale skin, unnatural dark spots and streaks, and creases so deep that “wrinkles” couldn’t describe them.

  Some of the effects had occurred gradually over time, while others had come on suddenly after unusual or especially potent spells. Viren accepted these changes as a cosmetic side effect of an important tool. But other people were not so understanding. He had learned that his true appearance was both shocking and terrifying.

  He double-checked the lock on his study door and then opened a nearby cabinet. A panel slid away to reveal a secret enclosure, a glass terrarium filled with butterflies in every color of the rainbow. The insects flapped their delicate wings, flitting back and forth in search of some escape.

  “Good morning, little ones,” Viren cooed.

  The butterflies were sunray monarchs he had captured near the border of Xadia. He’d been breeding the creatures for years.

  Viren opened the screen and placed one weathered hand inside the terrarium. A single butterfly landed on his forefinger, flapping its vibrant purple-and-yellow wings. He used his other hand to stroke the delicate wings.

  Every time he enacted this ritual, Viren was reminded of the first time he had performed it. He remembered his relief when it worked, restoring his appearance. He remembered how he’d been filled with hope, certainty even, that this would change everything. He remembered hurrying home, ready to be forgiven. And even more clearly, he remembered the bitter hole left in his soul when Lissa told him his restored appearance changed nothing. Even though dark magic had helped their family, saving their son’s life—she seemed to fear him and hate him now, and he knew he could never repair that.

  Viren shook the memories away and performed the spell. The rings under his eyes faded and the gray in his hair turned black. His cheeks became rosy.

  He took a deep, satisfied breath, then exited the study. He closed the door behind him, leaving a colorless, lifeless butterfly on the floor.

  Viren strode down the hallway to King Harrow’s chambers. Today was the day he had barely dared to dream about. And yet, somewhere deep down he had always believed it would happen; King Harrow had manifested weaknesses that Viren was immune to.

  King Harrow’s room was still scarred from the battle the night before last. The curtains were shredded, and the furniture was overturned. The only living reminder of Harrow was his songbird, Pip, sitting silently in its golden cage. Viren walked over to a large mirror, which had the coronation robes laid out nearby. Across the room, Claudia was standing by the door leading to the balcony.

  “Are you sure about this, Dad?” Claudia asked. She glanced at the crowds gathering below the castle.

  “Quite,” Viren said without taking his eyes off the mirror. “C
laudia, I will take the crown humbly, because I wish to serve. Who else can help in this time of great need?”

  “But do you think the people are ready to accept this transition of power?” Claudia said. “We still don’t know what happened to Prince Ezran and Prince—”

  “They’re dead,” Viren said quickly. He knew Claudia was close with the boys, Callum especially, but he’d already told her this news multiple times.

  “It can’t be …” Claudia said.

  Viren softened. “I’m sad too, Claudia. But it’s the only logical conclusion I can come to. You know how dangerous and deadly the elves are—how could those boys have survived?”

  “But, Dad, that elf seemed different from the rest. She was being nice to the princes—it was almost as if they had joined her side. Maybe somehow, they are still alive and she’s protecting them.”

  Viren had been over this with his daughter too. “Your optimism is charming, Claudia, but not exactly realistic. Your friends are no longer alive.” He paused. “Sometimes tragedy can give birth to new beginnings,” he said. “The best hope now is to find strength and unity and move the kingdom forward. We want the people to let go of the painful past and look forward to a brighter future.” Viren smiled at his daughter, and Claudia nodded in response.

  “Now, help me with these robes, my dear.”

  Claudia approached her father, and a few attendants scurried over to drape Viren in the coronation robes. They worked methodically, fingers straining to fasten buttons and lace sleeves. Viren appreciated their efficiency, but by the time they placed the last layer of robes on Viren’s shoulders, a strange tension had seized the room. The attendants seemed to be murmuring among themselves. Viren tried to ignore it—he didn’t have time for silly gossip today—but he eventually lost his patience.

  “What is it?” he yelled. “What are you idiots all whispering about?”

  No one dared answer, but a few pairs of eyes flicked over to the songbird. Pip was staring at Viren—glaring even. A slow smile crept over Viren’s face.