by Blake Rivers
This was the Lunar Room, the double of the Solar, featuring a large gallery that opened above the courtyard, a massive four-walled enclosure of brick and stone. All was deserted, the courtyard and room alike, the recent rainfall giving rise to tendrils of vapour, a light mist that reached to touch and caress, to chill.
In contrast to its twin though, the Lunar was lavish and beautiful, mosaics covering the entire floor with pictures and symbols, the walls adorned with blue, red and gold pigment and paint, murals bleeding—a woman depicted, a goddess.
Six white moons circled a larger seventh in the centre of the room, while opposite each was a drape of soft sapphire, hung to hide the alcoves beyond.
Jonus slipped the now extinguished torch into its bracket as the six took their appointed places.
“Are we all ready?” Jonus asked, looking to each of them in turn, each brother standing within their mosaic moon. They nodded, and at once the moons began to glow and pulse, lines of light shooting to the central lunar that flared and roiled with pure white flame; the surface bubbled and rose up into a sphere of power that shone brighter than any star in the sky.
They were as one now, and Jonus ceased to be alone in his thoughts, images of the captured girl fluttered through their communal mind, their sights set, the sphere infused and ready.
The girl, their thoughts sang, seek her out. Bring her.
The sphere hovered for a moment and then left through the gallery, up and out into the sky above the hillside town.
*
It seemed that the townsfolk had run for cover with the arrival of the storm, abandoning their horses and carts, leaving the market square stalls unmanned and open to all manner of scavengers. A flock of birds had landed upon one stand to peck at the fruit, sorting and choosing, throwing what they didn’t like to the ground, while stalking the many fish stands, alley cats skulked; skanky, mangy, they teased and pawed fat fish that’d already met their fate by the blade. The flies of course had joined in, and Ami was able to hear their foul buzzing upon almost every stall—yet all was not yet lost, for though it appeared but an empty stage set, its actors reluctant to appear, there seemed some stirring from the wings…
At the very edge of the thoroughfare, outside a florist’s humble stand, Ami and Raven watched as the first doors swung open, and men, women and children emerged, looking to the skies and giving great sighs. The grubby and shaken walked amongst the well-dressed and well-to-do, their voices a hushed din that grew from a whisper to be heard above the gusting wind. Traders took their places, calling out for buyers to sample their wares, to the hungry and the poor, to the wealthy and weary. Drivers mounted carts and carriages and whipped their horses’ reins as cartwheels rattled and rolled, clattering hard upon the cobbles.
Ami motioned for Raven to follow as they began to explore the sudden rejuvenation, passing through the bodies and dodging cantering horses, making their way from stall to stall and always, looking out for the bearded old men.
Trimmed green cloth displayed apples, oranges, bananas and pears, cherries of red and blue, and even potted jellies and jams, while other nearby arcades traded in belts and buckles, leather jerkins and boots—anything leather, it seemed—tanned and tailored; one stall over from there, a dark haired man lined up bottles of liquids and lotions, claiming to a couple of elixirs and potions, and everywhere calls and cries of wares and produce—a crowd drawing a crowd from a reticent people who all held the ghost of a singular shared expression. Ami noticed it and pointed it out to Raven, noting the similarity in each who looked otherwise so different: their expressions of fear and relief.
Yet still the people returned: the cobbler, the tailor, the small apprentice boys at the anvils, fires roaring, bellows huffing. Children resumed games of chase while their parents traded and bought, the set alive and vivid, the actors in character, playing out their appointed parts with feigned zeal.
Ami observed, her eyes cutting the jagged line of the surrounding rooftops, the simple homes and uneven pavement, the drab and dirty pastel of jackets and cloth pants, skirts, worn out sandals stepping and slipping in horse dung and fallen straw—and then to the faces. Fear and relief. It was all around her. This is normal for them, she realised, this is how they live. In fear and relief.
She grabbed Raven and pulled him further into the crowd before taking a tight side street, no more than a dirt trail between houses that opened to a wilderness of green behind. Birdsong, twitter and tweet ruled here, overlapping with the sounds of the market’s hushed calls of tomatoes and apples and pears. They were alone in the midst of a sprawling town. Dense trees rolled down the far slope of the hill behind them, parallel to the thoroughfare, and beyond where the town could not reach was a vast forest. The outer wall continued below them and out of sight, hemming them in, only a few arms of lanes and roads stemming from the main sprawl.
“They were all hiding,” Ami whispered, looking around her. “They were scared of the storm. Perhaps they’ve reason to be.”
“The book man, Britanus—what did he know?”
Ami’s power prickled as she looked down the slope, and focussing in, saw a cut in the land where a dark river wound its way through. She pointed through the trees where there looked to be a well-trodden path that ran the edge of the town. “There’s a river, he said. It’s down there. He also said that there was a palace.”
“I can’t see a palace, Princess.” Raven shook his head, his eyes rimmed red, alert but tired. Ami wondered, not for the first time, what it would have been like to be trained by the Guard, trained under Hero’s watchful gaze. Would he have given her special treatment as their princess? Or perhaps been harder on her knowing what she was capable of? She missed him. There was a savage and selfish sting in her heart that it was Raven that stood before her and not Hero.
She took his arm, glancing once more toward the faint sounds and jeers of the now bustling market square. All that had happened, all that was still happening, weighed heavy on her. The shack of power, a step into another layer, the quakes and the loss of her sword, the she, the enigma as of yet unseen. She’d ignored her duty for half a year, avoided it all as she arranged a life for herself away from the madness of layers and magic—but this was what she was meant to do, to seek out each layer and explore. Perhaps if she’d have done so sooner, she’d have already solved the mystery. Danger lurked at every turn and it was her job and duty to find it and confront it.
“Come on, let’s get going.”
They walked to the path beneath the shade of the trees.
*
The trail sloped down and away, leading them through a stone archway built into the town’s outer wall. Unmanned, unguarded, the way was overgrown with wild brambles coiling for grasp, clinging to the once grey stone, now green and yellow with moss and algae. Raven touched the wall as he passed, wondering how long it had been there and who’d built such a structure? Either way, it marked the edge of civility, where beyond, the wiles of nature ruled the untamed valley.
Ami forged a way for them through the jungle, a lost land where even the sun could not penetrate the darker shades of green and shadow; creatures stirred and burrowed in the dark, eyes peering, watching them—he grabbed for his sword—but there was nothing there, and he withdrew his hand from his empty scabbard and continued on.
Soon there appeared a wide black ribbon up ahead that snaked across their path, cutting the land in two. Its surface reflected the sky a dull grey, flawed with thick, slow ripples, where insects danced like skaters on tar, and birds strutted back and forth.
“Not so close,” Ami said, holding Raven back and pointing further upstream. “Look there.”
Turning to look, Raven’s senses were suddenly overwhelmed, for upon the banks of the low down valley there rose a colossal structure that had, until now, remained hidden behind the hill. Its four square, turreted walls were a courtyard of red and white stone, hosting a single rising tower to dominate all, its crenelated tip level with the crest of the
hill. A bridge connected the two banks, arching over the black cut and between the outer walls.
“The palace?”
“That would be my bet,” she said. “Couldn’t possibly be anything else.”
It was magnificent, and yet seemed strange, the sight of the single monolithic tower filling Raven with a kind of dread. “And this is where we must go?”
Ami nodded. “The book man suggested it, and it seems likely that any she who was able to shake the world would reside in such a place.”
They stepped together to the water’s edge, the grass giving way to black sludge and stone.
“What do you suppose this is?” Raven asked, looking down at the thick, black water. A faint odour of rot came off it in waves, offending his senses and churning his stomach over. He looked to Ami for her thoughts, but something else had caught her attention.
“Princess?”
“Shh. Listen. Can you hear that?” she asked, her head tilted to the side.
Raven listened, hearing only the buzz and drone of the nearby insects, the sound of rustling leaves.
She pointed down the river. “There.”
Hovering just over the bridge was a tiny ball of light. It looked to be a miniature sun or star, stuck in mid-air as if waiting for something. A moment later it moved of its own accord, switching banks in a blur, then switching again, then again, slowly working its way closer. It was pulsing, searching… and then quite suddenly, racing toward them.
“It’s coming for us,” she said, groping for his arm. “We gotta go. Now.”
“Princess, I—” Raven’s arm was almost yanked from its socket as Ami pulled him back up the bank and sped them back through the wooded jungle, up and away from the river. The sounds and smells of the surrounding flora mingled and mixed into a toxic drone that joined the other and followed them at a pace.
“It’s right behind us,” he shouted, feeling his skin prickle, not daring to look up, knowing it was above and closing fast.
Their retreat was swift, and making it through the brambles beneath the arch, Ami pushed him aside and turned to face their pursuer.
It descended a screaming star-shot, landing in front of them and taking shape in white fire, shooting burning flares over their heads. One scored Raven’s cheek, and Ami in turn raised her hands, her palms filling with ripples of coloured light, striking the now furious sphere. Stray sparks spun to form the legs, arms, and body of a warrior-woman, her light-sword presented, while the opposing fire created a matching adversary, a warrior-man, swinging a burning blade.
Raven’s eyes were drawn to the fight, but before the first blow could fall, Ami was leading him back the way they’d come, along the narrow backstreet and into the market square.
“I don’t know how long I can hold it off,” she breathed, visibly weakened by whatever had just begun behind them.
Raven took her weight and steered them to the edge of the bazaar, away from the main throng of people. He rested her against the wall of a tavern, ignoring looks and stares from the passing trade. Her eyes flashed the colours of the fight unseen.
“It’s draining me.”
“Can you walk?” he asked, worried for the pallor of her skin and the waxy sheen it’d taken.
“I’ll be okay. We need to get away.”
Nodding, Raven took her weight again and gently led her into the crowd, dodging carts, cattle and people alike that cut across their path. If others took notice, Raven took none of them, concentrating instead on keeping his balance and holding Ami upright, her weakening body becoming heavier and heavier.
Then behind them, screams broke out.
A sudden rush of people overtook them and carried them, thrusting them into a stall of meat and fish that fell to the floor with dead, wet splats, the air filling with the deadly drone once more. The townsfolk scampered and their way became clear, but Raven came to a halt at the centre of the square, the noise entering his head and singing there. His ears rang, the single note bounding and rebounding inside his skull, buzzing for release.
It was above him.
It blotted out the sun.
It was a fallen star hurtling to earth, and raising his arm to block out the sight, he stumbled and lost his balance, spilling them both to the ground.
“No!” Ami shouted, and thrusting her hand up to the light watched a burst of green flame fly from her fingers into the sphere.
With a gnarled, dry scream the ball of light shot skyward, swirling in white and green until it disappeared from view.
The sound left Raven’s head, leaving his ears ringing as he helped Ami up.
She was deathly pale.
Stumbling and unsteady on his feet, Raven navigated the rest of the way across the square, taking a small side street that seemed appropriately out of the way and out of the light.
Here the houses were so close together he could span the street with arms outstretched, and carrying Ami as best he could he leant against a doorway, pinning her there.
A door opened a few houses away and a face appeared, an arm beckoning.
“In here, quick. Don’t hang around, come on.”
Ami nodded her consent, and together they ducked into the open doorway, slamming the door behind them.
To Raven’s surprise, the sphere of light did not return, even though he kept expecting it to break through the door at any moment, to fly through the shuttered window—but all was calm, and soon even the townsfolk quietened their furore, the shock and excitement dying down as life resumed.
They were led to a table, and lowering Ami to one of the available chairs, Raven slumped into another, looking up into the face of their host for the first time.
It was a girl, a young woman, her dark brown eyes almost black in the tired gloom of the room. Her hair was long, dark also, lavishly spread across her shoulders and down her chest; her bare arms were delicate, a gentle coffee-coloured exposure at odds with her simple woollen dress. But it was her face that took him in that moment, her soft features, full lips, her expression of deep concern.
“Please,” she said, her accent tinted, “what can I get you? What do you need? You are hurt?”
“No,” he said, shaking his head. “I am, but my ankle needs nothing but rest. Ami?”
Ami smiled and sat up. “Rest only, yes, though I am thirsty.” A pause as she peered up into the girl’s face. “Thank you.”
“Yes, thank you. You have given us safe harbour, and it seems whatever pursued us hasn’t tracked us here.”
The girl smiled. “You’re very welcome.” She took two wooden goblets from the table. “Water, yes? I can get you some. Hold on.”
Raven watched her as she moved quickly into the back room and pulled the lever of a pump. Water sloshed and she returned with the goblets. He accepted his with a smile, and Ami took hers with thanks.
“I’m glad to have helped. You seem terribly lost.” The girl remained standing, her dark eyes flicking from one to the other of them. “I hope you are not trouble-makers.”
“No,” Ami said, “at least, I hope not. We are from…elsewhere though.”
“Yes, this is, I’m sorry to say, obvious.” She smiled. “You need rest. You can stay here, for a time. Please, relax, you are safe.”
“What was that thing?” Ami asked, already looking better, her strength returning.
“A great magic,” the girl said with a solemn nod. “A magic that only The Order would have cast.” She reached across and Raven felt her hand on his. “But you are safe. This house, this house is protected with charms. They cannot find you here.”
Smiling still she withdrew her hand, Raven feeling the absence as keen as a burn. And then she was gone again, into the darkened kitchen beyond.
“Who are The Order?” Ami asked.
“Ah,” the girl’s voice came, deep from the shadows. “Of course, you may not know. The elders form an order of priests who have been given small magics, a little each, so that they may do the bidding of she in the palace, and
praise her name. Apart, each elder can only perform small deeds, but together they can conjure great and powerful things—though, not as great as she.”
Her voice filled the house, not quite an echo, but equally as eerie. Raven was glad when she reappeared, carrying a loaf of bread and some dried meat.
“Here, some sustenance. Please, take what you need. You must have had a long journey. This place is…isolated.”
Raven nodded. “We have travelled far.”
“Where abouts are you from?” Her accent gave Raven a shiver.
“An island, far away,” Ami said. “I don’t think any here would know it. We were wrecked and managed to climb the cliffs to land, and found your town.”
“Ah, I see,” she said, smiling. “Forgive. I am curious only, though you have no reason to tell. Please, take the food, the drink—is plenty of.”
Ami nodded and Raven followed her lead as they reached for the bread and meat, and after a few bites, and several clean, crisp swallows of water to wash it down, felt the better for it. The girl took a seat next to Raven, having brought a bowl of small red berries. She offered them and took one for herself.
“I’m Sofia-Maria,” she said. “I’m happy to meet you.”
“Ami, and this is Raven.”
“Good. Happy to know you.”
Raven was sure he saw a glint in her eye as she looked at him. “Happy to know you, too,” he said.
*
The pain hit him with a slap and Mattus fell, cracking his head on the floor.
The circle was broken, and though a few of the others stepped to his aid, he noticed that Jonus did not.
“What is it, Brother? What happened? Why did you break the circle?”
