Daughter of Moth (The Moth Saga, Book 4)

by Daniel Arenson

  When she had crossed the town and stood at the gates of Teel University again, she paused and took a deep breath. Only last turn, she had stepped through these gates for the trials, but somehow now this seemed an even greater boundary to cross.

  "Once I step through now," she whispered, "my old life is gone. Father. Mother. Hayseed. Home. Once I enter these gates now . . . this will be my new home for four years."

  She stood for a moment, hesitating, fingers trembling, resisting the temptation to run after her father. Finally, with a deep breath, she took three great paces forward and entered the Teel cloister.

  The first time she had entered this cobbled courtyard, she had seen thousands of applicants. Now only two hundred stood here, the lucky new class. Four columned walkways rose around them, enclosing the cloister within a square, and the four Towers of Teel rose at each corner. An elm tree rustled in the center of the cloister, and clouds drifted across the blue sky above.

  As always, Lari stood with her group of cronies, all wearing their Radian pins. A jeweled tiara topped Lari's head, and golden embroidery adorned her green robes. While Madori's robes were secondhand, shabby, and shapeless, Lari's robes were obviously custom-tailored, fitting snugly and sporting golden hems. The young noblewoman was busy telling a story while her friends laughed, and Madori caught snippets about how "the mongrel burst into tears . . ." and how "her gardener father had to save her." Ignoring the group, Madori looked at the other students, her new classmates. A couple dozen Elorians stood under the elm, seeking the shadows, their hoods pulled over their heads; unlike Madori, who had inherited Timandrian skin that could tan, these pure-blooded Elorians had pale skin they dared not expose to sunlight. Finally, between the Radians and Elorians, sprawled a mass of unorganized students. Most were local Magerians, but many were from other sunlit kingdoms, their eyes more hesitant, their hands clasped together nervously.

  Madori wasn't sure where to stand. Certainly not near Lari and her friends, but neither did she crave Elorian companionship; if she aligned herself with the Elorians, she would forever be an outsider here. If she embraced her Timandrian blood, perhaps she could still find a larger group of allies—obviously not among the Radians, but perhaps among the largest group, those Timandrians still unaligned.

  She saw Tam stand in the middle group, and Madori felt some relief. The brown-eyed prince, now wearing green robes, was a welcome sight, a little bit of her old life, of comfort. She walked forward and stood beside him.

  "Hullo, Billygoat," he said.

  She raised her fist. "Don't make me punch you."

  He rolled his eyes. "Fine! Greetings be upon you, Lady Madori Billy Greenmoat the First." He bit his lip. "Better?"

  "No. But you got lucky. Punching your thick skull would probably cripple my hand, and one of my hands is already injured."

  Tam grimaced. "Save your fists for you-know-who." He glanced aside. "I have a feeling you might need them."

  Madori followed his gaze and saw that Lari and her friends were tossing a doll back and forth. The doll was a crude, ugly representation of an Elorian—its fingers ending with claws, its mouth sprouting fangs, its large eyes red. When the effigy fell into the mud, Lari made a point of stomping onto it. The young noblewoman raised her eyes, saw Madori, and gave her a little wink.

  "You're next," she mouthed silently.

  Madori was about to rush forward and attack the weasel. Before she could take a step, however, Headmistress Egeria emerged from the southeastern tower and marched toward the new students, her robes swaying. The elderly woman's hair was collected into a neat bun, and the sigil of Teel—two silver scrolls—hung around her neck.

  "Students of Teel!" the headmistress announced. "Welcome. Welcome to the university."

  The students all turned toward the woman. Lari gave Madori another wink before kicking the doll behind the elm tree. When everyone faced her, the headmistress continued speaking.

  "Two hundred of you have passed the trials. Now you stand here before me in your uniforms, your books in your packs. You may think the hard part is behind you, that your education is now guaranteed. But!" The headmistress pointed to the sky, her sleeve rolling down to reveal a knobby arm. "You are mistaken. You are not yet safe. Many of you—perhaps most of you—will still return home. It is not uncommon for only half our students to successfully complete their first year. Many more flunk during their second, third, and fourth years." Egeria narrowed her eyes, staring from one student to another. "If more than fifty of you become true mages, I would be very surprised. Now!" She cleared her throat. "You will spend your first year in groups of four. Your quartet will be your most basic, important unit of university life. You will sleep four students to a room. You will sit four students to a table. Every quartet will have a name, a symbol, a leader, and a sense of pride. Perhaps more than any other decision you will make at the university—or in life!—will be who to choose for your quartet. No time is better than now to decide. And so, students—please, arrange yourselves to groups of four!"

  Madori cringed. Choose three other students—others who'd be her constant companions for years?

  She glanced around her. "Idar's bottom, I don't even want to spend four years with you, Tam, let alone any of these strangers."

  He grabbed her arm and tugged her close. "Too bad, because you're stuck with me . . . and two others, if we can find them." He looked around him. "Say, Billygoat, you know anyone else here?"

  She nodded. "I know Lari. Fancy inviting her to join us?"

  "Oh, certainly! I'd also like to stick my head into a crocodile's mouth."

  Near the elm tree, Lari had found three friends—twin girls and a tall golden-haired boy, all sporting the Radian brooches. A second quartet of Radians joined together beside them. Slowly other quartets were forming—four Ardish students here, four Verilish ones there, four Elorians in the shadows, and others.

  Grouped by nations, Madori thought, her heart sinking. But who'd join a half-breed like me?

  A voice spoke beside her, soft and dangerous as flames about to spread.

  "Madori?"

  She recognized that accent—it was the accent of Ilar, an Elorian nation south of her own moonlit homeland of Qaelin. She spun around to see the Elorian boy with the nose ring and intense eyes. His dragon tattoo stretched up his neck and coiled over his eye; it seemed to stare at her too. His white hair fell across his brow, and his hood and cloak were pulled tightly around him.

  She turned away from him. "I don't join Elorians."

  His voice was soft but still carried a hint of danger. "You are Elorian."

  She spun back toward him, glaring. "I'm mixed. You know that." She tugged her two strands of hair. "You see my black hair, don't you? Go join your fellow Elorians, the pure ones."

  He glanced toward where other Elorians were forming quartets, then looked back at her. He shook his head. "No. I did not travel into sunlight to stay in shadows. In this school, who you know matters. That is how you survive. I cannot stay in darkness." He looked at Tam. "He is Timandrian. He is with you. I will be too. I will learn your ways, Madori the half-Timandrian." He bowed his head toward her. "I am Jitomi of Ilar."

  Tam raised his eyebrows and thrust out his bottom lip. "Might as well," he said to Madori. "It's not like we've got too many options left."

  Madori grumbled. The young prince was right. Most other students had already formed quartets; many seemed to have known one another from before the trials.

  She cursed and jabbed a finger against Jitomi's chest. "Fine! But you remember something, Jitomi the Ilari. I am half Qaelish. I have nothing to do with your island of Ilar, even if both our empires lie in the darkness. And I won't speak to you about anything Elorian—not the old foods of the night, not the starlight, not anything. We'll be quartet-members, but we will not be friends."

  He nodded and spoke with his thick accent. "I join you, Madori, because you are of sunlight, not because you are of darkness too."

  She sighed. "
Lovely trio of misfits we've got here so far. But we need one more."

  She looked around her, biting her lip. Only a handful of students were still unsorted. One among them caught Madori's eye. She squinted and tilted her head.

  A tall Daenorian girl was walking around the courtyard, looking from side to side, trying to join different groups only for them to snicker and move away. She was the only Daenorian here and seemed to stick out just as badly as Madori. The girl wore a necklace of animal teeth, and beneath her green robes, she wore armor molded to look like crocodile hide. Under her arm, she held a steel helmet shaped like a crocodile's head, complete with a toothy visor. A sword hung at her side, its pommel shaped as another one of the reptiles. The girl had dark skin and smooth, black hair that hung down to her chin. Her lips were full, her eyes bright and eager, and Madori thought her very pretty—certainly pretty enough that Madori herself felt plain, scrawny, and homely as a true billy goat.

  And yet, despite the Daenorian girl's beauty and bright smile, every other student she approached quickly moved aside, laughed, scoffed, or even cursed the girl.

  "They're real crocodile teeth," the Daenorian said, showing her necklace to a group of Ardish girls with blue eyes and golden hair. "If you let me join you, I'll give you some teeth."

  The girls grimaced and turned away.

  Never losing the brightness in her eyes, the tall Daenorian turned toward another group, this one of local Magerian boys. "Do you like my sword?" she asked. "My father said it has magical powers. Do you think magical swords exist?"

  The boys only rolled their eyes and turned away from her.

  "Foreign freak," one muttered.

  Madori sighed. She looked at Tam. "You did say you'd like to stick your head into a crocodile's mouth. I think I found the next best thing."

  Her heavy boots clanking, Madori walked across the courtyard toward the Daenorian.

  "Oi! Crocodile girl!"

  The Daenorian spun toward her, and her eyes widened in delight. Her mouth opened into a bright smile. "Oh, aren't you tiny and cute! Do you like toffy? I have some toffy somewhere in my pocket, though it's a bit squished. You can have some if you let me join you."

  The girl reached into her pocket, fished around, and produced something flat, dusty, and covered in lint. She held it out toward Madori.

  Madori struggled not to cringe. "There's no need for that. I'm Madori. Who are you?"

  The girl's grin widened. "I'm Neekeya! I'm from South Daenor. Remember that. South Daenor. Not the north part where people live in castles, wear ribbons, and pretend they're all proper and fancy. I'm from the swamps. We're real warriors there. My father says I'm the best warrior in the kingdom, and he gave me this sword, and it has magical powers. Do you believe in magical swords?"

  Madori bit her lip. "I suppose so. Would you like to join our quartet?"

  Neekeya gasped and tears budded in her eyes. She leaned down and pulled Madori into an embrace. She stood quite a bit taller than Madori, and her embrace was warm, and though the girl was odd—her armor strange, her accent heavy—there was kindness and comfort and goodness to her.

  "Thank you!" Neekeya breathed. "I'd love to. You're very kind. Would you like a crocodile tooth?"

  Madori shook her head. "No thank you."

  The four stood together: A girl torn between night and day, her eyes too large, her hair cropped short except for two long strands; a prince in disguise, a son of privilege masquerading as a commoner; a son of darkness, tattooed and pierced, in a land of light; and a swamp dweller of strange armor, eager eyes, and a smile that it seemed no darkness could crush.

  "The headmistress said every quartet needs a name, a symbol, and leader," Madori said. "So what are they?"

  Tam grinned. "That's obvious. You're our leader, little one. And our symbol is a duskmoth, like the one inked onto your wrist; after all, we're of both daylight and darkness here. As for our name? We will be known as Madori's Motley."

  "No, Tam," Madori said.

  But Neekeya grinned and hopped excitedly. "Madori's Motley! I like it. I like toffy too. Do you want some toffy, Tam?" She offered him a piece.

  Jitomi too nodded. "Madori's Motley. I accept this name."

  Madori only sighed. She had come here seeking acceptance in Timandrian society; now she found herself among a group of outcasts and misfits.

  I suppose, she thought, this is where I belong.

  With all the students in groups of four, Headmistress Egeria spun on her heel and led them toward a tower. Quartet by quartet, the students of Teel followed, beginning their life at the university.

  CHAPTER NINE:

  CASTLE AND SCROLL

  She stood by the grave of her father, staring up at the fortress that bore his name.

  Salai Castle rose upon the hill, a pagoda three tiers high, its roofs tiled blue. A bronze dragon statue stood upon the top roof, the full moon haloing its roaring head. The stars gleamed above, and the darkness of Eloria spread to the east, blanketing the hills, valleys, and river. In the west, the dusk glowed like a palisade of lanterns, the borderland dividing day and night. The orange light gleamed against the black bricks of the castle, and its windows forever gazed upon the gloaming, eyes to guard the lands of darkness.

  "You died defending this border, Father." Koyee looked down at the grave. "Now a great castle bearing your name guards this land. Eloria will never fall again."

  She closed her eyes, the memories like ice in her veins. It had been many years since her father had died, and Koyee herself was a parent now, but the pain never left her. She still felt very young, very alone, very afraid.

  "I miss you, Father," she whispered.

  She opened her eyes.

  But no, I am no longer a youth, she thought. I am thirty-six years old, and I have a child of my own, and I will forever defend this home so many died for.

  She raised her chin, clutched the hilt of her katana—the blade her father had once wielded—and climbed the twisting path up the hill. The wind billowed her silken black cloak, making its embroidered blue dragons dance. Her hair streamed across her eyes, a white curtain, and she tucked it behind her ears. Her shirt of scales chinked, the armor she always wore here, the armor she would not remove even so long after the war.

  Once you've seen war, you're always a soldier.

  She reached the gates of Salai Castle. Two dragon statues flanked its gates, large as mules, roaring silently. Embers crackled within their mouths. The doors stood closed before Koyee, forged of bronze that reflected the dusk behind her. When she craned her head back, the castle seemed to soar forever, reaching the stars. Once this had been a simple steeple, a place called the Nighttower. Once she had stood here alone, gazing into the light of Timandra. For ten years, workers had labored here, turning a tower into a great castle. Koyee placed her hands against the doors. She paused for a moment, savoring the cold feel of them, letting that iciness flow along her arms. Then, with a nod, she shoved the doors with all her strength. They swung open upon oiled hinges.

  She stepped into a tiled hall, columns holding its ceiling. Braziers shaped as fish, wolves, and birds stood in rows, their embers casting orange light. A table of polished granite stood in the center of the room, its surface engraved with a map of Mythimna, showing two continents like the wings of a moth—one continent painted white, the other black. Eternal day and endless night.

  Three hundred men and women stood in the hall, clad in scale armor, silvery helmets upon their heads. As Koyee entered, they drew their katanas as one and raised the blades in salute. Their large Elorian eyes gleamed blue and lavender as they stared at her.

  Koyee raised her own katana—the sword Sheytusung, a blade of legend, the blade she had fought with in the great war many years ago.

  "Under this moon, we dedicate Salai Castle!" she announced, her voice echoing in the hall. "A fortress rises. Eloria will never more fall. We are the night!"

  Three hundred voices called out together. "We are the night!
"

  Here were the greatest soldiers in Qaelin, this empire of the night. Koyee had chosen every one herself, the brightest stars of the darkness. They stood strong, brave, clad in steel, and they would defend their homeland.

  Koyee lifted a goblet from the table. She raised it high. "Nearly twenty years ago, an enemy sailed down the river and rode upon the plains, and only a single tower stood here, its only guardian fallen. We have forged peace since then. And I pray to Xen Qae, our wise master in the stars, that this peace lasts ten thousand years. But if ever the fire burns again, if ever the light falls upon Eloria . . . we will be ready. Drink, children of darkness. May wine warm your bellies. The night is eternal; so is our strength. Our watch begins."

  They drank. The wine poured down Koyee's throat, warming her belly.

  Wine fermented from grapes grown across our border, she thought. A drink of sunlight for soldiers of the night.

  They feasted then, the meats, mushrooms, and fish filling the chamber with their savory aroma. Soldiers talked and laughed as they ate, and one began to sing a song. A fireplace crackled at the back. Koyee ate little, spoke less, and did not sing, for too many worries lay upon her.

  I built this castle to defend the darkness, she thought, and yet I sent my daughter into the very heart of sunlight.

  Koyee had traveled across the sunlit lands of Timandra, and she had seen the looks people gave her and Madori—two women with eyes as large as chicken eggs, one an Elorian with pale skin and white hair, the other with dark hair and tanned skin, marking her mixed blood. The sunlit lands shunned them, yet what could Koyee have done?

  "I'm shunned in Eloria too!" Madori had shouted at her, eyes damp. "I'm just as monstrous in the night—a girl with black hair and tanned skin—as I am in Timandra. So at least let me be monstrous at the university where I can learn magic."

  Koyee had tried to embrace the girl, to tell Madori, "You are blessed, pure, and beautiful."

  But Madori would not listen. She would shout, stamp her feet, and bring tears to Koyee's eyes. And finally Madori had left. And now she was gone. And even now, sitting here in this fortress across the border, Koyee missed her daughter and wished she could embrace her one more time.