The Moon Rogue

by L M R Clarke

  His secret thoughts spoken, Bandim felt a strange ease. It wasn’t that the words comforted him. Rather, with each syllable Johrann spoke, he felt...less. Less pain. Less confusion.

  His mind was clear.

  He smirked.

  He knew what he had to do.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  Emmy

  Late Althemerian Merish days were hot, but the same couldn’t be said for the nights. Emmy sat on a fallen bough, worn smooth with sitting, and held her hands to the licking flames. She sat by a small pit-fire that burned near the rear of the healers’ building and waited. She watched the dance of orange and red as it rose from the blackened logs, disappearing against the darkness of the clear sky, and waited some more.

  A week had passed since Zecha finally woke. Each day he’d grown stronger, and was now well enough to sit and stand without pain. Well, without too much pain, Emmy thought, as her friend lowered himself onto the log beside her.

  “Oof,” was all he managed to say as he sat.

  He shouldn’t have been outside with her. In fact, even Emmy shouldn’t have been outside. But when faced with the fact that they were somehow, with Rel’s help, to escape the Althemerian encampment, small risks didn’t seem so risky any longer.

  Emmy patted Zecha’s shoulder as he made himself comfortable. “You’ll heal fully soon enough,” she said.

  Zecha exhaled a thin breath. He winced as he shifted into what was finally a comfortable position. “I think I’m healing better than expected, considering I thought I was dead.”

  Emmy tilted her head in agreement. “A fair point.”

  Zecha was quiet for a moment before he turned to face her. Fire danced in his red eyes, but it spoke of warmth and home, not the destruction that flame often did.

  “Tell me again who this Rel healer is, and what she said. I know you’ve told me what feels like a thousand times already, but I just can’t get it straight in my head.”

  “Oh, Zecha,” Emmy sighed. “You’ll hear it all again when Charo arrives. Rel said she would explain to her what was happening, and how we’re going to get out of here.”

  Zecha pressed his lips together in a tight line. “I hope she’s as trustworthy as you think she is.”

  Nodding, Emmy smiled as comforting a smile as she could. “She is,” she said. “I just know it.”

  But even the vehemence of her words was tainted by a stain of worry inside. Emmy thought Rel was trustworthy, and she was certainly strange and powerful. But was this real, or was it a game? If it was a game, Emmy couldn’t fathom the objective.

  The pit-fire popped and cracked. The two friends stared into the flames.

  “Is Charo definitely coming?” Zecha asked.

  “She said she would be here,” Emmy replied. “She’s going to feign sickness in her barracks, so she’ll hopefully get sent here. If she does, we’ll be able to talk. If she doesn’t, I suppose she’ll have to try again another way.” She sighed. “We’ll just have to wait.”

  Emmy shifted and looked at the constellations twinkling in the inky sky. She traced the outline of the Rising Prago, a huge beast with outstretched wings. Its head was the brightest, blinking in the darkness. Its wings spread halfway across the sky, as if it enveloped the whole island in its protection. A prago was a mythical thing, a beast akin to an enormous gargon that dwelled in the mountains. The Metakalans said it slumbered deep in the darkest caves, waiting for the day it could break the chains that bound it and rise once more into the Arc of the Sky.

  Something occurred to Emmy that had never crossed her mind before. “Zecha, you know a lot about Metakalan folk tales, don’t you?”

  “I suppose I do,” he replied. “Why?”

  Emmy stretched up her hand and traced the outline of the Rising Prago with one claw. “Why was the prago chained in the mountains?”

  He looked at her as if she’d asked if water was wet. “Really? You don’t know?”

  This time it was Emmy who flattened her lips into an irritated line. “I wouldn’t have asked if I knew,” she replied.

  Zecha ignored her ire and sailed into an explanation.

  “Each link of the chain was forged when folk denied the prago’s existence. The more they denied it, the stronger the chain became. And the stronger the chain became, the less the prago could move freely and prove it was real. So now it’s imprisoned somewhere beneath the Great Northern Range, waiting for the day it will be released—or so they say. Who knows if it’s real or not real?”

  As her eyes traced the prago’s starry points, Emmy shook her head. “You know, before Rel told me what she did, I would have said for certain the prago didn’t exist. But now? I’m not so sure.”

  Zecha followed her gaze to the stars, then looked back at her. When she met his eyes, they were soft. “This Rel has made a huge impression on you.”

  Nodding, Emmy gave a half-smile. “You have no idea.”

  They sat in silence for a little while, waiting for Charo and Rel to arrive. If she closed her eyes, Emmy could almost fool herself into thinking they were back in Bellim, by the fire in Mr. Charber’s back yard. It was a comfort in the maw of danger they stood in. Escape wouldn’t be easy.

  Eventually their companionable quiet was disrupted by two sets of feet approaching on the parched ground. Emmy and Zecha turned in tandem, faces alight with grins as two figures rounded the corner of the building and stepped into the light.

  When their faces were visible, Zecha leapt to his feet. “Charo!”

  He bounded towards her, ignoring any pain. Charo ran to him and they embraced, holding one another close. They approached the fireside claw in claw, grinning at one another. In the firelight, they looked as if they were falling under each other’s spell.

  At least, that was how it had been explained to Emmy. It’s like the other person commands your attention, Zecha had told her countless times, trying desperately to explain attraction. It’s like looking at someone and feeling like they’ve been a missing part of you for your entire life.

  Emmy shook her head. She didn’t understand the way they looked at each other. She understood friendship, of course, and even now she had a sense of family. But romance? Nothing. That was what she saw between Charo and Zecha, and it was something she didn’t feel the need to understand.

  Rel grinned as she walked to the pit-fire and gestured to the embracing couple behind her. “You didn’t tell me of this,” she said.

  Emmy chuckled. “In truth, I wasn’t sure there was anything to tell. But there it is.”

  Rel sat beside Emmy as Charo and Zecha babbled, each checking every inch of the other to see if they were really reunited.

  “In truth,” Rel repeated, “I thought that you and Zecha were something to one another.”

  Emmy couldn’t stop herself. She stuck out her tongue and shook her head. “Never.”

  At Rel’s disbelieving head-tilt, she explained. “It’s nothing against Zecha,” Emmy continued, keeping her voice low enough that the others couldn’t hear. “He is something to me, but he’s more like a brother. I don’t really see anyone the way they see one another. Or at least, the way I think they see one another.”

  Rel looked at her, expression deadpan. “For certain, that’s the way they see one another.”

  Chuckling, Emmy grinned as Zecha and Charo joined them, sitting on the baked earth across the fire-pit. They sat almost on top of one another, their claws touching.

  “You escaped, then,” Emmy said.

  “I said I thought I was coming down with the Lurking Death, and”—Charo snapped two claws together—“it was as easy as that. I was shoved out of the barracks. I must be a good actor.”

  “Or they were simply glad to get a moment’s peace from you,” Zecha chided.

  He jabbed her lightly in the ribs, and Charo went to return the gesture, but stopped herself at the look of horror on his face as he shielded himself. “All right, you’re safe for now,” she said, “but just wait until you heal pro
perly.”

  Rel regarded them with soft eyes. “I can see why you don’t want to leave these two,” she said. Her expression hardened as she continued. “But our leaving is what we must discuss.”

  Zecha nodded, and Charo looked from Rel to Emmy and back again. “Please tell me everything,” she said.

  And so Rel did. By the time she was finished with the whole tale—of her own background, the Uloni, and the truth about Emmy—both Charo’s and Zecha’s eyes were wide and glassy.

  “That’s...a lot to take in,” Charo said.

  Zecha nodded. “Even on the second hearing, it’s a lot,” he said. “I can only imagine how you feel, Emmy.”

  Nodding, Emmy clasped her claws together. “It is a lot,” she said. “But it does explain some things, like why I look so different. I still have many questions, like how did I end up with Krodge? But,” she continued, looking to Rel, “Rel doesn’t know all the answers. But she’s confident that her friend knows more, and that’s who we’re going to see.”

  Charo nodded, although her face was pinched with concern. “How are we going to get out?” she asked. “There are guards all around the perimeter of the encampment. It’s not as if we can just walk out.”

  “Actually,” Rel said, the smile returning to her face, “we can.”

  “How?” Charo pressed. “We’re not here by choice. We’re here through debt. The Althemerians aren’t about to let us leave because we say we need to.”

  “Of course they aren’t,” Rel said. She pulled up her shirt sleeve to show her own brand. The date read many cycles before. “I’m free here, and am allowed a pass to go outside the camp for periods of time. That was how Emmy and I left when I showed her my truth. We were able to leave to collect nightshrooms. On that occasion, that’s what we did. On this occasion, we won’t be coming back.”

  It was Zecha’s turn to voice his concerns. “That might work for you two,” he said, “but Charo and I aren’t healers. And even if we dressed as such, would the guards Charo mentioned allow four healers to leave at once? Surely it would look suspicious.”

  Rel nodded and lifted her palms to the pit-fire flames. “It would,” she said as she warmed her hands, “but two healers accompanied by two guards wouldn’t.”

  Emmy’s mouth formed an “oh” of understanding. “Right,” she said. “But why would they allow two soldier-slaves out with us this time when we didn’t need them last time?”

  “Ah,” Rel continued, “a good point. But for once, the conflict among nations will be a benefit rather than a curse. Tensions between the Althemerians and the Masvams rise with every day. There are rumors that the Masvams are planning to invade, and certainly raiding parties have been wreaking havoc all along the coast. It simply wouldn’t be safe for two mere healers to travel alone.”

  Zecha nodded slowly as the plan came together in his mind. “Where will I get a uniform from?”

  Rel nodded at Charo.

  “Your friend here will strip her uniform tonight, and wear a new gown and hose. I’ll tell her superiors that she doesn’t have the Death, but rather has a mild sickness. I’ll say I’ve burned her clothing as a precaution, and will request another be supplied before she leaves—including boots. Thus, both Charo and Zecha will have uniforms, and there we have it: two healers with two guards, ready to pick shrooms. It’s just that we won’t be returning.”

  Emmy shook her head, exhaling in disbelief. “It seems so simple,” she said. “It can’t be that easy.”

  Rel placed a hand on her arm and shook her head.

  “It can be, Emmy. Not everything needs to be complicated. And sometimes the best way to escape is to do it in plain sight. No one will look for any of us until it’s much too late. I’ll procure two vaemar this time, and on their backs, we’ll cover enough distance that when our disappearance is discovered, we’ll be too far away. That is, if they look for us.” She huffed out a breath. “They may simply assume we’ve been killed. Getting past the guards on the gate is the only difficult part. After that, it’s as simple as one vaemar paw after another, until we reach Kubodinnu and my friend.”

  The little group looked at each other in turn, sharing in the warmth of the fire as well as the comfort of impending freedom. Rel wouldn’t betray them. Of this, Emmy was sure. Their escape depended only on getting past the guards.

  And not meeting any Masvam raiders, of course, she thought. That was something they couldn’t control as easily.

  “When will we do this?” Charo asked. Excitement and fire burned in her eyes in equal measure.

  “As long as I can get the uniform, we’ll leave tomorrow night,” Rel replied. “There’s no sense in waiting longer, especially if the Masvams are prowling ever closer. Places like this camp are prime targets: coastal, with minimal defenses, as well as being a place for training. If the Masvams destroy this place and kill as many soldier-slaves as they can, they weaken the Althemerians in the face of an invasion.”

  A shiver ran all the way along Emmy’s bones from her neck to the tip of her tail. “The sooner we leave, the better,” she said.

  At that, Rel clapped her hands on her knees and rose. “That’s settled,” she said. “Charo, you must come back with me now and feign sickness for the benefit of those around you. Medicine-Yarim is on duty, and will already be wondering where I’ve gone. I’ll bring clothing for you, and you’ll leave your uniform here. I’ll tell Medicine-Yarim I’ve burned your uniform in the pit. Emmy, you and Zecha can smuggle the garments back inside.”

  Emmy shook her head, suppressing a chuckle. “You have a plan for everything, Rel.”

  The older female gave a sage nod as she walked away.

  “I’ve been waiting here for you for many cycles, Emmy,” she said. “I’ve had much time to come up with my plan. I admit I wasn’t expecting you to arrive with companions, but it wasn’t difficult to come up with a plan to include them.” She stopped and turned. “And I am glad to see you have friends, Emmy,” she continued. Something glimmered in her eyes. “I know what it’s like to be different. I know what it’s like to be alone.”

  Before Emmy could reply, Rel had disappeared through the rear door of the healers’ building. Rel did know. Emmy could feel her sincerity. She looked at Charo, then Zecha, and reached to embrace them both. The three friends pushed their heads together, holding one another close. Attraction may have been something Emmy didn’t understand, but friendship wasn’t.

  Reunited, for a moment, there was a pang of happiness between them. Hope crackled with the flames.

  They would escape, all three. And they would be together.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  Emmy

  Emmy barely slept, knowing what was to follow the next night. The cogs of her mind kept turning the situation round and round, giving her not even a minute of peace. They would escape. They would go to Kubodinnu to meet Bomsoi.

  Then what?

  Emmy turned in her bed as her thoughts whirled. Rel had said Bomsoi wanted her to do something, that she had some sort of special purpose. A full-blood Uloni. But what was it? Would she even be able to do it? Cycle upon cycle of self-doubt crept upon her like a plague. She wasn’t special. She wasn’t anything. How could she help?

  No.

  The word was so clear Emmy bolted upright, clutching her sacking blanket to her chest. “Who’s there?”

  Her quavering words disappeared into the dimness of her alcove. Her gaze darted to and fro, and she shivered from something more than cold. The word was so clear, she was sure someone was there.

  But there was no one. Not even Rel.

  Emmy’s shiver turned into a shudder. She was hearing things now. Never a good sign. Slowly she lowered herself onto the cot once more and pulled the scratchy blanket to her chin. It was nothing. Just excitement and fear playing tricks on her.

  It didn’t make sleep come any easier, and by the time her eyelids were heavy and closing, the sun was steadily rising. Emmy pulled herself upright and dug her
knuckles into her eyes, trying to push away the weariness. Washing and dressing, she pulled back the curtain of her alcove with a heavy arm, then went about her morning work.

  It was difficult not to speak to Zecha and Charo. The temptation to drift over to them and conspire was great, even in her tired state. But Yarim and Asri watched her enough in their distrust. She didn’t need to give them further reason to follow her every move. So instead, Emmy tended to her patients and tried to behave as she always did.

  Both fortunately and unfortunately, the day would take a turn that would mask anything strange she did.

  Rel was called away early in the morning for a meeting with Commander Pama and the others in charge of the camp. Rel had answered the summons with a furrowed brow, for while she was in charge of the healers, she wasn’t usually privy to meetings and decisions. When she returned, her furrowed brow had become a dark shadow over her eyes. Within minutes, she had summoned the healers together and ushered them into a curtained alcove. She even called for those sleeping, such as Medicine-Yarim, resting after the night shift.

  As Rel spoke, her tone grew weary. “Masvam ships have been seen nearby,” she said. “They’re sailing for Athomur, the city you arrived through. The Masvams are attacking along the northern coast. They’re trying to gain ground so they can storm Kubodinnu.”

  Medicine-Yarim’s bleary fatigue cleared. “What does that mean for us?” she asked, though her tone suggested she knew what was to come.

  “It means that some of the battalions here will be marching out,” Rel replied. “And where the battalions go, the healers follow. Some of us will remain to continue tending the sick and injured here, but some of us will leave—including myself.”

  Rel caught Emmy’s eye as she spoke the last word.

  Blinking, Emmy’s heart sank. “Oh,” she whispered.