The Moon Rogue

by L M R Clarke

  “Moon Rogue!” a Masvam cried. “Let it burn!”

  Emmy’s breath came in strangled gasps as she choked and guttered, turning and turning, looking for a way out. The once-familiar building was now a black maze of confusion. She saw nothing. There was only the heat of the blaze. In desperation, she swung wildly with her hands.

  I refuse to die today! I refuse to die today! she chanted. Rel, Bomsoi, whoever you are, help me!

  Death came at her head-on as a Masvam in blood-lust raised his sword above her. “Moon Rogue!”

  Emmy couldn’t stop the blade. There was no cold power this time. All she could hear was the rush of blood in her ears, the clang of metal on metal, and the screeches of battle and death all around. Her nostrils filled with the stench of burning building and blood. Heat and smoke and fear choked her.

  She waited for the killing stroke.

  The Masvam jerked forward. His eyes widened, and his arms stilled before he had the chance to strike. Emmy stumbled away, flames licking all around. When her streaming eyes focused, her heart stopped. The point of a sword jutted through the Masvam’s chest. Blood bubbled from his lips and Emmy leapt aside as his body slumped forward. The blade that had come so close to ending her life clattered to the ground. Emmy looked at it and then up again.

  Who had saved her?

  Charo grinned, standing over the body with a bloodied sword. Zecha, at her side—bedecked with a bow and quiver he got from who knew where—smiled fiercely.

  “You’re both alive!” Emmy breathed, coughing through the smoke.

  Her friends grabbed her uninjured arm, twirling her from the path of another sword. With a skill akin to a hero of old stories, Charo parried the strike and slew another foe, her right arm growing heavier with kills. Zecha swirled and unleashed arrows at impossibly short range, his arm reaching to his quiver so fast Emmy couldn’t even see it. His would be another heavy arm.

  “Stay close!” Charo commanded.

  Her throat tight and her hands empty, Emmy did as she was told. Masvams bore down on them, and even the defenses of Charo and Zecha began to crumble. There were too many attackers and soon they were backed together, a three-petaled flower of green and red and blue, surrounded by glinting blades.

  Emmy tried to block the terror of the roaring flames.

  Why is this happening? she thought. Why must life be so cruel? Why must we suffer such torment?

  The same cold power grew again, like vines snaking over her skin. Focusing, she tried to harness whatever the strangeness was. She thought of Rel and her glowing eyes, of her blue coldness. She thought of Rel’s friend.

  Bomsoi, help me! Emmy pleaded. I don’t know who you are, but I’ll do whatever you need. What am I supposed to do? How can I save myself and my friends?

  Blue and jagged spirits swirled around her. Coldness consumed her, tracking her body like frost. The power was breathtaking. Rel’s influence shone forth brightly. Emmy could see her in her mind’s eye, powering towards them, cutting down Masvams as she passed.

  “I am coming, Emmy! I promise, you will not perish!”

  The words were so clear in her ears, it was like Rel was with her.

  Emmy lifted her hands to the moons. Unadulterated power pulsed through her. Everything shone bright and blue as the noon sky. Succumbing to it, brightness and might pulsed to Emmy’s very core.

  Dato, I am small, but make me brave, she thought. Rafa, give your strength to my heart. Akata, give me speed and give me the wisdom to know what is right. By the Goddess, help me!

  Everything stopped.

  Every flame stilled, shining blue like shards of ice. Emmy counted her breaths. One, two, three... In the stillness, she could feel everything. Charo and Zecha’s hearts beat in time with one another, together like stacked moons. Their thoughts echoed, the words unclear but the tones undoubtedly theirs. They dropped their weapons, claws slack.

  “What—?”

  Emmy crossed her arms over her chest. A jolt of energy burst from within her, the power of the moons flowing through her. It shot up like a lightning strike. The building’s roof disintegrated, and power lifted her until she was suspended high in the air, hanging between reality and disbelief.

  Around her, Masvams and Althemerians alike screamed.

  “Moon Rogue! Moon Rogue! Evil!”

  She could taste their terror as they fled through shards of fire. The words echoed. Moon Rogue. Moon Rogue. Evil.

  Emmy’s eyes snapped open, and she grinned. Perhaps I am a Moon Rogue after all.

  The Masvams fled. With their enemies’ backs turned, the Althemerians broke from their stupor and pursued their enemies with bloodied blades.

  Emmy’s victorious grin wavered, however, as a Masvam appeared before her, surrounded by a halo of flame. The vision flickered in and out as if he was a shadow. He was regal, bedecked with horn jewelry. His claws, covered in many rings, reached out for her. Fire cast from his fingertips. When he spoke, his mouth did not move.

  “Who...are...you?”

  His voice was strangled, as if her power constrained him. She didn’t know who he was, but she knew he was not of the Light.

  Emmy spoke without moving her lips. Gesturing to her frozen flames, she grinned again. A confidence she hadn’t known before molded her words.

  “I am Emmy,” she said, “and I will help to stop you.”

  Anger consumed the male in the vision. His halo of fire flared, though the vision began to fade. His words echoed as he disappeared.

  “The Dark will prevail!”

  “Not if I can help it,” Emmy replied.

  Then he was gone.

  Suddenly, fatigue fell heavy on Emmy’s shoulders. Her power waned. She returned to the ground, her entire body aching with the effort of what she’d done. The words she’d spoken came back to her, and she shook her head. Could that have been her? Simple, strange, nobody Emmy?

  Time for introspection was impossible.

  Rel appeared at her side, having fought through waves of retreating Masvams. Zecha and Charo were with her too. They didn’t run, but lingered back. They were trembling, looking at her with a fear that had never been there before. Emmy’s stomach sank.

  “What... What is this?” Charo whispered. “Emmy, what?”

  Emmy shivered. The absence of the strange power left her empty. Alone. The vision of the Masvam haunted her, as did his words.

  The Dark will prevail!

  “I...” Emmy started, but she couldn’t finish.

  Rel sheathed Haelo, then planted firm hands on Emmy’s shoulders. “What happened?” she asked.

  “I don’t know,” Emmy said. “I asked Bomsoi for help, and...” She broke off, suppressing a sob. “I don’t know, Rel!”

  Rel pulled her in for a brief hug, then withdrew.

  In that moment, Emmy blinked and stared at the carnage around her. Masvams still retreated, disappearing in harried waves. But not all the Althemerians pursued them. Some half-turned, their eyes fixed on Emmy, glinting in the light of the frozen flame.

  She knew that look too well. She knew what they would say before any of them moved.

  They kissed their fists and tapped them to their chests, a sign to ward off evil. A burly female with a heavy right arm raised her sword in a point, a long extension of her ire. “Moon Rogue!”

  Another female, with blood crusting at her temples, spat onto the churned earth. “Evil!” she called. “May Ethay and Apago forgive you for your sin!”

  Emmy stepped forward, away from the safe bower of Rel. Indignation rose bright and hot in her throat. She knew her words were futile, but she couldn’t hold them in. “I saved your lives!” she said. “How can that be a sin?”

  Althemerians encroached, creeping like hunters encroaching on prey. The line of retreating Masvam backs thinned as the Althemerians moved forward. Emmy pointed over their heads. “I’ve driven the Masvams away,” she continued. “I’m not evil!”

  Still the Althemerians slunk forward, weapo
ns held at the ready. It would only be a matter of moments before one’s fear snapped, and then they would all be upon her.

  Rel grabbed Emmy’s elbow and pulled her back. She gathered Charo and Zecha to her, cocooning the three friends in her strength.

  “It’s time for us to leave before they kill us all,” she said. “Consider your Althemerian debts repaid. Now, come!”

  She pulled them all backward.

  “Where are we going?” Zecha asked, his words half-muffled in Rel’s grip. But at Charo’s sharp look, he said no more.

  The air was thick with the stench of smoke and blood. The sounds of the dying pierced the air. They cut to Emmy’s core. Her job was to help, to heal, not to run. But the Althemerian soldiers encroached, faster now, all weapons poised to slice Emmy’s throat.

  Rel propelled Charo and Zecha forward and they fled for their lives, as fast as their legs could run. Rel grabbed Emmy’s arm and thrust her forward, wrenching her gaze from the Masvams.

  “We must leave,” Rel said. “They’ll kill you. They’ll kill us all!”

  The truth broke Emmy’s hesitation. It didn’t matter that she’d saved them. It was how she’d done it. In their eyes, she was a Moon Rogue. There was no redemption from that.

  Nodding, Emmy broke into a sprint, and soon was close on the heels of Zecha and Charo. Rel was just behind her. Just behind Rel was an encroaching mass of righteous Althemerians.

  “One day things will change,” Rel panted as she ran, “but not today. Now, hold onto me!”

  Rel, her Belfoni mask shedding, grabbed Emmy’s arm in a vice grip. Immediately, they were enveloped in freezing wind. They rushed forward, Rel gathering Charo and Zecha within her influence. All four lifted from the ground, carried upward on burnished silver wings of wind and cold and power.

  The burning camp below them disappeared as they rose into the air. The righteous fury of the Althemerians faded away, replaced by the solace of the sky.

  “What’s happening?” Charo cried.

  But Emmy had no words to explain. She said nothing, instead imbibing the sudden joy of their flight.

  Enveloped in Rel’s wings, they made their escape.

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  Bandim

  Standing on the grand balcony, right upon the spot where his brother had died with Johrann beside him, Bandim held his hands aloft and concentrated hard. Many parties of his troops sailed for Althemer and he, Dorai, was determined to be at their side. Once he’d mastered the making of a flame, the rest came easily.

  His eyes were open, but they saw more than the city surrounding him. His vision leapt from flame to flame, across the sea in lanterns and into the heart of Althemerians’ very homes. Anywhere there was fire he could see, though the time spent watching taxed him greatly. His body was too much of the flesh, but it was a sacrifice Dorai had been forced to make to return to the world. Soon, she would reclaim everything Nunako took from her. Nunako, with her claws that built the world. Nunako, so perfect.

  Nunako, so pure.

  Rage rose within Bandim, and he balled his claws into fists. The Goddess’ rage was mighty.

  All Dorai had wanted was to love the folk. All she had wanted was to be loved in return. But they had turned their backs on her, not listening to her Truth, allowing her to fade away to nothing more than a wisp of smoke on the wind.

  Not even the One of Balance could return their love. Bandim’s lips pulled into a snarl. What an idea of Nunako’s that had been. Something of the goddess and something of the flesh, melded into the worst of both worlds.

  Thus, when the One of Two and the True Believer had asked her to return, and their hands and hearts were so fiery, so pure... How could a goddess resist?

  Now she was in the body of the Hand. Bandim. Fiery was indeed the word to describe him. But there were qualities she didn’t savor in this vessel. Weaknesses that could easily be picked at, like claws at a scab. They needed to be expunged as swiftly as possible.

  But these things took time. At least he was learning the ways of the flame.

  Bandim’s vision jumped from lantern to lantern, across the Sea of Souls to the Althemerian shore. More and more of his troops set their boots on enemy soil. On a whim, he followed their flames south, leaping all the way to somewhere akin to a prison camp. His heart thundering in anticipation, Bandim leapt from fire to fire until a sudden burst of flame drew his full attention.

  He followed it inside a building. A hospital, perhaps. Whatever it was, it was aflame.

  Fire burst from a fallen brazier, consuming the canvas and rough blankets of a well-worn bunk. Feeling bold, Bandim stoked the flame, pushing it from cot to cot, up and down walls and beams until the whole building was alight. Ecstasy consumed him as he spread scorching destruction around his victorious warriors.

  Then it all changed.

  Then there was cold. His wondrous flames froze.

  Disbelief threatened to knock him back to the reality of the balcony but Dorai’s strength surged. Bandim’s gaze remained in the battle—and he couldn’t believe what he saw.

  An Uloni, just like Johrann.

  But she’d said they were all dead.

  Not only was it an Uloni, but it was one wielding enough power to freeze his flames.

  Bandim’s will almost gave out, but Dorai kept him strong. She bolstered his frailty, pushing him beyond anything he’d achieved so far. Flickering in and out like a dancing shadow, she passed him through the fabric of her magic, surrounding him in flames.

  Bandim reached for the Uloni, flames bursting from his fingertips. He spoke, but his lips remained closed. He had eyes only for her. “Who...are...you?”

  His voice was strangled, as if her power constrained him. Whoever she was, she wasn’t of the Dark. But she was strong enough to make Dorai waver, and that was unacceptable.

  The Uloni also spoke without moving her lips, the confidence in her voice terrifying.

  “I am Emmy,” the Uloni said, “and I will help stop you.”

  Anger consumed Bandim. His grip on Dorai slipped, and his vision flickered. Try as he might, he could not remain, but he screamed one final time before he lost his hold entirely.

  His words echoed as he disappeared.

  “The Dark will prevail!”

  Flung back onto the balcony, Bandim fell to his knees. Guards rushed to help, their fear surging, but he shoved them away. Agony and weariness consumed him. Bandim stumbled in an arc, heading towards the grand doors into the palace. He forced himself to uncurl his aching back and walk to his chambers. An emperor didn’t crawl. Johrann followed on his heels.

  As soon as they were in his rooms, Bandim fell to his knees once more. What had happened? How was it possible there was another Uloni? How was it possible she could match him in his power? How?

  Shaking off Johrann’s touch, Bandim crept to his grand dressing table, resplendent with bottles and boxes of the finest perfume and paints. Exhaustion overwhelming him, it took his every effort to pull himself onto the velvet-covered stool.

  His trembling claws picked up a handplate. He looked at his reflection. The embers of his frustration smoldered.

  He screeched. “How has this happened?”

  Enraged, he swept his arm across the table, sending the bottles and boxes flying in a hurricane of fury. The handplate clattered to the stone floor.

  His shoulders rising and falling in a ragged rhythm, Bandim turned to Johrann. Her grey eyes, cast away from him, were flat. But he knew they hid fear.

  She took a deep breath before she spoke. “I—I did not foresee this.”

  Keeping his temper at bay, Bandim bent one claw in a gesture for her to come to him. She did as she was told and stopped just in front of him, keeping her hands clasped and her head bowed.

  Leaping upward like flame through kindling, Bandim pulled back his hand and struck her full in the face. “Clearly not!” he snarled. “If you had, perhaps this would not have happened!”

  Johrann stumbled back
ward, her hands on her bruised cheek

  “What was this strange occurrence?” Bandim demanded, stalking forward. “It’s not possible to freeze flame! Only a goddess could do such a thing, and I am the only goddess. I am Dorai!”

  His throat tightened with every word, as if each one strengthened a stranglehold.

  “I did not think it was possible,” Johrann began, “but...”

  She trailed off and looked away. Bandim’s eyes bulged. He thrust his hand out to catch her chin and squeezed.

  Eyes widening, Johrann tried to pull away, but Bandim was too strong. His nostrils flared and his neck scales rose.

  “What secret are you keeping?” he asked. When Johrann looked away again, he screamed. “Answer me!”

  Johrann licked her trembling lips and looked everywhere except at his gaze.

  “You are the Hand of Dorai,” she said. “You will grow to know your powers. But it is not as simple as taking upon the Goddess’ mantle and ruling anew.” She sucked in a deep breath, as if steeling herself to reveal a great secret. “There was another reason I advised you to let me kill your brother. It wasn’t simply that he was a step to climb over to gain the crown. There’s more to it.”

  Cold unease churned in Bandim’s stomach. Johrann took another shuddering breath.

  “By bringing Dorai into this world, I opened a conduit from the spirit realm,” she said. “The power of the moons was diminished as they spoke to one another, but now that they are free again, their power is renewed. There is a chance that, just as you have taken on Dorai, someone will take on Nunako.” She paused, eyes glimmering. “There’s only one likely choice for that. Nunako and Dorai were created together, from the claws of Meia. You were not created alone. You are not the only One of Two.”

  His blood running cold, Bandim’s back stiffened. His tail twitched. Rage flared anew. “Mantos.”

  Johrann tried to nod, but Bandim’s grip was too strong.

  “Yes. Mantos. I took his life, but perhaps...” She broke off, shaking her head. She twisted her hands together, her shoulders shaking as if something terrible was dawning upon her. “There’s no guarantee that he’s alive, and even if he is, that he would become the Hand of Nunako. He would need a Heart to do so.”