The Moon Child

by Mark Lucek

  ‘Hush, you fool,’ Miskyia snapped, ‘unless you want the spells to hear.’ Iwa was about to say something more, but Miskyia gripped her hair so hard that Iwa winced; then another mouthful was forced down her throat. ‘Now keep quiet,’ the sorceress whispered.

  Iwa slumped on the chair. At least the room had stopped spinning and some of the feeling had returned to her body.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Miskyia said. ‘I had to work the spell unseen: these stones have seen so much and there are many spells that linger here. I had to weave my magic carefully so that they would not detect its presence.’

  ‘Why, what have the old spells to do with this?’

  ‘I had to dull their senses so that they would not realise that I had spoken to you. Lord Bethrayal must never know the words that pass now between us. Even after all these years his presence lingers over these stones.’

  ‘Through the spells that he once cast?’

  ‘Whilst he was locked away in the outer dark he held little power over them, but now he draws ever nearer to this world and they answer his call.’

  ‘If they are so old then surely their power would have faded?’

  ‘In his time Lord Bethrayal was the greatest of the Molfar mages, and there are few who have mastered the art so completely. Many of his spells still owe him allegiance and when he has come into this world they will whisper their secrets to him. If they had an inkling that I had talked to you alone then they’d grow suspicious, and I dare not let the Lord Bethrayal know about my plans.’

  ‘But aren’t you his slave?’

  ‘I bound myself to his service, yes.’ Miskyia looked away. ‘Once I needed his help. There was something more precious to me than life itself and I was about to lose it. There was nobody to help and I would have gladly sacrificed anything to keep…’ Miskyia’s voice trailed away as she smiled, but her eyes were filled with a terrible sadness. ‘I was alone; all my magic had deserted me and there was nothing I could do. I screamed out for Jezi Baba, for any of the gods to help me, but they had all forsaken me. Lord Bethrayal’s magic found me out and I was desperate. I would have made any sort of a pact, gladly given up my life, if only…’ Once again Miskyia stopped and looked away; it was a sentence too painful to finish. Desperately she tried to brush the thought from her. There was too much sadness there.

  ‘So you had to bind yourself to him?’ Iwa said, more to break the silence than anything else.

  ‘Most things in life have their price; you will learn that in time and the Lord Bethrayal extracts such a terrible price for his services.’

  And was it worth it, this price that you paid? Iwa knew far better than to ask, as she toyed with the last hunk of bread and wondered what she should say next.

  Miskyia paused. ‘You wish for a pact with the Lord Bethrayal, but he does not deal with such as you.’

  ‘He needs me,’ Iwa kicked the chair in anger – if only she hadn’t allowed Miskyia to take the amulet. At least then she might have something to bargain with. ‘I stole this amulet of his, right out of Krol Gawel’s ship. Without that he’d be forced into the outer dark forever, you said so yourself.’

  ‘Do not presume that you could ever understand the Lord Bethrayal, or make any sort of deal with him. He will work his own way through the world without let or hindrance from any.’

  ‘Even from those who help him?’

  ‘Especially from those who help him, for they will always remind him of how weak he once was and he will never suffer anyone who has seen his helplessness, for he is lord over his domain and all must kneel before him.’

  ‘He sounds worse than the krol.’

  ‘But now he is weak. He’ll need your magic to take corporeal form once more. For those moments when he rests between the world and the firmament he will be at your mercy. That is when you could bind him.’

  ‘And then he’d have to obey me?’

  ‘He could be ours to command, but it will be dangerous. Bringing Lord Bethrayal back through the firmament will be tricky enough, but to bind him will be more difficult still. He is no mere spirit to be easily caged. Yet, as his consciousness seeps into this world, then you could snare him.’

  ‘How would I do that?’ Iwa mumbled; she hadn’t a clue about even the simplest of spells. But suddenly the idea that she might save the whole clan began to dawn on her. She could prove her worth. Let Katchka and all the others scold me then.

  ‘By trusting me,’ Miskyia replied. ‘I can guide your power, but only if you let me.’

  ‘Won’t that be dangerous for you too?’ But she was too caught up in the idea of saving the clan to think too much of anything else. Why shouldn’t she be the one who’d save them all? All this time keeping my mother’s secret from me, all because they were scared of her magic.

  Beware of magic and the craft, that’s all she’d been taught almost from birth, but what if things could be different? However, she still had some reservations about Miskyia, and she didn’t like that pig’s face which hung from the tree and never seemed to decay.

  But her mother, could she have been involved in anything so evil? Jarel had lied about her death, what if the clan had lied about her mother too? They could have forced Yaroslav to keep their lies too. That was what hurt the most. They made him keep quiet, or else made up lies for him to believe.

  Now, more than ever, she needed to know the truth. They’re all scared, even Wislaw. If only she could get back to Yaroslav and make him tell her. More than ever she wanted to see him free; the idea of what Wislaw might do to him choked at the back of her mind.

  ‘You must have been very young when you lost her,’ Miskyia said, ruffling Iwa’s hair.

  ‘I killed her with my birth,’ Iwa replied, a little startled. She hadn’t realised that she’d mumbled some of her thoughts out loud.

  ‘Perhaps she died to give you life. That’s how she would have seen it.’

  ‘Except nobody knows,’ Iwa said. She was defensive now, angry too. She wasn’t ready to trust the witch, not with something like this. ‘I’m a moon child.’

  ‘One who’s born to the darkness and the craft.’ The witch paused. ‘I too know what it is to be alone. But I have always carried my mother in my heart. Sometimes the best memories are the ones which come upon you unbidden.’

  ‘I have no memories,’ Iwa said, still wishing that she’d not mentioned anything, but, despite herself, something drew her on. She’d never known anyone whom she could talk to, not about something like this. There were others who’d lost a mother, but none in childbirth, not for a while. And even then they’d be born of the clan rather than an adopted child.

  ‘You carry more about you then you realise. Once I wanted the world to end. She was gone and there was nothing else for me, life held no light. Part of me died that day, but then there are times when I catch myself doing something and think that’s exactly what she’d said or done. And you are far closer to her than you realise.’

  ‘But you’re lucky, you can remember her. You got to be with her.’ Iwa stopped, the words gummed in her throat. She’d been caught off guard, unprepared for the swell of emotion that now engulfed her. She’d never had the chance to talk about such things, not even with Katchka, much less Yaroslav, who’d always withdrawn when she’d tried to bring them up.

  ‘Even so.’ Miskyia placed her hand over Iwa’s. ‘You are much more your mother’s daughter than you realise. How could you be anything else? And even if you never knew her, you can find her within you. Sometimes she lurks in the smallest details even if you cannot recognise her.’

  She paused and wiped away a tear. They’d both said far more than they’d intended. Miskyia too had been caught off guard, the longing to be with people creeping up on her again. She’d not been prepared to like this child so much.

  ‘You must keep quiet about what was said here,’ she whispered. ‘Were the Lord Bethrayal even to suspect my treachery then he’d extract a terrible vengeance. If there was any other way out I’d take it,
but his spells will keep me bound to this place forever. They’ll keep me here, even if he remains trapped in the outer darkness for an eternity. If only things had been different I’d never have set foot in these halls. I never wanted any of this.’

  ‘But, if he can’t enter this world, what good would you be to him or his spells?’

  ‘If only things were that easy. Once you make a pact with the Lord Bethrayal there is little escape. To him I am merely a hand, an extension of his will with no thought or feelings of my own.’ Miskyia looked to the braziers: already the flames had sunk low and the light paled across the walls. Outside, night had fallen. ‘We must be quick – I have to be careful lest these stones realise my trickery. It was all I could do to lull their watchfulness this long.’

  From the braziers there was a crackle of energy as, deep within the stones, something began to stir. ‘Please,’ Miskyia reached across the table, ‘you must trust me.’

  ‘And there is no other way to get this Lord Bethrayal to help me and free my father?’

  ‘If you knew the Lord Bethrayal you wouldn’t need to ask such a question. His appetite is insatiable. When he comes into this world, his first instinct will be to seek revenge. He’ll be like a baying beast and, without us to stay his hand, he will kill all who come under his spell. His mind will be weak from the journey and only later will his reason fully return. Before then we must bind him carefully so that he cannot escape. He will pull like a tethered wolf, but we must keep him in check.

  ‘Wislaw must be done away with, and quickly. That old priest knows more than I gave him credit for. He could still thwart our plans, especially when the Lord Bethrayal is weak. If he detected our spell he could break the link and hurl the Lord Bethrayal out into the outer dark, or worse.’ Miskyia paused as she contemplated what might happen should Wislaw find a way to bind the Lord Bethrayal to him. ‘We must destroy the camp,’ she said quickly, ‘and wipe out the woyaks before this fool priest has a chance to realise what forces are arrayed against him.’

  ‘Before he has a chance to kill my father.’

  ‘Maybe you are the best guarantor of your father’s safety. I think that Wislaw will keep him alive, as bait to trap you.’

  ‘I think he is the worst man in all the world, worse than Krol Gawel and all his woyaks.’

  ‘Wislaw may well be evil, but he is not stupid. Your father is far more useful to him alive. Dead, your father will be just another corpse, alive, he’ll draw you to him. It’s you who Wislaw wants, remember that.’

  Iwa opened her mouth, but Miskyia motioned her to silence. The braziers had burnt low as the last embers spluttered and died and, with their end, the air began to clear.

  ‘Careful,’ Miskyia mouthed as she walked to the door and peered out.

  From the corner of her eye, Iwa caught the glimpse of some misshapen shadow but when she next looked it was gone.

  ‘Come with me,’ Miskyia said, ‘for the hour grows late and there is much to be done.’

  Outside, the air blew cold and a full moon drifted above the lake. They were at the courtyard with the tree before them, the pig’s head hanging from the lower branches, bleached white in the moonlight. Yet something was different; the moon reflected palely across the floor as, deep within the flagstones, ancient spells began to wake.

  ‘This is a moon dial,’ Miskyia said. ‘It is an ancient magic, the secret of which has been lost centuries ago. This is how the priests of old would track the path of the heavens, for there is a great power locked in the alignment of stars and planets.’

  ‘And Bethrayal cannot cross without that power.’ Suddenly, Iwa realised why he’d only appeared on certain nights.

  ‘But with the help of the amulet and the alignment of the planets he’ll be able to bridge the gap between the worlds once and for all.’

  Above them the moon rose higher, sending shadows across the stones as, slowly, the ancient spells began to twist through the marble. Miskyia threw back her head, her eyes burning with an unearthly luminescence as she uttered a dark spell. Slowly the magic cleared to reveal the pattern of stars etched deep into the stones. Iwa knelt down and examined them. It was nothing like the night sky she was used to; strange galaxies swirled around distant suns. Then the chant stopped and the stones fell silent.

  ‘The next night,’ Miskyia said, in a voice that was not entirely her own, ‘all things must be in place by then. I’ll need your help.’ She turned to Iwa, her voice becoming familiar once again.

  ‘What would you have me do?’

  ‘We must wake the fighting Karzełek. They are an ancient race, the like of which has not been seen for millennia. Once they ruled these mountains, before the first men set foot upon this place. Had they been more numerous then the forerunners of the clans would never have settled here. For years they fought with men, but eventually they were driven out to take their refuge in the hidden places of this world.’

  Without further explanation Miskyia led Iwa through an archway. They should have gone back to the small room with the braziers, but instead Iwa found herself on the edge of the island with the waters still around her. This place was all wrong, the rooms shifting of their own accord.

  Before a patch of clear ground, Miskyia stopped. Carefully she scattered a handful of seeds and spoke a few words in an ancient tongue. Slowly the earth began to move. A claw ripped through the grass, then another as the ground tumbled away and the Karzełek began to rise, their heads breaking above the earth, which vomited a sickly yellow pus around them. Iwa shivered as they dug their way out, their claws ripping away huge tracks of mud and grass. They were giants but at least they looked human, though their skin appeared hard as bleached leather and the colour of wet bark. Iwa cowered as the first of the Karzełek stood before them, their eyes flickering with an ancient enmity and their rough tongues licking past thick, chipped teeth as if tasting the air.

  On either side of their necks a snake coiled, serpent heads reaching out to her. Iwa looked into their eyes, jet black and cold as they hissed, mouths falling open to reveal a pair of fangs that dripped with venom. She flinched and found that she was holding Miskyia’s hand.

  Behind them Sturmovit drew close. The creatures were like him, the same dark eyes and leathery skin, but, for all his sinewy bulk, he could never have matched the primordial power of the muscles which moved stiffly under their hard flesh. Nor did he have anything like the snakes which coiled round their necks.

  ‘These are your kin,’ Miskyia said, reaching down to pat him, but Sturmovit continued to tremble, an angry grinding sound coming from between his lips. ‘There is little in the way of love to be lost between the Karzełek and their fighting brethren,’ she said to Iwa. ‘Once they were just like Sturmovit here, but some dabbled too deeply in the magic that lies in the hidden places of the deep. For centuries they gave themselves over to the magic of the mines; the craft seeped into their pores and twisted them into the creatures you see before you.’

  Slowly the fighting Karzełek came forward to surround them, their faces filled with hostility as they looked first to Miskyia, then to Iwa and finally to the figure of Sturmovit crouched behind. A look of fierce hatred crossed their faces but they reserved the greatest loathing for Sturmovit, who clung close by the sorceress.

  Iwa shrank away from them too. There was something unnatural about them, the way the light appeared to sink into their skin. There were ten or twelve of them at least and, for all their size, they moved quickly, blocking off any hope of escape. No, Iwa shuddered, if the craft could do this then she should have nothing to do with it. Just let me free my father and then I’ll run away, as far from this place as I can, even if it takes me to the edges of the forest and the far Lappish lands.

  From the darkness there came a terrible howl. At first Iwa thought it was a giant wolf, but then the sound came again, a deep guttural call that chilled the air. The group parted to reveal another creature that towered over them. Without fear he came forward, his teeth bared, yel
low and sharp. He carried a huge club spiked with the fangs of some once great animal, though what it could have been Iwa had no idea: even the largest boar had never borne such tusks. Around his neck too the snakes curled, their scales shimmering like a terrible rainbow.

  But Miskyia held her ground. Before her the Karzełek leader stood, his hate-filled eyes watching her every move as the sorceress reached into the recesses of her gown and brought out a tiny figurine. For a moment nothing happened. Traces of anger and hatred played over the faces of the creatures, their mouths open so that Iwa could taste their breath hot about her. Then, with a final glance at the figurine, the leader grunted and raised his hand. Almost at once the Karzełek stood back, their muscles tense as if straining to be unleashed. But now there was something about them, a deep fear that dawned over the group so that, for all their power and their majesty, they drew back, spiked clubs trembling in their hands.

  ‘We serve the same master,’ Miskyia said, her voice betraying only the slightest tremor. Iwa curled her hand tight into a fist and hoped that the Karzełek wouldn’t notice the note of fear in Miskyia’s voice. Yet they kept back, the snake heads lowered and hissing.

  ‘You must forgive them,’ Miskyia said to her, the tension dropping from her voice, ‘but the Karzełek have little reason to trust us, and less to like us. Since time immemorial we have been their enemy and their persecutors.’

  ‘What word have you from our master?’ Again the leader pushed forward, his words guttural and halting as if the language of men was unfamiliar to him.

  ‘He is to walk the world once more,’ Miskyia replied. A murmur ran through the Karzełek.

  ‘How is that possible?’

  ‘Because of this,’ Miskyia replied, dangling the amulet from her fingers.

  ‘So the sacred crystal is found once again,’ the Karzełek leader said. ‘The master’s craft lives once more, here.’

  ‘But we have to be careful. Many enemies stand against us.’

  ‘What are your orders?’ There was a hard edge to the voice. The fighting Karzełek tensed, their hands gripping the shafts of their weapons. None wanted to take orders, least of all from a creature such as the one which stood before them. Their eyes burned with a fierce and primal anger. Would it not have been better to kill these creatures now, rid themselves of their ancient enemy? But the power of the amulet and their fear of the Lord Bethrayal held them in check.