Shadows of Moth

by Daniel Arenson

  "North Daenorians." Neekeya froze, reached for her sword, and sneered at the men ahead. "What are you doing here in the swamps? I thought the south was too muddy for you fine, fancy folk of the northern plains." She spat and looked back at Tam. "They think they can bear a crocodile banner, maybe a little crocodile pin, and be as mighty as the beasts. They plow fields, live in castles, and look down upon their southern brothers and sisters."

  One of the men stepped forward, his smile dripping disgust. He was tall and thin, perhaps forty years old, his black eyebrows plucked to perfect arches, his olive-toned skin scented of myrrh. Golden filigree shaped as herons bedecked his breastplate, and a diamond pendant hung from his neck, large as an acorn. A ruby-studded saber hung from his belt, and sapphires formed a decorative crocodile upon his shield. Here were pieces of artwork for display, not for battle.

  "Look, friends." The man pointed at Neekeya. "One of the barbarians. The southerners are barely more civilized than beasts. It's no wonder the rest of Timandra sees our kingdom as a cesspool. The southerners are an embarrassment." His eyes flicked toward Tam. "And what's this now? A foreigner? You've strayed far from home, pup."

  Neekeya drew her sword. "Out of our way, northerners. You speak to Neekeya, Daughter of Kee'an, a latani of Denetek. My family rules these lands you stand on. Return to your northern plains or I'll thrust this sword into your guts."

  The tall, jeweled man did not lose his smile. "Land? Your family rules over a puddle. Do you not recognize me, Neekeya? We met once, many years ago, when you were just a little beast. I am Felsar, son of King Fehen, Prince of Daenor. Your lord."

  Neekeya froze and sucked in air with a hiss. Then she seemed to recollect herself and spat. "Southern Daenor needs no fancy northern princes. For thousands of years, you minded your business in the plains, thinking yourself too good for us. You're more like Magerians than true Daenorians. You have no pride in our land; you only ape the Old Riyonans east of the mountains. Denetek needs no northern prince or king." She shoved her way past him. "Return north or drown in our mud, but whatever you do, spare me your prattle. Tam! Come with me. These louts are crocodile food."

  She shoved past the men, elbowing them aside. They scoffed at her, and one spat at her feet, but Neekeya kept walking. Tam followed, moving between the North Daenorians. As he crept along a jutting mangrove root, he glanced more closely at the men, and his breath died. Upon their cloaks they wore small Radian pins. One of them, a mustached man with one eye, gave Tam a small nod and smaller smile.

  "Tam, hurry up!" Neekeya shouted.

  He looked away from the men and followed her, leaving the northerners behind and entering thick brush.

  * * * * *

  They must have been walking for a full turn, and they had barely halved the distance toward the pyramids. When Neekeya looked at Tam, she found him sweaty, wheezing, and ready to collapse. She sighed. In her eagerness, she had been driving him too fast. She had forgotten that he'd been raised in Kingswall, a city of cobbled streets and fancy carriages. While she hopped easily from rock to root, the journey through the marshlands had left Tam looking like a dying cat.

  She paused upon a tussock of grass that rose from the water. She stretched out her arms and yawned.

  "I'm so weary I can barely keep moving," she lied. Of course, she could have easily reached home on her own by now, and she could easily keep moving for another turn. But she didn't want to be dragging an exhausted, drowning boy out of the water, nor did she want to hurt his pride. "I need to rest and sleep."

  He climbed onto the islet and stood beside her, breathing raggedly. Mud and moss covered him from head to toe. He managed to nod. "Very well. If you'd like to rest, I suppose we can."

  She rolled her eyes. "Don't pretend you don't need a rest yourself." She mussed his muddy hair.

  They lay on their backs in the grass. The frogs trilled around them, the water gurgled, and the leaves rustled above. Fireflies floated across them, and the hot, soupy air made their lids heavy. Neekeya had forgotten the richness of this place—the thick, lush scent of water and leaf, the languorous heat, the music of the life and water around her. She had gone to Teel University to learn magic, and now she realized that all of Daenor was magic; the very air here filled her with wonder.

  Home. Would this home now be lost? She had seen the Radian pins upon the northerners—traitors to their own kingdom. Traveling here, she had seen Mageria's armies muster east of the Teekat Mountains, camps of many tents, archers, and swordsmen prepared for war. She had seen Arden fall under Serin's grip; would her own home now follow? Would this beautiful land burn in the Radian fire, its trees cut down, its waters dried, and the pyramid of her father crumbled to dust? As she lay here in this beauty beside the man she loved, a wave of fear rose within Neekeya, and she saw in her mind a great eclipse—a Radian sun not only hiding Eloria's moon but all lands of free folk.

  Lying on his back, Tam reached out to hold her hand. He breathed deeply. "You know, lying here, Daenor isn't all that bad. I like the birds, and even the dragonflies are pretty. And the music of frogs and crickets is soothing. And—Idar's bottom!" He leaped to his feet and drew his sword. "Neekeya!"

  She looked up, yawned, and stretched. "It's only a crocodile."

  The reptile emerged from the water, placed its front claws upon the islet, and opened its jaws wide. Tam scrambled backwards, holding his blade before him.

  "It's a bloody swamp dragon!" he sputtered.

  Neekeya rose to her feet and approached the crocodile. "He's cute." She pointed back to the water. "Go, boy! Back into the water. No food for you here. Go!"

  The reptile snapped its teeth, but after a few harsh words from Neekeya, it slunk back into the water and floated away in pursuit of less vocal meals.

  "I'll never be able to sleep here," Tam said.

  Neekeya shrugged. "There are worse animals that could visit. Take that python for example." She pointed across the marsh. A great snake coiled around branches, possibly even larger than the crocodile, deep in slumber.

  Seeing the beast, Tam paled and fell to his knees. "I'm definitely not sleeping."

  "Good." Neekeya nodded. "You can watch while I rest."

  She pulled off her armor, lay back down, and closed her eyes. A moment later, she felt Tam lie down at her side. She peeked through narrowed eyelids to see him looking at her.

  "I set up an alarm around the islet," he said. "I changed the grass and soil like Professor Fen taught us. The magic will trumpet if anything larger than a toad sneaks up on us. I suppose I should sleep a little." He yawned. "I've never been more tired in . . ."

  He was asleep before he could complete his sentence. Neekeya looked at the muddy Ardish prince. As a child, she had been taught that the eastern royals beyond the mountains were cruel, that they looked down upon Daenor, seeing the swamp-people as little better than Elorians. But now Neekeya had met Elorians; she had met Madori and Jitomi and she loved them dearly, and she missed them. And now Neekeya had met Tam, and she loved him with more fire than a burning forest, more light than a blazing sun. She held him close, kissed his cheek, and nuzzled his neck. He placed his arm around her, and they slept entwined together.

  When they woke, she built a fire and they ate a breakfast of grilled frog legs; she chewed hers lustfully while Tam only nibbled, looking queasy. They kept walking through the water, brush, and clouds of insects. After several more hours, they finally saw the pyramids ahead—the great realm of Eetek.

  Thirteen pyramids grew from the swamps, thousands of years old, arranged into the shape of a great reptile. The pyramids seemed as alive as the swamps. Their lower bricks were green with thick moss. Higher up the pyramids, the moss faded, but many weeds, vines, and even trees grew between the craggy bricks. Birds fluttered above; their droppings stained the slanting walls. The pyramids were ancient and they showed their age. Those in the north, Neekeya knew, would mock the southern lords for letting nature invade their structures; they would call these
pyramids neglected, infested with moss and leaves and wildlife. But to Neekeya and her family, these halls were not separate from nature but an extension of it, and the greenery upon the stone only enhanced their beauty.

  She pointed at the largest pyramid, the one forming the reptile's eye. From this distance, she could just make out the gateway near the peak. Men in armor stood there upon a stone ledge. From here they seemed smaller than ants, but she could hear their horns. The silver trumpets were announcing a new turn, and the song brought tears to Neekeya's eyes. A song of home.

  "We stand before Eetek Pyramid, the greatest in these swamps," she said, "and its song calls us home."

  They walked through the marshlands, stepping over tussocks of grass and mangrove roots when they could, wading through mossy water when they could find no steppingstones. Other Daenorians traveled the marshlands around them. Men oared reed sheh'an boats, holding baskets of fish and cages of birds. In the south, people speared frogs and dived for mollusks. Reed huts grew upon grassy hillocks, and other huts nestled among the branches of trees. Here were the commoners of Daenor, clad in seeken homespun, a fabric woven of lichen and leaves. Bracelets and necklaces of copper jangled around their wrists, and beads filled their hair. They smiled at Neekeya as she walked by, calling blessings toward her.

  Finally she and Tam reached the great pyramid and stood at its base. Chipped statues, shaped as men with crocodile heads, guarded a staircase that climbed the pyramid's eastern flank. The pyramid rose five hundred feet tall; Neekeya's father claimed it was the tallest structure in the world. Priests stood upon a stone outcrop near the crest, playing brass horns; the sound rained down, keening and deep and metallic. At the pyramid's base stood several guards. They wore scale armor, green cloaks, and crocodile helms with steel teeth, and they held spears and bows.

  "Latani Neekeya!" the guards said. "Welcome home, Latani!"

  "What does latani mean?" Tam whispered.

  "It is our word for 'lady,'" she said, feeling her cheeks heat up.

  Tam's eyebrows rose so high they almost touched his hair. "Lady! I didn't realize I was in the presence of a fine, pampered lady of the court." He sketched a mocking bow. "My dearest Lady Neekeya, would your ladyship care for some crumpets, perhaps—"

  She nudged him with her elbow, scowling. "Be quiet! I'm no fancy lady. I'm no North Daenorian or Ardishwoman. I'm a proud swamp warrior. It's not my fault your language has no proper word; your people don't even say the name of my kingdom properly. Just think of me as a latani—a warrior lady, if you will." She grabbed his hand. "Come with me and we'll see my father, and don't bow to me again, not even in jest. The Deneteki bow to no one, not even to their lords. We're proud. We're free. In the swamps, to bow is to be a slave."

  And we will never bow to Serin, she thought, lips tight. Even if all the world kneels before him, Daenor will stand tall, strong, unbent.

  They climbed the stairs up the pyramid, leaving the marshlands below. Two guards framed every step, clad in their reptilian armor, their spears decorated with bright feathers. Craggy limestone statues, shaped as reptiles with hanging tongues, lined the staircase like bannisters, their backs furry with moss.

  Tam was wheezing and even Neekeya felt lightheaded when they finally reached the top of the staircase. Above them still towered a good hundred feet of pyramid, and before them stretched a ledge of stone. Priests in green robes stood here, red feathers in their hair, blowing brass pipes. They lowered the instruments as Neekeya approached and called out blessings to her.

  "Welcome home, Latani Neekeya!" Their old faces creased with their smiles. "May Cetela, God of Water and Leaf, forever bless you."

  "May Cetela forever bless you too, my friends." Her eyes stung; it had been over a year since she had seen these dear old men. Abandoning decorum, she raced forward and embraced the priests one by one. "I'm so glad to see you again. I missed you. How is my father?"

  Their smiles faded and shadows filled their eyes. Neekeya stepped back, frowning. A chill washed her.

  "Many difficulties have tested us this past year, Latani," said Rekeena, the oldest of the priests, a wiry man with a bald, wrinkled head. "Many troubles have weighed upon your father's shoulders, though he still leads us wisely, and we still pray to Cetela. A great menace musters beyond our borders . . . and in our very kingdom. But it is not for us, priests of Cetela, to dabble in the affairs of men." He gestured toward the archway behind him. "Enter, child. We have seen you many miles away, and your father awaits you."

  She glanced at Tam hesitantly, and she saw the same fear in his eyes. She thought back to the North Daenorians she had encountered on the journey. She had not spoken of it to Tam, but she had seen the Radian sigils upon their cloaks.

  Radians . . . in our own land.

  She swallowed, nodded at the priests again, and took Tam's hand in hers. They stepped forward together, under the archway, and into the shadows.

  CHAPTER FIVE:

  THE DESOLATION

  Madori walked through the darkness.

  She walked alone.

  She had thought the Elorian wilderness was empty. She had been wrong. The stars were a multitude, a sea of endless, distant life. They clustered above. They swept across the heavens like rivers of spilled milk. Madori had always thought the stars were white, but in the wild she realized that they were silver, blue, red, yellow, and countless other shades. They moved slowly or quickly, trailing above in an ancient dance. The constellations guided her: the leaping fish, the running wolf, the wise old philosopher, the glowing whale. Her parchment starmap was only a crude thing; the heavens above were a great tapestry whose secrets she would never fully understand. Headmistress Egeria had taught that some stars were distant worlds, that life flourished upon them too. As she walked, Madori wondered if any souls were traveling their own paths upon those worlds, looking toward Mythimna and also contemplating distant wanderers.

  As a child, Madori would gaze up at the stars and imagine life on other worlds. She had imagined worlds of wonder and magic, of dragons and monsters, even one world where people could turn into dragons. She used to speak of building a great hot air balloon, of traveling with Tam up to the stars, of finding a place where day and night cycled, where she wouldn't feel so strange, so alone, where she could become a dragon—powerful, blasting out fire, a beast who could feel no pain.

  The silly dreams of a child, she thought. Now those worlds in the sky seemed so distant, so out of reach, so cold.

  Not only stars filled the wild. Other wonders filled the night. She had thought the wilderness black and jagged, but now she saw smooth lavender rocks in a dried-out riverbed, great indigo boulders shaped as men, and hillside crystals that reflected the stars. The bones of an ancient creature, as large as a dragon, rose from black dust, the ribs so large Madori could walk beneath them like she'd walk under the arches of Teel's cloister. Upon a cliff, Madori saw fossils of seashells and birds embedded into the stone, and even a fossilized tree—an actual tree, like in Timandra. Thousands of years ago, folk would say, the world had turned, and day and night would cycle around Mythimna. Here perhaps were the remnants of Old Eloria, the life that had flourished here and vanished when endless night had fallen.

  She did not know for how long she walked. Koyee had given her an hourglass, but Madori did not bother using it; it would only tilt over as she walked. Time vanished here. When she was weary, she paused to sleep. Mostly she walked. She ate the foods she had taken from home: jars of matsutake mushrooms, salted bat wings, dry lanternfish, and even fruit imported from Timandra. She ate little; fear crushed her appetite.

  Does the fire already burn in Oshy? she thought as she walked. Does my father still live? Have Tam and Neekeya found safety? Has Jitomi found the road south?

  Her eyes stung. She hated people. She hated these bonds of family, fellowship, friendship, love. When you cared for people, perhaps you were always worried, always afraid. Even here in the wilderness, she was not a lone wolf. S
he was still a daughter, a friend, a soul torn away from those she loved.

  "I will return to you." Madori drew her sword as she walked, and she raised the curving blade. Its weight and soft silk grip comforted her. "I will learn to use Sheytusung, and I will return. I will see you again, my parents, my friends, my Jitomi." She clenched her jaw. "But not before I drive this blade into Serin's heart."

  She kept walking, navigating by the stars, seeking the Desolation, that wasteland of canyons, craters, and craggy boulders where lived Old Master Lan Tao. The wilderness spread on. A few scattered mushrooms grew from the soil, their innards glowing with coiling strands of light. As Madori kept walking, the few mushrooms became many, and soon she moved through a great field of lights like a second sky of stars. The mushrooms grew taller as she traveled—tall as her knees, then her shoulders, and finally taller than her head. Their stems raced with dancers of light, and their great heads glowed, lanterns of blue, pink, and silver, lighting her way. She walked on, feeling small as a spirit, a mere moth in a forest of light.

  She had begun her journey under a full moon. It was a sliver, a mocking dragon's smile, when Madori emerged from the mushroom forest and beheld a landscape of black, jagged hills.

  "The Desolation," she whispered.

  Boulders rose like the scattered teeth of giants. Valleys, craters, and peaks formed a jagged landscape like the ruins of an ancient city. Walking was slow here. She traveled along coiling paths, under overhanging stone, and between granite steeples that cut her hands if she touched them. Glowing eyes peered from inside caves, but when Madori approached for closer looks, the creatures within fled deeper into their lairs, and she dared not enter after them. Bats fluttered over her head, moving between hidden eyries. The towers and peaks of stone hid most of the sky, and hills became mountains, cruel and sharp and steep. She kept walking, knowing she was close now. They said the old master lived in a cave, and every time she saw glowing eyes, she wondered if it was him watching her.