Moonblood

by Martin Ash

  ‘What is the nature of the guidance you seek?’

  ‘I am faced with an insoluble dilemma that has placed both myself and many others in great danger. I’m unable to advance in resolving it, and I fear that time is running out.’

  ‘Time is of no meaning here,’ my father said. ‘We are the dead. We are unconcerned with events in the corporeal.’

  ‘This I know, but I seek only knowledge of past events, not direct intervention.’ I recounted something of what was happening at Ravenscrag. ‘I wish knowledge of the dire-witch, Molgane, and the bane she cast all those centuries ago.’

  My father shook his head with slow, mournful deliberation. ‘My son, we were of Khimmur. We have no knowledge of Wansirian affairs.’

  ‘Are there not spirits here, among the dead, who will know something?’

  The two conferred silently, then my mother spoke for the first time. ‘You may not understand, child, but it is a lot that you ask. To find out that which you want entails locating and disturbing others from their rest, interrupting the process of re-merging.’

  ‘Mother, I would not ask it of you if it were not of vital importance.’

  ‘This we know. You are dear to us and we will do what we can. We can provide you with nothing now, nor can we guarantee anything subsequently. You must return here again.’

  ‘When?’

  ‘With the Realms, and here in Shalu, there is no concurrence with the passage of time as you experience it. I can say only, go now, back to the world of the living. Send your Custodian here. If we have something, or if we fail, he will be told.’

  Their forms seemed to glimmer and fade, and then were gone. I remained where I was, for a long time too emotionally dazed to make the effort to take my leave of this place and return to my body.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Eventually I withdrew my mind from the Realms and returned to my chamber in Castle Ravenscrag. I found myself sitting as I had been when I departed, but in total darkness. It seemed to my experience that I had journeyed for only minutes, but here in the corporeal world hours had passed and the night was well advanced.

  ‘Yo, is there anything to report?’

  ‘No, Master, it has been quiet. But Master, I note that your skin seems not to fit you well. It is tight and sore, and quite uncomfortable to wear.’

  ‘It’s not so much a matter of fitting, Yo. My skin was quite badly burned, which has resulted in the effects you describe.’

  ‘Will it always feel like this?’

  ‘Thankfully, no. It will heal in time. Yo, exit my body now so that I may reclaim it, but remain here if you will. I wish to speak to you at some length.’

  I returned to my flesh, taking note of the discomforts Yo had described, and cast a small rapture to ease them. Then I proceeded to related to him, in quite considerable detail, everything that had happened at Ravenscrag in the last twenty-four hours.

  ‘I confess I’m mystified by it all, Yo,’ I concluded. ‘But as you can see, I’m compelled to investigate it further. I would therefore request your help.’

  ‘What can I do, Master?’ Yo enquired brightly. As I’d hoped, he was pleased and flattered by my request.

  ‘To begin with you can accompany me and take note of what I show you.’

  I left my chamber and, with Yo incorporeal and invisible close by, made my way down to the cellar where the monster was held. The castle was quiet, though servants were still at large. Bracketed torches relieved the darkness of the corridors, throwing lively shadows across walls and floors. Through the windows was utter blackness, relived only by the bright spots of lanterns on the castle walls and the glow of lamp or torchflame through undraped windows. I estimated the hour to be somewhere before midnight.

  Outside the cellar a new shift of soldiers stood guard, well back from the barricaded door. They were armed with spears and swords; two held crossbows. In the dancing gloom of the torchlight their faces were grave and tense.

  The cellar door could not be seen for the heavy sandbags stacked high in front of it. Over these hung a net and metal mesh. To one side of the passage stood a barrow loaded with raw and bloody meat over which flies buzzed and feasted. On the floor beside it were a long-handled shovel and prong-tipped pole used for pushing the food through the gap beneath the door. The warm air was stuffy and corrupted by a foul, clinging stench.

  As I arrived there came a low-pitched, blood-chilling sound from the other side of the door, somewhere between a guttural howl and a groan. There was a sudden dull thump against the timbers behind the sandbags. I nodded to the sergeant-of-the-guard. ‘Has it made any more disturbance?’

  ‘Not a lot. As long as it’s fed it keeps fairly quiet.’

  ‘How much of this meat has it taken?’

  ‘This is the second barrowload.’

  ‘The second? Moban!’ I gaped at the barrow and the haunches and huge cuts of flesh stacked upon it. To have devoured such a quantity in so few hours!

  I stepped closer to the door and communed with Yo. ‘Yo, the creature that I spoke of is in there. I would like you to go in and – ‘

  ‘I’m not going in there!’ blurted Yo, horrified.

  ‘Yo, you’ll be without a body. It can’t harm you.’

  ‘But it’s evil, Master. Can’t you feel its emanations? It can harm me. I’m frightened.’

  I hadn’t expected this. I turned back to regard the soldiers, who were eyeing me with mistrust. They had heard nothing, for the communication between Yo and myself was silent, of the mind. But they knew me for a magician or sorcerer and were clearly far from happy.

  ‘Yo, I ask only that you enter the cellar for a moment. Attune yourself to the life-essence of that creature within, attempt to communicate with it if possible, but don’t linger. It is of the flesh and you are not. It cannot touch you.’

  ‘Are you sure, Master?’

  ‘I am.’

  Hesitantly, Yo left me. He passed through the stone wall and entered the cellar.

  Instantly there came a dreadful caterwauling from within, a sound of demented fury. I listened with pounding heart as the thing hurled itself about the cellar, its body crashing against the door and thumping thunderously on the floor and wall. A shudder of fear ran down my spine.

  Seconds later Yo was back. ‘It sensed my presence, Master!’

  I allowed myself a sigh of relief. For an awful moment I’d imagined that the creature had somehow attacked and inflicted damage on Yo, even destroyed him, despite his lacking physical form. ‘Extraordinary. Could you identify the creature?’

  ‘No. It’s a monster, wholly malign, that’s all I can say.’

  ‘Then it is not an entity of the Realms?’

  ‘Many species of entity dwell in the Realms, Master, and I have not met them all. But this thing is alien to me, both in its physical form and its psychic expression.’

  ‘And your attempts to communicate made no impression.’

  ‘None at all. It was enraged by my presence but remained oblivious or unheeding of my efforts to communicate.’

  ‘Yo, describe the monster, please.’

  ‘It stands tall and broad, using two legs or four. It is larger than yourself, and is not human-like in form. Its torso, arms and legs are immensely strong, wadded with muscle. Its hide is tough, wet and leathery. It has a long, powerful tail and vicious talons, bony prongs and huge teeth.’

  ‘Thank you, Yo. You have been of great service.’

  I went next to Redlock’s nursery. A sentry was seated outside the door, younger by four decades than the old fellow who’d stood guard throughout the day. He unlocked the door at my request. I entered with a torch, showing Yo the room, then had Yo enter the armoire and pass along the secret passage to Moonblood’s chamber. I went there myself via the corridor and had him acquaint himself thoroughly with the layout of the chamber, pointing out every detail I thought could be of possible relevance.

  ‘Any observations, Yo?’ I asked when we were back in my own cham
ber.

  ‘Nothing that will shed light, I fear. I am as mystified as you, Master.’

  I sighed.

  After a pause, Yo continued. ‘Master, why was the stolen pitcher left beside Mistress Moonblood’s bed? It would surely have been an inconvenience for whoever stole it to carry it from the nursery all the way along that narrow passage to Moonblood’s chamber. Much easier, surely, to have simply left it in the passage. Was it left deliberately, then?’

  ‘A good point, Yo. An excellent one, in fact.’ I sat down, enthused, and contemplated his words. Moonblood had been with me – or at least, in the banqueting hall – when Redlock was abducted. But might she have been complicit in the abduction? And whether she was or not, had the culprit deliberately planted the pitcher in the room in order to implicate her?’

  My impression of Moonblood made me uncomfortable with the first question. I could not imagine her committing acts that would cause such distress and disastrous circumstances. Yet I reminded myself that she had been angry with her father over his banishment of Linvon the Light, and his desire to marry her off to another who did not meet with her approval. And it was obvious that the secret passage was used by the culprit, both in going to the nursery and returning. Yo was right, too, that there was no practical need to take the pitcher to Moonblood’s room – none that I could see, at least. Could it have been a deliberate ploy to point the finger of complicity at Moonblood?

  ‘And the blood, Master,’ said Yo, jerking me out of my reverie. ‘You say you do not think Moonblood has been murdered, as the blood spilled is insufficient to have brought about her death. You say that her chamber has not been touched in any way. Yet though there are bloodstains, there is no sign of a struggle.’

  ‘I too have been struck by that.’

  ‘Could the chamber have been rearranged to cover the signs of a struggle?’

  ‘It’s possible.’

  ‘Might the blood be Redlock’s?’

  I would have stared at him had he been there to stare at. As it was, I experienced a hollow, sinking feeling in the pit of my gut. I said, after a long pause, ‘I’d not considered that. But this is the problem, Yo. Anything is possible. I’m no closer to an explanation now than when I began; I merely find more and more uncertainties rising to taunt me. I make no genuine progress and I fear that time may be running out.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Master.’

  ‘You’ve been a help, Yo. Don’t doubt it. And now you may aid me further, if you will.’ I passed on to him the instructions I’d been given in the Realms by the spirits of my dead father and mother. ‘Return to me as soon as you are contacted, Yo. Do not delay by a single instant.’

  ‘I am your servant, Master.’

  Yo departed. I undressed, extinguished the lamp that was the sole illumination in my room, and climbed stiffly into bed. The vast, moonless dark enclosed me. Through the window the stars spread a remote milky glow across the sky, but the world was pitch black and impenetrable.

  My attention shifted to the sounds of the night. An owl hooted. In the distance a dog-fox voiced its eerie yap. Something screeched. At one point, from somewhere far below in the castle, I thought I heard a faint, blood-curdling howl, which set my teeth on edge and my spine tingling in fear.

  Eventually I slept, but not for long. I had been right, time was running out. Dreadful magics were about to be unleashed.

  Chapter Twenty

  It was plainly a dream, though at the time I couldn’t recognize it as such. I arrived by horse outside a tall, iron-strapped double door set into a wall of unbroken stone which seemed to ascend without limit, its crest hidden in dark, billowing clouds. Upon the door were massive iron rings gripped in the jaws of grotesque, phantasmic creatures. A wind howled, raising spumes of dust, driving leaves and skittering branches across my path.

  I dismounted and climbed the four stone steps to the door. I grasped one of the iron rings and hammer twice. The sound resounded with a dull, booming resonance, reverberating along ancient hallways as though passing down the byways of time.

  Something tugged at the hem of my trouser leg. I looked down to see a raven pulling at the material with its beak. It looked up at me with gleaming eye. I shook my leg, shooing the bird off. It spread its wings and flapped away with a harsh croak. Midflight, it changed its form, was no longer a bird but a winged homunculus with leathery skin the colour of dried blood. Its features were set in grim fury; it swooped at me, shrieking harshly.

  I ducked; the thing shot by me and through the wall. At my feet a greenish pool formed. Its surface rippled, parted. A human hand, blistered, its skin peeled and torn, reached out and grasped my ankle. Within the pool a face seemed to form, a woman, her skin like that of the hand, horribly burned, her lips stretched, teeth bared in an expression of agonized rage.

  I drew my sword and slashed at the hand. There was an ear-splitting scream. The severed arm pulled back, pumping blood, and vanished beneath the surface of the pool. The pool shrank and was gone. A hand lay twitching at my feet, the fingers opening and closing spasmodically.

  With a scraping and groaning of time-stiffened hinges the great door opened. I stepped through into a wide hallway, long and dusty, part-illuminated by shafts of greenish light whose source was indiscernible. Stone statues representing demonic beings were ranged along the walls. At the centre of the hall, upon the floor, lay an object, too small and far away for me to identify.

  I moved toward this thing. A figure appeared before me: Lady Sheerquine, dressed in a long grey robe, her copper hair loose, her head held high. She walked slowly towards me, clasping in her hands a small pillow in a pale blue linen slip. She seemed oblivious of my presence, or perhaps, I thought, she chose deliberately to ignore me.

  She walked straight by me, and as she passed I was shocked to see the look upon her face. For, despite her efforts to maintain her customary self-command, her features betrayed a colossal inner turmoil. She was ghastly pale, her green eyes were wide, in hollow and dark-ringed sockets. Her jaws were tightly clenched; her shoulders and arms shook, and her cheeks were streaked with tears.

  In bemusement I watched her walk away, her spine as ever perfectly erect. She seemed to be approaching the door through which I’d entered, then abruptly turned and passed through a small portal that I’d not noticed.

  I followed. As I was about to peer through the doorway the air was split by a shattering roar.

  ‘Betrayer!’

  I spun around. Lord Flarefist bore down upon me, his sword raised. He swung. My own sword was drawn and I managed to parry the blow, though the clash of our colliding blades sent a shockwave that numbed my arm from hand to shoulder. I wheeled around to face Flarefist again, but he rushed on, away from me, yelling at the top of his voice, in pursuit of some unseen offender.

  I turned again to enter the doorway through which Lady Sheerquine had gone, but I had lost my bearings and could no longer find the way.

  Confused, I turned back to the object on the floor. Now I could see that it was a baby, but as I approached it altered its form. I realized that it was further away than I had at first thought. It was not in fact a baby but a mound of stinking, decaying flesh, riddled with worms and coated in flies. When I arrived before the mound it dwarfed me.

  A voice spoke. In a shadowy alcove away to my left my father stood, beckoning me. My mother was at his side. I walked towards them, overcome with emotion. As I drew close they stepped silently aside. Deeper in the shadows beyond them I saw Moonblood, garbed in soft white raiment bordered in crimson. In her hand she held a scroll of parchment, bound in crimson ribbon.

  Moonblood held out the scroll. Her lips moved and her voice sounded softly yet clear. ‘This is what you seek.’

  I reached out to take the parchment, untied the ribbon and unrolled it. Before me were the words of Molgane’s bane. And I knew I was dreaming then, but I saw them so plainly. I would never forget them. They told me everything I’d thought they would. Suddenly all was clear.


  I was alone. The wind howled, a ghastly, malignant sound. Somebody was screaming. There was a deafening, roaring sound, and I saw flames leap suddenly up the walls of the hall in which I stood.

  I knew I dreamed, but I did not wake. The flames licked and crackled around me, their heat terrible upon my face, burning the rotten meat. I felt the clutch of terror. I ran, blindly. The dreadful howling continued. More screams.

  Why did I not wake?

  ~

  I opened my eyes but the dream didn’t end.

  I was in my high chamber in Castle Ravenscrag. I no longer dreamed, I was sure of that, and yet…

  There was a greenish light in my room, of indiscernible source. It was murky, illuminating, yet leaving everything shadowed, indistinct and quivering. I was aware of noises: shouts and screams, a ghastly howling, but they were a remote cacophony and as yet carried little meaning to my disoriented senses.

  My eyes were on the mirror which hung upon the wall opposite the end of my bed. Its glass had begun to move, with a slow, viscid motion. It was like the surface of a pool of shifting sludge, stirred by strange currents deep below.

  As I watched, the surface lapped, swelled, then broke with a thick sucking sound, and something crawled out. It was vaguely reptilian, with smooth skin which showed a sickening blood-red in the weird light. Its head was blunt and rounded, with a bald, wrinkled pate. Hooded eyes, set close together, blinked slowly. A long yellow tongue slid out from between wide jaws set with rows of tiny teeth.

  As I watched transfixed, the thing crawled effortlessly down the vertical wall, leaving a trail of fluid, and across the floor, then up again to disappear through the open window.

  The surface of the mirror re-formed. I got out of bed, quickly, though my limbs were heavy and unresponsive. I put my hand gingerly upon the glass; the surface was cool and ungiving. My haggard, burnt reflection stared back at me, undistorted.