The Iron-Jawed Boy and the Hand of the Moon (Book 2, Sky Guardian Chronicles)

by Nikolas Lee

  Whatever happens next, Ion, said Lillian. You must be the one who is prepared.

  Ion nodded. I will.

  A great moan swept up through the walls of the temple, and the gears from the lowest level to the highest all began to turn, moaning and groaning as they ground against one another, working as one. As a column of lenses above the Throne lowered to Lillian, the metal roof opened, until the faded light of dusk had become the ceiling. When the lenses were just inches from the Eternity Diamond hovering above Lillian’s forehead, they stopped. There was a crack of what sounded like thunder, and suddenly Lillian’s eyes went white. The diamond lowered slowly into her forehead, sewing itself to her skin like Ion’s metal jaw had done. From out of the crystal came a blast of silver light that shot through the lenses, each one thickening the beam before it shot into the sky. Another crack of thunder, and the beam connected with an object that for a month had been hidden from the world:

  The Moon.

  The beam pulled the Moon from the plane it had been hiding on, its rounded surface slowly emerging from the blackness of space. It was so bright and so silver, Ion was mesmerized. So much so that he’d hardly noticed the insect fly through his vision. It was only until it landed on his shoulder that he looked, and with a horrible realization, saw that it was no ordinary insect.

  But a locust.

  A locust!

  He swatted it away, worry suddenly strangling his stomach. No, he thought. There’s no way. You need to be invited to Illyria. He walked slowly, cautiously to the temple entrance. You imagined the locust. There’s no way... And what he saw standing across the bridge—that sinister grin. That flaming red hair. Those eyes so green and full of malice. It made his blood boil. And Lady Borea’s plans of murder suddenly seemed so clear.

  “Solara,” Ion growled, winds roaring all around him as he recalled the last time he’d seen Solara, the last time he’d seen Vinya.

  Her brother, Spike, stood beside her, two heads taller than her, with broad shoulders, a thick neck, and a bald head.

  But confusion nearly outplayed Ion’s sudden anger. The gods were just standing there! Right behind the Twins, yet they weren’t doing anything about it. In fact, they weren’t doing anything at all. They were frozen as though time itself had stopped.

  Lady Helia, Ion realized, his nails dug furiously into his palms.

  “Surprised, Sky Guardian?” Solara called from across the bridge.

  Ion’s jaw was searing, the winds around him just as hot. “You murderer!” Ion cried, snapping his arms forward, a wave of screaming, boiling hot wind raging across the bridge.

  Spike stomped his foot, however, and a slab of thick stone rose before the Twins, shielding them from the burning gale. Then the brick floor beneath Ion shifted swiftly to the side, pulling his feet out from under him. The winds ceased with Ion’s fall, and the sound of Spike and Solara’s laughter echoed across the island.

  Oceanus appeared at Ion’s side, though, and helped him to his feet. “No one enters Illyria without an invitation. Who invited you?” she snapped at the Twins. “Who?”

  “It was Lady Borea,” Ion growled. “Helia, too.”

  Oceanus stared at him, completely confused. “But—”

  “Very good, Ion!” said Solara. “Quite the investigator you’ve become. Though I’ve always found you to be a bit more curious than one would prefer. But don’t worry, Guardians, we won’t be here too long. Just need to handle some business in that temple of yours, and we’ll be off. You don’t honestly think we’d miss Lillian’s first Summoning, do you?”

  Solara stepped confidently onto the bridge, and Oceanus did the same. Only, as Oceanus did, she threw her shoulders forward and the waterfalls to her left and right groaned, shifting as well. Oceanus whipped her arms forward, and the waterfalls roared toward the Twins, whirling around the bridge like the dance of two cobras. As the thundering of the water reached them, Spike summoned his shield of rock once more. The water collided with the wall, shaking the island as the torrent pounded harder and harder against the earthen shield.

  From behind the wall exploded a swarm of locusts, fanning upward and descending upon the temple in a wave of hisses and screams. The swarm barreled into Oceanus, launching her into a wall of the temple inside. Unconscious.

  The locusts flung Ion into the temple as well, and as they stormed the inside, the insects slammed Theo hard into the same wall as Oceanus, knocking him out just as quick.

  Ion hurried to his feet, raised his arms to launch his own wave—one of wind and lightning—but Spike had appeared at the temple entrance, and with a flick of his hand, the stone of the temple walls latched around Ion’s wrists and drew him backward, pinning him against its surface. He felt the tingle behind his eyes that he had in the Fight, a prelude to an electrical blast. But before he could unleash it, Solara’s voice rang over the hissing of her locusts, and she was standing behind Lillian, a dagger to the Guardian’s throat.

  “Fire any of that annoying lightning and she’s done with, Caller,” said Solara.

  “Okay,” Ion growled. “No more lightning. Just...please don’t hurt her.”

  The tingle retreated from his eyes, and the locusts flew to the walls of the temple, coating the gears in silence. Spike approached wearing his gnarly grin, each step tightening the grip of the stone cuffs on Ion’s wrists. He yanked the necklace from Ion—that prison of Illindria’s—and returned to Solara, placing it in her hand.

  “Destroying a Throne of Illyria is a delicate process, Ion,” she began, looking upon the beam of light that continued to stream out of Lillian’s Diamond. The Moon was almost whole again. “It must be done when the Throne is in a vulnerable state. For that of the Moon, it would be during the Summoning, and most especially a Summoning performed by a new Illyrian.”

  “Lady Borea put you up to this, then?” Ion snapped. “To destroy a Throne?”

  “It was among the list of demands we gave her,” said Solara, smiling. “In exchange for something she desired, yes. Making you watch its destruction was another request of ours. One by one, the Illyrian Thrones will be destroyed, and with them, their control over their domains, their world.” Solara gazed upon the emerald of Ion’s necklace. “And from the ashes will rise a new pantheon. The Endari. Ruled by a Triumvirate of great goddesses: my beautiful mother, Lady Borea and of course, Lady Helia. Now, Spike—if you’d do me the honor...”

  He nodded, dug his fingers into the stone at his feet like it was only mud, and from out of it pulled a massive hammer. He walked over to Lillian’s Throne, reared the great hammer to the side, and with one swing, struck the Moon Bow, snapping the weapon in half. There was a scream, and a shockwave threw Solara and Spike backward.

  Ion looked above in horror, shock, and sickness. A visible crack bolted down the middle of the Moon, so fast and so loud its rupturing could be heard down on Earth. Then, the cracking turned into a great, horrible moan.

  As the Moon tore itself in two.

  Ion watched, eyes unblinking, as the monstrous sections of rock slowly drifted apart from one another, the space in between them filled with stone and dust that glowed an eerie silver, its moaning still so mighty.

  Spike and Solara stood, looking in awe of what they’d done.

  Thunder shook the temple. But something different was happening in the night sky now. The surfaces of the two halves of the Moon were rippling like waves of sand. Shifting. Reconstructing. Smoothing their jagged sides until the two halves had become two, perfectly-rounded and craterless Moons.

  The beam of silver light—the one that had Summoned the Moon and split it in two—retracted in a flash, passing through the lenses before retreating into the Diamond in Lillian’s head. The gears of the temple walls churned once more. The column of lenses rose.

  Lillian got up from the Throne, eyes a cloudy white. She was quiet. Still.

  “W-what’s going on?” Spike asked. “This wasn’t supposed to happen.”

  He and his sister
began to retreat from the Throne. Lillian threw her head back, bared her teeth, and when she whipped her head forward, a thick, screeching beam of blue and purple light exploded out of the Diamond in her head, smacking Ion’s skin with heat as it blasted Spike out of the temple and off the side of Illyria.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  PLAN UNSPOKEN

  With no time to morn her brother’s fall, Solara bolted out of the temple like a rat scurrying for safety. Odd, Ion thought, that she didn’t just jump off the island and fly away in a swarm of locusts. Too odd.

  Lillian turned to him and held a finger to the Diamond in her head, using two small blasts to break the stone around Ion’s wrists. He fell to the floor and rubbed his wrists of the pain, but Lillian collapsed to her knees in exhaustion in front of him, and he rushed to hold her up.

  “W-what’s wrong?” he asked breathlessly.

  “Reconstructing the Moons,” she said, barely able to hold her eyes open, “it took...everything I had. I think...we might’ve foiled Lady Borea’s plans, but you have to follow Solara. She...she has your necklace. You m-mustn’t let her free Illindria.”

  Ion gently propped Lillian against the wall of the temple, glancing over at Oceanus and Theo, both still knocked out on the floor. “Don’t worry, Lillian. I plan on returning with more than my necklace.”

  She nodded, and Ion shot out of the temple, blasts of air powering his strides. Up ahead, Solara had taken her last step off the bridge, now running through the crowd of frozen Illyrians and their citizens. Ion raced over the bridge, and through the crowd, Solara still far ahead. When he reached the streets, and she’d come within range, he launched a bolt of lightning that missed and struck the side of a flower shop. Its windows, pots, and flowers exploded through the air, but Solara rounded the corner unscathed.

  Ion raced after, turning the corner, watching as Solara rushed up the steps to the Hall of Thrones. It was a trap. This was all too odd not to be a trap. But not following her wasn’t an option. And so, he too raced up the stairs, moments behind as she raced through the gates. As soon as he entered, he stopped, catching glimpses of everything: the thrones in the center of the room, the balcony above, and the burning, golden tree hanging from the ceiling, casting its light upon the otherwise dark Hall. Then his eyes landed on Solara in the middle of it all, standing before the crystalline throne the Skylord had sat in.

  He snapped his arm forward, and a bolt of green lightning erupted from his pointed finger. Thunder cracked through the Hall, but the bolt didn’t strike Solara. It was stretched across the room, still haling from Ion’s finger, frozen in time. Just like he was.

  Solara walked out of the bolt’s projected path and smiled sweetly at Ion.

  Then came the smell of sadness.

  A long black robe appeared at Ion’s side, and he traced his eyes over the gold weavings that masked the woman’s sickeningly long fingers. Ion’s jaw burned, but his mouth refused him words, still a slave to the will of Lady Helia before him.

  “I’m glad to see at least some part of your plan was successful, Solara,” said Helia, looking Ion over before walking to the Twin. “The Throne of the Moon proved harder to destroy than you’d planned?”

  “I underestimated the elf,” said Solara. “Her will is strong. She even blasted Spike off the side of the island. Poor boy never had a chance.”

  “Don’t worry about him,” said Helia. “He’s an Earth Guardian. If he can’t have a safe fall to Earth then no one can. But I’d advise you never underestimate an elf again. Their minds are fortified beyond your wildest imaginations. Combine that with the powers of the Blood Guardian and you have quite a weapon on your hands.” Helia held her hand out to Solara, and the Twin placed the necklace in her palm. “But you did do something right. Illindria will be pleased to see her imprisoner present upon her liberation.”

  Helia looked at Ion with those ominous white eyes, and a chill rushed up his spine. The things he wanted to scream. The lightning he wanted to fire.

  “Impressive bolt of electricity you’ve summoned,” she told him, gazing upon the frozen lightning in front of her. “So bright. So hot. A vengeful bolt, if I’ve ever seen one. But I suppose your revenge will have to wait.”

  Lady Helia twirled her finger counter-clockwise. Slowly, the sizzling bolt retracted from across the room until it had returned to the confines of Ion’s finger. His legs, arms, fingers, and even his expression, followed suit, restored to their original position before he’d ever fired the bolt at Solara.

  “Now, I’m sure you have some questions,” said Lady Helia. She held the necklace out to him. “Would you like to do the honors and free the one who could best answer them?”

  Never.

  “That’s what I thought,” she said, withdrawing the necklace. “But thankfully, relics have many rules, which means the offspring of Illindria can serve the purpose you refuse.”

  She looked to Solara and when the girl nodded, she took out her dagger once more and sliced her palm without even a wince. She held her closed fist over the emerald in Helia’s hand, and a few drops of blood fell upon the gem. Helia closed her eyes, spun the emerald in the air, and whispered something unintelligible.

  In a sickening flash, a mass of churning flesh, clothing, and hair exploded out of the emerald, assembling on the floor beside Helia, until a goddess had formed before them. She looked the same as she had the day she’d been entrapped—her spring-coiled red hair high and mighty, her unfortunately tight green dress singed with burn marks from her last battle.

  Time might’ve stood still for Ion, but that certainly didn’t stop him from feeling sick.

  Illindria took a deep breath and pressed her hands about her body. “I’m...I’m back! Oh, thank the Triplets, I’m back!”

  “Mommy!” Solara cried.

  “My beautiful daughter,” said Illindria, hugging Solara. “You did just as Mommy expected.”

  Illindria turned to Helia and smiled pleasantly. “My lovely niece. I knew I could entrust my freedom to you. The Triumvirate still stands strong?”

  Helia nodded. “Lady Borea plans to join us later.”

  If Ion’s brow could’ve furrowed in confusion it would’ve. She just lied. Lady Borea wasn’t going to join them. She’d said she wanted to be frozen with the others...

  “Though, I’m sorry to report our first attempt at destroying a Throne did not go as planned,” said Helia.

  “I see,” Illindria replied. “And where is Spike?”

  “He was blasted off the side of the island,” said Solara, looking to the floor.

  “Of course he was,” said Illindria flatly. “Hopefully his fall wasn’t too violent.”

  Lady Helia and Solara both nodded in agreement.

  “But”—she clasped her hands together and spun around to Ion—“we do have something to be happy about.”

  Illindria held her hand out to Helia without looking, and the goddess placed the necklace in her hand. Illindria approached, circling Ion, so close he could smell the burnt cloth of her dress, even now after a month of being entrapped in the emerald.

  “You know, I had a lot of time to think in this little emerald prison of mine,” she said. “Time to think of your punishment. Your torture. Time to think of how I could exact my revenge upon you and all you hold dear. But do you know what I realized in there, young Ion? That I don’t wish to punish you at all.”

  “Mommy!” Solara cried. “Why would you—”

  “Hush!” Illindria snapped, hand in the air. She knelt in front of Ion and slipped the necklace back around his neck. “You have questions. Questions I can answer. I’ll unfreeze you, but if you make just one questionable move, back to being frozen you’ll go.”

  Illindria turned on her knee to Lady Helia. “Do it.”

  Lady Helia nodded, and with a narrowing of her eyes, Ion felt his limbs become his own once again. He hesitated, Illindria so close to him now. And being so...nice.

  “What’re you playing at?” he as
ked, calm as he could manage.

  “You have endured enough punishment at the hands of these gods,” said Illindria. “You’ve been enslaved, orphaned, and had to endure the loss of not one, but two of your mothers.”

  “One of whom was taken by your daughter,” Ion growled, taking a step back as he stared Solara down.

  “A horrible, horrible mistake on her part, and one she’s deeply sorry for,” Illindria growled.

  “No I’m—”

  “Shut it, child!” Illindria shouted over Solara, refusing to look back at her. “The point I’m trying to make, Ion, is that I no longer choose to be a part of it. Before K’thas’s freeing, before my entrapping and the death of Vinya, Lady Helia here was tasked with one thing. To tell you of your many past lives, and that it was by her hand that each of them died.”

  A part of their plan, was it? Ion thought.

  “Why would that be her task?” he asked. “So you could confuse me? Make me angry? How would that help anything?”

  “It was done for one reason and one reason only,” said Illindria. “A long time ago, it was said that knowledge is power. And, in my opinion, there is no greater knowledge you, Ionikus Reaves, could have, than to know the truth behind your deaths.”

  “Go ahead, then,” said Ion. “Tell me what is the truth?”

  “On your twentieth birthday, a ceremony will be held,” said Illindria. “A ceremony to herald your death.”

  Ion swallowed. But that’s all I’ll do. The enemy can’t see I’m troubled. Can’t see I’m hurt.

  “Why?” he asked.

  “The extra Netherblood Othum added during your creation—it drove Thornikus White crazy,” said Illindria. “Thornikus was angry. Furious. All the time. It seemed a blessing, at first. Never before had a god proved so...effective at eradicating an enemy. But the older he got, the more powers he developed, and the more havoc his anger could cause. So we took control the only way we knew how. When Thornikus turned twenty, we held the first ceremony, and the first Sky Guardian was murdered.”

  Ion stood there, listening to Illindria go on, his nose flared, nails dug deep into his palms. But the truth was, none of this had come as a shock. He wished it had. Wished that it’d all sounded so crazy, so ridiculous, so blatantly a part of Illindria’s plan to confuse and sway him. But it was just the sort of thing he expected from the gods of Illyria now.