The Secrets of the Moonstone Heir: Book One of The Scale Seekers

by A. R. Cook

  Desert Rain felt comforted by this man, but she had come to see how deceit could make one feel safe. “Are you a Trickster?”

  “I suppose I am neither above nor below the talents of a Trickster. However, I would find this a most inappropriate time to be playing pranks.” The elder came close to her. “There are forces around you that wish to help you, and such forces will help if you accept the power within yourself.”

  “You mean use Grandma Luna’s magic? Even if I knew how to use it without killing anyone, I would not. I swore I never would.”

  “Such magic is not needed, for now. It is magic that has caused the disasters that demon is inflicting. I mean that you must accept the responsibility ahead of you. Do you plan to remain hidden in a hole in the ground until all this blows over? It won’t blow by like a gentle wind. You know this demon, and through what you know shall he be stopped.”

  “I thought I knew him…” Hot tears stung her eyes. “Don’t ask me to do this. I am the reason that Katawa is doing these horrible things. If I hadn’t let him regain his memories…or if I hadn’t cared of him…”

  “Such caring is part of your nature. That cannot be helped. We cannot see how our actions

  will affect the future, nor do we think that good actions can bring about evil. But if it is not your job to rectify this evil, whose is it?”

  Desert Rain was quiet. Such a job should be left to one who had fought the Courts of the Wretched before, someone who was fearless and strong, someone who could even defy death with his valor. “Swordmaster Skyhan…he could stop Katawa. I must find him. I must warn him that he is being pursued.”

  “That is better than hiding,” the elder agreed. He looked very deeply into her eyes. “The demon has taken something from you. Something vital.”

  Desert Rain nodded, looking away.

  “He has taken a great portion of your essence.”

  She snapped her eyes up to him. “A portion? Is that even possible, to take part of a soul?”

  “Remember, you house two spirits, and they protect one another. Bellaluna’s spirit may have masked part of your essence, the part that is more than what lies inside others, the part that will give you courage and hope. But a soul cannot remain broken. It is like pulling thread from a tapestry. It will continue to unravel until it is gone. Then there will be nothing of you left. There will be no more courage, no more hope…and it shall affect Bellaluna’s spirit as well.”

  “What am I to do, then?”

  “Do you have any object in your pockets?”

  Desert Rain rummaged through her pocket, and found the bright blue bead that Katawa had made from the scorpion. She placed it on the sand in front of her. The elder gestured for her to step back. He knelt and held his hands over the bead, and a mystical fiery light rippled from his fingers. When the light cleared, the bead had been transformed into a bracelet, a solid marble bracelet lined in gold. He stepped back.

  “Put it on. It is a guard for your soul. Keep in mind, it will be effective only for a short while, for my powers are not meant for such a task. But it will protect you for the time being.”

  Desert Rain picked up the bracelet. “Thank you for your grace. Why do this for me?”

  “Like I said, there are forces that would keep you safe. I must go.”

  “Wait! Jubis…” She presented the fox in her arms. “Can you do nothing for him?”

  The elder regarded the fox. “I do not have the power to reverse this transformation. But I will do what I can, and he will remain alive, for now.” He took the fox into the cradle of his arm. “Remember, Desert Rain, to always listen. You weren’t given those ears for nothing.”

  In a sudden whirlwind of golden sand, the elder dissipated and vanished.

  ***

  Desert Rain studied her new bracelet as she walked, and then slid it up her arm until it was snug on her skin. It felt delightfully cool, like a band of ice water. She hoped Swordmaster Skyhan would still be in Syphurius, and that perhaps he might already have found and subdued Katawa. She broke away from her thoughts and found the stillness of the desert disturbing. It seemed that all wildlife had taken a hiatus, and there was not even a small insect scurrying across the scorching sands. It was not long until she saw black silhouettes on the horizon. It was a procession of people, perhaps a hundred? A hundred and fifty? Any such large procession was strange to find in the desert, even for a merchant caravan. The people trekked on foot, on horseback, and even one on…a strongback? Desert Rain’s ears perked up a little, and she ran as best she could towards the throng of travelers.

  As she had hoped, the rider on the strongback was Mac.

  “Is that Gila Gul?” Mac was as surprised to see Desert Rain as she was to see him. “You look like-kk you’ve been to the Pond of the Beyond and back-kk.” He helped Desert Rain climb up onto Kurl’s back.

  Desert Rain wheezed. She had not realized how thirsty she was, having driven thirst from her thoughts the past few days. “I don’t suppose you have anything to drink, do you, Mister Mac?”

  “Sure do. Might be a bit-tkk on the warm side.” Mac reached down into one of the large sacks hanging on Kurl’s sides and took out a jug. He popped off the cork and handed her the jug, which she took and drank from thankfully. “I keep running into you all the time now. Must-tkk be a sign.”

  “Mac, what’s going on? These all look like people from Syphurius.”

  “They are, Gila. The city’s been cleared out-tkk. Bad goings-ssck on there. Nasty things-ssck.”

  “Cleared out?”

  “All I know is, buildings-ssck started twistin’ like they

  were alive, people screamin’ like it’s-ssck the end of the world, everything turnin’ rotten like bad fruit-tkk. I even saw a few folks-ssck with some disease like I’ve never seen, bodies-ss all bent-tkk outta shape. All ‘cause some demon Nasty, so I heard.”

  Desert Rain’s blood ran cold. “What of the Knights of Luuva? Are they there now?”

  “Little I know. Last-tkk I heard, Syphurius’s knights have been fightin’ off goblin raids northways-ssck, but the elf knights are coming to lend a hand. The others-ssck are coming as quick as they can.”

  “And Swordmaster Skyhan? What of him?”

  “Not heard a thing about-tkk him. But I know he’ll find that Nasty. Swordmaster Skyhan’s-ssck the best Nasty slayer around.” Mac sliced his hand through the air like a blade, making a

  “whoosh” sound.

  “You must turn around, Mac. We must go to Syphurius and find Sir Skyhan. He’s in danger!”

  Mac frowned at Desert Rain. “Even if I were damn foolish enough to turn around, there ain’t no getting into Syphurius-ssck. They closed off every way into the place. Most folks-ssck went headin’ off east-tkk, to the forests. But you see, I had me a good idea—if that Nasty gets outta Syphurius-ssck, that rainforest is gonna be the first place he’ll go. Lotsa food and water there, you see. But I figured, it-tkk won’t be going desert bound. There’s nothin’ out here worth takin’. So we’re all going to Ulomin. That Nasty won’t come out to the desert-tkk.”

  “Actually…” Desert Rain winced. “That Wretched came from this desert.”

  Everyone who had been overhearing snapped their heads towards Desert Rain. They murmured heatedly to one another.

  Mac pondered for a second, but then said, “Then that Nasty’s-ssck already been here, and done his worst, so he won’t come back-kk for a while. He’ll go elsewhere first before coming back-kk here.”

  Done his worst…Desert Rain thought of Ulomin. What if Katawa had gone there? Granted, he would have to be awfully fast to go to Ulomin and then Syphurius on foot in such a short time, but who knew what he could transform into that would allow him fast travel. “Mac, I fear of what we might find in Ulomin,” she said.

  Mac patted Desert Rain’s hand. “Have hope, Gila. Have hope.”

  ***

  It was night when the procession reached a place unlike Desert Rain had ever seen. They were
greeted by immense twisted spires that gnarled up towards the violet sky. Through the rotten colors infecting these spires, she could still see the painted designs belonging to what were once Ulomin’s great towers. The stone street before them curled and swirled in the

  oddest way, and along the street were the contorted remains of what used to be merchant stalls. Not a single street torch-post was lit, and not a single soul was to be found. Desert Rain glanced at the stalls as she passed by, spotting broken jars, cups, torn fabrics, and shattered glass wind chimes among the shelves and ground.

  “Great gurglin’ swamp muck-kk,” Mac said. “This is the kind of mess-ssck happening in Syphurius.”

  The travelers were silent, glancing about anxiously. The large green pavilion of the main plaza had imploded, bending and stretched tightly so now it stood like a crescent sickle, casting

  its grim shadow down on them. Despite this ominous structure, the group decided to camp in the plaza for the night.

  A traveler in a brown hooded cloak coaxed a weak fire to life with two flint stones and some brittle brush and dry grass. Desert Rain sat down next to Mac and Kurl and watched the hooded figure at work. She was obviously female from the style of cloak, and by the light-weight model of warhammer strapped to her back. Typically, female soldiers did not choose the warhammer as a weapon, but for the few who did, the light model was customarily used. Desert Rain could not check the woman’s hands for “warrior’s badges” – calluses, bruises and scars –for they were concealed inside leather gloves.

  “Where do you think all the Ulomin folk-kk have gone to?” Mac whispered to Desert Rain.

  “I can’t say…perhaps they went north towards the mountains. I hope they’re all right.” Desert Rain hugged her knees to her chest, staring at the fire.

  “I’m sure they are,” Mac replied, patting Desert Rain’s shoulder. “But now we need to be worrying about-tkk ourselves.”

  Desert Rain nodded, and returned to quiet contemplation. How much of what Katawa had told her was true, about his own clan trying to destroy him? If he was so dangerous as that, and he had been running free in Luuva Gros long before he lost his memory, why was this the first time he was causing havoc? There was no history of Distortion curses anywhere in Luuva Gros, from what she knew. Katawa was using an excessive display of his powers—to try to lure out Swordmaster Skyhan, she figured—but it did not seem logical to ruin Ulomin to get the Knight’s attention. Ulomin was too secluded for word of its disaster to spread quickly—she wouldn’t be surprised if these Syphurian refugees were the first to find out about Ulomin’s condition.

  Suddenly, the cloaked woman called out, “Who in the damn Eternal Deep are you?”

  The words were directed towards a silhouette that had appeared outside the circle of refugees, far enough away that its features weren’t revealed by the campfire’s light.

  The entire camp now stared apprehensively at the stranger. The cloaked girl removed her warhammer from its sheathe on her back. “Identify yourself. Are you a local?”

  The stranger remained still. It might as well have been one of the many statues that surrounded the shrine. When the fighter took a step towards it, the stranger, a woman, spoke. “Is the Hijn with you?”

  Desert Rain felt an intense heat on the back of her neck. She scanned the group, who glanced at one another in bewilderment. Naturally, none of these Syphurians knew which Hijn the stranger referred to, and they knew their resident Hijn, Lady Mage Skyhan, was not among them. Desert Rain turned her gaze to Mac, who looked at her with such deep concern, it seemed strange coming from someone who was normally so cheerful. Slowly, as not to be noticed, he indicated for Desert Rain to get behind Kurl. The Hijn inched cautiously on hands and knees, over

  Kurl’s forelegs and around to the other side of the strongback. She knew some of the Syphurians must have noticed her moonstone, must have suspected if not known she was Hijn, yet no one outed her.

  “We know of no such person,” the female fighter replied. “Now answer my question. Who are you?”

  The woman advanced forwards. “He said the Hijn would come. He said she would come here. She must know. She must know what happened. Bring her out! Let the deceiver show herself!” This last sentence pierced the night air in a frantic shriek.

  Desert Rain cringed in the shadows. She wanted more than anything to stay behind Kurl and let someone else handle the situation. But then she feared that the cloaked fighter might harm the stranger, and she could not let that happen. She took a very deep breath, so deep her lungs might have burst, and arose. She came out from behind Kurl, and looked down at Mac, whose eyes cautioned her to be careful. She held her head high as she walked forward, as the camp watched her in perplexed silence. The female fighter sensed her approaching and turned to look at her. Desert Rain’s forehead glistened with sweat as she walked up to the fighter, placing a hand on the head of the warhammer and gently pushed it down. She faced the stranger. “You are looking for me,” she called.

  The woman did nothing for a long moment, but then it shot a finger at Desert Rain so violently, the Hijn could feel the fury fire from the extended digit like an arrow. Vehemence poured from the woman’s voice like water from a floodgate.

  “Look what you’ve brought upon us!!” the woman screeched. “He came, asking for food and a place to stay. He looked like you. He said he was your friend. You are Hijn, you are our guardian, therefore we trusted him. But look what he’s done! Look what he did to us!!”

  A few more figures emerged from the surrounding shadows. They came to stand behind the first figure like a mob waiting for the signal to charge. They were a band of misshapen silhouettes, and when they finally stepped into the circle of firelight, strangled gasps escaped the lips of every person in the camp.

  The strangers were human, there was no doubt of that, but they all had the “disease” that the Syphurians had seen break out in their beloved city. Desert Rain felt utterly sick as she gazed upon the bruised, swollen, contorted limbs and

  features that had infected these poor souls. She even recognized a few of these Ulomin people, merchants or shopkeepers. The woman, whose arm was curved inwards like a dark maroon vulture claw, was a mother and school teacher. It was clear to see why she was the speaker of the group—the others’ faces were so pinched or stretched that it was a wonder if they could speak at all. The mother’s children, or any child for that matter, were nowhere to be seen. The sight, and the thought of why the children were not present, almost brought Desert Rain to tears.

  “I…I am sorry,” was all Desert Rain could say.

  “Sorry?” The mother’s voice was so low she was nearly inaudible. “Sorry? Is that word supposed to undo what happened to us? There are others here—” She pointed towards the ruined buildings. “—who can barely even stand due to this curse. Their minds have been as ruined as their bodies from the pain. Can you even begin to imagine what it felt like when he did this to me?” She held up her contorted claw of a hand.

  “Katawa is not my friend. I don’t know what he told you, but he’s—”

  “So you don’t deny that you know him!” The mother’s face suddenly altered, changing from rage to helplessness. She staggered towards Desert Rain. “Please, you are Hijn. Heal us…”

  “Stay right where you are!” The female fighter threatened the mob with her hammer.

  The mother froze at this. Tears were streaking down her face. “She’s Hijn! She has magic! She must be able to do something!”

  “I wish beyond anything that I could!” Desert Rain clutched her head in anguish. “But I can’t heal you! I can’t undo it! I…” Her voice was almost lost as her throat seized. “I can’t.”

  An enraged cry came from somewhere behind the humans. The mob broke down the middle as a large, burly monstrosity of warped flesh and bony protrusion—with an arm and a leg as the only proof that he was once a man—came running straight at Desert Rain. The female fighter raised her warhammer, but this did not det
er the distorted man, his swollen eyes ablaze with malice. He dealt the fighter a blow to the chest, knocking her down. Then, with his morphed hand that was as large as a bear’s paw, he picked Desert Rain up off the ground by her throat, dangling her in the air like a banishing doll.

  The man was foaming at the mouth, his face so mangled that Desert Rain could not even look at it. He was snarling words at Desert Rain, but the words were lost in his throat… it sounded like “must be punished.” He tightened his grip, the bloated hand determined to crush her neck. A loud crack erupted as the female fighter brought the warhammer around and smashed it into the man’s lower back. He dropped Desert Rain, and then his paralyzed body fell on top of her. Desert Rain would have screamed if the weight of the man’s body had not squeezed the air out of her.

  “Now listen up!” Desert Rain heard the hammer-wielder shout. “We are sorry for your misfortune. We have experienced the same pain in Syphurius. But if this Hijn says she can’t help you, then she can’t. We need to help ourselves. And if anyone tries to hurt Donkey-ears again, so help me, I’ll use this hammer on whoever I have to!”

  Wait, now I recognize that voice…I can’t believe it!

  The Ulominians stared at the hammer-wielder in shock. They shrunk back, looking as piteous as a pack of beaten dogs. The fighter lowered the hammer and knelt down to shove the man off of Desert Rain. She helped the Hijn to her feet, and Desert Rain found herself looking into

  the blue-feathered face of the Quetzalin from the memory shop.

  “Nice to see you again,” Chiriku said snidely.

  “This is-ss getting out of hand, people,” Mac chimed in, strolling over as if absolutely nothing had taken place. “We shouldn’t-tkk be fighting each other. We need to be helping one another. Now I know the words-ssck of a bum like myself mayn’t mean much to you all, but I at least-tkk know about brotherhood. So let’s-ssck work together to get through this.”