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

by A. R. Cook

  her forehead.

  “Two cities,” Desert Rain repeated. “He ruined Ulomin before he came here.”

  The Cindrea commander’s face wrinkled in disgust. The tone of his voice shifted from formal disdain to casual mockery. “Who invited Desert Rat?”

  Desert Rain knew who the commander was. This was a man who took it upon himself, at every Hijn-related occasion they met, to belittle her with every odious slur he could spit out. His piercing eyes, always aflame with amber-orange irises, laughed at her “frailty” and her “pathetic” looks. His hair was a metallic copper red that bled into orange-gold at the ends, and his muscular body was a bronze brown with crimson stripes that marked him like a tiger. If he did not constantly wear a look of arrogant superiority on his face, he could have been very handsome. He wore his inner callousness on the outside, however, and he was darn proud of it. He was one of the many reasons Desert Rain stopped attending the Hijn council meetings and celebrations.

  “Hello, Fierno Ginso,” Desert Rain said, unable to hide the edge of detestation in her greeting.

  The Fire Hijn grinned wryly. “You’re looking even more bedraggled than usual. But it’s good to know someone else has my opinion, that those Hijn meetings are a waste of time. You haven’t been to one since…how long has it been? Then again, you aren’t really worth calling a Hijn anyway, are you?”

  “You best-tkk shut that trap of yours-ssck before I go over there and defend this lady’s-ssck honor!” Mac snapped.

  Fierno frowned at Mac. “From your disrespectful talk, you must be one of those Lejenous from the swamps. Appropriate for Desert Rat to befriend bayou sludge. Although she should have warned you to speak to Hijn with the reverence we’re…ahem, I’m due.”

  Desert Rain glowered at Fierno. How many times she wished she could tell him off, but there was no reply she could make that would not result in further insults. Mac was ready to take a swing at Fierno, but Desert Rain held him back by placing a calming hand on his arm.

  “They are with me, Hijn Fierno,” Valdrase said, “And I warn you, I don’t appreciate your tone to either me or my companions.”

  Fierno snorted a laugh. “You’re allowed to not appreciate what I say, nor do I care if you do. I have a demon to slay. Now, if you would get out of my way—”

  A chilling noise pierced the air. It caused everyone to freeze, even the twitchy Gadderbats. It reverberated through the streets, across the whole city. The noise sounded like a cacophony of howls, intermingled with the cries of a bird of prey. One person in the group recognized that sound, the same sound that had shaken her home almost a year ago.

  “He’s here,” Desert Rain said.

  A smile grew on Fierno’s face. From a sheath on his back, he drew a massive broad sword, the blade wrought from a special metal that still glowed red from the heat of the mastersmith’s fire that forged it. “Good,” he sneered.

  Everything was as still as the dead. It was an eternity, time increasing the anticipation of what monstrous thing would lunge at them. It came to the point of making Desert Rain want to scream in panic, making Fierno want to scream his battle cry, making Mac want to scream to break the silence. Valdrase slowly moved his hand towards the bow on his back, his quiver full of sleek silver-tipped arrows. The warriors, not able to tell where the noise came from, gripped their weapons tightly. Everyone got the impression that as soon as any one of them made a sudden move, chaos would erupt.

  And sure enough, it did. And oddly enough, the one to ignite it was Mac.

  It isn’t that Bayou lizards are immune to fear, not at all. They simply hate worrying; their panic customarily arises at the very moment danger comes into clear view. To see people become

  petrified at a noise—and Mac was used to a variety of strange noises, living in the Bayou—was somewhat funny to him. He couldn’t help himself but emit a loud “Boo!” which caused everyone to jump about three feet off the ground. They all snapped their heads at him, irritation radiating from their eyes as the lizard chuckled.

  The chuckle was cut off instantly when an indigo mammoth of a Wretched crashed through a shop and literally bowled over the middle chunk of the Cindrea brigade, sending half the men tumbling like stones skipped across a lake. The attack was so sudden, the warriors and Gadderbats were struck with confusion, not sure which was to run to get out of the way. Fierno whipped around to take in his prey, and Valdrase believed he saw a flash of shocked dread in the Fire Hijn’s eyes. The flash was brief, though, as Fierno readied his barbarian sword and advanced towards the demon.

  Mac, meanwhile, swore a quick word in Bayou tongue and ran for his life.

  The Wretched was one Desert Rain had not seen before, not quite. Surely the shape and face was of the burrowmate she had called Ayu, but he seemed larger—no, he had not grown. There was an odd glow around him, an aura. It rippled like purple-blue smoke, and even poured from his mouth with each snarling breath. Desert Rain thought that he may have somehow figured out how to breathe fire. But no fire emerged; instead it was a rotten, hot breath that made everyone reel back. Even though he was no bigger than before, the pulsating aura around him allowed him to strike with a force that sent men flying as if they had been pummeled by a mountain-tall giant. His eyes, too, had changed. As if they had not already been menacing enough, they were now wide with madness. The yellow of his eyes were cracked with veins pumping dark blood.

  I don’t understand, Valdrase thought. How could I have not sense this Wretched’s energy? It seems to be radiating from all around him! Strangely, I can barely feel it even now…I sense a different sort of power…

  The warriors, having recovered from the surprise attack, raised their weapons and bellowed their war cries. A couple of Gadderbats flew in to bite at the demon, but the Wretched sent them flying with bone-crushing strikes into a nearby buildings or straight down onto the pavement. The warriors attempted to rush the demon, but they were halted by a shout from their leader.

  “Stand back,” Fierno commanded, motioning them aside. “This one’s mine.”

  The warriors backed away, some giving each other shoulder nudges and wry grins. Their Hijn leader was going to show off again, and he usually put on a pretty good show. The demon forgot about the other warriors as his new enemy strolled forth, his gleaming sword in his hands. The yellow eyes filled with anticipation, the monster eager for a more worthy opponent to crush. He shot Fierno one penetrating gaze with those eyes, and the warrior Hijn stopped dead in his

  tracks. Fierno did not run, because he could not. He was paralyzed, trapped in the Wretched’s stare.

  Valdrase jumped from slow motion into fast forward. He drew an arrow from his quiver, readied it in his bow, and shot it with blazing speed. The arrow flew true and struck the Wretched in the shoulder, piercing skin not protected by scale. The Wretched grunted in pain, breaking his stare and freeing Fierno. Yet the demon did not back away; he merely grabbed the arrow, yanked it out and snapped it in half with a simple pinch of his claws. A stream of blackened blood drizzled out.

  Desert Rain had seen that blackened ooze before. Poison. Katawa’s body is still pumping poison. Then how on earth has he gotten stronger?

  “Fierno, stop!” she screamed as the warrior regained his composure and rushed the demon again. “He’ll distort you!”

  If he heard her, Fierno obviously did not care what she said. He raised his sword above his head, preparing to slash it through the demon. The Wretched, poised on all fours, swung his body, bringing one of his tails around to swat Fierno. The tail hit Fierno’s side, sending him stumbling to the left and almost dropping his sword. He managed to hold onto his weapon with a deathlike grip, and recovered his footing quickly. Yet that single moment of distraction was enough to give Katawa the time to distort the ground beneath their feet, causing dagger-sharp stalagmites to protrude from the street like murderous waves. The other warriors stumbled to get out of the way of the spreading pikes. One stalagmite came up right under Fierno, who jump
ed aside in time before the protrusion sliced him between the legs.

  Desert Rain watched all this without moving an inch, as if she were somehow not there at all, but watching from behind a protective shield. It was when the street began to distort that she was snatched around the waist and pulled off to the side. Valdrase pulled her to the safety of an alley.

  “Go back to the tunnels,” he ordered. “I’ll come back to lead you out.” He ran back to the fight.

  Desert Rain stood in the shadow of the alley, turning her head in the direction of the alchemists’ tower. She then turned back. “I’ve done enough hiding underground,” she said quietly.

  The Wretched charged Fierno, head low, ready to spear with its horns. Fierno slashed with his sword, an arch of fire trailing the blade. The demon eluded the strike at the last moment, veering sharply to the side. He skidded for a few yards, his foot claws ripping up the street. He was coming back around when Fierno held up a hand, and quickly whispered a chant of secret words. These words were, in fact, so secret that they cannot be written or retold, for they were words of Dragon-tongue, a language so ancient and strange that the Hijn alone had been taught

  how to speak it, and the mantras were unique to each Hijn.

  Bursts of fire exploded from his hand. Bright flashes of orange and white light blinded the demon as well as everyone nearby. This was the inheritance Fierno had received from his Hij-Urawran, the gift of Fireflare. Fierno intensified the fire, and sent a flood of flame at the demon, knocking him back so forcefully that the monster practically flew. The Wretched smashed into a roadside wagon full of building bricks, and was half-buried beneath the stone blocks as he fell lifelessly to the ground.

  Everyone was still, waiting to see if the demon would arise. Fierno laughed, turning to look at Valdrase.

  “You see?” he boasted. “That is how a real Knight takes care of his foes.”

  Desert Rain watched the scene, peeking around from the corner of her hiding place. She stared intently at Katawa, who had not fallen far from where she was. She swore she saw him move—his body did not stir, but something was moving. The scaly skin on his shoulder blades began to shiver, and the shivering swelled, creeping all over his backside. She could see something starting to grow from his back…and she saw him open an eye. An awful grin stretched back his lips.

  “He’s faking!!” she warned, coming into the open. “Get away from him!”

  Valdrase and Fierno had no time to react. As soon as they had heard the warning and turned to see if it was true, the Wretched lashed his tails, sending a barrage of bricks at them. Both of the Knights were knocked back by bricks to the head, and they temporarily blacked out as they fell. Valdrase managed to regain full consciousness first, and he saw the demon advance, two great appendages forming out of his back from the smoky aura. These new appendages at first looked like they would form into wings, but instead they solidified as abstract hands, with long lanky fingers and hooked claws. A smaller pair of gnarled hands grew from beneath the larger ones as well. The fingers splayed wide, and the claws curling towards Valdrase in anticipation to grasp.

  Many of Valdrase’s arrows had spilled from his quiver, but they had not gone far. He scrambled to grab one and readied his bow. He heard the warriors coming, their heavy boots tramping and their armor clanking. The Wretched snapped his gaze up towards the impending troop, and he gave an unexpected reaction. The hands on his back shot forward, extending on streams of purple smoke, and they grabbed four of the closest warriors by their heads. With a quick movement, the hands crushed through the helms of the warriors, squashing the heads like overripe fruit.

  The other warriors froze at this display. Before they could decide whether to run or continue forward, the demon leaped over Valdrase and Fierno, and landed square in front of the brigade, grabbing six more warriors with all his hands. His distortion touch flowed into them, the

  armor melding into the skin and twisting into horrendous pinched forms, bones and limbs snapping like twigs. The cries of agony from the warriors pierced every heart with fear, and when the Wretched dropped his new creations, writhing and twitching in pain, the others did not need time to make their decision. They retreated as quickly as their feet could carry them. Some managed to grab the scattered Gadderbats and jumped on them, kicking them wildly as the animals took flight.

  “Cowards!” Fierno yelled as he awoke from his blackout and arose wobbly. He picked up his sword, and staggered towards the Wretched.

  Valdrase grabbed the Hijn by the arm. “Didn’t you see what happened? You get near that thing, and he’ll do the same thing to you. We have to retreat!”

  Fierno shrugged him off. “You retreat. You weren’t being of any help anyway.” He went straight for the Wretched, raising a hand and once again began reciting the secret words of Fireflare. As he finished the last few words, the Wretched let out a roar at him, emitting such a forceful wind that it stopped Fierno’s breath in his throat. His Fireflare began to form, but the magic was blown back into Fierno’s face by the roar. Then the demon rushed him so fast that Fierno could do nothing to defend against the headbutt. He flew into the pile of spilled bricks, and was knocked unconscious.

  Valdrase already had bow and arrow in hand, and he shot, hitting the demon in the chest. The demon cringed a little, but then he came towards Valdrase, stalking him. The elf shot arrow after arrow with such a speed that it was blinding, but the Wretched still came. Valdrase continued to fire as he backed up, but any arrow that struck was taking no effect, and if he shot at a crucial weak area like the eyes, the demon swatted the arrows away like flies. The demon was soon over him, tall on his hind legs, the purple smoke burning into Valdrase’s skin. The demon smiled at him, almost pleasantly.

  Valdrase started to reach for the short sword at his belt, but he was trapped by the demon’s glare. “Wh…what are you?” the elf stammered.

  The demon responded by driving his claws into Valdrase’s stomach, splitting right through the wooden armor and deep into the flesh.

  There was a scream, not from Valdrase but from someone standing nearby. Blood filled the elf’s eyes as he felt himself falling…falling…

  He landed in someone’s arms. Glancing up, he could make out the shape of a dark-haired girl, and looked into her eyes, one brown, one green. He looked down at himself, and saw his hands clutching his stomach. There was blood seeping out all over his armor and clothes. This was a wound that the Ahshibana could not save him from. He could already sense the life of the symbiotic plant withering away…

  “What have you done?” Desert Rain gasped, supporting the dying elf in her arms. She turned her face up towards the demon towering over her. Fear was not present in her eyes; there was burning anger and hatred.

  Katawa regarded her coolly. The giant hands on his back recoiled into his skin. The smoky aura around him dissipated. Even the crazed look in his eye disappeared. He appeared as he had before, when he was Ayu, except that wicked delight now infested his crooked smile.

  Desert Rain gently laid Valdrase down. Her brain had ten thousand thoughts tumbling tumultuously, but all she could manage to squeeze out from behind clenched teeth was, “Why?”

  “They wanted a show,” Katawa replied casually, “so I gave them one. Quite a good performance, don’t you think?”

  Desert Rain’s eyes widened. “Performance…”

  “I bet I even had you fooled for a bit, with the whole ‘wild animal’ act. It was about time someone came in here to fight me. I was wondering if the Knights were all going to sit outside forever. I was getting bored.” He leaned in closer to her. “I told you that you would follow me, didn’t I?”

  Desert Rain could not look into those horrid eyes. Her gaze fell to Valdrase’s bow and arrows. She snatched them up and tried to ready an arrow, but her long fingers made it difficult to even hold the bow. Katawa watched her fumbling with amusement. Desert Rain got an arrow into place, and pointed it straight at Katawa’s face.

  �
��Are you going to shoot me, little girl?” Katawa asked patronizingly.

  Desert Rain held the bow unsteadily. Her fingers refused to release the arrow. Come on, shoot! she commanded herself. You learned how to shoot arrows once. You must remember something about that!

  Katawa’s grin dropped the longer Desert Rain resisted to shoot. The bow’s string slackened; the arrow slowly slid out of place as Desert Rain drew back.

  “I know,” he finally said. “You’re still thinking about the elf. Here I thought he would be a motivation. Well, I can fix that.”

  His arm reached past Desert Rain to Valdrase, who was still breathing in staggered gasps. Desert Rain knew she had to shoot now…for the Divine Beasts’ sake, shoot!!

  Katawa picked up the elf at the waist with one hand, and prepared to chuck him like a fetching stick.

  Twang.

  Katawa looked down at the arrow lodged at the bottom of the left side of his ribcage. Being struck at such a close distance, the arrow was deep, the shaft stuck half-way into the flesh. He looked at Desert Rain, who was shaking so badly that she dropped the bow. Their eyes locked on each other, and for a brief moment, Desert Rain thought that Katawa was frozen in time.

  Katawa lifted the corner of his lips into a wry sneer. He pulled out the arrow, a spurt of black blood following. He pinched the wound shut as he had before in Desert Rain’s house, leaving no more than a folded scar.

  “I see the elf was motivation after all,” he said, and then he hurled the general, flinging him with such might that the man soared, soared so far that he crashed into the dark blue globe atop the alchemists’ tower. The globe shattered, leaving a gaping mouth of jagged glass teeth where Valdrase had been swallowed.

  Desert Rain was paralyzed. There was an instinctive reaction to fall apart, or even faint, but this time she was overtaken by a different sensation. She could feel heat invading every nerve of her body, blazing with fierce intensity. There was a throbbing ache in her forehead, as if a crown of fire-beaten steel was tightening around her skull. She turned and glared at Katawa. Her fingers coiled into fists. A burning tear slithered down her cheek.