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

by A. R. Cook

  “Why don’t you do me a favor,” Katawa hissed. “Go back outside and fetch me some more fools to play with.”

  An explosion blasted Katawa at his feet, catching him so off guard that he fell over. Desert Rain whipped around, assuming to find Fierno awake and ready to fight. Instead, she saw Mac standing on the street, holding an apple-sized bag in his hand. He threw this bag at Katawa, and it created another explosion when it hit the demon in the face. Katawa roared in fury, and grasped at his blinded eyes.

  “Best-tkk if we go now, Desert Rain!” Mac hollered, as he raced over to Desert Rain and took her arm.

  “What was that you threw?” Desert Rain asked as they ran.

  “Blast-tkk powder. Old family recipe. Good thing I know my way around this-ssck city. I knew which shop to find all the right-tkk ingredients.”

  “So that’s where you went. Where’s Fierno?”

  “I saw that rat-tkk flying off on one of those dog-faced bats-ssck,” Mac answered. “Brave hero, my behind!”

  Desert Rain suddenly realized that Mac was not leading her back to the undertaker’s hut, but down a series of narrow streets that she was not sure where they led. “Mac, where are we going?”

  Mac shot an alarmed glance at her. “To tell you the truth, I have no idea. I want-ttk to lose that Nasty!”

  The city had become a confusing maze, neither Mac nor Desert Rain positive of where they were going in their panic. It did not seem to make much difference even if they had gone back down into the underground tunnels, for they would have been lost there as well. At least Mac occasionally recognized where they were, and would lead Desert Rain towards where he thought

  would be a good place to hide.

  Desert Rain’s ears shivered, picking up a sound. She thought she heard footsteps following them, but they were too soft to be the heavy steps of Katawa. She looked around, and swore she saw a flash of shadow darting down another street.

  “Are you sure Fierno flew away?” she asked Mac.

  “I’m sure it was-ssck him…why?”

  Desert Rain didn’t answer. She shook her head, accepting the shadow as a figment of her imagination.

  Suddenly they came upon a small manor in a garden square, the bottom half a bruised color, mashed-in and surreal in shape, the product of Katawa’s work. The top half, a three-story tower made of turquoise and blue stone with a golden dome and arched windows, had been left alone. This top half, however, was bent over at a sharp angle because of the distorted bottom half.

  “This is the home of one of the mayors-ssck,” Mac said. “I’m sure there must be a door in here leading down to the tunnels-ssck.”

  “If you wanted to go into the tunnels, why didn’t we go back to the undertaker’s—“

  “I was NOT-tkk going back in there!” Mac answered. “Besides, I bet there’s a map of the tunnels-ssck in this place. These officials keep all kinds-ssck of city maps for their archives.”

  The doors to the manor had been twisted off their hinges, leaving the building wide open. The two raced up the front steps and went inside, not even thinking of what could be lying within. When they found stopped them cold.

  At first, Desert Rain thought she was looking at a writhing mass against the far wall, some kind of bloated worm beast in the shadows. The nocturnal vision in her green eye soon took effect, and she could see past the shadow. It wasn’t one large mass; it was several masses, all clustered together. The masses all turned their heads towards her, but even this was an excruciating effort. Gruesome contorted masks faced her, bones and bleeding muscle visible where the skin had been pulled away. The bodies were almost corpse-like in appearance, wrinkled or bubbled or shredded from sharp protrusions. Arms and legs were not where they should have been; some were not even arms and legs anymore, but fantastical appendages that could be given no name. These were monsters of nightmares, ogres of the most diabolical tales ever weaved.

  But they were not ogres. They had once been people. Traces of green swirled designs were still on the ripped skin.

  “Valdrase’s knights…” Desert Rain gasped. “The spies he sent…”

  Mac couldn’t even gasp. He bent over at the waist, close to vomiting. He, too, could see past the shadow, perhaps even clearer than Desert Rain, due to his lizard vision. “I can’t-t-t-tkk…” he choked. “I can’t…look-kk-kk…”

  Neither could Desert Rain. Some of the distorted masses reached out to her, but all she could do was grab Mac and run back out the door. They ran down the steps, and were halted once again, this time by the demon charging down the street towards them.

  Mac swore another Bayou curse. He snapped his head around, trying to figure out where to run next. “This-ssck way,” he finally decided. He tugged at Desert Rain, but she did not budge. She stared darkly at the approaching Wretched, her body as rigid as metal. Mac tugged at her again, with more force. “What-tkk in the world are you waiting for??”

  “He’s not going to kill us,” she said.

  “ARE YOU NUTS-SSSSSCK?? Of course he’s going to kill us-sssssck!!”

  “He’s had more than enough chances. If he wanted us dead, we would already be so.”

  “Maybe for you,” Mac said, “but I bet-tkk he isn’t-tkk happy about the blast-tkk powder!”

  Desert Rain stepped in front of Mac, shielding him from the Wretched who stopped right in front of them. A malicious smile was set in his muzzle. A splotch of white chalk was on his face, leftover from the blast powder.

  “Isn’t that sweet,” Katawa snickered. “You’re trying to protect your friend. But we’ve seen how good you are at protecting your friends, haven’t we? I don’t have much need for lizards…but he might make a fun addition to my art collection.”

  Desert Rain grasped Mac’s arms tightly behind her. She could feel him trembling. “Stay away from us,” she warned.

  Katawa’s eyes widened in glee. “Or what, Desert Rain? What are you going to do now?”

  She did not know. She shut her eyes, and prayed—

  There came the sound of a flesh-tearing slash. Her eyes shot open as Katawa let out such an ear-piercing roar, she thought the world might break in half. Thrust into the nape of Katawa’s neck was a shining sword, and upon the Wretched’s back stood a Knight in glimmering armor.

  “Swordmaster Skyhan!”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Purelight

  The battle erupted at a furious pace, claw against sword, indigo and silver blurring together as the combatants drove mercilessly at each other. Fierno had been a ferocious warrior, but Swordmaster Skyhan was skilled beyond compare, and the fact that he did not let his emotions consume him in the heat of battle was a superior advantage. He was not intimidated by Katawa’s glares of menace or roars of searing wind. His sword slashes were not as easy to shrug off as the arrow wounds had been. Katawa was finding himself quickly overwhelmed by gashes and stabs all over, and he was not given time to mold them shut.

  Desert Rain and Mac, meanwhile, sought cover inside a salon, watching from the door. They were breathless, their hearts racing as the Knight and Wretched flew at one another with vicious speed and agility.

  “I say, we must be the luckiest folk-kk alive,” Mac said, “what with the Swordmaster appearing out of nowhere like that and saving our hides-ssck.”

  “He must have been here the whole time,” Desert Rain said. “He was probably waiting to see Katawa in action so he could find his weaknesses.”

  It was a terrible thought to think that Skyhan might have been watching when Katawa killed Valdrase, and had not jumped in to stop it. Then again, what could Skyhan have done? There would have been no chance for a surprise attack on that wide open street, and with Desert Rain having been there, she might have become a hostage, and Skyhan would have laid his swords down for her. At least, she believed he would have.

  Apparently, Skyhan was finding weaknesses to exploit. What Katawa had in strength, Skyhan had in speed. Even when Katawa grew the massive ghost hands from his
back, Skyhan chopped off the fingers that snatched at him. The fingers would grow back, but Katawa had to retract the whole hand back into his skin first. This became too time-consuming, so Katawa had to rely on his teeth and claws. Eventually, finding that he could not even touch Skyhan long enough to distort him, he attempted to run. Swordmaster Skyhan cut off any escape, so the Wretched made a desperate move. He took to the manor, digging his claws like grappling hooks into the stone, climbing the tower up to the golden dome. By the time he got up there, he was shaking and panting, blood trailing down all over his body. He was sure he was out of harm’s way, and he began to seal up his wounds.

  But not even this deterred the Swordmaster. Katawa’s claws had left behind holes in the tower’s stone, and even though they were fairly far apart, Skyhan was able to use them

  as hand- and footholds to climb up after the demon. Katawa bellowed at Skyhan, trying to blow him back down with a foul-smelling wind, but the Knight held fast. There was no where for Katawa to go—since the top of the tower was leaning at an angle, it was twice as easy to slip off. On the other hand, this made it more difficult for Skyhan, since the demon had the higher ground.

  “Trapped like a big ol’ swamp rat-tkk,” Mac cheered. “He’s got ‘em now!”

  “Yeah, he’s…” A realization hit Desert Rain like an iron glove. She remembered what Katawa had said before. A performance. That was his trick. He was acting like a frightened animal to draw Skyhan in. Even from that distance, she could see Katawa digging his claws into the golden dome. Skyhan may have been too fast for Katawa to distort, but the tower certainly was not, and now Skyhan was too high up the tower to jump off.

  “It’s a trap,” Desert Rain gasped.

  Even if she had been able to shout out a warning to Skyhan, it would have been too late. Katawa’s distortion touch affected the tower, and the surface of the tower began to morph wildly. The manic shifting shook Skyhan, and the Knight found himself slipping as the stone became gelatinous. His hands and feet sunk into the mud-like mush, and then the tower hardened again, locking Skyhan into the stone. He was rendered helpless.

  The demon smiled his sharp teeth, and Skyhan felt something slowly piercing his belly. He looked down, seeing that there was a spike slowly protruding, twisting up from the stone beneath him. Even at this, Skyhan did not panic. He closed his eyes, concentrating on the words of Salamandrian magic he rapidly chanted. With a blaze of white light, he yanked his hands out of the stone, a glow shining from the rune markings on his hands. He pushed himself up in time to escape the spike, which he grabbed and broke with a snap. He spoke the enchanted words again, and one leg at a time he freed his feet, rock raining down to the ground below. He said a short phrase in Dragon-tongue, and with a bound, a white light pushed him up, allowing him to scale the tower as if he were walking on even ground. He drew forth Silverheart, the silvery glow from the blade intensifying as he recited more Salamandrian magic, his words growing louder and sharper as he advanced. Katawa stared at the light, almost hypnotized, but then he raised his claws, his mouth twisted in a devilish snarl.

  “What in the blasted Bayou is going on?” Mac asked, shielding his eyes. The light had now gotten so bright, neither he nor Desert Rain could look at it. It was as if a whole new sun was being born atop the manor.

  “Purelight,” Desert Rain whispered. It was the most powerful gift a Sage had ever given to a mortal, a power that had disintegrated demons that had merely stared too long at it. It was commonly a last resort for the Swordmaster to use, but in this case, there was no other attack to

  use.

  Desert Rain, although she might have disintegrated herself—she wasn’t sure how Purelight worked—tried to look up into the light. Somehow, because of some reason unbeknownst to her, she could make out the two figures atop the tower, and could see their silhouettes against the blazing light. Skyhan held his sword before him, but it seemed as though the light was too much even for him. With great effort, he began to raise the sword over his head, preparing to bring it down in a final blow.

  Katawa gripped the tower firmly, for the power of the Purelight could have sent him over the edge. He bared his teeth in defiance, emitting a growl of loathing. He drove his foot talons deep into the dome, and he pushed himself forward as he extended his claws towards the Knight. Despite the demon’s inability to see, Skyhan was too close for him to miss. The hands clutched the Knight at the waist, compressing with a diabolic force, and that horrid purple smoke began to envelop Skyhan as the distortion curse began its infection. It snaked up towards the sword, hungering to devour the light.

  “No!” Desert Rain unconsciously stepped out from the salon and began running towards the tower. “SKYHAN!”

  “Gila, come back!” Mac started after her, but then both of them were stopped by an awesome sight.

  The Purelight flickered wildly, and then exploded with such a radiance it smothered everything in visible existence. Desert Rain knew that if she looked up, her very eyes might melt, but she swore she heard a shriek—not a demon or mortal shriek, but something otherworldly. Through the light, through the white blaze that could shatter souls, she could make out the

  shape of Silverheart, and the sword was…changing. It was growing, expanding in length and width, and then it grew a head. Yes, a head, which was followed by a long neck, and then a pair of world-encompassing wings. It was all blurred by a veil of mist, and the sword creature had the opaqueness of a ghost. Desert Rain couldn’t understand how she was seeing all this, and even as she watched it happening, her lightheadedness made her believe it was a dream. She tried to squeeze her eyes shut, but found that they were already closed.

  Then there was an explosion. A bursting light and a noise, one of stone being blasted apart. The light vanished so suddenly, the world became dark to Desert Rain. She clasped her hands over her eyes from the shock, and then slowly looked up. Her sight was fuzzy, but she could see the dome of the tower had split apart and was falling, followed by the entire top half of the tower. She saw the blurry shape of the monstrous indigo demon plummet, screaming as he fell. He hit the ground with an earthshaking rumble, and was buried by pieces of dome and stones.

  Then silence.

  The cloud of dust settled gradually, but it was an eternity to Desert Rain. She and Mac stared at the great pile of rubble, wondering if what they had witnessed had truly happened at all. Desert Rain eventually stepped forward, walking cautiously towards the battle site. She looked up at the ruined tower, and then back down to the rubble. The one thought beating in her mind was, Where is Skyhan?

  It was at that precise moment that she noticed something sticking up from the street. How it had come to land the way it had was a mystery, but it stood there like the cross above a grave.

  Silverheart.

  The sword’s blade was planted in the ground, but it might as well have been planted in Desert Rain’s chest. She forced herself to turn away, that image gripping her mind like a death hand, and turned her gaze to the rubble. She started slowly towards it, and the broke into a run. She stepped over sharp stone and shards of gold, not caring if they sliced her feet.

  She stepped on something smooth that cracked beneath her foot. She stopped, feeling the object with her toes. She did not want to look at it, did not want to see her worst fear come true. In the end, she did lift her foot to look. There, with a split nearly rendering it broken in half, was Swordmaster Skyhan’s mask.

  The world stopped. Desert Rain was unaware of anything except the mask. She saw that mask float towards her as she picked it up, and then she saw the left half crumble into pieces at her touch. The right half stared back at her like a half-moon, or a cracked sun. She heard herself whisper something. “No…”

  All she could do was repeat the word, over and over, for the rest of time, and she knew that whatever little soul she had left was crumbling like the mask in her hands. Although the mask was now swathed in dust, Desert Rain could see herself reflected in its pearly surface
—and she despised the face that she saw. She clutched the mask-half to her chest, falling to her knees, shaking violently with every sob. It was when Mac comfortingly touched her shoulder that a banshee wail broke forth from the core of her being.

  “Gila Gul…” Mac knelt down beside her, holding her shoulders in a gentle grip. “I know this-ssck is hard. But he saved us. He may’ve saved all o’ Luuva. That is the risk-kk a Knight takes. He gave his life in honor, Gila…he did what he had to do.”

  Desert Rain leaned her head on Mac’s shoulder, rivers of tears pouring down her face. Her voice was so soft, Mac did not hear what she uttered. “I killed him…”

  A stone from the rubble tumbled out of place. Desert Rain and Mac snapped their heads towards the movement. Another stone tumbled, then another, not because they were loose—something beneath the wreckage was causing the rocks to fall.

  Desert Rain arose. Hope was trying to push back fear as she crept towards the rubble. “Skyhan?”

  An indigo fist plowed up from the pile of stone, causing dust and debris to erupt like the spray from a geyser.

  “That’s-sssssck not possible!” Mac wheezed. He was already backing away, ready to run.

  But Desert Rain was not. She knew that she should run. But instead, she looked at the sword planted in the street. She turned back to the hand that was grasping for freedom. Her

  eyes narrowed, her skin burned, her wrath boiled. Kill that monster. Now.

  She turned and sprinted towards the sword, hand outstretched towards the hilt. Her fingers were practically on the sword when a blur darted in front of her, a rush of shadow that made Desert Rain stagger in surprise. It took a blink of the eye for the sword to disappear with the blur.

  The Hijn girl made a squeak of disbelief. She jerked her head, catching a glimpse of a figure rounding the corner of an adjoining street. A quick flash of silver peeked out from under the black-robed figure’s arm.