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

by A. R. Cook

  “GET BACK HERE!” Desert Rain screeched as she chased after the thief. As soon as she rounded the corner, the figure was gone. All that was left behind was a small black-velvet pouch lying on the ground. She picked up the pouch, feeling her inner fire of rage being smothered into ashes of despair.

  Mac dashed up behind her, out of breath. “Gila—”

  “We’re dead,” Desert Rain muttered.

  “Yes,” Mac panted, “But I saw something strange coming down from out-ttk the sky.” He pulled Desert Rain by the arm, the Hijn offering no resistance this time. He pointed up, and sure enough, a winged shadow was descending down, circling in a spiral as it came. Desert Rain could make out rich brown feathers covering the wings, great black talons on the feet, and a black beak on the eagle-like head. The animal was huge, much larger than any normal bird of prey. It cast a shadow that shrouded the entire manor, or what was left of it.

  “That’s a Roc!” Desert Rain realized. It was a young Roc, as far as she could tell. Rocs could grow so massive that one could carry off a herd of strongbacks in its talons. This one was relatively small, about seventy feet in wingspan. It suddenly dove down towards the wreckage where the indigo Wretched was fully emerging, snorting and coughing dust as he arose. The Roc landed and swung its head at the demon, and Katawa went flying across the square, skidding roughly over the brick street. He did not get back up; he was too exhausted to continue pursuit.

  There was a rider on the Roc, who turned to look at Mac and Desert Rain, waving her hand. “Quickly, get on!”

  “Clova!” Desert Rain could not have possible felt more relieved. She rolled up and tucked the black pouch into her pocket as she and the lizard raced over, and the Roc extended a wing down to them so they could mount. There was more than enough space on the bird’s back for

  them, as this Roc was capable of holding at least five passengers. As soon as they were in place behind Clova, the Forest Hijn whistled a command. The Roc beat its wings, lifting them higher with each rush of wind. It took no time for them to be soaring high and fast. Syphurius became a collection of toy buildings below them.

  “Thank the Divine Beasts you’re okay,” Clova said, looking at her fellow passengers over her shoulder. “It’s a good thing Gust here spotted the commotion, or I might have flown past. I’m glad I wasn’t too late.”

  “We appreciate the lift-tkk,” Mac said with a pant of relief.

  Desert Rain sat with an expressionless face, her eyes fixed on nothing. Clova’s eyebrows arched into slants of concern. “Dezzy? Are you all right?”

  The golden-skinned woman shifted her stoic gaze to Clova. She made no reply.

  ***

  Many hours of flight passed before the Roc began to descend into the mountain city of Vaes Galahar. It was not a city of masterful design or grandeur, but it was solid and strong in structure. It was built from the mountains’ reddish and tan stone, and it blended into the surroundings so well that it would have been easy to miss for those who did not know its location. The buildings of Vaes Galahar were relatively low, the highest towers being a few stories tall. There was little need for vertically-enhanced architecture, since they were already high enough to look down onto much of Luuva Gros stretching out below. It was more horizontally designed, the city spread out over the uneven mountain tops, so this required an inventive system of extensive stairways and ramps. The passages up to Vaes Galahar were treacherous, made so on purpose because the city, in the olden times, had been war-stricken, and the city’s defenders made sure that any attacking army would not have an even surface on which to situate itself.

  Like Syphurius, the society of Vaes Galahar was a mixture of different races, although most of them had lived there long enough to adapt into physically stronger, less material-obsessive people. Most wore clothing of brown, off-white or gray shades, and humor was something severely lacking. The eldest race living there were those who ancestors had built Vaes Galahar, and therefore were the rightful owners: the six households of the Stonebreaker dwarves. These dwarves were infamous for having tempers to match those of Falcolin and Quetzalin, having muscle to intimidate even Bloodburn demons, and possessing stone and wood-carving craft that surpassed everyone else in Luuva Gros. All Stonebreakers had small brown horns, which they could use to headbutt the faces of cliffs and crack it into shapeable rock pieces, thus where the dwarves had earned their name. The horns also were good for defense, and oftentimes in taverns, due to an excessive state of drunkenness, one might see two Stonebreakers butting their horns

  together like enraged mountain sheep. Rukna the Mountain Hijn had such horns and the same stocky shape, having been born a Stonebreaker, but he was irregularly tall, and his dwarven features had been changed all the more when he became a Hijn.

  The Stonebreakers were even more reclusive than the people of Ulomin, and rarely did anyone see a dwarf outside Vaes Galahar. The dwarves, like the others in the City of the Peaks, did not want or need much; everything they needed for survival they found in the mountains. Their meat and the wool for their clothing came from the mountain sheep and goats that they herded, and there were also berries and wild fruit to be found along the mountainside. Stonebreakers also had a tendency to not like anyone, not even each other, and would tolerate others for the sake of business. They never excepted help from anyone, for any reason. Their motto was, “If you’re dumb enough to get in trouble, you’ll smarten up by getting yourself out of it.”

  There was an open courtyard near the front gate of Vaes Galahar where Clova landed Gust, for flying over the outer wall into the city would have caused some dischord among the grumpy Stonebreakers. The front gate had an iron portcullis, behind which was a pair of barred wooden doors, and about seven feet behind that was yet another portcullis—as if this would stop anyone who managed to get past the first two blockades.

  “State your business,” one of the dwarven guards atop the wall shouted down to them. Desert Rain thought that, from the height he was at, the guard did not recognize the Forest Hijn who came so often to visit her stepbrother. Clova, however, knew that the dwarf could recognize her, but the Vaes Galahar guards were strict with protocol.

  “Clova Flor, from Juka Basin,” she called up musically. “I am here to speak with the Hijn council.”

  The Hijn council? They’re gathered here? Desert Rain’s ears drooped, and she wrung her hands.

  “Are the other two with you authorized to enter?” the guard shouted.

  “Yes. I was sent out to find them and bring them here.”

  Both Desert Rain and Mac shared a look of puzzlement.

  The first portcullis arose with a series of rusty grinding squeaks. The two weather-beaten doors creaked inwards, taking a good two minutes to fully open. Clova walked forth, beckoning her companions to follow. When the three reached the second portcullis, another spear-armed guard stood behind it, facing them.

  “Password?” he ordered.

  Mac made a little groan. This was usually the part where he was booted out of Vaes Galahar any time he attempted a visit. He had never found anyone who could divulge to him the password to gain entrance, and Mac was normally good at picking up information through the

  grapevine.

  Clova leaned forth and whispered something in an odd language. Desert Rain could not determine what language it was, but it was comprised of short, gruff words. A Stonebreaker code, she assumed.

  The guard gave a quick nod, stepped aside to a wheel attached to the portcullis’s chain, and began to turn the crank laboriously. The portcullis rose steadily and slowly. The three entered the city.

  Scuttling past houses, smith shops, wagons, and a plethora of taverns, Clova finally brought them to a small inn with a wooden sign stating, “The Axe and Ale.” When they entered, they received suspicious stares from all the surly, shadowed-face patrons, who murmured to one another behind their ale steins. A fat, round-faced human innkeeper was standing at a bar, and instead of showing them to a table, he pointed
to where he believed an available table was located. Clova smiled, nodded a thank you to the man, and swiftly made her way to the table. Desert Rain and Mac trailed behind, not separating from Clova for even an instant.

  “You two must be hungry,” Clova said, wearing her kind smile. “You’ve been through so much, I figured you needed a good dinner and some rest.”

  “Thank you, Clova,” Desert Rain said. These were the first words she had said since Syphurius.

  “Much obliged, Miss Clova,” Mac said. “I’m hungry enough to eat a whole croc-kk, and then a possum on top of that-tkk.”

  The innkeeper took his time in bringing them their food and drink. A platter of dry flat bread, undercooked meat, and a bottle of cheap wine was set before them. Clova requested a separate dish of cheese and berries for Desert Rain, which the innkeeper tramped away irritably to fetch. Mac did not mind this meager meal; he chomped into it ravenously. Desert Rain stared warily at the red meat.

  “No meat…” she said softly. “I hate meat.”

  Clova was surprised—not about Desert Rain not eating meat, she knew that. The Forest Hijn had never heard her friend use the word “hate.” Clova nibbled on some bread.

  “I told Dez we must-tkk be lucky, and you’re the proof,” Mac said to Clova, his mouth full. “You were flying by at the right-tkk time, otherwise that Nasty would’ve killed us-ssck for good.”

  “Yes, you’re quite lucky. I am sorry I did not arrive sooner, to spare you the horror you must have gone through,” the Forest Hijn replied. “If I had known you were in Syphurius, I would have gone straight there first.”

  Desert Rain knotted her eyebrows. “What do you mean?”

  “Syphurius was not the place the council told me to go. I was at your home earlier, and when I found you not there, I started scanning everywhere for miles around. That’s when I think I

  saw Fierno flying on a Gadderbat a few leagues off of Syphurius, and I knew something awful must have been going on since wherever Fierno goes, a fight follows him. Then I spotted a bright light, and at first Gust refused to fly towards it, but when the light died we were able to fly down.”

  Desert Rain’s back stiffened against her chair. “The council really did ask you to find me? Why?”

  Clova paused, and eventually replied, “Dez, I don’t know what’s been happening, other than what the refugees from Syphurius told us when they arrived here. But this matter with the Wretched…I know you haven’t come to a council meeting in a long time, but—”

  “There’s nothing that I can tell you that would be of any help,” Desert Rain interrupted.

  “Dez, listen to me—”

  “I’ve never had anything to say. I have nothing to say now.” Desert Rain looked away.

  Clova sighed, which was something she rarely did. “You know I would never make you go, but the others thought that it was important to talk to you.”

  Desert Rain raised her gaze in alarm. “Why?”

  Clova reached her hand over the table, laying it gently on Desert Rain’s. “We know about you and this demon. That you were friends with him.”

  Desert Rain felt her body go numb in panic. The explanation to how they could possibly know stabbed her in the heart. He told them…Skyhan told them…

  Clova rubbed Desert Rain’s hand soothingly. “It doesn’t matter what happened in the past. When Swordmaster Skyhan arrives, we can all think of a good plan to stop the Wretched and undo the evil done to Syphurius and Ulomin. Then we can all forget that this mess ever happened, and then you can come visit me in Juka Basin for the harvesting festival.”

  Desert Rain drew back her hand from Clova’s touch. Her ears quivered, and her eyes glistened with forming tears. “Clova…” she began, but then she choked. When Clova looked at her with deep concern, Desert Rain forced herself to speak. “Skyhan is dead.”

  Clova’s face went pale. She was quiet, but then she leaned forward and touched her friend’s shoulder. “No, that’s not true.”

  “WHY WOULD I LIE?!” Desert Rain’s outburst caused Clova to back away, and everyone in the inn turned to look at her. Mac stared at her, a chunk of meat dangling halfway out of

  his mouth. Desert Rain instantly quieted, and covered her face with her hands.

  “I…I didn’t say you lied,” Clova said comfortingly. “You’re mistaken, that’s all. You’ll see. He’ll come here, and he’ll be fine.”

  Desert Rain did not look up. She wasn’t even aware when her plate of food was set in front of her, and she didn’t hear Mac offer, “I can finish anything you ain’t hungry for…just-tkk putting that out there.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  A Commotion at the Council

  Desert Rain did not sleep well that night at the inn. When Clova came to wake her in the early morning, weariness affected every muscle in the desert Hijn’s body, but the overwhelming anxiety of what was to happen next kept her wide awake.

  “We must go now,” Clova said after she treated Desert Rain and Mac to a quick breakfast. “I wish I could give you more time for rest, but the others have been waiting for a long time as it is. Your friend will have to wait here.” She smiled genuinely at Mac. “I’m sorry, but the council meeting is private.”

  “No need for sorry,” Mac said as he swallowed his fried eggs whole. “But I was meaning to ask-kk if you knew where the Syphurians-ssck might be staying. I want-tkk to see if I can find a friend of mine.”

  “Most of them are staying at Ironhorn Hall. I can show you the way, for Dez and I will pass by there on the way to the Grand Chambers.”

  After paying the innkeeper with Commonhand currency, the staple form of payment in Luuva Gros, Clova slipped into a slim alleyway around the corner of the Axe and Ale, and Desert Rain and Mac quickly trailed her. Desert Rain made a light sigh, trying to keep her expression from showing her anxiety of the future. She noticed a shadow flying across the dawning sky, circling overhead. It was not a feathered flyer—she recognized the shape of bat wings.

  “Is that a Gadderbat?” she inquired, pointing to the circling shadow.

  Clova looked up at it. “That must be Fierno’s. I figured that he was flying here when I saw him yesterday. He must have let loose his Gadderbat until he needs it. That’s awfully unwise, especially since the hunters in this city aren’t particular about what animals they hunt.”

  Desert Rain was a bit sad when they passed by Ironhorn Hall and Mac waved goodbye to them, trotting away into the grand building. Mac was a stronghold for her optimism, and he took it with him when they parted.

  ***

  Vaes Galahar did not have a back gate, and this was because it was flanked by a cliff face towering a mile high over the city. Atop the cliff, there was a small post for a watchman, but the guard up there spent most of his time napping, for there was no real reason to keep attentive watch. After the steep dip on the other side of the cliff, the mountainside was an obstacle

  course of jagged crags, perilous peaks, and generally impassable ravines. It was a strenuous task for even the best of mountain climbers to cross that side of the Azokind Mountains, and so far it had been impossible for any army to march over it.

  The cliff face, entitled the Ascendance of Glor’Ath, possessed a great stairway that had been carved right out of the rock, extending from the ground of Vaes Galahar all the way to the top where the watchman’s post was. It was a steep stairway with no railing, so falling backwards down the stairs was expected for first timers. About half way up and to the left of the stairs, there was a ledge about five feet wide and a hundred feet long. Carved into the stone above the ledge was a grandiose image of a castle floating in stony space, like the Castles in the Clouds that often appeared in children’s tales. The detail was so fine, and the craftsmanship so perfect, that one could imagine a real castle looming out from that carving and flying into the sky. The doors to the castle, unlike the rest of the rocky tapestry, were real. The arched mouth of the door led into the dark shadow of the mountain peak. Within t
hese shadows was Foruk’at Monuil, the Grand Chambers, the halls were the Stonebreakers held many important conferences, but they had handed it over to the Hijn council for the time being.

  Desert Rain couldn’t imagine how she would climb the stairway up to the ledge, being well aware of her clumsy tendencies. Clova, however, was not concerned. She wore two pouches around her neck: one with some fertile dirt, and one with seeds. Taking a handful of dirt and a few choice seeds, Clova spoke the words of Greengrowth, the gift given to her by the Sage Earthbelly. After a moment, green sprouts sprang forth from the seeds, and created a trail of vines that crept up the stairway. In a few minutes, the vines reached all the way to the high ledge. Clova used these vines as a climbing rope, and this helped her and Desert Rain maintain balance on the stairs.

  It got colder as they were climbing higher, and Desert Rain found her teeth chattering. It may not have been that cold to someone else, but to a desert hermit, it may as well have been the arctic.

  “Hold on a bit longer, Dez,” Clova spoke over her shoulder. “We’re not too far now.”

  Desert Rain looked up, spotting the Gadderbat flying around a few miles off. If she did not know better, Desert Rain would have thought that animal was watching them…

  They came to the ledge, and they paused to look out over the tops of the homes and inns of the City of the Peaks. Desert Rain had to admit, it was a breath-taking view. The rising sun coated everything in its golden sheen, changing the brown of the mountain into bronze. Clova steadily

  continued on into the doors, but Desert Rain hesitated.

  “Are they all in there?” she asked.

  “All except Kidran and Woasim, since they live the farthest away. And Swordmaster Skyhan, as far as I know. But maybe he’s arrived since I left.”

  Desert Rain closed her eyes and shook her head. Trying to make Clova accept Skyhan’s death without proof would be like ordering a flower to grow in the coldest of winter. She reluctantly let Clova guide her into the “castle.” They ascended a shorter, more even staircase, with a velvety crimson rug laid upon it. The passageway was lit by torches, and despite its regal look, Desert Rain got the feeling of walking through a dungeon.