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

by A. R. Cook

  “The others thought it would be good to gather here,” Clova explained, “so we could gather information from the exiled Syphurians, and we could hear any news of what’s happening in Syphurius fairly quickly, more quickly than from any of our usual meeting places.”

  Finally, the stairway ended, and Desert Rain was thankful—her legs were killing her. They walked into an alcove with another arched door, leading to a hallway. Even from there, they could see a light at the other end of the hall. Desert Rain could hear voices echoing. Clova started into the hall, but Desert Rain was petrified.

  “What’s the matter? We’re almost there,” Clova said.

  Desert Rain’s ears twitched. “I can’t go in there.”

  “I’m afraid you must.”

  “I can’t!” Desert Rain backed away a step. “I just can’t.”

  Clova went over to her, putting a comforting arm around her shoulder. “I’m here for you, Dezzy. Nobody here is going to point fingers. We want to help you. And we know you want to help. Don’t worry.”

  Easy for you to say, Desert Rain thought.

  They walked down the hall. Clova held Desert Rain’s hand in a tight but reassuring grip. With every inch closer the end of the hall came, Desert Rain got sicker and sicker. She honestly thought she would vomit in her apprehension. She prayed to faint. No such luck.

  They entered a large rounded room, bright with torchlight. The room was high, with statues of six ancient dwarven elders standing guard around the room. The statues were almost as tall as the height of the room, and they clutched instruments of power and wisdom in their hands: staffs, amulets and warhammers. Bright banners cascaded down from an upper ledge near the ceiling, displaying the crests of the six reigning Stonebreaker families. There were polished tables of oak aligned into eight curved rows facing one another, four on each side. In one front row of the tables sat three Hijn: Merros, the Hijn of Great Waters; V’Tanna, the Rain Hijn and Merros’s wife; and Mage Skyhan, the healer. Across from them sat three other Hijn: Guargos Blazemolder, the Hijn of Metals; Fierno Ginso; and Rukna. At both ends of each row, there were empty chairs.

  Desert Rain figured the empty chair next to Rukna was for Clova. The other empty chair was next to Mage Skyhan—the elder sister of the Swordmaster. How could Desert Rain possibly sit next to her now?

  No one noticed Clova Flor and Desert Rain at first. All attention was on Fierno, who was standing and making a grand display of sharp gestures as he talked—or bellowed, to be more accurate. He had removed his armor, to display the gaudy red and black-patterned ensemble he typically wore. His clothing, combined with his grandiose gesturing, made him look

  theatrical.

  “This is ridiculous!” the Fire Hijn exclaimed. “I had that demon on the run! How can you all sit here until that stupid girl shows up? For all we know, that Wretched probably killed that worthless sand mouse. The Divine Beasts know she can’t do a blasted thing to defend herself or anyone else!”

  Desert Rain was ready to run out of there, but Clova held her steady. A spark of anger was in the Forest Hijn’s eye. “She faced that Wretched for a much longer time than you did,” Clova retorted with a vocal jab that was the mark of her opinionated spirit.

  Everyone snapped their heads to Clova. Rage was written in Fierno’s face at being opposed. Upon seeing Desert Rain, a sneering smile crept into his lips. “So, you managed to rescue the sand rat, Clova. While you were gone, I was brought up to date about our little friend here. So, Desert Rain, you knew who that demon was the whole time. Here I thought you were standing by doing nothing because you were a helpless twit, but it was because you’re buddies with that monstrosity. You’re even more inept than we all thought.”

  “That’s enough, Fierno,” Merros thundered. Merros had a grand commanding voice, the resounding baritone of the Ocean Rider, which was one of his titles. His skin was the blue of the sea on a clear day, his hair as white as sea foam, his eyes a piercing and frightening wine red. Between his fingers and toes was thin webbing, and a spiny speckled sail-fin protruded from his back, indicating that he was one of the Coast People before becoming heir to the Water-Weaving Sage. He was sleek and strong, and his clothing was adorned with the shells and treasures of the sea. He was second in command of the Hijn, outranked only by the Swordmaster, but Merros found himself in charge of the council far more often than Skyhan. The Swordmaster had a tendency to arrive at the meetings predictably late.

  “I ask you to cease lambasting your fellow Hijn,” Merros ordered. “You are not free of condemnation yourself. Your hasty attack on that Wretched caused an unnecessary number of your warriors to suffer, and it brought death to an Ahshi general.”

  “That cannot be blamed on me,” Fierno spat back. “I did all I could to save that incompetent elf. All he did was get in the way.”

  If Desert Rain had not been so far away from Fierno, she would have smacked him with

  every ounce of strength she had. General Valdrase saved your life! How dare you insult such a fine, honorable man! You should be ashamed, you coward! It was when everyone was staring at her did Desert Rain realized that she had uttered those words aloud.

  Fierno was aghast, but not so shocked that he couldn’t respond. “I’m the coward? And what exactly did you do to try and save the elf’s life?”

  Guargos snorted and gave his friend a foreboding look, his way of telling Fierno to stop. Guargos Blazemolder was a much more fair-minded, even-tempered man than Fierno.

  He rarely spoke, a striking contrast to the fiery knight. Desert Rain couldn’t remember if she had ever heard the Hijn of Metals speak. He was a dark iron gray in skin, but that may have been from the ash of the volcanoes in the Land Ablaze where he made his home. He did not look too different from a normal human man, apart from the black topknot upon his otherwise bald head, and he was close to being a giant. Over time, much of his skin had become impenetrable from exposure to molten ores, so he appeared to be part stone on his arms, chest and back. He was the Mastersmith of Luuva Gros, and his Sage-inherited strength and resistance to burns allowed him to take the heat easily. With his black hammer Firestorm, he made the armor and weapons for Fierno and the Cindrea warriors, plus fine instruments of battle that had become legendary, including Silverheart.

  “I think we’ve heard enough from you, Fierno,” V’Tanna sighed languidly. She tapped her fingers on the table, each digit embellished by many rings of pearl and gold. She had a paler hue of blue skin than Merros, more like the color of bluebells, and there were tear-drop markings of pearl under each eye. Her velvety raven hair cascaded down to almost touch the floor, and it displayed turtle-shell hair combs carved with birds and flowers. She possessed a rich beauty, a combination of mystery, seduction, and a slight hint of danger, like a rare poisonous flower. Desert Rain never felt altogether comfortable around V’Tanna, whose label of Mistress of the Storm was not an elaboration—no one dared make V’Tanna angry.

  “I’m actually glad to see our desert friend,” the Rain Hijn continued. “I’ve been dying to hear a different voice speak for a change, particularly one that doesn’t huff and puff like a brainless boar.”

  Fierno was prepared to spout another verbal attack, but Guargos laid a strong hand on his friend’s shoulder and push him down into his seat. Fierno decided to bide his time. There was nothing that the desert rat could say that would tarnish his reputation anyway.

  “As you most likely know, we sent Clova out some time ago to find you,” Merros said to Desert Rain. “According to Fierno’s account, you have endured a perilous trial. How was it that you came to be in Syphurius, after the city was barred to the outside?”

  Desert Rain tugged absent-mindedly on her ears. She gave a quick recount of her story, starting from her joining up with the Syphurian refugees, and ending with Clova rescuing her

  from the Wretched. She omitted certain things, mostly anything too specific about the demon himself. The gaps that she left spawned many questions from the coun
cil, most of which she evaded with a simple, “I don’t know,” or “I can’t say.” She concentrated hard on keeping her ears from twitching.

  “It appears that you are still too distraught to remember everything clearly,” Merros commented. “But this Wretched sounds much more powerful than any one we have encountered before. You say he is of the Court of Darkscale, but his powers seem to exceed any trick of New Magic. Mage Skyhan, did you not say that you attempted to treat someone who had been touched by the demon?”

  “Yes,” came the crystal cool voice of the wise and charming Mage Skyhan. Her hair was the color and shine of starlight, and it was piled atop her head, strewn with droplets of jade and opal. Her robes signified her as a healer, a long robe of white over a lighter robe of paisley, both trimmed with thin threads of silver. While Clova Flor and V’Tanna were inarguably beautiful, Mage Skyhan had the serene, worldly features of a mother spirit. It was not a childlike or seductive beauty, but a matured, wholesome splendor that came from a life of patience and peace of mind. Her tranquility, intelligence, and compassion suited her best for being a healer, and the tales of her purifying magic brought people from all across Luuva Gros to seek her remedies.

  Desert Rain admired Mage Skyhan. Mage Skyhan provided healing services to her over the years, and also advice and consolation. Desert Rain reverently bowed to the mage before sitting in the empty chair next to her. “Mage Skyhan, did…does your magic have any effect on the distortion?”

  Mage Skyhan looked soulfully into Desert Rain’s eyes, and shook her head. “It is a deformation unlike any I have ever encountered before. It is not an illusion by any means. It cannot be undone by medicines or light magic.”

  “You sound as if you think this demon is performing Ancient Magic like we do,” Rukna said in his deep, husky voice. He scratched his matted hair and beard, which was substantially shorter than the beards of other dwarfs.

  Mage Skyhan turned her worldly gaze to the Mountain Hijn. “That is exactly what I believe.”

  “Impossible!” Fierno barked. “No demon has ever harnassed Ancient Magic, no matter how close they think they’ve come. This whole ‘distorting’ is a trick—a good trick, I admit, but still outright phony.”

  How can you think it’s a trick when you saw for yourself what Katawa can do? Desert Rain thought.

  “Whether it is some different variety of New Magic or not, it must be reversed,” Merros stated. “I don’t suppose you would have any idea as to what can undo the demon’s curse, do you,

  Desert Rain?”

  “I…don’t know,” she stammered once again.

  “You don’t know a damn thing,” Fierno hissed. “Go back to your sandbox. You’re useless.”

  Guargos gave the Fire Hijn another stern look, and then turned his gaze to Desert Rain. His expression was pensive, his features stoic and serious. Desert Rain believed that perhaps he was reading her mind, or staring straight into her soul—what remained of it. She turned her eyes away from him.

  “Dezzy, it might be important to tell us how you met this Wretched,” Clova suggested.

  Desert Rain took a very long time to formulate the simplest and most cryptic answer she could think of. “He was lost in the desert. He was wounded…badly. He had wandered

  into my house by accident. He wouldn’t leave, but he didn’t give me any harm. So he…stayed.” She thought she heard Fierno mumble nracdarg, which was a Cindrean word for “liar.”

  “And no one knew of this?” Merros inquired. “Not a single person had ever seen this demon before?”

  “No one…except Swordmaster Skyhan, of course,” Desert Rain replied with a wounded tone. She still could not believe that Skyhan had revealed her secret, after he had promised that he would not.

  “My brother knew of this?” Mage Skyhan was shocked, an expression she did not often convey.

  Desert Rain’s eyebrows knitted in bafflement. She looked around at everyone, each person clearly surprised. Clova in particular was flabbergasted. Desert Rain hunched her shoulders in unease. “S…Swordmaster Skyhan d…didn’t tell you?” she finally stuttered.

  Mage Skyhan shook her head. “My brother mentioned nothing of this to me, nor anyone else here. It surprises me that he would keep such a thing secret.”

  Desert Rain gulped. “Then…how did you find out about Ka…the Wretched and me?”

  “Before the Syphurian refugees came to Vaes Galahar, they were preceded by the humans from Ulomin who told us of the demon attack on their city. They had left behind a group who had been cursed by the demon, and a band of the Syphurians brought these ‘cursed ones’ with them. I tried to treat the victims, but there was little I could do. One of them, a woman, told me about how a Hijn knew the demon, and how she said she had pledged to stop him. I asked for a description of the Hijn she spoke of.”

  Desert Rain hung her head. Blast the long ears, the gold skin and moonstones. That was all the description needed to pin her as the one in question.

  “That’s the downside to being as ugly as—” Fierno’s insult was cut off when Guargos jabbed him in the side.

  “This disturbs me,” Merros remarked. “If Swordmaster Skyhan knew of this demon, he could be pursuing it as we speak. I have never doubted in Sir Skyhan’s abilities, but I pray that he has not underestimated his enemy. This is not like any Darkscale demon he had beaten before.”

  Mage Skyhan nodded, but she heard a choked sound come from Desert Rain. Turning her head, she looked at the girl, whose face has become even more troubled than it had been a few minutes ago. Desert Rain refused to look at Mage Skyhan at first, but the healer’s eyes prodded at her, so she lifted her gaze to the mage. Tears were welling up in Desert Rain’s eyes, tears of both sorrow and fear. Somewhere in the tears, in the deep green of the right eye, Mage Skyhan could read something—it touched her soul, speaking a silent language that shook her fiercely.

  “Clova,” Merros continued as Mage Skyhan was understanding the message in Desert Rain’s eye, “I hope you don’t mind if we send you out again, but Swordmaster Skyhan—”

  “Is not coming,” Mage Skyhan finished for him.

  Silence fell like a deadly weight on the room. “What do you mean, Madam Skyhan?” Rukna asked after a long, chilling moment.

  “He’s dead,” she replied, with no hint of emotion in her voice.

  “Nracdarg!” Fierno seethed. “Is that what the desert rat told you? Of course she’d like to scare all of you into thinking he’s gone. She’s with the demon, for the Divine Beasts’ sake!”

  “Why don’t you shut up, Fierno?” Clova retorted, having finally reached the limits of her patience with him—the limits not having been long to begin with. “You don’t know what Dezzy’s been through! She would never side with the Wretched. She was tricked, like everyone else!”

  “I would expect a naïve tree-lover to say something like that,” the Fire Hijn jeered.

  Rukna stood up, facing Fierno with tensed arms. “Don’t you talk to her like that,” he said forebodingly.

  “Control yourselves!” Merros tried to regain authority on the council, but Fierno, Rukna and Clova were caught up in a ferocious battle of insults. Rukna ended up holding back his stepsister from flying past him to hit Fierno. Guargos continued to sit there quietly, a look of impatience on his face. V’Tanna, of all things, was laughing at the argument. Mage Skyhan was oblivious to all of it, as she continued to pry softly at the message written in Desert Rain’s face. Desert Rain thought of how she wanted to be in the darkest waters of the Eternal Deep

  right now.

  A high screech overrode the commotion in the Grand Chamber.

  Everyone froze. Everyone turned.

  Something crawled into the room from the door, pausing for a beat as it surveyed its surroundings. With a quick gust of leathery wings, it flew in a circle around the room and dropped with a sudden thud between the rows of tables. It was a Gadderbat.

  Clova let out her breath, which she had been holding. “
That’s another thing, Fierno. Why

  did you let your bat go flying all around? It might have scared someone in town half to death!”

  Fierno stared at the Gadderbat with a cocked eyebrow. “This is not my Gadderbat. I ordered mine to hide until I needed him. It’s not the same animal at all.”

  He was right. This was not a normal Gadderbat. Where there should have been patches of orange and brown, there were patches of dark blue and purple. The Gadderbat turned its head around slowly, its eyes searching. It found Desert Rain. Its eyes were yellow.

  Desert Rain’s heart was beating so rapidly, she swore it would leap right out of her mouth. She stumbled backwards out of her chair, reeling until she slammed into a second-row table behind her. She dug her nails into the wood, her body trembling uncontrollably. She couldn’t form words. She breathed in gasps, her eyes searching frantically and helplessly from person to

  person. Mage Skyhan caught the meaning of Desert Rain’s fear. Perhaps it was the mental connection they had established, perhaps it was that Mage Skyhan had a power of understanding that no one else knew about. Mage Skyhan turned to the Gadderbat, patience and authority present in her poise. “What would you have with us?” she asked it.

  The Gadderbat made a toothy smile. “Much,” it answered. The fur of the bat ripped apart at the spine as the animal morphed before all the Hijns’ eyes, into the form that was the dragon-faced Distortionist.

  The demon stood tall, glancing about at the petrified council. Fierno grabbed at the hilt of his sword as he leapt over the table in front of him. He barely took one step before a huge hand shot from Katawa’s shoulder blade, snatching Fierno by the face and lifting him into the air. Fierno was thrust back and slammed into the wall. He collapsed to the ground, unconscious once again. Guargos ran to his friend, and tried to shake him awake. The Hijn of Metals glared at the demon.