By Moonlight Wrought (Bt Moonlight Wrought)

by Crandall, John

  “Isn’t it sweet?” Fiona said.

  “What did you bring it for?” Dirk asked, sounding almost angry. Truthfully, it reminded him of the only toy he had had at the orphanage; the bear found with him in the basket as he lay upon the church steps.

  “I don’t know, I just...”

  “Come on,” said Dirk, grabbing the bear and stuffing it in his belt. After a short distance, at the edge of their light rounding the corner to the main passage, they saw a small form, a boy, who quickly raced off into the dark. Melissa was in front and leapt after him, both figures disappearing into the darkness. Fiona tried to follow and keep light on them, but they were soon gone. Up ahead, Fiona and Dirk heard a splash, followed by a scream from Melissa and they ran up. Melissa came trudging back into the lamplight, her bottom half sopping wet and her pant leg torn to reveal that her knee was scraped and bleeding.

  “I caught the little bastard,” she said, hauling by his shirt, a dirty, wet and small boy as young as nine, as old as twelve perhaps.

  “Hi, I’m Fiona,” she said, kneeling down near him.

  “What about it?” he snapped.

  “Was that your bed we found?” she asked.

  “Maybe,” he said. “What’s it to you?”

  “Maybe,” Dirk said, “you want this.” He held up the ragged bear.

  “I don’t want that stupid thing! Maybe when I was a baby.” The boy softened and looked as though he might cry. Dirk felt like a villain, worse yet, a bully, and immediately tried to give it to him, but Fiona took it.

  “First answer some questions then I’ll give you your friend, sweety.” She said with a kind smile. The boy looked over his shoulder, not at Melissa, but around her, as if looking for something; something he was afraid of. “What? What is it, dear?”

  “Nothin’. Nothin’,” he said, turning slowly to gaze at her and a look of young determination came over his face. “What do you need to know? I usually charge for info.”

  Fiona could not keep from smiling at his candor, saying, “Not this time. The bear’s your payment. Now, did you just come in the entrance by The Unicorn’s Run?”

  “I don’t want that kid’s toy,” he said. “But, yeah, I came in there.”

  “Do you know anything about the people who have been robbing the temples?”

  “A little.”

  “Tell us,” Fiona said. He sighed impatiently, then something fell, or jumped, into the water somewhere far off in the tunnels and the boy flinched then regained his composure.

  “Well first,” he said obstinately, “he doesn’t live down here, he travels the rooftops. Geez!” The three looked at each other, feeling stupid.

  “We know that,” Dirk said.

  “I bet,” the kid mumbled, then looked at Fiona, “What else?”

  “He?” Fiona asked. “There’s only one of them?”

  “Yeah,” he said, looking at her in disbelief.

  “What’s your name?” Fiona asked.

  “Will. Okay? Enough? Now can I go?”

  “One more,” Fiona said. “Will, why do you live down here?”

  “Nowhere better.”

  “Isn’t it dangerous?”

  “No. I can ditch anything.”

  “Except me,” Melissa said.

  “I slipped,” he said, sneering at her.

  “No you didn’t, you little twerp,” she said, trying to throttle him, but Fiona grabbed her hands as Will ran behind her for protection. “I got you on the run.”

  “What are you afraid of, Will,” Fiona asked, turning to the dirt-smeared boy.

  “I’m not afraid of her. She’s stupid, and slow.”

  “Why you...” Melissa snarled angrily.

  “Clumsy!” Will replied, trying not to smile at the reaction he was getting from her. Then he felt Dirk’s huge hand on his shoulder and he knew it was time to be quiet.

  “Why don’t you come up with us?” Fiona asked him.

  “No thanks.”

  “We’ll buy you some dinner. Anything you want.”

  “Why? Are you one of those people who always wants to give me money to go home with you. At least you’re a woman. And you’re pretty,” he said as if in afterthought.

  “No, I’m not one of those people. But maybe when you get older...” she said with a wink, touching his face like an older sister.

  “All right, let’s go. Can I have my bear, please, ma’am?” Fiona laughed at his change of manners and handed it over to him gently. “Not that I need it anymore. It’s just all I remember…well..from when I was little.”

  “Yeah…like yesterday?” Dirk said with a laugh, feeling proud he had managed to sneak in a witty jab.

  When they reached the surface, they went to the festhall’s front door. “I gotta change,” said Melissa. “Look, why don’t you all come around if you figure anything out.” She tried to smack Will in the head, but he knocked her hand away.

  “Don’t you want a beer?” Fiona asked.

  “I’ll get one at home. I reek.”

  “You shot real good,” Dirk said, taking her hand.

  “Thanks. Come see me some time.” She smiled. “Bye Fiona.”

  “Later, gorgeous,” Will called. She glared at him as she walked away. “Nice door knockers,” he said to Dirk, “and ass.” Dirk was aghast.

  “Watch your mouth, kid,” Dirk said, not looking at him, but straight ahead as they walked to the front door. Will made a face at him. Dirk knew it and softly smacked him with a gentle backhand and Will didn’t make any more. They all went inside where they found Cinder sitting on Selric’s lap and she waved happily.

  “Where’s Melissa?” Cinder asked.

  “She went home to change,” Fiona said.

  “Whoa!” Will said to Dirk. “What a doll. Is she with us, too?” Will said, like most males, drawn immediately to Cinder.

  “She was with me,” Dirk said slowly, looking at her and her new friend. Will ran over to her and Cinder looked at him curiously.

  “Hi, they found me living in the sewer all alone in the dark and the cold. I don’t have any family, just Fred.” He held up the bear but didn’t stop talking even to breathe. “They said I could go home with you. Don’t send me back down there alone. Please, please.” He put his head against her breast.

  Cinder did not know what to do with him; too immature, too much a child herself, to fall for his intentionally pitiful act, but she did care all the same, though she was not pleased with having his dirty head against her dress.

  “Oh, did they?” she asked, looking at them curiously, wondering if and why they chose her for such a thing without her consent. “I’m sure we can find somewhere for you.” She turned to Selric. “Can’t you take him? You have a big place.”

  “Sure, if you’d like,” he offered insincerely, willing to help Cinder in any manner during his first attempts to woo her. Fiona, meanwhile, ordered Will some dinner: beef steak, rolls, beans, potatoes, and milk. Though he protested the latter, wanting beer instead, he lost the argument.

  After some discussion, it was decided that Selric won the prize, to the objection of Will, who was finding it hard to go with anyone and leave his home in the sewer. He might have thought of staying had one of the women decided to take him in. As it was, Will knew he would just slip off after his meal, though he would need to find a new home, or avoid his for at least a while, knowing the group would go there looking for him.

  Soon Fiona left and Dirk managed to drag Cinder away from Selric, leaving the young nobleman and the urchin alone at the table. Selric sternly questioned Will for several minutes but found the boy’s answers evasive. At Will’s insistence, and seeing no harm in it, Selric bought him a beer, and then took the pleased, and stumbling, child home with him. They had all agreed to meet in three days, after each had, especially Selric who claimed to have some leads, tried to gain a little information on this thief.

  The next day, Dirk found a note pinned on the underside of his trapdoor. “Dirk, meet me f
or lunch at The Unicorn’s Run. It was signed: “SS”. Dirk exercised for an hour and needed to take care of some store business, then went downstairs where he saw Jenderson.

  “Well, aren’t we up early this morning?” Jenderson asked.

  “I’m up early every morning,” Dirk said.

  “Perhaps, but I can only judge by how early I see you doing anything.”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Don’t you have anything to do?” Dirk asked, feeling superior to his former boss.

  “I was going to mention that to you.”

  “Actually, I do. I’ll be busy for a while, then I’m having lunch with Selric. Maybe you know him, Selric Stormweather?”

  “Oh, friends with nobility now are we? Why don’t you bring him ‘round to spend some of that Stormweather gold at our little establishment?”

  “I might do that,” Dirk said, turning and leaving.

  “Say hello to the Stormweathers for me,” Jenderson said skeptically. Dirk raised his hand in acknowledgement without turning his head to look at him.

  After finishing his work, Dirk washed and put on his best shirt before heading to The Run. When he got there, the sign read “Closed-Open at 4 Bells”. He looked around for a moment, then screwed up his courage and knocked on the door. A tall burly man, Dirk recognized as the barkeep from the night before, opened it.

  “Dirk?” he asked, sneering at him.

  “Yes.”

  “Come on in,” he said, his sneer turning to a smile. “Master Selric is waiting for you.” He waved his hand, showing him where Selric indeed sat waiting in the corner and Selric called him over like they were old friends.

  “Sit down,” he said. “Sorry we didn’t get to talk much last night. Your company was too charming.”

  “That’s all right,” Dirk said while the man who answered the door brought them each a beer. Dirk looked around. There were a dozen wooden columns supporting the low ceiling and the room was dark and cozy. The Unicorn’s Run was a “class” establishment made with extensive use of rare wood and brass. The tables were heavy affairs and the whole atmosphere, with the columns and low ceiling, was one of closeness; warmth. Upstairs were the rooms where gambling and other games took place as well as the bedrooms of the pleasure girls. Now and again, Dirk would see a beautiful woman go from between what he thought to be the kitchen and a stairway up. Dirk couldn’t imagine why a man who employed so many attractive women would be distracted so heavily by his three, granted beautiful, friends.

  Dirk and Selric got briefly acquainted before their conversation led to their “adventure.” Selric was a good conversationalist, listening intently, and making Dirk feel respected and his input welcome. When Dirk mentioned that he was basically unskilled and wished to learn how to really use a weapon, Selric perked up. “I tell you what,” Selric said. “If you really want to learn, I’ve got just the place. I own it actually, or at least my father does: Master Sellore’s House of Arms. Some of the best warriors in the city work there either part- or full-time. I exercise there once in a while. I’ve even been known to give a few lessons. Sometime, I’ll take you over there and we’ll find you a tutor.”

  “Wow, that would be great!” Dirk said, though he was doubtful such a wonderful promise would ever come true: his life never seemed to work out in such a way.

  “It usually costs one-hundred pieces of gold a year, but I’ll see what I can do. I’ll get you a good rate, and if you still can’t get the money, I’ll loan it to you until we catch this guy. Speaking of which, I, at one time, was an acolyte in the temple to Aurus, the god of justice and honor, and last week I was speaking to the wife of the High Priest.” He paused, smiling as if remembering some pleasant memory. “Well, she told me that their altar had been defiled and they were furious. You don’t want the worshipers of Aurus furious, especially at you. It seems they had the ground floor patrolled as only they could: exits, windows, gates, and walls all heavily guarded. What Will says seems to be true so far: this thief must strike from, and escape to, the rooftops.”

  “Aside from vowing to separate the thief’s head from his shoulders, they themselves have offered two thousand gold crowns for his capture; if you can find him before they do. So with all the other temple rewards and the money offered by the King, it should, and does in fact, top ten thousand in gold. That’s two thousand for each of us.” Dirk suddenly began to think Fiona’s choice in an adventure was truly a masterful idea. Dirk and Selric mulled over ideas of how to over-watch the temples, especially those not yet vandalized and it was agreed that scanning the rooftops would be the best course of immediate action.

  Selric offered up more information he had gleaned from the constable’s office: there was seemingly no pattern to the robberies. Sometimes the thief struck on consecutive nights, sometimes a week apart. Some temples two or three times, others once, some not at all. Yet the locations were totally random. Sometimes consecutive strikes were door to door, other times a robbery was dozens of city blocks away from the previous one. So, the men decided to be out as many nights as they could and be on the roof tops, as well.

  Their course decided, Selric and Dirk drank a few more beers and in their conversation Dirk asked Selric what it was he did for a living.

  Selric laughed. “I’m a navigator,” he said proudly, though with a facetious smile. Selric told Dirk about the mysterious East and of their ways and, of course, their women. Then, very dramatically, he told him how he had saved the ship on the return voyage from a gargantuan squid. Dirk had never heard of such a fantastic creature and sat enthralled throughout the entire forty-five minute story. In short, as Selric told it, when The Maiden had been brought dead in the water and several crew members hauled overboard, Selric climbed the rocking mast, crossbow in hand, dodging thrashing tentacles. Once into the crows nest, he carefully aimed his weapon and shot the beast in the eye, driving it back into the deep. Selric’s version was much longer winded, with heroic but modest tones, assigning his valor to duty and loyalty to his mates.

  Dirk was skeptical, though enthralled, and Selric agreed that it was indeed fantastic, but true. With the devotion that Dirk put into finding the temple desecrator over the next few weeks, the story and the importance of finding its truthfulness faded and Dirk never found out how much or how little of it was, in fact, truth. But it was a pleasant tale all the same.

  5

  The full moon illuminated the city with a radiant, glistening glow; a dim silvery daylight, casting strong shadows on the streets and making every dark corner impenetrable. The buildings of white stone reflected the light, looking skeletal, as if made from the bones of giants long dead. While those of wood were dark and shadowy, hauntingly lying in contrast. The Fiend could travel with ease and speed to every part of the city this night, for the stronger the moonlight, the blacker the shadows. It raced through the back streets and alleys, sniffing the air, sensing for victims. Not just any human, but females, and pretty ones. Those are the ones, the soft ones that the men like to protect and feel the most loss over when ravaged and taken; the ones It had learned to like best. They came to occupy Its thoughts constantly. Each time It took one, their lure increased, their draw on It more powerful. Its hunger had changed since It came to the city. Its original purpose for infiltrating the vast city was more difficult to remember with each passing night and each feeding. But the targets once desired no longer sated Its hunger so the Fiend would now pick Its own prey.

  The Fiend growled deep within Its throat, Its eyes scanning the dark. It had been taught to not randomly kill; such left too broad of a swathe. It had to be careful to leave as small a trail as possible: hide or consume what bodies It could; use different weapons and different ways to chase Life from the humans and their pets. These were the thoughts in the Fiend’s head when It came to the city, but now It saw how unimportant those things were. It should, and would, kill how It wanted. The Fiend was all that mattered now. No longer was there any purpose but self-gratification.

  It enjoye
d fear. It enjoyed catching her sleeping or mating, or walking, even in the lamplight: especially those places she felt safe—although daylight still kept the Fiend hidden and at bay. It was a wolf amongst unguarded sheep. “Be careful at night,” they said. “Don’t go out alone. Bar your shutters. Trust no strangers. Stay out of dark alleys.” It knew that It could get them even if they took all those precautions. A deep, undulating laugh-like growl emanated from Its chest, then It heard real laughter. The sound burned It like fire and Its hatred flared. The Fiend would snuff out the laughter and replace it with sobbing, wailing, and crying. Joy would be pain; happiness would be sorrow. The Fiend gnashed Its teeth, barely able to restrain from ripping apart the first thing upon which It laid Its claws. It followed the sickening smell of laughter, tracking it to an alley. The Fiend crept slowly and found, in a deep doorway hiding in Its shadows they lay: a man and a woman. It would crush the man then take her.

  It floated near and struck the man in the back of his head as he lay writhing atop the female. She screamed as blood, bone, and brains splattered over her face, the walls, and the ground around her. The Fiend relished her fear, growing stronger, more powerful as It tossed the man aside, and took his place on and inside her.

  Vandelar moped down the street. He was bored. His city commitments were wearing on him. Perhaps there was time for one last trip into the Wild before winter hit. Then, he remembered Dirk. “Yes, I think I’ll stop by Bessemer’s in the morning,” he thought. He stepped up his pace. “At last, a break in the boredom,” he said to himself, deciding he would finally leave Andrelia. Just then a scream shattered his thoughts. Vandelar stopped and looked around, peering into the shadows. He saw nothing. The scream had been close by, so he called out. In reply he heard whimpering and sobbing, then wild, pitiful cries, the voice filled with despair and sorrow as the last bits of life were ripped from the body which held it.

  Vandelar raced to the alley where a woman was clearly dying. He looked up and down the street and as he expected, being after one bell in the morning, no help was in sight. Peering into the alley, he saw a mangled, bloody corpse lying in a pool of moonlight. Near it, the butchered half-naked body of a woman. She struggled then lay still as a large broad shape stood up over her. The form was cloaked in shadow and Vandelar could not tell what it was, though it seemed as large as a troll. He flashed out his sword, whirling and spinning it in several impressive maneuvers and walking into the alley toward the form that now stood, obviously, facing him. “Time to die,” Vandelar said bitterly, swallowing hard, and pointing his sword directly at the Fiend’s face. It snarled and leapt out of Its shadows, small axe in Its hand.