By Moonlight Wrought (Bt Moonlight Wrought)

by Crandall, John

  “Oh really?” Mendric asked. “Who says? And what are you doing in that chair?”

  “No, really.” Will sat up and perched himself on the edge of his seat; his feet barely touching the floor and his face cast in the shadows of the firelight. “I’ve seen him.” Chills ran down the spines of the brave Stormweather lads as they sat up and tried to shake off the heavy hand of alcohol.

  “Where?” Selric asked softly.

  “Well,” Will paused. “I can’t say that I saw him,” he hurried before he lost all credibility, “but I felt him; in the sewers. And I saw a shape, like a huge shadow, pass down the walkway more than once. But I was so afraid, I couldn’t move.” The hair stood up on the necks of the men. “He stopped and all I could see were these two glowing green eyes, and I felt real cold; real afraid. One time, this sack he carried wiggled and made noises and he looked at it, shook it,” Will demonstrated this part, “then turned and went off. He just seemed to disappear, and I never heard no footsteps either. I felt that same sick feeling in my stomach many times and I got real cold, but sweated anyway like I was burning up. One time...” he began, then fell silent, his eyes filling with tears.

  “What Will?” asked Selric.

  “Nothing.”

  “Tell us. Tell me,” Selric said, leaning over to touch the boy’s arm.

  “One time...one time It tried to get me,” he said, tears running down his face, though he did not sob. “I was in my home and It growled and tore at the stones, but the hole was to small for It to get in.”

  “When was this?” Mendric asked. Both Stormweathers looked eerily at each other, disbelief in their minds, but the dreadful fear that it might be true in their hearts.

  “Oh, about six months ago. I have a blade now. I’m not afraid. I could whoop him. I was just a kid then,” he said bravely, drying his face on his sleeve and seeming to cheer almost immediately.

  “Just a kid then, huh?” Selric asked. “Well, you are my servant now, and I order you to stay out of the sewers, or you’re fired.” Will began to protest, but fell silent when he saw the stern look on his master’s usually carefree face. “That’s okay,” Will thought anyway, “I really don’t want to see the Fiend again.” He rose and sat on the floor by Selric on a small pillow beside the chair. He checked the shadows in the back of the room to see if all was safe. Selric rubbed the boy’s head and they all sat silently, lost in their own thoughts for a long time before heading off to bed.

  Winter came unheralded that week, and basically unnoticed. Life still went on. The first storm, a week after that, dumped half-a-man’s height of snow on the city and the gates were closed. No more wagons would come or go until spring, for while the snow might lapse during brief warm periods, there was no way a wagon, even from the south, could make the entire journey before a heavy snow would waylay it. Dirk, inspired by the children below pelting passers-by with snowballs, made the same and dropped them onto others, quickly ducking behind his parapet. This is how he was passing the time, nearly two weeks after the snow came, when bells sounded at the South Gate, signaling the approach of someone, or something. Dirk rushed down through the store, out into the street, and over to the gate where many guardsmen were waiting with long pole-arms shaped like huge forks. Along with dozens of spectators, Dirk watched eagerly, little else to spark their interest now that the dull of winter had settled in.

  Soon, a sled approached the gate, drawn by a dozen dogs at least, and piloted by a giant of a man covered head-to-toe in thick furs. He ran quickly behind the large sledge, mushing the dogs on. Then, close behind, announced by the “oos” and “aahs” of the crowd, came three large ogres shuffling through the snow. Fond of human flesh, as well as that of dog, they pursued, rather hopelessly. He had broken through their trap and now raced away from them. Two made the mistake of pursuing too close to the city walls and were killed by archers along the battlements. The men with forks rushed forward as the gate was opened to repel the last if he attempted to rush the open portal, and to cover the gate as the group of a hundred soldiers filed outside on a patrol to protect the outlying farms and stockyards and track down that last beast and any more that may have wandered so close to the city.

  The traveler, a full two heads taller than a normal man, must have weighed more than two men, though in his furs it was difficult to tell accurately. He drove on up the road, waving furiously at the cheering crowd, straight to Bessemer’s. By the time Dirk got back, the man was dealing with Jenderson on imported items, all small and expensive, that the citizens would otherwise not see until the thaw, unless another daredevil tried the dangerous run, or a captain dared the waters infested with chunks of jagged ice. Jenderson bought at fair prices and directed the traveler to pull the loaded sled into the warehouse. Though he had wanted to, Dirk did not have a chance to say a word to the man.

  It was several days later, Dirk and Melissa had been getting along better since Dirk’s change of heart, and they decided to try life as friends, albeit very close ones. Melissa arrived at Bessemer’s just as darkness fell. One of the guard dogs broke loose and tore after her, but she calmly stood as the slobbering beast closed in. When it was just steps away, she pointed at it and yelled in a commanding tone for it to stop, staring it dead in the eye. The animal stopped, but stood growling at her viciously. She reached forward, despite its warning sounds, speaking soothingly, and stroked its head. The dog stopped growling and relaxed as the guards came running up. “That’s not a smart thing to do, Missy,” one of them said. “He’s a guard dog, trained to kill.” The dog leapt forward at his former masters, biting and barking, restrained only by Melissa’s strong hand on its collar. The guards jumped back in fear. Melissa smiled. She knelt down, and placing her arm around the dog’s neck and whispered something only the dog could hear. It calmed and wagged its tail, panting in a relaxed, friendly manner. She released the dog and it trotted back to its master, showing no sign of its momentary ferocity toward him.

  “What’s all the noise?” Dirk asked.

  “Just the puppy,” Melissa said.

  “Yeah, they’re real upset with those sled dogs in the warehouse barking all the time. I don’t know how I’ll ever sleep tonight.”

  “You can sleep at my place, if you want,” she said. The guards looked at each other and grinned.

  “We’re friends,” Dirk said to them, annoyed by their improper thoughts. “Shall we go?” Dirk then asked Melissa, and they went out for liquid refreshment. When en route from one tavern to the next, they walked into The Swimming Serpent and there, above the crowd, stood the horn-helmed, furry barbarian sledge runner: he was smiling while arguing with several townspeople. Melissa had heard the tale of the man’s arrival from Dirk and admired his courage, so when Dirk smacked her arm and said, “Come on” as he waded off through the crowd, she fell in behind him.

  “What are we gonna do?” she asked, her hands on Dirk’s shoulders as he cleared as path through the jam-packed room.

  “See if he needs some help, and maybe get to talk to him.” By the time they reached him, the barbarian was thumping citizens on the head with a large, pitcher-sized wooden mug. They, in turn, were trying to grab hold of him and drag him down.

  Dirk and Melissa fought their way through; everyone there seeming to fight everyone else as the melee spread like ripples on a pond. The friends beat back those trying to grab the large man and just as they found a moment to speak with him, the front door burst open and the Watch came rushing in to break up the fight, which had already calmed down in the front of the tavern, but still raged in the back. After talking to the Watch near the door, several patrons pointed to the barbarian, Dirk, and Melissa. The guards proceeded to press their way toward them, calling for their surrender.

  Dirk followed the barbarian and Melissa followed Dirk, and they made a caravan out the back where they piled crates in front of the door to slow their pursuers and escape. After successfully evading the Watch, Dirk, Melissa and the barbarian merchant ended up dr
inking in another tavern half the city away from The Swimming Serpent and after nearly five hours of friendly conversation, business talk, and tall tales, the man, whose name was Bear Fellaxe, asked them to accompany him.

  He led them, all three feeling the effects of alcohol, back to the warehouse. It was warmer inside than out, but was still cold and Melissa crawled up into Bear’s fur-packed sled and became so comfortable that she was soon fast asleep. Bear rooted through his belongings, or what was left after Jenderson removed what items had been purchased, and pulled out a helm, much like his own: a sturdy iron affair, with two bull horns protruding from the top. He gave it to Dirk. “You fight like a real barbarian, Dirk,” he said, and Dirk put it on. Other than the fact that it occasionally tipped from side to side, covering one eye at a time, it fit perfectly. Bear also presented Dirk with a mug, like his own, which they filled from one of Bessemer’s beer barrels in stock.

  “I’ll pay for it tomorrow,” Dirk admitted and Bear nodded emphatically, with a large grin, unaware of Dirk’s true honesty.

  “Now that’s a plan!” Bear agreed loudly, shouting his conversations as if giving his dogs commands. After several giant mugs of beer and a couple Northmen songs, the two men calmed and fell silent for the first time that evening. Dirk found that he liked being a Northman, even if only by honorarium.

  “Why do they call you Bear Fellaxe?” he asked.

  “Because,” Bear roared, laughing, as if the question were dumb, at least while inebriated.

  “No, why?” Dirk pressed seriously.

  “You must give a barbarian oath to never tell. You must swear on your honor as a warrior.”

  “I swear,” Dirk said as soberly as possible, teetering from side to side as he placed his hand over his heart.

  “They call me Bear because I killed a bear with only a knife.”

  “Okay,” Dirk said. “And they call you Fellaxe because you have a fell axe, or you wield a fell axe?”

  “That’s what people think,” Bear said, “but...” he leaned closer and pulled from his back the tremendous double-bladed axe that Dirk knew must have weighed an immense amount, “...one night I was sleeping, and my axe,” he shook it, “fell off the wall and hit me on my head.” He nodded to assure Dirk of his truthfulness. He even showed Dirk the wicked scar he bore on his forehead. Dirk laughed and Bear hit him on the back, causing Dirk to cough and sputter. Bear laughed at Dirk’s discomfort, then fell silent and looked at him with glassy, bloodshot eyes as seriously as he could.

  “That is a good woman. Strong. Fierce. Beautiful.” He moved to the sledge and smacked Melissa’s backside several times as she lay curled up on her side. “Good child-bearing hips. Have strong sons.” He paused to study Dirk’s reaction: a look of puzzlement. “I will give you the entire haul that is left plus,” he said more loudly, “plus all the money from my previous stock. I’ll give it all to you for her.” He smacked Melissa’s flank again. She moaned and rolled over in her sleep.

  Dirk pondered the offer seriously for several moments before laughing out loud and realizing, “She’s not mine!” he gasped in revelation. “I can’t give her, or sell her,” he finally said. Bear nodded.

  “I forget your customs sometimes…sometimes when drunk!” Bear said laughing uproariously. Then he grabbed Melissa’s shoulders and shook her awake. “How much for you?” he asked slowly. Her glassy eyes tried to focus, then she smacked Bear’s face and fell back, rolled over and returned to sleep. Bear looked bewildered, then pointed at her and erupted with tremendous laughter again. The dogs, kept in a separate part of the building, began to bark and howl at the sound of their master. Melissa, in her sleep, covered her ears to shield them from Bear’s booming voice. Bear looked at Dirk, “The wolves!” he cried. “The wolves are coming.” He swung the axe off his back and hunched over, as if ready to be attacked then stalked off toward the sound of their baying.

  He opened the door and his beasts ran out into the warehouse proper, nipping and snapping at each other as they tore around this crate, ran down that pathway, leapt upon this or that cargo. Bear threw down his axe and started to chase them about. The room was in chaos. The dogs fled from Bear’s grasp, while others came up behind and tugged on his furs. When he turned to face them, more came up behind again as those before him retreated. Soon, he was literally covered in live, moving furs and the dogs dug at him, trying, much as the townspeople in the Swimming Serpent had to pull him over. They ripped and bit furiously and if Bear had not been armored and heavily robed, he would have been badly mauled.

  The howling and excited barks echoed loudly throughout the building. Bear would hurl the huge dogs aside, then pick one up and hold it in a great hug, looking like a child loving his squirming pup. Once held, a dog would stop snapping and lick Bear’s face with great affection. After ten minutes of this play Bear stood still, acting like a god amidst his faithful, arms outstretched, eyes closed; the dogs settled down only slightly, running under his massive hands in hopes of a pat on the head or ribs. “Enough!” Bear finally bellowed. “Onskir!” he said in the language of his tribe and pointed to their common home, the sled. The dogs ran to the sled and lay in a circle all about it, as they knew well. One or two stood on their hind legs and smelled Melissa while a couple others examined Dirk. One growled and Dirk was afraid to even breathe; the dogs weighed nearly as much as a grown man and were no house pets, barely reserved enough to even be called domesticated.

  Eventually all of the canines lay down, one even putting its head on Dirk’s lap, though when Dirk moved or fidgeted to get comfortable on the wooden floor, the dog snarled until Dirk sat still again. Dirk could not imagine feeling so safe, yet so wary at the same time. He had nothing to fear from outsiders, but he did from his own protectors. Dirk and Bear both fell asleep like this, spilling the ale from their huge mugs, which the dogs voraciously lapped up. When they woke in the morning, it took the men several minutes to recall the night before and where they actually were; Melissa, though, was without a clue.

  Selric was away that evening and Mendric was alone in the hearth room, studying a map of the Wild which he had spread out on the table before him. The entire chandelier was lavishly lit so that he could clearly read. When he heard the door open, thinking it a servant, Mendric said without raising his head or breaking his thoughts, “I need nothing.”

  “Nothing?” a sexy voice replied. He looked up quickly then scowled when he saw Alanna.

  “You’re not supposed to be here,” he said, looking back down quickly at the map. His eyes scanned rapidly over the parchment and ink, but he studied it not, merely needing somewhere to turn his gaze from her.

  “Why not?” Alanna asked, walking over to him.

  “Because those are my father’s orders.”

  “Your father is not here, is he?” she asked, rubbing his back and shoulders.

  “Neither is Selric,” Mendric snapped, knocking her hands away as he stood upright. “So why don’t you go back to whatever room he’s keeping you in. Now.” Alanna stood silent for a few moments.

  “Why don’t you like me?” she asked. “Because I’m not rich? Because I’m bad for your brother’s reputation?”

  “Yes. Those are some of the reasons.”

  “Not as bad as I’d be for your reputation.” Mendric said nothing. “Is it because you like me? Are you jealous?”

  “Shut up. You’re being ludicrous.” He moved away, uncomfortable with her so near.

  “Well, I’ll leave you,” she said slowly. “I’ll go back up and sit in my room; all alone.” She walked to the door. Mendric watched her from the corner of his eye. When she reached the end of the table, she set a purse down on it; it was Mendric’s and he was furious.

  “Stop doing that!” he yelled. “Don’t pick my pockets. You just want to torment me, don’t you? You mock me. Get out!” Alanna giggled and bounced childishly out of the great room, shutting the door with a great echo.

  She stood against the door and let out a vast
sigh. “Well, I found out what I needed to know,” she said to herself. “But he wants only one thing. He could never love me, not like Selric.” She didn’t want to cause trouble between the brothers, but she was not going to give up the only taste of the good life that she would ever have. She would not give up Selric without a fight and she needed to know her greatest adversary to that love.

  Alanna returned to her room and threw herself on the bed, unsure of what to do. She contemplated seducing Mendric so that he might accept her by giving him what he wanted, and then perhaps even blackmailing his friendliness in return for her silence. But it was inevitable that he would eventually tell his brother what had happened. The risk was too great and she would have to deal with Mendric in another way, but deal with him she would. He could not come between her and her future.

  Cinder sat in the temple waiting for the ceremony to start. She was wearing a long black lace dress, a veil over her face. The others sat impatiently. She could see Melissa and Relarius, Marlo and Donagee, as well as other faces she didn’t know. Dirk was there with Selric, whom she could not recall having ever seen there, but it all seemed so natural to her. “What do you think is the matter?” asked an attractive young woman who sat next to her. Cinder shrugged her ignorance. She wanted to speak, but nothing came out.

  Then Fiona, in her low-cut, black and silver robes slit clear to her hip, came and stood beside Cinder. “We’ve had some trouble with the sacrifice tonight. You don’t mind doing it, do you? Everyone likes you,” she whispered in her ear. Cinder nodded and went with her. They went to Fiona’s room where she helped Cinder off with her dress, leaving only her black, bra-less, half-corset over which Fiona threw a black robe. Cinder had witnessed the ceremony before; they never really hurt anyone seriously; Fiona’s religion would have been banned if she had. Besides, it was nothing she wouldn’t like and find wickedly exciting. They would jab and pinch and maybe infringe on her, but she liked being the center of attention; she would like making all those people happy. Cinder smiled as she thought of their excitement.