Closing his eyes, the Moonkind lifted his face to a darkening twilight sky. “Reynon ciellyan kie,” he murmured, and that strange spell fell over me. Again I felt my body drifting toward him. I wanted to resist, but numbness had bored into my mind like a snake into its hole. My feet moved, forgetting I hadn’t told them to.
“No,” I cried with a last burst of free will, twisting to escape the grip of his strange power. “No, stop this. Let me go!”
It was no use. The old man’s features tightened. His eyes were turning white. Fear seized me even as free will vanished for good. Helplessly, fearfully, my body obeyed his commands. Like a lamb to the slaughter I came and stood before him. The butcher’s knife was raised. The lamb’s head went back, baring its throat for the slice. Risean Wy’ Curlm’s hypnotic power lifted my hands and settled them firmly on his brown-robed shoulders.
In that unintelligible language, he spoke the fatal words. “Mireoth cumti. Loyloth subala Aerisia leswayne Artan.”
The moon jewel enfolded in the staff’s carved hand began to gleam. A flash of lightning, dazzlingly bright, struck the ground inches from my foot, scorching the hem of my jeans. Waves of heat tumbled over my body as this white light encompassed us, circling the old man and myself in slow, lazy rings, like a magical hula hoop. A sluice of something I can only describe as the essence of purest power surged over me. I squeezed my eyes shut, fighting the urge to scream. There was a bright flash, a loud crack! My head snapped backward, my eyelids bolting open. Around me, soaking me, inside me, enclosing me, was pure, pure white.
I’m in the moon!
Another flash, another electric surge. I gritted my teeth, but the tortured scream escaped anyway. My palms never released the old man’s shoulders as my knees buckled, pitching me headfirst into his arms.
After that, I knew no more.
In Aerisia
Drifting on a sea of light, I floated toward consciousness. My head swam. A heavy weight compressed my eyelids. Fighting both the weight and the sickness in my belly, I forced them open. Instantly, nausea surged and I slapped a hand to my mouth, fighting it down.
I hear water running.
That was my first rational thought once the danger had passed. It was followed by the more practical, Where the heck am I?
Knowing I had to find out, I shoved myself upright and swung my feet off the narrow couch, not thinking to check my surroundings before I stood. Big mistake. What I saw made my knees give out. I plunked onto the couch like a stone in the sea, absorbing the scene before me with wide-eyed wonder.
I sat in a circular chamber, its circumference lined with marble pillars of clean, white stone. Alternating silver and gold curtains of sheer, dainty organza were strung between each set of pillars. Their hems drifted across the floor, fluttering in a soft breeze. Like luxurious valances, sunset-colored folds of satin stretched from column top to column top. The floor beneath my feet was also marble, but highly glossed and a nearly imperceptible pink shot through with veins of silver. Apart from myself, the only other object in this room was the cream brocade couch upon which I sat.
From the look of things, I was nowhere I’d ever been before. Maybe I wasn’t even on Earth. Was it possible? Could that strange old man—Risean, I thought was his name—have been telling the truth?
My mind roiled, seeking alternative solutions. Sadly, I could find none. Especially when I pinched my left arm as hard as I could.
“Ouch!”
My eyes flew open, and I clenched my teeth against the sting. That had definitely felt real.
Suddenly, I noticed one of the curtains was moving, a human hand drawing it aside. The hand was followed by its owner, a young woman. A man, several years older, entered behind her. Strangely, this woman wore coffee-colored robes like those of the man who’d brought me here. Her hair shared the white brilliancy of his and the same inviting texture as well. Her face, however, was smooth, unmarred by wrinkles. After a swift up-and-down look, I decided she must be around my age. But that up-and-down also showed me something else. In her hand, I was not very surprised to discover, was a staff of blue wood sporting a lifelike carved hand and a gleaming moon jewel.
What’s going on here? I wondered almost feverishly.
The young woman approached with a smile, her face as gentle and kind as Risean Wy Curlm’s had been. Her eyes were the same warm, lovely shade of tropical waters. She halted a pace away, dipping her head gracefully. Her companion stopped behind her.
“Greetings, my lady. I bid you welcome to Aerisia. My name is Rittean Wis’ Curlm. I believe you have already met my father, Risean Wy’ Curlm. It was he who brought you here.”
With a wave of her hand, she motioned her companion forward.
“May I present to you Lord Garett Wy’ Rinstead, High-Chief of the Ranetron, our military forces. They also safeguard our palace and city of Laytrii.” The man bowed stiffly as Rittean went on. “Lord Garett has been assigned to attend you until your Simathe arrives.”
“My…my what?”
A tiny frown rose between snow-white brows. Her face grew pensive. “Your Simathe. Father did not tell you?”
I gave my head a terse shake.
“Oh, I see.”
The frown deepened, as if she were considering whether or not to divulge something. Apparently she decided against it, for with a shrug she gathered her composure.
“It is of little consequence, and nothing to burden your mind,” she reassured me.
Problem was, I didn’t think I felt so very reassured.
Next, Rittean Wis’ Curlm said, “Reynon…come, my lady. The High-Chief and I were dispatched to escort you to Council, the gathering of Elders—those who guide our land. Now that you have awakened, your presence is required.” A tiny smile. “Have no fear. Your Simathe will arrive shortly. May, in fact, already be awaiting you in the Council chamber.”
She extended a hand which I grasped, allowing her to pull me to my feet. Maybe it was foolish to just up and go with her like that, but what choice did I have?
After offering my fingers a gentle squeeze, Rittean released my hand and stepped away. “Follow me,” she said.
I found myself obeying, trailing after this Rittean Wis’ Curlm. The Ranetron High-Chief took up a bodyguard’s position several steps behind me. Together, our trio left that beautiful round room, proceeding toward Council—whoever and whatever that was.
I walked without saying a word, even though my mind was abuzz with questions.
What’s going on here? Could I possibly be dreaming? Surely not. That pinch felt real.
So this Rittean is that old man’s daughter. What’s a Moonkind, anyway? What’s with their hair and crazy staffs?
What’s up with this Lord Garett guy? Who, exactly, are the Ranetron, and what’s a Simathe? Do I have to have one if I don’t want to? I don’t think I do. All I want is to go home.
This thought struck hard. A wave of intense longing flooded my dampened spirits, and tears filled my eyes. I dropped my chin so neither of my companions could see. My gaze fell on my worn Nikes. They may have been comfy and practical for running country roads at home, but they were stupid and out of place in this unknown, elegant world: a degradation to Aerisian floors of glossy, pink-and-silver marble.
“Stupid and out of place. Like me,” I muttered sadly.
“Did you speak, my lady?” inquired Rittean, glancing over her shoulder. Her blue-green eyes were very bright. Happy eyes, I would have called them.
I shook my head no.
The white-haired girl stopped. Her fingers brushed the top of my head, much as her father’s had done earlier, urging me to look up and accept her smile.
“You, my lady, are the Artan: the savior, the hope of our people. Hold your head high. Come, here is Council. Don’t be afraid, for they are kind. You will see.
“High-Chief?” Craning her neck to peer beyond me, she addressed the tall, handsome man bringing up the rear. “If you please.”
Garett Wy�
� Rinstead stepped past us, his destination the immense double doors that loomed ahead. They were colossal, carved from dark, aged wood. Their rich color was similar to the coffee tones of the Moonkinds’ robes, and their lustrous sheen rivaled the floor’s. The Ranetron High-Chief pushed open the one on the left and stepped aside, holding it for us to enter. Rittean motioned me to precede her. I did, passing under the heavy, arched doorframe and into wonder.
It was a scene from a dream. I felt like pinching myself for another reality check but was too overcome to even move my hand. In all fairness, I’m not sure the place could have been called a mere room. Its design reminded me of a great amphitheater or arena like the Roman Coliseum. Each white marble tier was formed by the pillars supporting the floor above it. I counted nine in all.
In the niche between each set of pillars stood an armored man: a ceremonial guard, I imagined. Forty pillars per floor meant twenty such men dressed like Lord Garett Wy’ Rinstead. To a man, these soldiers wore bright silver helmets with black plumes, and gleaming breastplates over white tunics whose hems were encircled by a double band of red and black. Their left hands gripped short, deadly swords positioned crossways over their chests. The blades were shiny steel, and the hilts were wrapped in black leather. On their feet were leather sandals whose straps crisscrossed to the knees and tied. The whole effect was a lot like Roman legionaries of old.
“These are also Ranetron,” Rittean explained, catching the sweep of my eyes. “They are our strongest military asset.” She flicked a glance at Lord Garett to be sure he wasn’t listening before adding softly, “Save the Simathe, of course.”
Simathe? Again that word. Who’re the Simathe?
For his part, the Ranetron High-Chief appeared not to have heard her comment. Or, if he did, he chose not to care because he said only, “Come, Moonkind Rittean…my lady. The Elders and Pronconcil await.”
He swept past us, marching down a nearby set of marble steps split in the middle by a heavy scarlet runner. As Rittean Wis’ Curlm and I followed the straight-backed soldier to floor level, I took in more details of this majestic space. Twelve rows of benches in stadium-style seating perched on the floor, all of which were already crowded with people. Men and women alike displayed clothing in colors ranging from somber blacks, blues, and browns to brilliant shades of red, green, yellow, violet, and every shade in between. Arresting as their clothing was, it failed to hold my attention when the whisper of running water filled my ears with watery music. Raising my face to the ceiling, I sucked in a gasp of air.
Will wonders never cease?
The “ceiling,” high above, wasn’t fashioned of stone, slate, marble, or wood. Instead, it was a pool of water. Impossible, yet true—water defying gravity. A darker green than the Moonkinds’ eyes, the water swirled and roiled above us, but not a drop fell. Like an idiot, I stood there with my lips parted in awe, my head tipped back. Of all the miracles the past few hours had spawned, surely this was the most amazing. I would’ve never believed that, even in this land of Aerisia, such a thing was possible…water disobeying all laws of nature and gravity.
“My lady?”
It was the Moonkind girl. The sound of her voice pulled me out of my stupor. Once more I could think, and the questions tumbled out. “H-how does it do that?” Then, and more emphatically, “Water can’t stay on the ceiling!”
My companion laughed. “Who can say what is possible or impossible? What cannot be in your world may be quite common in ours.” She allowed that to sink in before urging gently, “Come, my lady. Council still awaits. Answers to your questions will be found there, I promise you.”
But my mind was a quagmire, a stew of doubts and anxieties. Within, I felt every bit as agitated as the pool above my head. The only reality I could grasp in this strange new world was the kindness and empathy in the eyes of the young woman before me. As I grasped that kindness, I also took the first teensy step toward trusting her, toward accepting that all of this weirdness was not a dream but a new kind of reality, crazy as that sounded.
I nodded shakily. “Alright, Rittean. I’ll come. Just—please don’t leave me. I think…I think I need a friend. I’m so confused right now, so completely overwhelmed by everything that’s going on.”
“Oh my, of course you are,” she sympathized, wrapping an arm about my shoulders. I let myself lean against her, finding solace in her smile. It was a sweet, generous smile, one that curved the corners of her mouth and bunched up her rosy cheeks, making her blue-green eyes sparkle.
“Your confusion is understandable, my lady,” she went on compassionately. “But do not be frightened. I will be the friend you need. Come, we shall face Council together. I’ll not leave your side. All will be well. You will see.”
Her arm still around me, she urged me forward. Once more, we began to descend those scarlet-carpeted stairs, the broad back of the Ranetron High-Chief leading the way. My mind was muddled and my stomach queasy, but my heart had found a bit of peace in both a stranger’s smile and the fact that I wouldn’t have to face Council alone. Whoever and whatever these Elders and Pronconcil were, they sounded intimidating. I doubt I’d have found the courage to walk down those stone steps had not Rittean Wis’ Curlm’s arm been about me.
Council
As we descended the long marble staircase, additional details caught my eye. The amphitheater floor was made of the same marble as the room in which I’d awakened: light pink, shot through with veins of silver. Down the middle of the floor stretched a long, black line. My brows knit as I considered this ugly scar. Why would the builders have left it there? I didn’t have to wonder long. Abruptly, the marble beneath my feet shuddered, releasing a groan.
I gasped and jumped back. “Rittean, the floor is moving!”
My new friend laughed. “Fear not, my lady. It was designed to.”
She was right. Actually, the floor itself wasn’t moving at all. Instead, two panels slid back from that ugly black line, creating a yawning breach. As they vanished beneath the floor, an immense, shadowy object came into view, emerging from the dark void below. This turned out to be a massive table. Narrow benches adorned with crimson, tapestried cushions flanked its head and sides, while the space at the foot was vacant. The section of floor on which the table rested raised level with the bottom of the chamber, where it stopped, leaving no seam to betray the fact that it hadn’t always been there.
“Incredible,” I breathed.
From out of nowhere, light, airy music began to play: a silvery sounding flute and harp. Tugging me aside, Rittean positioned me to stand in front of the Ranetron High-Chief.
“Look up,” the Moonkind girl ordered. “To the top of the stairs.”
I swung my gaze upward.
“Our Elders,” she said, “followed by the Pronconcil.”
So this was the ruling body of Aerisia. They descended the stairs by twos, these Elders, six men and six women completing the group. A man and woman to a pair, they glided down the staircase like a colorful waterfall of dark red for the men and silvery grey for the women. The knee-length tunics of the men were clasped about the waist by ornate belts of silver; the women’s floor-length gowns were accessorized by wide bands of red. With solemn faces and measured tread, the twelve Elders swept past the three of us. Their destination was the table dominating the center of the room. Here they lined up in orderly fashion, six to each side, where they faced one other with hands clasped at the waist.
Now what? I wondered.
The flourish of a new tune on that silvery flute and harp signaled the beginning of another spectacle. At the top of the staircase appeared a pair of young women. One wore a sleeveless yellow tunic that skimmed her knees. The ends of a blue sash, knotted at the hip, draped past the hemline of her yellow dress and halfway down her bare calves. A V-necked gown of turquoise, sporting a train so long it trailed several steps behind her, draped the other’s slender figure. About her waist was a band of yellow, the same shade as her companion’s tunic.
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br /> Both of these women were extraordinarily beautiful. Again, neither took note of me as they passed, but I caught the rich scent of the blue-gowned lady’s perfume as she assumed her place beside the table with the Elders. These two women, Pronconcil members I assumed, divided to occupy opposite sides at the table’s head, cresting each line of Elders.
The music ceased. No noise echoed through the vast chamber besides the breathing of guests and the incessant roiling of water, high above. At this point, the Ranetron High-Chief stepped out from behind Rittean and myself and strode to the center of the room, his black cloak swishing about his armored frame. Approaching the table, he raised his right arm with palm flat and thumb extended to offer what sounded to me like an archaic salutation.
“Greetings to you, Elders and Pronconcil of Aerisia. It is my pleasure to welcome you once more to Aerisia’s Council Hall.”
His deep voice reverberated in the vastness of the hall. Touching right fist to left shoulder, he bowed sharply from the waist. The Elders and Pronconcil returned the Ranetron lord’s welcome, after which the lovely woman in blue—speaking for the group—replied, “Greetings, Lord Garett, High-Chief of the Ranetron. Our gratitude for your kind words. I bid you take your seat at Council.”
Dipping his head in thanks, Lord Garett assumed his place at the end of one line of Elders, directly across from where I stood. I could see the pattern now. An empty spot at the head of the table—reserved for the Council leader, perhaps? The place at that person’s left would be filled by the Pronconcil woman in blue, while to his right would be situated the woman in yellow. Six Elders to a side filled the middle of the benches, flanked at one end by Lord Garett—apparently a Pronconcil himself. I supposed in the seat opposite the Ranetron High-Chief would be a fourth Pronconcil…but who this might be, I had no idea.
The Sunset Lands Beyond (The Complete Series, Books 1-3): An epic portal fantasy boxed set Page 3
